Moving Forward on this Holiday

I suppose the best time for me to try to write about this is when I am slightly intoxicated since I can't seem to get any words out when I am completely sober. Tonight has been interesting to say the least.

I went to the gym, as is the usual case for me on any given day, though I have had a few rough patches the last few weeks where I have failed to move from bed for several days at a time. Anyway, today was the fourth of July, which was fine when I was in the gym imagining the visual displays that corresponded with the multitude of sounds I heard throughout the evening while working out. But as the night wore on, I couldn't ignore the history the day and I had shared. Instead of waiting downtown with thousands of drunk and disorderly citizens, I opted not to catch my bus home and walk down to Cruze to see my fiance and my friends, hoping to have a long night of fun with them before turning in and trying to resume normal life. But he brought it up before I got the chance to. He wanted to go have fun without me, which normally is not a problem,  but today, in addition to being one of the worst personal days I experience as a general rule, is also a day where I had struggled to even get out of bed in the morning. I know I don't have very many friends. The last thing I want to hear is that you want to go out with all of our mutual friends to have fun while I sit at home and do nothing but contemplate my own misery. I would have been perfectly fine with going out separate ways to have fun tonight, but even that was a problem for some reason. Every decision I made seemed to be inadequate and childish to you. You say that you don't want to take care of me, and when I tell you that you don't have to, you refuse to listen to me and insist that what I am saying is crazy and out of line. I feel like I can never win. I feel like you think I am stupid. Or at least you treat me that way a lot of the time. If you treat me like I am incapable of making my own choices, how will I ever know which choices result in the best outcomes? I love you more than anything. I want you to know how much I really do love you and want you to experience all the pleasure you can in this world. But I also want you to know that I need to experience that too, and it isn't always convenient for me. Sometimes I feel connected to people, and sometimes I do not. Sometimes I understand the social implications of a situation, and sometimes I do not. But the point is that I try. And that there are real people involved in my trying. And I really do need help in figuring out what the fuck is going on. No matter how smart I am, no matter how clever or creative I am, no matter how charismatic I may seem to the untrained ear or eye, I am still at an extreme disadvantage. I am AUTISTIC. I do not understand many of the things that you take for granted about human relationships. And you may think I am stupid for this, but I assure you I am not. My brain is actually pretty amazing. I can read four times faster than the average person. I have an impeccable short term memory. I have a natural gift for writing, even though I am a terrible public speaker. I feel emotions far more intensely than most people do. My brain is constantly working overtime, trying to process every little detail about every little thing that crosses the path of my consciousness. It's fucking exhausting. I want to turn it off sometimes, but I just can't. I barely have time to breathe. But still I am viewed as selfish because tonight, it just so happened that I was able to be okay at the same time that my partner wanted to do something in public with friends, and he wanted nothing to do with me. I understand needing alone time. That is why I suggested going to a different after-hours bar than the one you had planned on, but still, you thought that was a bad idea for me. You screamed at me for that too. I have the ability to make my own decisions. I am not a child, and if I want to drunk by myself in an after-hours club, I have every right to do so without judgment from anyone else. If you get to do it, than I do too. It does not matter what medication I am on. What matters is the choice I myself have made. I am not a child, I repeat. I understand the consequences of my actions. If you want to go drink by yourself for a night, I should have the same right to do so.

I am not mad. I love you. I just wish you could actually see things from my perspective. I am not trying to deprive you of your alone time. I merely wanted you to see what that looks like to someone who is always alone and who very rarely gets to experience what it is like to be amongst a group of people who believe the same things and are in the same mindset to celebrate. You deserve your own time just as much as anyone. But I still deserve the chance to explain to you how that can sometimes conflict with my needs. Even so, this conflict is perfectly okay. That's bound to happen in relationships. What is not okay is trying to control another person because you think that his or her cognitive disability makes him or her incapable of making adult choices. As for me--and me alone--I will tell you firsthand if I can or can't make a decision. This is just how I am.

