Caffeination of Thoughts

This is the way my brain operates when I drink soda…

I want to start off with a story. I was visiting my grandparent’s home and they gave me a gift. I didn’t know how to respond at first, especially in the moment. I stared at it and then put it down and didn’t know what to do with the emotion welling up inside me.

They gave me a prism. It was one of the prisms that was hung in their kitchen window for many many years. I remembered so many times sitting in the kitchen and staring at the prisms and asking my grandfather to spin them so that they would send rainbows all over the kitchen. It was like this euphoric and yet nostalgic thing to do and see. I loved to just watch the colors spin.

As my birthday is this Saturday, it makes me remember so much. My grandparents are so incredibly special to me. They seem to understand me better than most of the world. Everytime I go to visit, we often watch the same old movies. My grandmother rarely protested. Anne of Green Gables and Pollyanna were by far the top two and we’ve watched them together over the years dozens and dozens of times.

For me seeing a new movie might be fun, but for me, what I enjoy watching most is something I know by heart. At my mother’s house, I watched the same movies over and over and over again. Father of the Bride 1 and 2 and Joe Versuses the Volcano were luckily not torn to shreds. I have always found repetition to be conforting.

And so back to my interests- they all boil down to one thing- comfort. I get very excited thinking about putting on pajamas (cotton of course) and my slippers or putting on the same episode of Seinfeld that I have watched so many times I know all of the words. That is what interests me.

Why? Because so much of this world is uncomfortable. Because I tend to feel like I am running and always out of breath. Whether I am saying the wrong thing at work and realize it at just the wrong moment or I’m sitting in my living room looking around and thinking and anxiously perseverating about how much time it’s likely to take to clean this apartment.

The concept of change can at times be interesting to me but always with the knowledge that I can go back to the way things were if I have to. I do not like change unless it’s going to be a good change and it’s a comforting change.

This may seem VERY strange coming from me who has picked up their life and moved to Los Angeles on my own and Houston on my own…but I always came back to what was home because in the end, I didn’t want the change. I wanted what I referred to in a previous post- “cozy”.

I tend to think of myself as extremely complex at times. Sometimes the things I do that are routine are actually what are making me anxious. One of those things is smoking. I hate it. I do it but I hate it. And yet I love it at the same time because I feel comforted by it. Not by the smell by any stretch of the imagination or the feeling it leaves in my mouth (in fact I tend to prefer to brush my teeth right after if I can) but it’s the sitting there and not having to talk if I don’t want to. It’s the breathing deeply.

One thing that I want to get into is Yoga. I want to somehow cancel out the smoking and put yoga in it’s place. But I doubt that I can take “yoga” breaks at work…it doesn’t fit. I cannot find a single thing that I can do that many times a day and not be questioned for it.

I have so many issues with anxiety that to counter them with coping skills seems so hopeless at times. Especially at work. But there were many times at home growing up that I felt the same way. There were a couple of episodes which no one can quite explain what happened but it was if I could not speak except gibberish. I would cry and my knees would go weak and I would drool and my heart would be pounding. My whole body would be hurting and I would not be able to speak. The doctors said panic attack and so I stick with that.

Thankfully, I have learned to control my environment enough to prevent those attacks to that level. It was the worst feeling in the world. It felt somewhat like paralysis in fact the way my knees would go weak and I would often just fall. Right on the floor…it wasn’t a seizure…we checked that whole thing out…It was more like everything became too much. My body felt so much incredible awful emotional pain that my body shut down.

I remember a moment when my mother saw this happen. She only saw it once. I remember the look on her face and the words she spoke “Get a grip”. Now mind you, I love my mother. We just do not see eye to eye. She and I are very very much alike on many levels which is one of the reasons we have such a problem understanding each other…We both have our interested and they aren’t mutual..pretty much ever…

Anyways, I am going to go lay down…I am feeling really tired…and very jittery. Needless to say, I am so happy this blog post is over. My attention span is going haywire…

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About Gretchen Leary

I am 30 years old, I live in the Boston area, and I am writing from the perspective of an individual with Asperger's Syndrome.
This entry was posted in ASD, Aspergers, Autism. Bookmark the permalink.

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