Tag Archives: anxious

Anxiety & Chaos — The Antithesis of the Aspie Mind…

Anxiety and Chaos rules my mind. It feels like it’s been long buried under mountains of agonising pain, sorrow, grief. Fibro-Fog, medication, and more and more Chaos and Anxiety. I can feel my mind still there, calling, struggling to be freed, to be heard… yet, there seems to be so little I can do about digging it back out.

As long and all this overwhelming Anxiety and Chaos rules me, rules my life, is forced upon me – truly, it seems that no matter what I do to prepare against it, it floods and breaks through my defences and laying siege until I can do nothing more against it. – it will Rule me. It overwhelms me. Then, it eventually takes over me. My life. And now, it just simply continues to do so… because I have only so many spoons at all, and that number is barely above Zero, and none of those spoons are even remotely strong enough to fight against the sheer mountain of things that continue to suffocate me every minute of Every. Single. Day.

With no Short Term Memory to speak of, and pretty much no Long Term Memory to fall back on (although, thankfully, the odd one can be brought out with certain triggers, unfortunately few and far between), it’s like I am nothing and no one.

As an Aspie, who once remembered everything and anything just about, this fact is near killing me inside. I still don’t know what to do with it – the grief and frustration of going through this, being forced to live without something embedded into me, that was an intricate part of me… Quite often, it is all too overwhelming. Even the inability to control my environment was entirely reliant on this… and without it, Anxiety and Chaos reign entirely. It is painful and frightening, and there seems to be nothing I can do about it – and I feel this because I have gone through everything I can think of over these past Five Years this has been happening to me…

I physically cannot move – my condition leaves me with only the shoulders and arms and what is above it; pretty much nothing else is movable by my own conscious will. I must remain on the floor whilst upstairs because my chair (or any chair) cannot fit up here; the house is too old and the landing is far too narrow to accommodate one. This means that I remain next to useless up here – unable to move or control my own environment in my bedroom. Despite assistance, there is no way to keep it sane without someone perfectly able-bodied to take things out and put them away as required. Whilst I may be able to retrieve something, putting it back may cost too much spoons, or be too difficult – or worse, I might forget.

I have been numbed by the sheer and exhaustive amount of confusing and destructive emotions that keep washing over and drowning me. I do not like emotions – actually, I loathe them, and wish they did not exist. And, quite frankly, there are definitely far to many of them. It’s a cornucopia of horror that I flail at, until I fall victim to my terror and end up falling and drowning beneath them all. “NT” people have called this dead numbness “depression” – but I’ve studied psychology for years, and what I have has never quite been fully described by that theory, and it does not fully cover what it is that I experience.

I am TMI (Too Much [Sensory] Information) when it comes to all these emotions – and all are fuelled by my two arch enemies: Anxiety and Chaos. I literally cannot live like this – I barely even exist like this. To live, to participate in… well, something, anything… to do what I love again… That would be Everything.

So, by that measure, it seems that right now I would have nothing…?

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Waiting For The Axe To Fall…

So… today is the last day before my PIP re-assessment. Needless to say I’m terrified and freaked out.

They’re not nice people, and their job is to try and find ways of undermining your suffering to make sure they don’t have to give you money to live on.

Thus, I am not looking forward to it. Funny that.

Today has already been a nightmare without even factoring in that hovering over my head like a black cloud on Eyore. The isobars have been on the floor again (1007mb) and I could barely move my fingers, let alone myself. It was a big struggle, and although I am glad I got some things done, I am not pleased that I did it. It was really difficult, painful and completely draining.

img_0886It wasn’t even anything big… Well, it was to me, given the weather (torrential rain and chilly), but in and of itself it wasn’t big. I was barely able to get out of bed, or downstairs to my chair, or function. So doing this did feel like a huge mountain to climb.

I was in constant panic attacks and major anxiety (and I still am – my mother, a nurse, came up with a clever way of helping me by emulating the paper-bag trick but using my inhaler – taking it without actually using the pump… it works!). Eventually, I managed to get myself together enough to go out to the new Waitrose in Chester, so I could get some good food to get more nutrition and look after myself better. The place was great and I got some lovely things, including fruit to go in my new Purition protein smoothies. Now I’ll at least have an entire week of nothing but good, wholesome and nutritious food, with my new mountain of fruit and veggies from there.

Unfortunately, it was also extraordinarily exhausting to do this, and by the time I got home I couldn’t even function: I could barely transfer from the car to the chair, I fell when I went to the bathroom, and I had multiple panic attacks. I have no doubt I will not be going to sleep at a reasonable (as in before 6am…) hour – although I can’t imagine what I am going to be doing with myself now. I’d like to think it would be playing games, but I can’t see it somehow…

On the up side, I finally got the Mass Effect Andromeda Loot Crate that I pre-ordered back in March… And it was well worth the wait!

