Some days just feel like I’ve had enough; Either I have not had enough rest or I have had too much of people. Most times it’s a combination of both. My ability to cope with the outside world and the emotional contexts, especially, dwindle to a match whose flame has consumed it down to the finger tips until it starts to burn. It does burn. I can feel it in my chest and abdomen. There is a fire there flaring up to fend off the incoming bombardment of having to decipher emotional content or merely try to calculate the meaning of other people’s reactions to almost anything. I’ve come to realize this is a defense mechanism.
I don’t know whether or not I care to control it. That is the current question tumbling around the inside of my brain along with everything else. For more nights than I care to remember, I have only slept for four to six hours then, when it comes time, I go to work and spend eight to ten hours there. I am faced with people talking about nothing, subjects of no great consequence. Things that, perhaps, shouldn’t bother me, get under my skin and add fuel to my gutfire. I am instantly angry but, instead of decoding people’s response, I am flippant, dismissive, and maybe even mean. Is it mean if it’s the truth? If I tell you I don’t care and it’s the truth is it something I should have kept to myself in order to be polite? It evokes no guilt or personal emotional response from me. I’m just pure, raw nerve.
Have you ever heard someone repeat a word over and over again? I once knew a girl who had a thing for me some years ago. She would disappear and reappear in and out of my life like most people do. She said she wanted to be friends when she found someone to date who wasn’t me, for which I was grateful. She continued to text me and would continue to use his name whenever we talked, almost going out of her way to do so when a pronoun would have sufficed. I saw through this immediately as an attempt to needle me, try to evoke a response. She got one, just not the one she expected. It has since become a pet peeve of mine for peope who do that or do things like it. I am overly analytical of speech as it is, to the point of actually being able to tell when something is wrong just by changes in word use or syntax. Don’t ask me how. It just works. I can just play.
Needless to say, I have no patience for passive-agressiveness or even something I percieve as such. When my battery has run dry and I’m burning from the inside out, my patience is burned away by the flames and I’m sure people can tell. I try not to take it out on other people. I isolate myself as much as possible. The music in my earbuds is loud and I stay focused on my work. I don’t talk to people unless I need to. The feeling is still there and I can’t get rid of it no matter how much time I spend focusing on my breathing or finding music that usually lifts my spirits. The only real cure for this is sleep.
I have not slept well for days. I take naps when I can but that is only on the weekends.
Times like these are discouraging but not without its teaching points. It’s discouraging because it’s proof to myself, a self-fulfilling prophecy, that I can’t act and exist in a realm inhabited by neurotypicals. I learn, however, I must find different approaches to taking care of myself and finding ways to cope with it all. Isolation and sleep, so far, have been the only things I’ve found to work.
I always seem to sleep the best on Friday nights and the worst on Sunday nights. Though my anxiety is oft under control no matter the day, I just can’t seem to make it through the night. Caffeine has quickly become the only reason I function through the day. Even then, I don’t always feel like I’m going to make it.