Tenth Draft

It's been a tough old life recently.  Basically, this is the journal of a man who has immense diffuculty managing his shoelaces, let alone his depression, published onto the internet, where I invite you to read it.  Feast on my misery and solitude, and share in my passion and victory.  

After the desolation of last week I have been trying to find myself again, to reinstate what matters, my processes and practices.  One of my biggest problems when I get depressed is recognition, or in fact, the lack of it.  One of my go to phrases this fortnight, especially in a follow up to some obvious mistake or lask of answer is "I don't even know who I am, let alone anything else!", and comically exagerrated bewilderment aside, I actually haven't been hugely sure.  Looking in the mirror, I have met with an unfamiliar face, ravaged by massive weight loss, too much drink  and lack of regular sleep.  I don't even see any trace of the monster who used to look back at me, so I suppose that's a good thing at least... Members of my family have been greeted on the phone by one Travis Bell, and those of you who know who he is will appreciate my fugue to the ghost of a Japanese assassin who gives exactly no shits at all for the precious bullshit that gets thrown around.

I said that I was at loss, and I sure am still now.  Where and to who do I turn?  Really that's what it comes down to, loss.  The loss of someone precious and cherished.  The sudden loss of an accepted routine; not only one that I was simply used to but had become pleased with, which is of course a concession my life must make to my autism.

I am also very guilty of losing the recognition of my supporting players - the people who are there for me all the time even and especially when I don't remember.  To you all, thank you.  It's more than enough having the Big Man who would come down at a moments' notice, but friends old and new, family close and extended have reminded me that it isn't always going to be this hard, even though it feels like that right now. 

It was extremely refreshing this last week, however, to hear somebody else tell me how difficult things must be because of the effort I expend in managing my autism every day.  No, really!  Completely unprovoked and unprompted, and really very kindly meant.  It has been a struggle recently.  I haven't wanted to move for days on end, and the prospect of leaving my room to face everything literally everything else in the world so draining and, well, even frightening.  How shameful!  Not really.  There are plenty of other people out there who are just as frightened, just as anxious and just as depressed as I am, have been and probably will be again who give in.  Some days that door handle can be a powerful deterent just on it's own, regardless of what may be (or probably isn't) on the other side.

A few things have been coming back though.  And little things at that.  I've managed to put a little bit of weight back on, which means my waistline is back up to a healthy 29 inches, but my waistcoats are still a little loose, so I still have far to go.  I've upped my Bach on Banjo schedule too, adding the Sarabandes from the D minor, C major and C Minor suites to my programme of the G major suite.  The Sarabandes are the emotional centres of the suites; C major's triumphal majesty is balanced by D minor's lyricism in sorrow... but the C minor suite's essay in solitude and emptiness is a cold mirror for my self right now.  The delicate placing of the second beat almost matches my slowly worsening gait...

I'm cooking again though, and even treated myself to some new cookery books, courtesy of Nigel Slater and Jamie Oliver, the latter of whose latest opi, 15 Minute Meals, will be of some use in the Scholary where time is limited and appetites large.

What else can I say though?  There's still a lot trapped in my head that I just don't know how to express, should it even be expressed at all...but I have to get it all out somehow or the noise will just become too much and I shall go mad.  I often describe myself as mad; Insanity truly is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, and there's noone guiltier of that than me.

Postscriptum

This post in particular caused me some problem, maybe more so than last week's.  Here I am, in the early hours of the morning performing last minute changes and edits to make sure I have used as unequivocal language as possible.  This isn't about guilt, or blame, or fault.  I only ever blame myself for things anyway, which really is a pattern I must get out of, but I have other things weighting heavily on my mind right now.  This is about me feeling so cut up that I don't really know how to cope, and nothing more.  

I told my brother that trying to put myself back together to the confident, outgoing, witty and well dressed man I know I have been was like building an Empire on a Grain of Sand.  His immediate response?

"I'll fetch the scaffolding."

Vignette XXXII

Again and again and again and again and you'd really think that I'd learn from this but no really insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results but it's all I can do because maybe I am insane after all I mean there's no proof for it really but it's a pretty good theory so we'll go with it it's the best we've got right now and I do need the best even if I try my best but best of all the best still somehow isn't good enough but when it's all you've got to give because you never give up and never give in and give everything you've got only for it to be taken really for granted and taken away but never taken back but taken with a pinch of salt but then really it only ever matters how we stand our ground even if we can't stand it any more and I don't know why I stood for it but I guess I never took it lying down even though I should have made a stand but I never really realised until it was too late I guess timing is everything when your time is limited but think about all that time that went by and inevitably as time goes by there might never be any more time even though somewhere there is a better place a better time that we can look forward to even when it doesn't look like that because looks aren't everything are they now so keep looking and look out even when you feel like your luck's out but luckily enough if you just keep on keeping on because there's nobody that can match you even if you keep it that way but after all ounce by pound you've been losing ground but on what grounds and unreasonable demands rights wrongs lines drawn in the sand and all.