  •  A Gorgeous Pathfinder hoodie
  • 2 lovely plastic children’s(esque) cereal bowls emblazed with the Mass Effect Andromeda Cereal logo around it (especially for geeks!)
  • 2 gorgeaous, heavy (real) whiskey glasses embossed with the logo of the Nexus’ club, Vortex
  • An adorable model of the Nomad
  • An Andromeda Initiative Medalian Coin (huge and heavy!)
  • A Pathfinder Patch
  • Pins of Tempest and Andromeda Initiative
  • A [short] Dark Horse graphic novel: Mass Effect Discovery #1
  • A Normandy Datapad-shaped card with all the details of the Crate on it

I was amazed by it – it was really so nerdy! Worth the wait and the price. I’ve no doubt I will be hiding that hoodie as soon as winter comes! 😋🤓😎

And now… Well, I just wait. Wait to go and face the guillotine that is Capita, PIP [Mis-] Representatives.

Oh, Lordy, I so do not want to go!

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MRI – The Claustrophobic Miracle-Worker

Had MRI today. I do not recommend them… Squished into a toothpaste-tube washing machine drum that feels like your own coffin fornipnto 45 minutes – not my ideal way to spend a morning…
Apparently they did actually find a brain, though. So there!

*Stipulation: Must admit they did not specify it was On or working, mind… 

 

They’re not pleasant creatures, MRI scanners. However, their inventor and everyone who has had a hand into shaping what it – and fMRI scanners – are, should be lauded and worshiped as magicians and forever lifesavers.. Saints, almost. What their contraption(s) have done revolutionised people’s ability to be diagnosed with neurological and neuropathological – and eve “psychological” conditions.

They proved the true existence of schizophrenia, MS, Fibromyalgia, depression, even Gender Dysphoria (being transgendered). They have also disproved and alleviated fears and suspicions of long-term illness or disability for people. Allowed doctors to see why some people will never walk and others don’t after paralysis or numbness, by giving them the ability to see the spinal cord, discs, and nervous pathways.

Hopefully, today, it will allow them to see I do not have anything to awful causing my weird and god-awful… condition. 

 

life's pooh

 

I was lucky this appointment came very quickly. It was in a temporary mobile unit at the local hospital, rather than the big one that is quite far away. The nurses were so lovely (and I’m completely sure they knew nothing about my ASD), so calm, so confident in helping and their support, that when something looked like it was about to go a little wrong, their support – and my father’s support – helped me go through with it. Just goes to show you don’t need to be “Autism-Friendly” specifically all the time… Just nice.

The thing itself is unpleasant, but they tried their best to make it as not-so-bad as possible. Ear plugs, ear pads, and a big foam pillow under my knees as I lay down, made it as comfortable as possible for me to lie there (they also offered an eye-mask, which I declined). A plastic “cage” (for scanner-tracking) was locked over my face, and I was ready. Well, properly packaged, anyway. I think few people are truly “ready”.

Then I was slowly fed in so it could literally look inside my brain.

Head and neck took about 20 mins each – they took a little extra time because the spasms (usually controlled my Magnesium oil) were starting up and making me twitch or flinch enough to spoil their pictures. Because I did not use the Magnesium oil and had my Pregabalin at the wrong time (the appointment was for the time I take them, and I needed them to be kicked in way before then), I was managing on the essential oil recipe and, well, quite a lot of alchohol – which is never by choice, believe me…

I stayed up all night for this – which wasn’t even a chore because I have a great new game (that would be Mass Effect: Andromeda) and I was utterly scared out of my mind about going through this. I always hate them and they’re horrible, but to get the peace of mind (or answers) you need, they’re necessary, so you put up and shut up. But that doesn’t make them any less scary.

The noises change from a downright trance/dubstep/garage dance beat, to Woodpecker Mode, to hammer-pounding, and all sorts in between (but they’re the main ones). Then there’s silence whilst they check the pictures or move you in the machine. The weirdest thing is the… sensations… the thing gives you too. Tingling, vertigo, disorientation… other things… you can feel where it’s looking by what you feel and where. It’s a strange experience, but one that does no harm (anxiety and panic aside…).

They can – and do – talk to you when they need to, and they will give you some “time checks” when you’re inside, which is helpful. And finally, they’ll tell you it’s time for you to leave. The bed slides out and the bright lights burn the your eyes – or, hopefully, back of eyelids – after being in your little white coffin for so long.

