2 Hour Party Girl
I am pushing 40, awaiting an Autism diagnosis, and sat here in my pyjamas on a weekday.
I am out of work again, probably through choice, definitely through fear. I haven't worked since March of last year, having felt literally exhausted since then. I have had a couple of job interviews, but thanks to my lack of eye contact and practicality in answers to questions, I haven't got the roles. I guess I was kind of relieved however, as maintaining a constant mask of normality all day, every day, is quite frankly terrifying. I would need to sleep for a week after working one day, let alone going back every day and doing it again.
So, am I just on the scrapheap now? Can I just not work, destined to be a dole-bludger for the rest of my days? The Daily Mail would love me. The ultimate layabout, not 100% British, claiming sick benefits but still managing to go out on the piss at weekends. I am an embarrassment to society, a scumbag, a lazy fool who just hides behind some kind of illness in order to do absolutely nothing with her life.
It would be great if this were the case. Well, actually it wouldn't, as I hope I would still have some sort of drive and ability to get myself out of this mess. I don't think I could ever be happy sat doing nothing. And as for the benefits side of things, I am currently receiving £73 per week, and I have to decide whether to eat or pay bills. Or go out on the piss of course, if the Daily Mail were to be believed.
The thing is, I do actually go out and have drinks. Quite often too. This totally contradicts myself, well it contradicts the person I am right this second. The quiet, shy person, sat indoors in mismatched PJs, make-up free and toes in front of the fire. But alcohol, you see, is the ultimate mask. Not that I would ever encourage anyone to drink alcohol, or to try and mask any issues they have with that or any substance. However, for me, all it takes is one glass of wine and I am the same as anybody else in that pub. Everyone is silly, inappropriate, loud, animated, self-indulgent, happy and daft, so for once, when a little drunk, I do not stand out if I behave in any of those ways. It's utterly refreshing, and I'm not just talking about the wine!
I can get up and sing karaoke, talk to random people, accept compliments, give compliments, make eye contact, keep eye contact, not even think about bastard eye contact in the first place. I come across as a normal person, albeit a rather drunk one, but I am in a pub, that is perfectly normal in a pub on a Friday night isn't it? It's brilliant, and that makes me live for the weekends. Nobody else seems to understand this, and think that I am just a saddo that stays in doing nothing, counting down the days until the weekend. They would be entirely correct.
I could become a raging alcoholic and go out every night, but that wouldn't be right either. Weekday drinking feels wrong to me, unless it's a special occasion such as a friends birthday. There is just something magical about a Friday or Saturday night, and having any old reason to use as an excuse to party makes it all the better. I have actually had parties for my cats birthday, Summer-themed get togethers just because it is Winter, new job parties, sacked from job parties, kitchen parties, bedroom parties (nothing crude, may I add, the living room was just too messy). I just love any kind of party. But as long as I am in control, especially lately. Nowadays, if having gatherings at mine, it is only a select few close friends. They understand that my house is not perfectly tidy, and that sometimes I can cut the night short without a moment's notice if I feel too overwhelmed. The same goes with going out, I know that if I start feeling like hell, I can get the hell out of there and back to my sanctuary.
But yes, I do recognise that this is not a healthy lifestyle. My intelligent brain is rotting away with each moment that I sit here, struck with some kind of agoraphobia at any mention of having to go out to do normal things. I had to meet my family for lunch the other day and threw up twice beforehand, for example. I am fully aware that I am wasting my life, I could/should be doing more, that I am ruining all of the most glorious years of my life that I will never get back, etc etc. These things are said to me often, and this is what makes it all the more crushing. I want to change so badly, but I really don't know how. Will having an Autism diagnosis actually even help? I guess it would give me the actual card so to speak, it would finally answer all of my questions and explain my lifelong behaviours, but then how would I proceed?
It was a conversation with my partner that made me realise that I can't just sit around waiting for this damned diagnosis, I have to understand myself right now and work out how I can achieve the thing I want, around my condition, and not letting it determine me. I know he was trying to be helpful and constructive, but naturally at first we had a blazing row about him not understanding me. He doesn't, and probably never will, but he is right. This diagnosis is going to take over a year in total, at least, as my local M.H services are typically exhausted and underfunded, so I can't just hang around watching David Dickinson in my slippers, waiting for some kind of life changing miracle to happen, can I?
So what is the next step for me? I don't actually have a clue. Everything is overwhelming, like a giant unsorted pile of wires. I know I can sort them, and they can be sorted, but just looking at them, all mixed up and intertwined, makes me shudder.
Where do I start?