When all the pieces get put back together what will we get?  And what happens next? 

Untitled

So I've been writing this blog since April what, two years ago now?  Sure, sounds about right.  I take things that have happened, are in the process of happening, or are about to happen to me and turn them into a little story and throw in a load of song lyrics, pop culture references, puns... and then review and then publish.  I put links out and wonder who really reads this crap.

Today I am trying really very hard to condense the last two weeks into a workable, readable and indeed writable form, and unsurprisingly I'm finding that extremely difficult.  Let's start with the biggest fact here so we all know what we're dealing with: I got dumped.

Again.

I'm an absolute wreck.  I can't sleep, I don't want to eat, don't want to even move half the time.  I spent the weekend getting roaring drunk every day, and I've even lost a lot of voice.  The only thing I've lost more of is weight, which is just falling off me.  I'm going to be very ill, that's if I'm not already.

Obviously now I want to go on a massive emotional tirade, but... It just won't help.  It won't make me feel any better, you won't want to read it, it'll be divisive (and I've had enough division this week), so I won't bother.  What I will say though is I am just at loss.  I don't know what to do at the moment, and wearing one's heart on one's sleeve (or what's left of it now) as one does...

And look, I know I have the best friends a man could ask for who are all worried sick.  I've got dedications from across the pond, promises of unrelenting physical violence, offers of beds and beer from Norwich almost instantaneously as I let my friends back home know.  This is it, everyone goes through it time and again, and I have all sorts of people to fall back on.  But when that one person goes, that one you made your priority goes and you all know what I mean (and if you don't, just wait until you do), it's absolutely shattering, and that's all I feel at the moment.

It's tough.  I feel...blank in many ways.  I haven't worn my rings and chains for the past week now either.  There was a brief moment during the weekend where the sensation of not wearing any jewelry was stranger than wearing it...but ultimately I'm still not wearing any.  My personality has crashed a little bit (haha a lot) and I'm just not strong enough within myself to uphold it.  Can't eat, can't sleep, can't even wear my bloody suits because I'm so thin at the moment God it's an awful life really, isn't it?

I need to post this and go to bed, before I sit up all night trying to make a point that I'm not really sure about, or change my mind.  As we already know, I don't really change that much, so expect another one of these after the next time, where I give everything and it doesn't work out for whatever reason.  I think that's enough for now though.  I'll be back once I'm done hurting, but don't expect that for a long time because I hurt very badly now. 

Stop, Look & Listen

It's been a long Summer Vac.  And a lot has changed.  But there's still time for everything to change, after all.  Let's get to it.

I've been mostly living alone this summer.  No, not completely by myself, but rather alone.  My housemate, as is his wont, has often gone hither and yon and I have been the sole custodian of The Scholary in the meantime.  As for my girlfriend, well... She's been busy too, and has been here and there on holiday and trips and all sorts of things befitting those on summer holiday.  It's cool.

What I don't like though, is being alone, because being alone drives me absolutely insane, and I just go mad.  It's been a tough old time in many respects because of that.  When I go mad, my usual anxiety spikes and I have a little more trouble than usual controlling it.  Sometimes, it's not easy.  Oy...

I have often faced things about myself that I do not like this holiday as well: my insecurities, my anxieties, my deep-seated dislike of asking for help, my control issues... and so on and so forth!  Luckily for me, I have a good bunch of friends, a wonderful family, and, brave as I am to use such formal language, a significant other who is right behind me and does more than she thinks.

Things are looking up, just like always though.  The Scholary, horrific dosshole that it has been is now in a magnificent state, being cleaned, replumbed, decorated and partially refurnished in time for the new Choir year.  Right now I'm sat (although admittedly not in my seat...) on a reclining sofa; yes, things really are that good!  My chamber of course is furnished to my exact recquirements, what with my double bed, keyboard, and Banjo hanger screwed into the wall.  As always, I am black and white, indeed to such an extent that I now have a brand new Banjo (around £600 worth of instrument) hanging on my wall, this time with a resonator, brass tone ring and black Remo head.  It looks and sounds amazing, and I'm redoubling my efforts in order to be comfortable with the new sound, weight and neck profile in time for my Concert du Jour on the 16th, where I hijack the first Cello Suite by Bach.  That's right, 3 years in the making and after almost 8 weeks of at least two hours practice a night it's almost ready.  Opinion is already divided, but that's kind of the point.  I'm never out to do anything 'usual', and have no intention of stopping now.  Not being Banjo music, it is pretty tricky, but I'm getting there.  I'll be ready in time for the concert... (he says.)