I only wanted to go out tonight because I wanted to be with friends and enjoy the holiday like others before me have enjoyed it. I wanted to create new memories of the fourth of July because for the past ten years, I have had to deal with nothing but pain and heartbreak. I wanted to move forward and for once enjoy the occasion. I thought waiting until my boyfriend and I were alone at the bar would be a good time, but he thought it would be a good time to tell me that he needed space from me. I don't blame him for this. Everyone deserves his or her own personal space, especially when one works in a bar. But I thought he would be more understanding of my needs in the same situation. I guess I never explained how I felt in the first place. That may have something to do with it.

The truth is that I do not get subtleties. I am frequently the last person to get a joke, I may not understand exactly when you want me to hold you or tell you everything is going to be okay. I often don't get subtle sarcasm, though I can dish it better than most. You may think that I am brilliant or incredibly creative, but there are things that I will never understand. Basic conversation is one of them. I don't know what to say to people. I don't know how to maintain relationships or be close with others. I just know how to exchange information factually and sometimes ironically, I have the same emotions as neurotypical people, but I feel them far more intensely. I'm always at a level 10. I know I am not making much sense right now, but I do hope that someone eventually learns that this thought process is unique. That I am not like others. And that that is okay. We all arrive at our respective destinations at the appropriate times. Please understand this as you go about your day.

I am autistic. I may not have common sense, but I can work with any functional MRI machine and tell you which parts of the brain are more or less active in a given scenario. I can also tell you thousands of bits of seemingly useless information, but none of that seems to matter because I am ultimately a writer. I can't speak for shit. I stutter and mumble and cry into corners when I have to make a vocal statement. But I can write. I can make you feel with a few keystrokes here or there. And this is how I plan to make my truer scientific presence felt. I have not given up on myself. I have not given up on the true medium of science. I haven't even given up on humanity. Please try to understand me as we move forward in our journey. There is so much more we need to learn. I am ready and willing to progress. Are you?

June 2, 2015

Today was another mostly useless day for me. I couldn't bring myself to function in any way until almost 5:30, and even after that, I wasn't much better. I'm upset because I am tired of feeling this way, but it's made worse by the fact that I've known this medication hasn't been working for months, and my psychiatrist decided it made sense to only see me once every four months when I expressed concerns to him at our very first meeting. I missed my therapy appointment today as well, but I don't really get anything out of those sessions. Maybe I just haven't been seeing her long enough. I'm not sure what I'm really supposed to take away or when I am supposed to start feeling something--something other than misery or terror.

I'm overwhelmed all the time, and increasingly so. A few years ago, I wouldn't have had a care in the world with the amount of responsibilities I have now, but I can barely function from day to day. I'm upset that this is where I am at nearly 27.

My priorities are changing. I'm taking a step back from drag, with a few shows here and there just to keep some money in my personal account, and I'm trying to move forward with my real life. I've been hiding behind this pretend person for way too long. The immediate satisfaction may be greater, but I know there are things more important to me that I've neglected.

I saw my brother for the first time since he was released in February. I really enjoyed myself this weekend, though there were a few awkward moments. I miss him--and my parents--already. They seem to be functioning just fine, which is great. The problem is that I am starting to feel like I used to. I feel like I just don't fit in, like there's no place for me anymore.

I still feel useless. But I am hopeful. I got two calls today about personal training jobs, but I missed them because I couldn't talk or get out of bed. They both said they would call back tomorrow.

The rest of my thoughts don't seem to want to surface right now.

Missing Happy

It's hard to keep a positive spirit when, on your average day, it feels like you are being incrementally and slowly suffocated by a viscous black ooze--like melted asphalt stuck to the bottom of your shoe on a scorching summer day. On the worst days, you can feel it filling your lungs, hardening in your stomach. Trapping you inside. But you still have to keep going. You never know why. Maybe it's like drowning: We struggle to breathe not by choice but by instinct.

