26

I haven't written anything on paper in a while, other than lists of things to do and places to be. I also haven't written anything here either, but that should have been obvious. I fought with myself about how I wanted to get these thoughts out. Usually, when there are too many things, I opt for my computer. I can write pretty quickly, but I'm a much faster typist, and sometimes the clicking of the keys seems a little more calming than the scratching of my pen. I've never been able to figure out why one is a more preferable sound at any given moment.

This weekend really showed me how important it is to maintain my routine, even when new people and things are introduced into my life. Maybe the last few weeks should have been a warning. I felt like something big was coming, and I don't think I've gone a single day in the last week without having major problems that have scared and aggravated everyone around me. In addition, I exhausted myself just trying to keep my head above water and spent most of my actual birthday in pain and fighting throwing up, failing about three times. Do you know how much fun it is to do an Eminem number when you are nauseous and wearing a plastic coat? You don't want to.

I feel bad for not having been in contact with so many of the important people in my life, but there hasn't been enough time to even keep in contact with myself. My sleep schedule has been drastically altered, and I find myself doing things that just aren't me, thinking thoughts that don't seem to be my own. I have been having anxiety attacks before bed every night for the past 6 days, and they keep me awake until some time after the sun has risen, and then I sleep until the late afternoon or evening.  I'm depressed, from what I can tell. Getting knocked out of my routine tends to do that, but there have been other things on my mind.

My job is great, but it doesn't pay nearly enough to move forward in ANY direction in my life, and applications to more lucrative positions have been entirely unsuccessful. Financial anxiety is something I'm learning how to handle, but what I don't think I will ever learn how to handle is the idea that I won't move forward. I need a way in to what I want to do, and I just don't know how to make that happen. With so many good things happening in my life, it upsets me that one or two things, big as they are, can bring me down to this level. I don't like when almost every minute of every day is a fight against myself, and I don't like how I can be to other people. I don't like the burden I place on people. I don't like people having to worry about me.

Right now I don't like how I am having to type this from the bathroom because my anxiety has taken its toll on my intestines. I've lost like 5 or 6 pounds this past week alone. That's another thing that's been contributing to my worries. I work hard at what I do, and I don't need this right now, and the worst of that is that the resultant anxiety only fuels the anxiety that caused it to happen in the first place. I need to get out of this cycle--and many others--but I do not know how.

These are the times when I feel like I haven't grown or learned anything at all from my past experiences. When I feel that the work that I have put in to make myself a better and stronger person has been for nothing, much like how I feel about the work I have put in academically. I don't want this to be my story.

I'm visiting my parents this weekend. I'm hoping to have a few days where I can relax and refocus after an absurd couple of days. There is more that I should be saying, but I can't get to it.

Maybe it'll be different in a few days.

Revisiting Previously Incoherent/Incomplete Thoughts

Having just come back from the gym, I can feel the difference in the way I experience myself and everything around me. Before coming to write, I did a little research to prove to myself that my perception has some basis in reality, finding a few articles pertaining to how exercise benefits people with autism spectrum disorders. Though I was unable to access the full articles, the abstracts alone confirmed some of the notions I have long held about how such activities can lead to improved executive functioning, as well as increased bodily awareness and sensory integration. Let me put that into a more personal perspective.

I try to go to the gym at times when there aren't too many people around. I'm not as focused when I am working out around people I don't know that well, and I feel that a good deal of my mental energy is taken up trying to deal with their presence. When I am nearly alone or around people who don't set off my internal alarms, I can concentrate on the movement of my own body parts, the way it feels to have the blood rush to the active muscles, the feedback I am receiving from each and every moving part of the artfully crafted machine that I call myself. In these moments, without entirely realizing it, I am learning to separate the internal world from the external. Perhaps it is more about making these distinctions than "losing oneself" in the workout. It is as if I am truly finding myself as my brain integrates sensory information in an endorphin-saturated physiological environment. Self and other become more clear following a workout. Since so much less energy needs to be devoted to negotiating the space between me and the rest of the world, the necessary energy can be routed to the parts of my brain that deal with planning, organization, and just getting shit done in general and living my life the way I intend to live it.

This brought me to thinking about choice. Ordinarily, I don't think I have the ability to relinquish choice. Every response is a decision to fight against instinct, however automatic that response may have become over time. Routine is an escape from the never-ending responsibility to live a calculated life.

And since my brain has a funny way of connecting everything to everything else, routine became connected with change, as one might expect, but change got me thinking about time. And my body. And learning to be okay with age. I am certainly beginning to show signs of age in my face, and my hair is looking pretty pathetic these days, and while I sometimes stare at what has happened to me for embarrassingly long periods of time when confronted with the mirror outside my bedroom door, I am learning to love the look of having known the world.

And through this thought I have reached the topic of love. These are the most intangible of the words to me, slipping down through the ever-deepening cracks between my fingers and falling gently to the ground. And as I have learned to accept that I am falling with them, I appreciate the significance of these words, however trite they have come to be in modern usage: Love, actively and unconditionally. It is not so much a process of learning for me as it is a processing of letting go--of unlearning the bitterness with which we are taught to respond to anger, pain, and mistakes. It is at the same time the biggest and smallest thing in the entire world.

And as I begin to relax for the night, the thoughts begin to swirl again--a clear display of my brain trying to fight against the abominable notion of relaxation, of doing anything other than trying to solve every known (and unknown) problem in the universe. The concepts start to merge, and I think about falling in a whole new way like falling into your gender as if you stumbled over it in the middle of the street and maybe it looked so miraculous and revolutionary that you just had to stay down there on the ground and take it all in.

And I think of the conflicting emotions. Feeling connected and alone at the same time. Loved but terribly hopeless. Wanting to cry and boiling inside.

Ready to fly.
But I want you there.
Always.