Keen-eyed followers will also notice that I have been all but off-network for the past 5 days.  It's something I'm trying out.  I have more than enough on my plate with practicing and this job still before term starts anew without updating the internet as to my every move.  I'm doing okay, I've been back on today and will of course post this before being off again.  I just got so used to being on Facebook and twitter all the time, maybe it is time for a rest every so often.  Of course, if you want me, I'm still here, yeah?  I am still pretty forgetful about my letters, but that's another habit I have once again fallen out of.  Even as a correspondant I can get very serious, very quickly, and as I am learning, that's not always a good thing.  

The next few months will prove interesting, I suppose.  Financial decisions are not to be taken lightly, after all but there's still so much good work ahead of me.  I have a few personal milestones even before Christmas yet, and there's always room to improve.  All I have to do is keep paying attention.  I've gotta do something...right?

Vignette XXXI

Just hold on.

Just take your foot off the pedal.

Relax.

Use this chance; it's a gift.

Just relax.

Take your time and step back.

Step.  Back.


Just relax and...

...and...

...breathe.

phew.

Turn Again!

Now really I'm still picking myself up.  I think I've happened upon an important clue as to why I am how I am. 


Essentially, I do not change.  I think this is mostly down to being autistic again, but I am more or less the same person I was the best part of half a decade ago.  How can that be?  Does it show strength of character or an inability to adapt?

I'd argue against an inability, because here I am still alive, still going doing things I never thought I'd be able to.  I'm not just surviving, I am (with some effort) actually thriving down here.  The problems only start when I get a bit down.  I'm a massive over-thinker, and I worry.  I worry about worrying.  I worry more than you could possibly imagine.  Being hyperactive has its downside here, as I can get more thinking done is less time.  It's remarkable.

This is great when I'm busy.  If I have a lot on my plate I have a lot to occupy my mind, and that is a fine thing, obviously.  However.  When I'm not terribly busy, like...well, right now, it can get a bit funny in here.  In an absence of activity I run out of things to think about, and start to invent nightmare scenarios that I then convince myself are true!  That people aren't interested in talking to me, that nobody ever wants to see me again...just stupid things like that really... Well, I start there and continue.  One thing in particular that haunts me dreadfully is that my uncle will die while I'm at work.  Real work at the stall, not this fake work at the desk.  I know he will eventually go, but he won't go until it's time.  Just sometimes, on a dark day, I can't help it.

This spills over into my relationships as well.  As far as I've come in my social interactions, and I am become quite a social animal now, this is my biggest stumbling block, the next thing to overcome.  It all stems from my low self-esteem, which while it's the highest it's ever been, is still mercilessly terrible.  I no longer see the Monster in the Mirror, but I still doubt myself terribly.  I convince myself that I am not good enough as a human being, and hold on to it.  I don't know why!  I know it's ridiculous but I clasp this idea beyond anything else sometimes.

And it makes everything worse.  It puts strain on everything I do, and everyone I talk to, because I bear this self-imposed curse.  I interpret social cues all wrong, and it puts other people on edge around me, which I then sense and take badly.  This makes me feel even worse, and thus we have a vicious circle.  It makes me needy and suffocating, and I've finally realised this.  This character fault must be worked through and got over.

Obviously, this has to change as well.  There's been so much change recently that I'm in need of some familiarity to help comfort me.  This is the first summer since the end of VIth form that I haven't gone home for the Vacation.  You may think nothing of it, but it's a big deal to me.  My Girlfriend gets to be on holiday too, and the amount of evenings and weekends that I haven't been able to see her has made me less than happy. 
I've taken to sitting in my garden (if you can call it a garden) and doing at least an hour's worth of Banjo practice of an evening, which is really a fine use of my time.  My fingers are being cut to shreds by the strings, which is of course the point.  I haven't restrung in over a year now, and the low C is getting very dicky, but I'm not sure if I'm going to string this Banjo up again!  I have the serious I-wants for an upgrade, which at £400 will take some serious saving.  It's between that and the holiday fund as the next financial project.

I hate change though.  Change makes me feel uncomfortable, like I lose a foundation.  I worry about it, and then try to plan obsessively around it so I only have to change as little as possible.  What must happen though, is a stop to this.  There must dawn a new age of Pebblez, or I will get left behind.  And that I cannot afford.

There's no need to change my character, but there is a need to change my ways, and amend how I act and think.  I still don't really know how to relax, and that's a major problem as well.  I'm not entirely sure how we'll do anything about that, but we'll see.  Who knows!  Maybe putting some hard work into relaxing will pay off!

Every cloud...

Let's get this straight.  I am in a poor state.

