This is one of those bloody days
I knew since I woke up this morning, and I should have done something, I know, but I didn’t.
I saw it coming. Movements were slow, even brushing my teeth was like climbing a mountain. The light seemed too bright, sounds too loud. I knew it was going to happen, and I didn’t do anything to stop it. I could have stayed at home and play the piano, it usually works. Or just go back to bed and put the right music. But no, I decided to go to work.
I feel terribly empty right now. I’ve got no piano to play, no place to hide and shut down. If only I did something… And what makes me feel worse is that I know why I didn’t. Because sometimes I just want to feel normal. It’s stupid, OK, but what can I do? Living with this thing, being unable to filter all the stimuli, all the stress, even the tiniest thing sometimes is too much.
People may have bad days, but when a bad day means you’re being hijacked from your life when a bad day is an explosion of pain and loneliness and fatigue, it’s hard for me not to wish to be normal. I’m writing a letter at the time, thoughts are getting slower each minute, words dissolve in my mind and I find myself staring at the screen for an eternity.
I want to write it now, while I’m slowly sliding into myself. I feel I need to try. If only I did something…
It’s funny, because I know I’m not like other people, and when I’m fine it’s even good to be like that. I have some great abilities, but they only work until I’m fine, when my senses are not overloaded when the stress is under control. Easier said than done, right? I should live in a bubble, a dream, a place where I had no obligations, no deadlines or bills to pay. A world where my senses were not bombarded, were people would understand these bloody moments. Because when days like this happen, I’m not able to do anything. I just have to wait it’s over.
I feel like a kid. I desperately wanted to feel normal, go out and work, even on a bad day, be strong, do my things and then get home and rest. And now I’m stuck here, grabbing on to the last bit of strength, wishing I hadn’t been so stupid this morning.
That’s how it feels. That’s asperger, autism, call it as you like. If I’m fine and work it hard I may look normal, but I’m not. I just have to assume that my brain works different, that I need to watch out, always check the level of my senses, the stress tank. I need to be careful not to do too much because otherwise I get too tired and may have a bad day. A day like this. One of those days when the world at some point fades out, and I shut inside myself, locked in, unable to speak, move, think.
I need to go now, I’m getting too close. Each word costs me too much.
I just wanted to feel normal.