Remember waking to crush 18 tall cans every Saturday morning? And Sunday? And .. yeah. Upgraded problems, for sure. I’d be dead if I hadn’t stopped drinking.
Though… those hungover days. They were golden, if you’re honest. The excuse to be a potato. That makes sense through the lens of autistic masking. Recovery. Golden until you started losing sensation in your fingertips. Phantom aches in the abdomen. Checking the colour of your eyes. But the chemical relief, and the relief from reality, being able to stay in bed. It could be books or classical music or whatever but we all need escapes from reality. I guess that’s what these drugs give some people, where previously they were lacking; an internal base to touch.
Now I have 3 things I guess. This blog, in the mornings. The art, for the adhd and expressing, and the knives, for the asd and soothing. These were… all missing. I was a functional drone, always alone. A filtered reality, around myself curled, spinning faster, pulling my arms in, until it all flew apart. But. Overall. A good thing?
I’ve never known the meaning of any art I’m making until I’m done. Never. Art teachers hated it and marked me down and the things I loved got a C while the things I hated got an A so I just stopped. At least in science, right was right. And in business, right paid the bills, so that was the logical way.
Makes sense with bottoms-up thinking. Again; autism. Apparently. Who knew! Anyway I seem to collect bits and make pieces and then gather them, they gravitate toward each other, and then pop - they’re done. When it goes well, of course; when I channel. Then afterward I see it and then I know why the pieces were what they were. My life has been very much like this too; the disparate pieces are so very disparate yet somehow they fit together and almost look planned.
These meds have enabled me to better see the meaning of a piece before it’s done. I’ve had one idea in mind for a while now and it just started popping out fully formed the other day. I know it’s about the internal war between adhd and asd, the harm to relationships and self, and my coping strategies for these two sides (art and knives). Usually, I’d have no idea at this point; I can only think it’s because of dopamine.
Anyway I’m getting a new computer today. This one is tainted with memories of whoring myself out for money. The farmer helps the baker helps the butcher and they all have sandwiches my ass. That fucking wet cookie linkedin. Never again. Thanks Kanye. Choose some better friends though.
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