I feel I should try and document how things changed for me following the loss of my father. I didn't just lose someone who had been very important to me, I also lost control of a part of myself I had not known was there.
The grief I felt at losing my father did not seem able to surface. Dealing with emotions is something Autists often have issues with, and I am no exception (Autist is a term used by those on the autistic spectrum to describe themselves). I found myself unable to express my grief, and instead if dealing with it, it built up until it broke a part of me. The only analogy I can think of that fits is that my feelings, my emotions, especially the darker ones, had been pushed under the surface, the weight of them building up pressure until finally, it was too much. Whatever I had put in place to keep them from me was too eroded to hold, and instead of trying to deal with one loss, I was now dealing with all the losses, angers, resentments, fears and insecurities that I had buried in the dark side of my mind.
I had my first anxiety attack only a couple of months back. It's a very scary experience. I can only liken it to how I imagine claustrophobia to be - everything seems to crowd in around you, not enough space to move or breathe, even though I was in the open air, no roof over me. I felt detached from myself, not able to affect what was happening to me. I don't know how a neuro-typical mind handles this sort of thing, for me the only saving grace was the distraction and support offered by a call from my wife. Being a trained counsellor, she was able to recognise the symptoms I described and talk me through, enough to finish what I had to do and get back to her. Being as we were at a social gathering of friends, I then went back to the car to collect something for my wife, and by the time I got back I was able to cope with the people we were meeting.
All those people were ones I knew, all were friends. It didn't matter. At the outset, all I could see was a crowd, a suffocating mass of people that I had to escape.
Without my wife's support, I doubt I would have managed to stay until the symptoms subsided enough for me to function again. I was able to enjoy the event, and have some quiet chats with friends, away from the main group, and even join in a little with the group.
There are some things that can set me off just by thinking of them. Officials, appointments, anyone angry or emotionally unstable - even just thinking about them makes my hands want to shake, my typing slows, words don't want to come, or they are spelt wrongly. Yes, I'm talking about right now, writing this, with my eyes burning with tears I don't know how to release, my chest is tight and my muscles tense. Nobody here but me, the cat, and my wife, who's having a nap, and yet just the thought of being in those situations is enough.
Yesterday and the day before, I was at a very large event, Gold Coast Supanova. It's similar to the SDCC or Dragon Con, though on a smaller scale. Scale doesn't mean much when you're still talking of thousands of people in one place. With the support of friends and my wife, I got through it with only one serious episode - the one and only time I went to the loo all weekend whilst at the con. I lost my bearings on how to get to the exit, and by the time I got them, I was feeling as though every single one of the 20k+ people in the convention centre was going the exact opposite way to me, and, naturally, the toilets were the other side of the rooms where the guests were giving talks, and I got there as they were all leaving one of the talks.
I have never been so glad to get to the loo. Ever.
I didn't try going again. That was on the Saturday. Sunday, I did not even feel the urge to use the toilet until I was back home. 7am until around 8pm, it did not even occur to me.It had scared me so much I did not even feel the need to go until I got home. That is how strongly my mind had control yesterday. I was drinking normally, but did not even feel the discomfort of a very full bladder. Not until we got home.
People tell me how well I'm doing. What they don't see - what even I don't see most of the time - is how much of what I do is a matter of unconscious coping mechanisms that I have built up over the years. I'm not dealing with things, I am avoiding being in those situations. I do this even when it results in serious discomfort, and I don't even feel the discomfort, that's how good a job I can do.
Well, that is probably the first 2 or 3 parts :P I wasn't meaning to write so long, but there it is.
Welcome to the dark side. No cookies.
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