On better days, like today, I sit somewhere between misery and anhedonia. 

I'm going through the motions, but I don't feel like I'm really here. Everything, my whole being included, has lost its purpose. My life in is present state has no meaning, and trying to create meaning has been the biggest challenge of the last several months. I feel more trapped than ever. I feel more hopeless than I ever imagined I would. Failure, missed opportunities, stories about what might have been, wasted potential--these are the words whose images torment me all day and night. My heart never stops racing. I never get a break. And it feels like I never will. 

People keep telling me the same things. They say that I need a better attitude, which is probably true, but I've grown too cynical for that to come comfortably or easily. I'm suspicious of every near-good feeling I have, for an actual good feeling is hard to come by these days. I'm not sure I remember what that's like, though less than a year ago, I certainly knew. People also say that things will get better, that something has to work out eventually, and on and on. But I also know from experience that things don't change unless you make them change, and not every story has a happy ending. If life were fair, and we were compensated adequately for the trials we have endured, my suffering would have ended a long time ago. I'm not naive enough to believe that luck will be on my side. I seem to be the only one who understands that the longer this goes on, the harder it's going to be to get out of the situation(s), 

I've been floundering for years, and each day wasted adds to the misery of the next. I have started to fear that this is the new me. I feel like I have lost the person I used to be entirely. I'm losing the fight. I really am trying. But I am not succeeding. 

I've been to the hospital four times since September for psychiatric issues that progressed beyond my or my fiance's ability to handle them. And I really only left the last time because, upon admission, I was essentially assaulted by several staff members. (That's a story for another time and place. I'm not quite ready to reveal those details yet, as they still make me extremely uncomfortable.) It's hard to trust anyone. But I still keep trying. 

Even though I know that we don't necessarily get what we deserve, I still can't stop asking myself what I did to deserve this. Why can't I just be happy? Why does every inhalation feel like a stab to the stomach? And how in the world does anyone else live like this? And will this be forever?

And it might be. That's what terrifies me the most. I've tried almost everything, aside from ECT, which scares me. (Headaches and memory loss? No thanks.) If nothing works, the best I can hope for in life is damage control. What kind of life would that be? What kind of life is the one I am living now? 

I am almost never okay. Even less often am I happy. I don't know how to keep doing this. And the burden I place on those around me is getting to be too much for them to bear. I can't stand being around me. I can't stand how pathetic and whiny I have become. I can't imagine how my fiance feels, especially since he has his own problems to worry about. Real problems. 

I've shut myself away from most of my closest friends because socialization scares me more and more. I'm afraid to leave the house most of the time. I'm afraid of doing things by myself. I couldn't even walk to the hair salon at the bottom of the hill alone today. Things are starting to get much worse, even though they may appear to be getting better on the outside. I'm an expert at pretending to be okay. Since I can't actually be okay, I suppose it's the next best thing. I try to smile for him and show him that I love him every day. But I wonder if it will be enough. Some days, the other emotions overwhelm that expression. 

I am continuing to lose myself. I am again faced with the prospect of several days without him around, and I have no idea what to do with myself for 20 hours out of the day. And sometimes, I am paralyzed by my emotions. I am restless and apathetic at the same time. It's when I scream on the inside without being able to move all day. It's where I am headed at this very moment. 

I feel so left out. So left behind. This isn't me. This isn't my life. 

Yet, somehow, it ended up that way. I want to escape all of this more than anything. 

The other day, I felt like I had received a sign that I was on the right track as far as my plans were concerned. But those plans are ridiculous to me now. Medical school after all this time? How will I pay for it? How will I even be able to take the test and do well? How will someone like me who has nothing to show for the last four years of his life ever get accepted anywhere worthwhile? It probably isn't even possible. I'm drowning in debt as it is, so no one would give me money. It hurts to even think about this because that's pretty much what's preventing me from moving in any academic direction with my life. Am I going to be stuck getting 400 dollars a month from disability and wasting most of my life being in and out of hospitals? Who wouldn't be miserable in my position? All I want is something that gives my life meaning and purpose. And I know what that is. I know what's missing. I just can't get there. And nothing else is going to make me happy. That's the price I have to be for being as ambitious and stubborn as I have been. 

