Opportunities and Anxiety

I was so terrified, when I got told of this opportunity, that it wouldn’t happen because not many opportunities have ever amounted to anything. However, last week I met up with a woman who told me she wanted to write for her.

Today, I wrote for them for the first time. I have bad anxiety so every time anything good happens, I always question a lot of things afterwards. Was I annoying? Did my writing suck? Do they hate me? My mind always goes to the negative side of things, rather than admitting that I managed to do a few tasks today that were out of my comfort zone.

For one, I ordered lunch, which is something my mum told me to do. I was so terrified of doing it; I never order for myself because of my anxiety. My mum also wants me to go on public transport alone soon.

I also wrote from prompts that weren’t my usual writing, but I enjoyed it. I love it when I’m given a prompt that makes me write something unexpected. However, I still worry that perhaps it was not good. Perhaps, they will wonder why they wanted me to write for them in the first place. This is my anxiety.

I get so excited about opportunities, yet I also get so anxious. I think this opportunity is good though and that I might become a better writer by doing it. I just have to let myself win, not the anxiety. Before, the anxiety has won, and I have given up trying. But I am going to try my best to let myself have a chance.

Lia, you can do this!

Fire (Flash Fiction)

It’s that moment where you sit too close to a fire and it starts to burn. You want to pull back but at the same time, this is the warmest you’ve ever felt. It’s that not knowing whether you’re in the fire or not; that pacing from the heat to the cold. You don’t want to be cold. You can’t be cold again. So you sit by the fire, for hours, just next to it, but every so often you get too close again and the heat is too intense. The first thought in your mind is that you want to leap into the fire, not away from it. So you sit close, waiting to see if there’s any reason why you should leave the fire and go back to the cold, but there never is. There’s never a reason to jump into the fire either. You’re stuck, between being on fire and being cold and neither of those options sound good to you, so you are waiting until a better option comes forward. It doesn’t, so for years, the fire is your neighbour. The fire is your friend. The fire is not you though.

Worries

I worry every day. I can’t stop the flooding in my brain. I worry about the fact that only 16% of autistic adults are in full time paid employment, and that only 32% are in any kind of paid work. I worry about the fact that I don’t look autistic and most people don’t realise just how autistic I am. They think I can fix my autistic traits if they keep telling me how to improve myself, but you can’t fix autism. It stays with you forever. I worry about the fact I may lose all my friends one day through my lack of understanding social communication. I say the wrong things often and I don’t understand why it was the wrong thing. I don’t understand other people’s social signals, either. I think I’m losing friends already.

I worry about the fact that 1 in 3 autistic adults are experiencing severe mental health problems and I think I’m one of them because I can’t see properly most days. All I see in front of me are traps. I think about all the ways I could fail in life frequently, and it isn’t enough to just think positive. I try, but then I think about all the negatives of that positive.

I worry about the fact that I want to do something big with my life but that I will never get the chance to. Don’t say I can if I try. Then, I’ll feel worse about not doing it. My autism looks like it doesn’t affect me much so people encourage me to do things that they would never encourage someone with a more visible disability to do. Just because mine is invisible, people think I can do things. I’ve tried to do more with my life and it ended in terrible situations each time, because of my autism. Each time, I remember back to those scenarios, and I think they will happen again. That is why I cannot do what I want with my life. I cannot experience the opportunities many are lucky to grab. It will end badly.

I cannot see any future for myself, personally. I see the future of everyone else around me — but not me. I have no future. One day, I might be all alone and not know how to cope with the world I’ll be all alone in, and that frightens me the most. I fear that I will be stationary, like a statue, for my entire life. I once had dreams and aspirations that burned down before me when I realised I can never complete those.

I’m depressed. I’m anxious. I’m autistic. No one wants to deal with someone like me. I’m too complicated for them. I’m a mess. I lie to people most of the time with simple texts and funny pictures. I don’t want to be remembered for being a fraud. I want to be remembered for being an author who volunteered with animals regularly, but that is not going to happen. I have had far too many set-backs already. My autism is literally stopping me from getting opportunities (I was turned down by a volunteer agency when they found out I was autistic, despite the fact I could do whatever tasks they wanted me to). I have tried more than once to fit in with society and it did not work out.

The truth is that I’m tired. I feel like an alien. No one understands me. I will not speak this aloud but I will write it in a blog post because that’s what my blog is about. Expressing myself.

Honestly, my pets are what keep me going. Seeing them each day gives me something to smile about, but there’s not much more for me to smile at anymore. I feel alone and frightened about my future. I have my family but they won’t be here forever, so what happens then?

I don’t know.

Lia

 

I exist

Another day.

