Riding the loop

Shut it down. Make it stop. Or at least turn it into a direction or another. Steer it right, make it reach a point. It’s like an amorphous mass of plasma that gets physical when I actually manifest a thought through expression.

I don’t know what I’m trying to express. My mind feels like a maze, in some rooms I strike gold, while in others I get lost in redundancies. Same loops, over and over, same conclusions, only for my mind to jump on the merry-go-round the second I’m not paying attention. I’m not paying attention.

I sense there’s something beneath the surface. Some invaluable treasure, some deep, unspoken, forgotten truths. I know I must learn to channel them. But the fog of confusion is seeping through my cells, slowing me down, making me wonder why I’m even trying. To overcome is to love. To hurt is to be connected to the infinite web of energy and to feels one of its most potent variations.

The demolishing fire of negative emotions has the power to leave baby Phoenix birds behind.

I don’t know why I care to label myself into oblivion. The ancestral tendency to name and pinpoint. Classifying feelings and ideas, trapping them into a corner of my mind and slapping a name tag on them. But can their true essence live on? Can you really name the unnamed? Can you truly paint the picture of the architecture of one’s mind without losing what made it so unique in the first place, without getting confused about the why’s and how’s?

And I pause. Hesitant, wondering if I might be afraid of what I’m going to find out. But what is there to be afraid of? The voice whispers as I feel the exhaustion of a thousand lifetimes within me and close my eyes, hoping tomorrow won’t be the same.

 

[something I wrote a while ago, back when I was feeling stuck. I find myself in this place from time to time, desperately needing to express something but finding difficulty in channeling it properly. In my creative expression, it’s always easier to manifest in a free flow, leave my mind behind kind of way.]

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Riding waves and spirals in search for balance

The wandering mind travels through eons’ worth of information spread through the web of life, yet it always feels like it’s only receiving a tiny fragment of the whole truth, bits and pieces that will never form a full puzzle.

Frustratingly cyclical, it keeps reaching the same conclusions before drifting off towards seemingly new situations, but reaching more or less the same outcomes.

The desire to understand is bigger than me, my restless mind aims to aim towards something, there’s always an issue that needs dissecting in some corner of my brain, always some magnetizing enigma right around the corner that draws me in, makes me want to solve it. I keep explaining things that don’t make sense, I don’t even realize many of them are aspects of daily life, so every day I have to soothe my mind by thinking about them.

I am an innate problem solver yet I’m averse to many kinds of problems. I ran away from maths without context and conflict without meaning, yet I caused so many problems of my own, on my own, just trying to deal with the immensity and complexity of my experience.

We’re all filled with flaws and traumas, outdated patterns born out of fear and alienation, stress addled bad choices and sad mindsets and desperate actions.

Yet I can’t stop trying and wanting to be close to perfect,I can’t stop hurting myself and wanting more, I get lost in what seems like a wild mirroring playground, in which rollercoasters guide my emotional life and merry-go-rounds have me hopping from one loopy pattern to another.

In a way, they’re just another kind of comfort zones. In a way, I don’t want to leave. But I can’t stand staying here anymore either.

The wandering mind takes the long road back home and often stops along the way, accidentally takes new routes but they always lead back to the same places. Freedom awaits in all of those twists and turns. It’s always about the journey, not the destination. That’s where information lays, waiting to be discovered. Just don’t overthink it or else the magic is gone and you end up back from where you started.

Knowing-joy-forgetting-suffering-remembering-joy-forgetting-suffering…

Sailing the deep sea of emotion and understanding

I think I understand my emotions. Yet they blindsight me time after time, leaving me desperate for known land in a sea of confusion and uncertainty.

The more I dissect, the more I get lost into details, the less I understand and at one point, it’s like there was nothing to understand in the first place.

I think I know, but not before long I’m doubting it. There’s a whole symphony inside my head and there are so many instruments, I’m struggling to identify which is which.

Overwhelming, overpowering, makes me want to scream sometimes, all this noise and chaos, and sometimes I can actually hear my internal scream.

I crave understanding yet I know how hard it is to actually obtain it, those moments of clarity might mean little if I change my perspective.

Loops, heights, lows, plateaus. Like some strange force of nature, I move through life organically, ever changing, different seasons from one minute to the other, but the essence stays the same.