My life certainly didn't prepare me for this. I want out of this game. 

I can't remember the last time I had a decent day. It feels like all I know is pain. But I keep struggling. I keep going. And I am not proud of myself for that. I can't be. 

I'm losing my grip on everything. And I am terrified of the next time I can't handle something. Things seem to escalate each time. There is nothing more that I want right now than to run away. 

Things can't continue this way. I just don't have the strength for it anymore. My life has broken me. I really am just a shell anymore. A warm body. 

Today, I just really miss being happy. 

Career

I've started to apply to various research jobs around the country. And it's kind of terrifying, but I feel that if I don't take this chance, I may never get the opportunity to move forward with my life. I don't know how I would make it work if I were hired in another state entirely. But I'm not there yet. The point is that I am trying--trying something different. Maybe Pittsburgh isn't the place where the rest of my life is going to happen. In fact, I'm pretty sure it isn't. But I needed to come back and live it in order to know for sure.

But at the moment, this is where I am. I'm here now. And I desperately want to start being here.

Finding the Beginning

It's finally quiet in the house, and I have a good twenty minutes to myself before leg day, the first since the second time a parasite decided to inflict some moderate-to-sever damage on my body and mind. I remember the first time it happened quite vividly. Month after month, I continued to lose weight, sleep more, eat more, and become more depressed until I ended up in a psychiatric ward for the first time in my life. Weeks ago, perhaps even months, more of the same started to happen, but this time the neurological symptoms were the first to appear. I became dizzy and fatigued, with numbness and tingling sensations spreading through my hands and face. I couldn't keep anything down, no matter which way you're thinking. And then came the hospital visit where the doctors were convinced that there was nothing wrong with me at all. Everyone thought I was just being dramatic. A few more weeks went by. I slept for four days straight. A few days later, I found a piece of the little bastard, called my fiance, and made my way to the emergency room at the same hospital that refused to keep looking for an answer when I assured them that something was definitely not right with me. I was out in less than two hours--less than an hour and a half even--because I was the third case the doctor had seen in 35 years. So if you ever need to go to the ER, tell them you have something really bizarre, and they'll pick up the case right away.

Anyway, I'm still not entirely okay. I'm weak and miserable. I'm fighting the worst depression and anxiety I've faced in a long time. And giving up is the only thing that makes sense to me anymore. It hurts to even be conscious most of the time. Today isn't a particularly bad day, but it still took until it was almost dark outside for me to get myself moving and out of my bedroom. I do what little on which I can focus my mind, but I know that just isn't enough. At nearly 27, my life is still going nowhere, except maybe spiraling downward, while everyone else seems to be moving on and moving up in the world. I keep thinking that this isn't what was supposed to happen. What happened to the dreams I used to have? What happened to the ambition that couldn't be contained? Have I really been defeated that many times where I can no longer see the purpose in trying to attain that command over myself again? I know I need help with even the simplest parts of getting back to "normal". And it has to be in parts. Small parts. It's hard to make people understand that you really do need things broken down that way. It's hard to explain that someone's advice or instructions don't make sense when it comes to putting them in practice. It's even harder to say admit that sometimes I don't have control, even when it seems like I do or should. It's not logical, not on the outside. It's just the way my head works. The depression is only a part of it. There is no way for me to fight the limitations my autism places on me. I can only work around them. And that's the trouble with this place. No one seems to be able to help me figure out how, and that's not something you just pick up in your day-to-day life. The world isn't built for people like me. I've run out of creative ways to survive.