The birds are singing, the cats are howling, the dogs are yapping. Everyone is up but you. You lie in bed, stiffened by the thoughts that tighten the ropes around you. You’re still, motionless, yet completely awake. You want to get up, to have a life, to just say hi to someone, but you can’t. Your body is paralyzed by the cuffs of sadness. You find no meaning, no reason, to exist but you also find no meaning, no reason, not to exist. It is as if you are caught between the two. This feeling means that you do not want to die but you do not want to live either. You are caught in a bind that strangles you with every breath.

Every day that goes by, you feel the knots tightening, until you’re almost completely wrapped up in them. You can speak, you can move, you can live, but you don’t. You become just another blade of grass. Your presence is not acknowledged, not anymore. You don’t exist… but you do. You know that you exist and you want to scream it from the rooftops but, again, you don’t. You won’t.

“Help…” you utter, still tied up in bed.
And with that, the ropes burn, leaving scars on your arms. The scars will never leave your arms but they will fade overtime. You realise now that you are finally free to speak, to move, to live.

You get up, you go outside, and you scream.

“I exist!”

You can breathe again.

Jealous

is it wrong to be jealous?
to want to enjoy what you like,
to want to experience what you see,
to be able to be by your side,
and not just an extra part.
is it wrong to be yearning
for a part of your life?
i want to be like you,
i want to be happy
and smart and fun
but im just me.
no one wants to be me.

What is there?

I am sad at the moment. That’s why I haven’t blogged in a while. I didn’t have anything to say because nothing was happening to me, except my mind was crumbling.

Everyone I know has a future. I can see them living their life happily in the future. But I can’t see my own future.

I have autism, which makes most social situations much more challenging. I have selective mutism, which is why most jobs wouldn’t work for me. You can’t exactly blank the customers! Most people don’t understand why I’m unable to work, encouraging me to try, and telling me about opportunities, without realising how extremely anxious this makes me. In my current state of being, normal jobs just aren’t for me. I can’t do it because of my challenges. But I want to have a goal, something to strive for, to live for. Because, at the moment, I have no goal. I’m not living, I’m surviving. I can’t do a lot of things because of my problems but because no one can actually see my disability, they keep encouraging me. It’s nice, that they think I have potential, but to be honest, it’s kinda like telling a blind person to see.

I want to do something so bad but I’m tired, I’m sad, and I have no motivation. My anxieties are everywhere. What is there for someone like me to do? Someone who can’t even go out alone, someone who often can’t speak for herself. What is there?

I’m Depressed

When you’re depressed, it’s kinda like being sucked into a black hole. No one knows where you’ve gone, and you can’t go back to where you were before. Instead, you should go to a new place, a different place, because that old world you lived in — that was the one that led you here. To this black hole. Instead of hopelessly trying to go back into it, accept that you’ve been sucked through it, and try to figure out how to cope with your new surroundings.

Sometimes, when you’re depressed, all you want to do is cry. It’s okay to cry. I cry, daily, at the moment. I don’t know how to stop myself. It’s the easiest way to let your emotions out, because other ways seem challenging.

Having depression and anxiety combined is a deadly combination. They contradict each other so completely that your mind is rattled and you don’t know how to exist. On one hand, your depression makes you stop caring, but on the other hand, anxiety makes you care about everything. How can you care about everything and nothing at the same time? I don’t know how, but that is me. I care about so much yet so little all at once. It’s confusing.

I’m in an existential crisis, wondering what the point of human existence is, if our only objective is to destroy the world? Because that’s what we seem to be doing anyway. So my mind wonders sometimes if the most eco-friendly option of all is to no longer exist. That’s my crazy depressed anxiety-riddled mind for you. I care so much about the world, so why have I stopped caring about myself? I don’t know, but my mind is always plagued with the big questions, as well as the small questions, whilst undeniably not caring what happens to me. It’s a truly destructive mind that I have, but I’ve kept existing this long. I can keep existing, can’t I?

I know this post is awfully depressing but my mind’s a mess. It’s been a mess for a while and I don’t see it cleaning itself up anytime soon so I thought writing a post might help. It’s healthy to write about your problems. It helps you figure them out in ways that you haven’t yet come across. This post didn’t help me fix my problems but it made me realise some of the roots of them. If you read this, thank you for reading. You should try writing about any problems you have. It helps, in a way.

Lia

The Mind of Anxiety

Leave the house or everyone will forget you exist.
Return home or they will remember how awful you are.
Speak up or people will think you have no tongue.
Be silent or you will offend the world.
Do what they ask or you won’t be respected.
Disobey them or you won’t be respected.
Listen to something else other than your mind, for once.
How can you listen to something else when your mind won’t ever leave?
It’s that music the neighbours are playing too loud, it’s your heartbeat that you just remembered is right there, it’s the alarm clock reminding you that you are alive.
Talk to people or you’ll suffocate.
Don’t talk or their advice will make you regret it.
No one can help you except yourself, they say.
Try being me. Then give me that advice. I can’t help myself. I’m a block of ice. Helping myself would mean melting away.