I’m getting increasingly worried about my doctor’s appointment on Thursday. It’s stupid that I have spent the past week getting increasingly more worried about this, but I’m also scared. See, to quote my favourite book right now I’m feeling “both happy and sad, and I am still trying to figure out how that can be.”
It seems I have come to terms with the existence I have resigned myself to, For the last few days I have gone to work, come home, occasionally I have eaten, more often than not I have sat at my laptop and thought about inspiration and where it comes from. I have commandeered what should be a dining room table but we only use on Christmas day as my new desk. It’s improved my posture, but hasn’t improved my pain. It’s giving me more focus, but not particularly giving me inspiration. When I’m done writing, I go to bed and lay awake until I drift off, which often takes hours. When I wake up I lay in bed until I either have to get up to get dressed for work, or my parents have left for work at which point I shower and then go sit at the table again to think about writing.
Writing has become a thing of refuge for me. For a while it was the only thing I could concentrate on. See I used to watch a lot of films, but my ability to concentrate has got so bad this year that I haven’t really watched a film for a few months properly. And that is sad. But last night I stayed up until 2:30AM to watch Magnolia, my favourite film, which happens to be 3 hours long.
Until I started writing this I was questioning myself, I know I need more support than I have for a long time, an increase in medication and my sleeping pills back, I also need to talk about my back pain and my panic attacks. But the problem is, and this may not sound like a problem, is that I have transcended my previous level of depression to something that surpasses numbness. I have no real emotions towards anything, I think I feel both happy and sad because in fact I actually feel neither. I feel nothing. And it has taken me writing this down to understand that.
I’ve written lists for my doctor, I‘ve wrote essays, I’ve wrote prompt lists for myself, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, I don’t know what is for the best. And I’m worried my doctor will see my aloofness as progress, when in fact it is the opposite of progress.
Doctors keep trying to get me to go to therapy, and I’m just not ready or ok with that right now. I find it hard to talk to people I know well, never mind a stranger. If I don’t feel comfortable I won’t talk about anything. I’ll make jokes so they think I am ok.
I fell asleep after 4AM last night, because for two hours after my film ended, I was lying awake worrying about my appointment. So worried in fact that I have written yet another list of the same things I have written in every list prior. I have been rehearsing the conversation in my head. But what is the point? I can’t predict another persons actions or answers. I keep saying I need to have a serious talk with my doctor, but doctors steer you in the direction they wish to talk, that way they can get you out of their office quickly and get the next patient in. I wish it didn’t work that way. I don’t want things to get worse. I don’t want things to get that bad that I lose the rights to make a decision about whether or not I need to things.
What am I doing? I am convincing myself i‘m happy because I feel like I have found a purpose in writing. But am I just settling? I have a degree in film that I have no intention of using, I have 3 years of teaching experience that I am not using.
I honestly thought I was starting to be happier. But alas, it seems as usual, I have just simulated happiness by pacifying myself in to believe I am content with my current lifestyle.
It’s not that I don’t want to write, I want to write, I have for a long time. But, between the writing and working should I be actually doing something? Going out? Going away? Making something? Learning something?
One of the most important teachers in my education once told me “it’s ok to do nothing, it’s ok to not know what you want to do tomorrow” I know he is right. But when have I gone for too many days not doing anything? When have I got to know what I want to do tomorrow? My darn autistic brain just can’t see something things when they are not black and white.
The Elephant in the Room