It feels like I'm drowning inside my own head. Screaming, crying, having a meltdown--all these things would help to alleviate some of the frustration that's been building for months, years even. But I can't get myself to the surface to be able to do that. I sit here, stuck under water, suffocating, while I put on the best face I can for the people around me. I'm tired of seeing them get hurt. I see the looks on their faces. I see the fear that anything they say will set me off, and I see the frustration. They're more over it than I am. They see my obsession with my own misery and less-than-desirable circumstances and cannot comprehend how I can't just shift my attention to something else or force different thoughts into existence.

I had planned on going to the gym tonight. But I haven't felt this able to express myself in months, and right now, that's more important. My body has been a source of extreme discomfort lately, as I have watched it change so rapidly into something I have worked years to overcome. But without my mind, I am nothing. Unfortunately, I still feel like nothing, so what am I to do?

Maybe a little more explanation about myself is in order. I owe it to those closest to me, even though it's difficult for me to discuss.

I've searched and searched for better ways to explain what I am about to attempt. No one else's version seems to work. So I will give you mine. It may not be complete, but it's a start.

I'm one of the most socially awkward people you will ever meet. But I'm a fantastic actor, and I've learned to play my part well. I'm the one that's perfectly content to sit quietly and listen to your conversation, unless it's something I'm really interested in. Then I probably won't shut up. And I own't notice how annoyed you're getting. I won't get the hint, and I'll take everything you say at face value. If you look upset, which to me is looking anything other than happy, I just assume it's because of me. Because that's all that is there in front of me. Your past history is not concrete enough for me to see at first, so it doesn't enter my mind. I can seem cold or disinterested. I may brush you off. Most of the time when I say "I don't know", it means that I REALLY don't know. I don't know what emotions I am feeling at the time I am feeling them. They keep building up inside until something truly unbearable accumulates, and then I am even less likely to understand or know how to behave. Asking me to talk it out often makes it worse because it is an additional struggle/frustration just to try to get the words out. If I don't have it figured out in my head, how can I try to explain it to you out loud? Sometimes, my frustration builds to the point where I can no longer physically and mentally deal with it. I fail to process. It's a computer crash. There's nothing to do but restart the machine, and sometimes that isn't so pretty. As much as it sucks for everyone around me, sometimes I just need to go through it. A meltdown. Shut down. Whining about the same thing over and over again. And I applaud anyone who has the patience to deal with me. I know people want to show their concern with hugs and whatnot, but that just adds to the physical overstimulation. If you've ever felt like you just needed to scream and have everything in the room stop--put on pause like in the movies--you know what I feel like nearly all the time.

And I'm obsessive. I can't let things go. There are things from twenty years ago I can't let go. I still feel all of those emotions just as strongly as I did then. And thinking about the situation only takes me back to that exact time, and I relive the emotions, often repeatedly over days, weeks, months, and years. One little thing that means nothing to you can ruin an entire month for me.

That brings me to my most recent struggles. These are the most problematic for me. I can handle being socially awkward and isolated, as long as I have my fiance by my side. Very few people truly understand me, and I've never met someone who's wanted to try as hard as he does. But even he is wearing thin. He has a new job that's pretty demanding, and he is gone for days at a time. And I am left with myself and no one to help me with my release. I don't even trust my therapist that much yet.

Anyway, executive functioning. I say that I have problems with this, but many people probably don't know what I'm talking about, so they ignore it, like skipping the infamous whale anatomy chapter in Moby Dick. This time, I've found a pretty good summary thanks to the internet.

Executive function refers to a set of mental skills that are coordinated in the brain's frontal lobe. They work together to help a person achieve goals. The skills in question are the abilities to manage time and attention, switch focus, plan and organize, curb inappropriate speech or behavior, and integrate past experience with present action. When executive function breaks down, a person's ability to work or go to school, function independently, and maintain appropriate social relationships can be affected.

