caprine meloncholia

it takes me a while to process emotions. i asked my therapist once what it means to process one's emotions. to paraphrase, it's sitting with how you feel. before that, i thought of it as 'i don't know how i feel about things right away. it takes me a while to realise a situation was pretty shitty.'

i feel the separation between my friends now. i don't mourn it; i acknowledge it. there's been friendship breaks i'm not aware of, trips, new recurring characters. there's so much i want to do but i'm afraid to do it myself. my fear is that i won't talk to anyone, stand by myself in a corner and leave early out of boredom. thus i'd have to initiate conversation and i don't do that.

i used to hate the idea of small talk. not because i felt i was capable of profounder conversation, but because it felt like i couldn't keep up with the verbal back-and-forth. i lacked the rhythm, the momentum. i will get it eventually. i need more information. small talk leads to bigger talk i'm sure, and for a first meeting, i'm not entitled to that depth.

to rebut those who say something is impossible, that something will never work. their imaginations are too limiting. they cannot imagine new worlds. they cannot conceive something that has not been conceived before.

sometimes i tell someone uncomfortable truths to make myself feel better.

i expect them to react badly (which assuages negative emotions later because it's expected) and when they do react badly, i relish the words. each statement is a slash to my wrist, but without needing to relapse

what do they really think of me? i file it away for later. later they might apologise, - 'I didn't mean what I said, I was just so angry' - i don't believe it. i take things too literally to disbelieve them! i file this away for later.

kind of a mini devil's advocate for when i make the mistake of trying to 'be kind' to myself. this is vindication for all the bad thoughts i think they think of me. this is taking accountability. this is avoiding complacency! like my friend saying they walk around eggshells with me. or how my mum doesn't think i put true effort into job hunting. or when my dad says i make excuses for my absence despite promising i would visit.

like is lived experience is on par with a degree? Separately why is academia so elitist? Referencing hinders devising my own praxis and model?

honestly i am because i have learned a bit about dbt.

and i don't have to make a decision Right Now. i can procrastinate.

and then there are the semantics of arguing with people. i was told i can't 'read the room' to which i replied 'i can read the room sometimes.'. to which the other person said 'i didn't say you do it all the time.'

but that sometimes is what counts; it's what people see. they can't see the constant internal debates of 'should i have said that?'. i feel like i have nothing worthwhile to contribute to anything. a banal rehashing of the last conversant. and a perceived infrequency of a behaviour doesn't make it less bad. for example, if i sometimes dismissed people's feelings, i think i would still be a dismissive person, so...

in school, i had a reputation in my friends group for being sensitive. as a result, i would keep things to myself; when i did air out my grievances it came at inconvenient time: during arguments and otherwise irrelevant discussions. i needed time do process why i was upset about things. this is my reason for keeping things to myself. it is not a grudge, it is heedance. I'M FUCKING ALLOWED TO BE UPSET.

no one actually cares to hear you out. they pretend to perform the role of a gentle, non-judgemental ear. when you don't want their banal solutions (exercise, eat), you're difficult, you don't want to get better, _it's your fault you're stuck this way_. I'm sick of trying to explaining myself. it makes me want to be alone.

i've written many suicide notes. when i'm sober, i can't even read my writing. it's rushed and misattributes my problems. the burden of the human condition is that people can hurt us. there is no perfect retribution. it's an irreversible reaction. apologies shift this burden. it's my fault if i can't get over it. that's my burden.

I think I might have a personality disorder. I didn't feel remorse about the terrible thing I did, but maybe I do: I vacillate.

Sometimes I am as dangerous as my thoughts. Other times, they distress me.

It has been confirmed by more than one source that I disrespect people and try to piss them off. Intentionally. I have fought against this assertion, but to no avail. One cannot fight the broad consensus. Everyone walks on eggshells around me because I'm autistic and I don't mean to hurt people. They patiently try to explain why this thing I said was wrong, and when I don't get it, I see the exasperation on their faces. I can't stop. I can't get my brain to stop. So dealing with me is exhausting.

I feel like I'm cosplaying as a human sometimes. Perhaps I'm secretly evil and not aware of it - this lack of knowledge of self manifests in the uncertainty of how I feel about things. I should be angry at such subjective disrespect. I should feel sad if someone is hurt. I choose, which I feel is more significant.

i'm going to post more often. not that anyone cares. most of you who read my posts are mentally ill yourselves. do send me a message though, it's nice to have community!

by 'off the wagon' i mean i'm sleeping during the day a lot. at night, i squander my time. this would be a good time to get some work done, but i associate nights with rest and relaxation so it's hard to do. i was hoping that one day, i'm rendered so sleepy around night time that my schedule resets. that's not the way it usually resolves, but it is random.

i tried to assert more independence with my mother today. it nearly turned into an argument. she doesn't want me to be too dependent on benefits. she reasoned that i could use the money to do something suicidal. it's quite cheap to commit suicide, so i don't know about that.

i'm also taking my medication regularly. i feel fucking miserable, but at least i'm more stable in mood.

today i learned that part of my third-year dissertation involves writing a blog. i've got experience with this inconsistently updated one, so i think i'll enjoy that aspect. searching for a supervisor, though - not so much.

i debate over whether i'm lazy or not. sometimes i wake up at 9am and don't want to rush to get there on time because rushing expends energy. but i don't take pleasure in it. the relief when the start time elapses does not count.

i'm a loser, though. the shame is not helping you, the university's clinician would say. but the shame does not lie to me. it distorts things, but i most own the image.