I’m in control at not being in control.

I might feel I’m reaching my limits but deep inside I know I’m as resilient as I am vulnerable.

Like a tree, my hardships mould me, pain teaches me, but unlike a tree, I can’t seem to always remember and apply the lessons.

I hesitate around endings and beginnings, I’t seem to always remember and apply the lessons.

I hesitate around endings and beginnings, I’m always in the middle of something or on the edges, walking on border lines, wondering what’s on the other side, reaching the top of the mountain and the bottom of the sea, flowing through space at the speed of light only to fall back on Earth with a bang the next minute.

Expansive. Infinite. I truly understand and grasp only a small part of it. My mind, the universe, the divine essence, the intricate connections and reflections between everything. Blessed to get glimpses, I cling to them like to the ultimate truth.

But what is truth and what is anything, in the first place everything just is, so I’m docking my boat and shutting down the systems and hope that tomorrow I’ll remember: I just am.

Feeling Everything

There’s an intensity to my feelings that’s hard to explain into words. They’re fluid, they come like waves. Sometimes they bring me up, closer to the sun, and make me shed tears of joy at the beauty of life. Other times, they drown me, silence me, making me confused or depressed or both.

I’m usually not even sure what I feel. There almost always seems to be more than one feeling involved, and this mixture of vibes is hard to understand sometimes.

That’s why I’ve been writing almost my entire life, I guess. Words turn these abstract feelings into something concrete. All the unspoken thoughts that bug me get a channel to materialize.

I’ve been having mood swings and hard-to-describe moods for almost as long as I can remember. My journal entries from when I was 9 years old talk about this mood I don’t quite know how to explain that keeps bothering me. Looking back, it was probably anxiety, creeping on me, which would only get worse over the years, only to finally subside after I’ve learned how to deal with it, although it is a constant companion.

My moods fluctuate greatly throughout the day. I usually don’t wake up in the greatest mood, and by noon I will already experience a variety of short-lived moods, pretty much any mood you can think of. Sometimes they’ll change in a matter of a couple of minutes, just a visiting twinge of anxiety or uneasiness, only to return again later.

I usually try to swim through them and let them flow, but sometimes it’s an effort not to get stuck or affected by the lows. Sometimes it’s overwhelming to feel so much in such a short amount of time.

But in the end, I guess I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love the fact that I can feel so intensely about nature and the things I’m interested about. I love that I can still have that childlike awe and wonder about things, day after day, even if it’s just the usual subjects I ponder upon on a regular basis. I don’t need some fancy unknown to surprise me, just take me to the nearest natural spot.

I love the depth of my experiences, even if sometimes I’m very afraid of it and I feel I’m going to lose control. It’s like life is reinventing itself before my eyes, day after day, even if most of the time I can’t express what I see and I can’t process things right away. But the miracle of life follows me every day, even if it shows itself just for a fleeting moment.

Feelings, like the waves. I can never quite properly contain them into words, into actions. All I can do is keep feeling everything and learn how to stop running away from them.

Thank you for reading!

Soundtrack of my alien years

I don’t remember the first time I felt I was different. In a way it feels like I had always known (of course, my toddler brain can’t know… or can it?). But I certainly remember when puberty set in.

Along with puberty, came anxiety in depths and lengths I had not experienced before. Feelings of shame and inadequacy. Constant low-grade anxiety in the classroom as I would be confused about the rapid rhythm in which everything changed, especially the social dynamics. Feeling depressed that no boy liked me. Feeling weird that I’m in the main popular girl group but I’m somehow still at the fringe. I have excellent grades in school but the anxiety feels unbearable.

I’m 12 years old. I discover Pink – Missundaztood. It speaks to me. I’m misunderstood too. My friends don’t get why I feel like a lonely girl even if I’m surrounded by friends. I can’t articulate why I feel like this, but the feeling doesn’t let go. I listen to her songs and pretend-sing in the mirror, I cry in bed at night comforted by her pain.

I’m 13 years old. Things are getting more and more complicated. I discover Linkin Park – Meteora. It speaks to me. I earn to find that somewhere I belong. I long to become numb. I want to break the habit too. I long for that freedom as well.