 

Long time readers and fans of the Captain everywhere will know that as an unmedicated depressive, I often have the odd episode of... a less than satisfactory mood.  This has been happening for years and years, possibly longer than I care to remember.  I know VIth form was bad at times, and we all know that my second year was dreadful... I am coming clean about my overall experience slowly but surely for that year; I cannot use my account as the emotional battering ram that you might expect, usually because it backfires straightaway.  I doubt I'll write about it so directly for a while, it's still a bad time.  I still feel the echoes even now, but what can you expect from someone who eschews both councelling and medication?

 

I knew something was the matter yesterday morning, when I started to write about my new environment.  No, I haven't moved house thank God, more that I have purchased built and made a double bed in my room in The Scholary.  A Double Bed!  Turns out 4' 6" is a lot wider than you imagine.  I got it for £50, delivery included from a gentleman in Redruth.  Purchased Sunday previous, and awoken in for the first time yesterday, I don't think I've done too badly.  It is... strange.  Having lived with a single bed for some 22 years, the readjustment is staggering!  I know many of you may have had doubles for a long time now, but this is very new to me; comfort is an odd concept.  But, it is the bed that Peb built.  I earned it, I payed for it with my own money, and I deserve it. 

 

One day, I will believe that last thought.

 

However.  Just what is the matter with me?  Assessing my position logically leads us only to confusiuon: Accomodation, employment, amazing relationship.  The three things that I've been after for so long now.  Really, under all this, I'm the happiest I've ever been.  While I may not have a megabucks job, waiting tables isn't really all that bad, and after all, it's a living.  My house, is of course The Scholar's Palatial Apartments, in the shadow of the East End.  It will always need a hell of a lot of work doing, but it's home now, especially after my furniture shuffle in my room.  And the girl?  Well, I'm not going to say anything more than she's really the best thing ever.  She has the kindest heart I know, and the only woman I respect more than her is my mother (I am a good Jewish boy, after all).  I can rely on her to clip my ear when I get silly, if only I myself could drop things as easily as I should.  I'm still working on it.  Promise.  Of course, my best work is always ahead of me.

 

 

I've all but lost my appetite, and I don't understand.  Perhaps the solution lies somewhere in my disability?  As an autist, I rely on routines and knowing where my boundaries are.  I've completely lost all my usual routines, and even changed my environment.  This change is massive put together, far bigger than I'm used to.  I also don't really have a 'holiday mode' as such, never having really gone on the things.  Had I have swapped my room in term, with services every day (my default mode of being), I would have taken it easily.  Something as simple as no evensong has upset me, obviously.  My new financial regime that I have had to impose to curtail my monetary ruin is a complete turn around as well.  This isn't as easy as saying that I have over-estimated my own strength, like that time I started working at Truro School; this is a change with more necessity behind it.  I can no longer afford to bum about in the nether regions of my overdraft, and at least working my way out is better than simply being on the Dole. 

 

Working what is technically 6 days a week is hardly exciting though.  I'm going to have to seriously reconsider this job once Choir term starts again, as working seven days a week will be a serious drain.  But...maybe that's what has to happen in order to improve my finances.  I'm not looking forward to it one bit, especially as I'll be working indoors all the time as well. 

 

 

As I've written this, I've actually started to feel better.  Just a little bit maybe, but still.  I've been on the phone to both my mother and my lady, both of whom in their unique and effective ways have chided me and got me to keep this pitiful chin of mine up.  I've come so far even in this past month alone, let alone the past year.  To err is only human; to admit divine.  To fail now though would be the end.  To pick the fight up again is more a personal hallmark, but sometimes tradition is what you need.  I feel pretty ashamed for allowing my depression to get the better of me at any time, and especially right now.  I think getting it all down has helped: being able to review in such a manner is helping me to think that I am just being ridiculous, and with a some corrective effort I can pull this up with a minimum of discomfort. 

 

Not everything can be easy every day, and I can't be happy all the time.  I need to stop taking it out on myself when I'm not though; not every little thing can be my fault.

Tonight's plan involves some kind of food - I may treat myself to a takeout of some description to help pick me up.  Other than that, quality time with my Banjo in the garden calls out to me.  I put a good two hours into practicing my Bach suite yesterday, and my callouses are holding up just fine now. 

 

Hiatus

 

Now at the final review before publishing, I do feel much better.  I've eaten, I've made the bed, I've made peace.  I'll need some serious chutzpah back soon, if only there was some sort of fast track?  Aha, nothing's ever that easy though, is it?  I've got far better things to do than mope.  This may well be a burst of a good mood, but I must make sure that it is not brief.  As ashamed as I am of not being with it today, I have to move on.  There really is no point dwelling on it, I know, but it is difficult for me to drop things.  But I must, and I will.  

 

How else will I see that paisley lining?