It’s due to nights like tonight that writing is such an important tool for me. As I sit on my bed, still fully clothed at 00:53, I have no intention of going to bed and falling asleep. There’s too much on my mind. Too much weighing me down that I just don’t want to have to face again tomorrow or even in my dreams. So I’m writing it out instead, arguably in a slightly cryptic manner.

You see right now I’m low again. I’m pretty sure this’ll be a reasonably short battle but the issues that have triggered it have existed for over 12 years. In two out of my last three blogs I’ve discussed the leaps and bounds I’ve made recently. How much everything has improved and how far I’ve come. But there are some things that have never changed, never improved, never got better. They have done for a short time but then time moved on and I just didn’t.

This time last year I was expecting to collapse, I knew I’d be questioning my progress and feeling alone. A few weeks ago I honestly didn’t expect to feel the same thing this year. I know that right now, more than ever before, the entire world is lonely. I understand I am by no means alone in this. But not everyone has felt it for 25 years and most know that once this is all over and they return to normality, those feelings will fade. If I’m basing my opinions on experience, I’m pretty sure I’ll always feel this way.

Lockdown really didn’t take much of a toll on me (though my family may disagree) because the situation just mimicked my normal life. I spent so much of 2019 just sitting on the couch with the cat watching quiz shows, I thought 2020 would be different. But as soon as I was able to press the play button again, the rest of the world paused.

Lying here and just typing out all my feelings with zero structure makes me feel like I’ve taken a u-turn. This is what I did when I was stuck in school being traumatised without support. I actually found the link to my first ever blog site a few days ago, so I took break from typing and decided to look at it. It does bring me some solace. I’m not in the same position I was in nine years ago, but a new one that’s just as hard to deal with. And all that was holding me back then still exists in my life to some extent.

I still have epilepsy and seizures. I always will. I’m still autistic and have very few friends. I still feel like an outsider in every single situation. I still can’t empathise or type without having to correct every other word. I’m still me.

Right now I’m just fed up. I’ve had enough of waiting for opportunities to come along. Enough of wondering when things will change. I’m bored of relying on meds and consequently spending half-an-hour on sorting them out each week. I’m fed up with relying on others, not having full control over my life and not feeling like I’m meeting expectations and making my family proud. I’ve had enough of feeling stuck. I just wish someone could come and tap my shoulder in order to get me out of the mud.

I really don’t want to feel this way when I know I’m in a better position than so many others. I know I need to put myself out there, ask for opportunities in order to get them. But the anxiety I feel just asking my few friends if they want to meet up is enough to deter from ever leaving this house. Why should I put myself out there and set myself up for rejection when I can be at home watching quiz shows with the cat?

Quoting punk-pop band Free Throw again:

A part of me knows that there’s no fight left
In the shell of a person I became this year

I think that I’ve wasted my whole life.

The Corner’s Dilema

If you look at my current catalogue of posts, you’ll notice there is a five week gap between 28th July and 3rd September of 2019 when I didn’t write at all. So much happened in those five weeks, so much I wonder if I’ve ever fully processed. That summer was both the best and the worst of my life. In fact the whole of 2019 hit me so hard and so fast that I still have a giant, metaphorical dent in my side. I’m not sure if I’ll ever fully recover from it.

I’m not who I was 24 months ago. In some ways I’m a far better version of me. But in others I’m seriously damaged. Over analysing and typing out thoughts just can’t fix all of me. So instead 66 minutes after I started typing, I’m going to go to bed. I won’t sleep well because I never do. But hopefully, as Captain Tom always says, ‘tomorrow will be a better day’.

EDIT: Well, 12 hours on from when I first finished writing this post, I can confirm that. despite not going to sleep until almost 4:30 am, I have woken up in a much better headspace. Whether typing this all out last night contributed to that or not I’ll never really know but I am definitely ready to face this next day.