I’m 15 years old and cutting becomes a thing. It relieves the pressure, it gives the pain a concrete manifestation. I discover Nirvana. My stomach hurts too because I’m abusing my body with benzos and I’m not eating properly and I barely get any sleep. My soul hurts too. He gets my pain. I discover Placebo. Brian knows some of my pain too. The cold guitar riffs soothe me. I’m not alone.

I’m 16 years old and the boy I like sends my High & Dry by Radiohead. I eventually dive deeper and deeper into them and they become my favorite band. Thom gets my pain. He sings about aliens and alienation, about the hardships of the system, about how they press down on your soul, pressure you into nothingness. As an adult, I get a new understanding of the lyrics. Slowly withering at an office full time job I hate, I blast No surprises in my headphones and dream of better times.

I still feel different. I’ve only recently discovered why and at first I couldn’t believe it. In a way, I still wanted to fit in. To join the NT fun, filled with parties and unexpected turns and loudness.

But, thing is, I love my life just the way it is. I love my room and my things, my art and my special interests, my books and my yard. I’m not “missing out” on anything if I choose to go to the forest rather than hang with people. I found a bunch of special, beautiful people who love, support and appreciate me for who I am and don’t pay special attention to my unconventional ways. They’re unconventional too, they’re struggling in their own ways too, we’re united by our pain and by our desire to overcome it and make the best out of it.

We all walk alone. We’re all individual universes, perpetually colliding with each other, trying to find bridges to unite them, common languages to speak. There’s so much beauty in just being yourself. There’s so much freedom in letting go of expectations.

So I accept being the alien that I am, knowing that we’re all, to some degree, strangers to one another and knowing that we’re still connected by the life-giving energy that weaves this universe together. Deep inside, whether we like it or not, we’ll always be one.

Thank you for reading!

Jigsaw falling into place

I started this blog guided by a strong impulse a week or so after reading about female Asperger’s. I very recently stumbled upon female aspie checklists and other blogs. The experience turned my world upside down. For a while, my mind was on a loop. Could this really be? Is this it? Seems to be. I’m an aspie. But what if I’ve just been reading too much and I’m desperate about an answer regarding why I feel so different? What if I’m a fraud? If I’m not aspie, then how do I explain my mental state? Then I would quickly go over all the symptoms and experiences that match mine and conclude yes, I’m pretty sure I’m an aspie. 

Then I would eventually fall back into the same thought loop. And the more I read, the more I found that reminded me so much of this or that aspect of my being, the more I knew this is really it, I had just forgotten. Buried under coping mechanisms and years of studying the depths of the human mind and the way humans act, trying intuitively to find the instruction manual that comes with social interactions, trying intuitively to stay away from stimuli, trying so hard not to be hard on myself and feel broken when I would see that no matter what I do, I still feel overwhelmed by daily minor things, I still feel a constant fatigue, there’s still a hungry uneasiness inside that always pulls me in one direction or another.

The checklists hit so close to home, but the real revelation were the blogs. It all seemed so familiar, the vibes I would get from the writings, the recurrent themes that I found myself immersed in as well, on and on throughout my life, like the search for truth, the unconditional love, the feeling of otherness. I could understand so much, and the most amazing moments were those when I would find little specific things about me that would be described so beautifully by someone else, or I would discover that experiences I took for granted are something only we go through.

I always felt I was different but I never thought this is the Aspie experience. I would wonder, from time to time, why I feel so limited regarding certain aspects even though my brain is so sharp and I could do pretty much anything I put my mind to, why it’s so hard to go out, why I’m not growing out of my shyness, why I can’t get rid of this existential fatigue and why it’s so hard to fall asleep at night, when my mind, left to its own devices, wants to explore and won’t shut down.

Jigsaw falling into place, like the Radiohead song. Dots connecting, synchronicity. In the past couple of months I was getting more and more agitated after realizing that my symptoms are still there, only more moderate, even after radical lifestyle changes that took away all the big stress. I wanted an answer. The universe understood. My struggle in the dark had continued for too long. I really needed the light.

I named this blog “borderline aspie” thinking I’m a BPD aspie or a borderline aspie, as in almost-aspie. Now I realize BPD may have been dominant in a part of my life, back when I was really struggling to make sense of the world and was heavily medicated, but now, that the fog of chemicals has long lifted and my life is in much greater order and balance, I now that BPD was mainly a reaction to my experience as an aspie, not understanding what’s happening to me, the intensity of it all too unbearable, the alienation and misunderstanding pushing me further away from myself. As for almost-aspie, I don’t know where the lines get drawn, but from what I’ve read and experienced, I’m just a very well adapted aspie.