So when I tell you I really don't know how to get my shit together and move forward with something, even if it is specifically told to me what I need to do--which often is not specific enough--I really mean it. It's not that I don't try. Half or more of the trying comes in trying to mentally prepare for what needs to be done, sorting out the mess that's in my head. It's like having a bunch of papers and supplies scattered about my desk. I can't hope to do anything until all of that gets organized and put in the right place. But sometimes there just isn't anywhere to put anything, so I am stuck with all the anxiety of needing to do a task and a complete inability to get it done. Then I get stuck on not getting things done. And every time, it feels like something new. I can't use what I have learned from the times before to help me through a crisis situation. That information is just not accessible. So while you feel like you are repeating yourself, my brain acts as if it is the first time hearing any of it at all. Meanwhile, I'm still dealing with all the sensory issues and anxiety and depression. And all the friends that think I don't care at all because I can't figure out how to maintain my relationships and manage my priorities.

Why was I so much better at this before? There were a lot of clear rules for things in my past. School was pretty straightforward. I didn't have to think about coordinating so many different things at once or prioritizing. I did what needed to be done according to the deadlines set for me and stuck to the schedule laid out for me. But as things progressed, I started to lose control. Deadlines became flexible and I got left on my own, and in my entire life, I've never had any preparation for that. Being smart got me through most of my academic life, but I've learned the hard way that there is so much more to being a functioning member of society. And I'm not fully capable of doing everything yet. And people are really surprised when I say that. They think I should just be able to figure it out and get it done. But these are the people that don't see the world the way I do. I know the only way to come to a solution is to achieve mutual understanding.

I'm becoming a little more sure of what I want to do. But I truthfully don't know where to begin. I need it one step at a time. Painfully obvious steps to most people. And that doesn't exist. It's even more problematic that the simplest solutions just won't work for me. And I worry that all of this, in the end, will prevent me from being able to function in the life that I really do want. Once and if I get to where I want to be, how do I sustain that life? I haven't been able to sustain much of anything in my adult working life. How do I change that when embarking on an even more difficult path? I know this information needs to come from someone like me. A neurotypical answer won't be enough.

I want what I want, and I am finally feeling good enough to say that. I'm really over mediocrity and settling for less than what I know I can do. But the path isn't clear to me. It seems I'm not low enough functioning to not understand but I'm not high enough functioning to actually get shit done. Where do I fit? Where do I begin?

Thinking Trans

Sometimes you forget how people would overlook you--how they'd stare and try to figure it all out in the twenty seconds it took to cross a crowded bar. They want to see which door you choose. Either way, you've lost.

You forget how hard you had to fight to be taken seriously as a man in this world, and you forget the price you had to pay for that respect. Some wouldn't call it that at all. Some may say privilege. And they may be right.

You forget the angst and the activism and just start living. The weeks pass and you pass and you finally get everything you've always wanted, along with a whole new set of misunderstandings. The assumptions may be different, but people claim you as their own, trying to squeeze juicy answers out of you until you are shriveled and worn. 

I still haven't lost that fear that someday there will be a problem in the locker room, a situation at the airport, a confrontation at the gas station. But I'll be damned if you think you can make me stand up to pee. 

Today, I remind myself how hard it still is for people who don't look like me. I've never had to worry about my chest--even though I do--and the color of my skin doesn't exponentially increase the chances that I'll be beaten bloody and left to die. 

I understand that I have become somewhat complacent, and I cannot be ashamed of this. But I can work harder to make sure others have the same luxury . And that's the road I have chosen. 

Untitled Poem

All the love in the world will not make

My chest any smaller

My face any clearer

Standing by the mirror

I see half a human 

The other half 

Looming in the shadow of 

Someday

And all the squats in the world 

Won't matter in the end 

When I can't look at myself

Without wondering 

how I got this way

Inside my head

There's no exercise 

In any book I've seen

That can fix 

All that can't be seen 

All the time in the world 

I hear less often 

A mind gone mindless 

Is dead