Then… It’s all over.

 

 


Labels For The Lost

So I went for another assessment. You know, for more labelling. As if I didn’t have enough already. They love them in Psycho-babble land. The last big one of consensus was Depressive. Others were hypochondriac, problematic, troublemaker, unstable, unhelpable. I loved that last one – it drove me to be whatever I wanted to be. So I guess I then wanted to see if I was going to go and qualify for another one. Maybe one that would have some answers.

 

Labels

I’m not sure why I went. I hate labelling – they’re restricting and demoralising. On the other hand, they come with help and some insight… if they’re correct. The if is a big if for me. I can’t communicate properly with these people, and am never able to say what I really think and feel about things. I drivel on forever and never able to make my point. I can write my thoughts perfectly coherently (not on here – this is the “lab” where the ideas are cooked up… for want of a better metaphore…!), but I certainly can’t say them. So no one ever really gets the bigger picture.

I did it a couple of weeks ago or so. I was terrified. Extremely anxious. In a place, a clinic, that I hated and unnerved me. And then there  was the stranger sitting in front of me… asking me vague questions and wanting to know all about me. Again. This must have been the gazillionth time I had been in this situation – one that I really hate.

So I do what I usually do – talk non-stop drivel at them until they leave. I can’t make my point, or answer any questions coherently. There were no straightforward questions – they were all open-ended, barely actual questions even… Those “tell me about…” type ones. So I just babble on about stuff without listening to myself or thinking about what I am saying.

I was frozen and sat like a stone, unable to think clearly, or speak coherently. I babbled and babbled, speaking about whatever was in my head, relevant or otherwise… and probably mostly otherwise. I was mainly panicking inside. I just know as I’m speaking, somewhere in my subconscious, that I am not saying anything that I should be. Yet I still can’t actually say it. I wish they would just email me instead.

I’m OK with straightforward questions, where there’s a clear and precise question and a clear and precise answer. I don’t do so well on the others… those vague ones that are open-ended and aren’t really clear in what they’re asking. That’s what they give me, though. The vague ones. So I never answer their questions properly, and usually land myself in the wrong place with the wrong “diagnosis”… All because I could never tell anyone what I really wanted to say, because they never ask the right questions in the right way.

 

Lost

Ever since that meeting, through that evening, that night, and ever since, this has been spinning in my head. All the things I wanted to say, all the things I should have said – they’re all floating around in there, screaming to be said. Only they will never be said because I don’t know how to get my words from my head and out of my mouth properly. They haven’t left me alone even for a minute and hound me.

Now I’m going back for another appointment. That letter finally came, and gave me less than a week’s notice. I got it on the Wednesday, and the appointment was the next Monday. By a very kismety stroke of luck, my best friend actually had already randomly booked that day off, so I don’t have to go alone. I can’t go back there alone… I hate the clinic I keep having to go to – they’re all appear to be idiots with the combined IQ of a kamikaze gnat, and always answer my questions with “I don’t know“… very helpful.

The guys in this place just can’t seem to do anything right, and, at best, feign strained politeness. They’ve screwed up everything that both I and my GP have asked of them, and cancelled my one and only appointment with a psychiatrist for assessment for CBT 20 minutes after it was supposed to start, claiming an “emergency” came up. They then seemed to cancel my CBT request and never made a second appointment. I had to ask my GP to send them another one. They also sent me to an “emergency” appointment instead, where I saw an idiot junior GP on a psych rotation who tried to goad me into admitting to things that fit me into a certain “Personality Disorder” box she was trying to stuff me into, because she had just been working somewhere specialising in it. When I looked up this disorder (which I forget now) it was almost an exact list of everything I wasn’t – apart from the “traumatic childhood” bit, which everybody seems to obsess about. My problems started way before then. I was already not OK by age two… shame they didn’t think about that too.

And so… I’m scared he’s going to say yes. I’m also scared I’m going to say no. One way I have an answer I don’t really want. The other way means I still have no answers and I’m still lost. OK, I do not need another one of those labels – all they do is generally cause trouble. On the other hand, answers are always good. You can deal with them, and other people can help you deal with them. Maybe you no longer have to struggle so much with it anymore. In theory anyway… There’s no real guarantee anyone will actually help you at all. Given I’ve been waiting 9 months for a follow-up appointment with the pain clinic, and 8 months and counting for a CBT assessment, I should be rather more realistic and know that help isn’t always there for you when you need it. Or maybe it’s a diagnostic thing…  given I’m still waiting for diagnosis for anything.

I guess I just have to wait to find out…


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