Finally, I am ready to embrace my self-diagnosis. I hope I’ll one day afford to get a proper diagnosis from a specialist. I am well aware of the risks of self-diagnosis. But I’ve been playing the loop for too long in my mind and each time, everything points in the same direction. It’s the logical conclusion. These are exciting times! An unexpected plot twist, when I thought I knew everything about myself.

I’m so excited to share these experiences with you, the great unknown audience of the internet. I am scared and I hope you won’t be too harsh on me, I hope I’ll be able to give something back at one point and not just take your attention. I hope this is not a mistake.

Thank you for reading!

Sleep – it’s complicated

Late at night, body tired, mind exhausted and overactive, I find myself wishing to talk about sleep. Something I struggled with almost all of my life and still have issues with, although I’m way more accepting than I used to be and that helps.

In theory, I love to sleep. In the winter time, when my rhythm slows down, I will sleep more than usual and it will be extremely difficult to wake up in the morning. In the summer, my clock changes and I usually won’t be able to sleep for too long in the morning, no matter at what time I went to bed.

But there’s one constant throughout the year(s) that proves to be the most challenging: the difficulty of falling asleep.

Every day I feel so tired and fantasize about how early I’m going to go to sleep and how well I’m going to rest. Night comes, I get sleepy sometime between 8 and 10 pm, and I fight it, I have more stuff to do. Gotta do my bedtime rituals. Gotta read this. Gotta write that. Eventually, exhausted, I stumble into bed, and the minute my head touches the pillow, I know I’m going to have to face it face to face: The Mind.

See, The Mind never sleeps. If she could, she wouldn’t let me sleep either. She goes on and on. Even if I move past the thinking of thoughts (which can go in so many directions), there’s the noise. The indescribable fragments of something, the song snippets (both loved and beloved), the broken radiohead phenomenon, the half finished ideas. The more soliciting the day is, the worse it’s going to be up there. My body will desperately try to get comfortable, switching from one position to another, and sometimes they will all feel unnatural and uncomfy.

I keep trying to monitor the activity and apply breathing and relaxation techniques, but eventually I usually end up just listening to some other thing my mind wishes to say. Then I will probably wake up at about 7 or 8 am and my body will feel too tired and achey to start the day so I’ll just struggle falling asleep again. Sometimes I will succeed, other times I will just waste an hour or two in a weird barely-awake-but-not-asleep state in which my mind is as active as always.

Either way, the minute I wake up, she’s already one step ahead, as active as I left it.

In my teens, it used to get even worse. Then the meds sedated me and truthfully I can’t remember my sleeping patterns from then. But it’s always been tricky with sleep and now, with no treatments in my system, I see that things don’t show any signs of changing.

I’ve accepted this. Luckily I don’t have to wake up at a very early hour and I have a pretty flexible schedule so I don’t put a lot of pressure on myself when I see I can’t fall asleep and it’s already late. But back when I had a full time job, the intense schedule, coupled with the various other problems I had to deal with in such an environment (story for another time), made my mind more agitated than ever. I can’t deal with waking up at 7 or 8 or even 9 every day. It’s not that I don’t want to. I love early mornings and the feeling you get when you accomplish so much before noon. But my mind won’t let me.

I think I’ve always felt tired. Mom told me that after I was born, everyone was worried because all I would do is sleep and I lost a lot of weight because I wouldn’t eat (because sleep). When I was 12 a psychologist told me I have chronic fatigue. This life tires me. All of these stimuli exhaust me, all of these intense emotions, the coping with stuff, the whole complicated mechanism that I’ve built to deal with this reality, the anxiety… and the poor sleep.

I’ve always felt a twinge of jealousy towards people who can fall asleep easily, anywhere. I wish I could escape my own mind through sleep. Seems restorative, regenerating, the right thing to do. But naps leave me groggy and confused, feeling I lost a precious part of the day. Night time sleep always comes with complications. I can’t seek refuge there. Every night feels on the brink. Every morning a little voice says oh, not again. But no matter what, I’ll carry on. Forever tired.

Thank you for reading!