flippedout

So there are about 5 stray cats near my old house and one of them is heavily pregnant. Some of the neighbours are feeding them and I asked the local community head to put a note into the communal mail asking that they don’t. It seems like a simple solution with no personal criticism and no need to exterminate the cats.

So he calls me back to my house at 10am to talk, and proceeds to barge inside with a smile (undone in Japan) and come down to our living room. I explain to him I’ve just had a breakdown and nearly killed myself, and ask him to talk nicely, but for some reason he proceeds to speak to me like a racist shit, and when I ask him to dial down the animosity he instead doubles down.

I flip out. He’s in my house, talking to me like this? I forcibly eject him from the property (not physically) but then have this rage inside me for about an hour after which I am unable to remove. Suicidal images which have been gone for ages. I drive, dangerously, to the place where I found the dead body, and sit there feeling… peace. There’s at least one way to end this feeling.

It feels like the anger is trapped in my body and will never leave; this is something I have had for my whole life and I think it’s because of a broken dopaminergic clock; when I was on aripiprazole I could ‘walk things off’ but without ari it needs to be a knife, and needs to be intensive, and even then I don’t know how well it will work long-term.

Anyway he was obviously the one feeding the cats, in hindsight. But coming into my house, talking to me like that in front of my kids, and making me get that angry in front of my kids - that’s not on.

My problem is how I deal with this. My wife has bumped my next psych appointment forward to today and we will look into meds. I’m so tired of this all if I’m honest.

So what has happened recently is aripiprazole has totally re-wired my jumbled autistic mind. It was a hyperconnected soup of patterns and neuroses and cognitive dissonance, and now it has these superhighways of morality and ethics and priorities. 

These superhighways are strong but they are not connected to the other major roads yet. They’re like a tree which has a trunk, but that’s it; there are no branches or sub-branches and definitely no leaves or fruit.

Most of my learned behaviours were erased on day 4 of aripiprazole and the remainder fell away as the dose increased. So too did many of my memories: both the bad (work, greed) and the good (raising my kids, being with my wife).

Some of these will still be floating around in the soup of my brain but will not yet be connected. So while I have lost my learned behaviour of consumption, I have also lost my learned behaviour of tolerance-of-cunts. I would have been just as angry in the past, but I’d have hidden it better. 

Well I’m sorry but if you come into my house you treat me with respect. I would *never* treat someone like that in their house. He made it very clear that I am not welcome in that neighbourhood despite having lived there for 10 years, because I am an outsider. Same for my children, I guess. Welcome to racism, boys.

But the only solution I see for now is to just avoid people, if I’m honest.

I want to preserve those big roads for the love and joy in life, and the acceptance of things as they are. I just had my entire psyche destroyed and am currently rebuilding it. I don’t want racism and hate in there at the root.

I can’t live in that house any more.

All my memories of raising my kids there are inaccessible to me. I spent so much time and effort making that house, fixing it up, doing the bbq space, and now all I can feel when I am there is echoes of the trauma of aripiprazole. A need to leave, like a compression in the chest.

I see all these trophies and awards and things I acquired; they’re less than meaningless and are reminders of a life which feels wasted and not my own. I see the neighbour and I see a racist who doesn’t want me there. It just feels so crushing to go back there, to yet another place where I struggled on my own. It’s a shame; my wife and kids still have their memories. But I don’t; I just have feelings of nausea and aversion.

So I need to stay away. I need to be alone. I need to be with my kids, one-on-one to see if I can recover some of the memories I have lost. 

I need to avoid these people and these conflicts. I was trying to, but the man just saw weakness and pushed, despite me explaining what had happened to my psyche recently. He very nearly got hurt and certainly feared for his safety. Hopefully he learned his lesson, but I doubt it.

I certainly did: I am not welcome there.

So I will go somewhere else.

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