It’s been almost three years since my life inexplicably changed. That’s what I believed until recently.
On the surface, that may seem like an appropriate if not trite statement to make given my circumstances, but the truer and more horrifying reality is the acknowledgment that I have always been in this place.
This dark prison cell of my own making.
Instead of considering myself a victim of COVID-19 I have been a victim of my own making for my entire life. Covid19 only obliterated the set dressing of a life.
That’s not completely accurate.
What if in order to keep yourself in a matrix of your own design, you need to wall yourself off from any close relationships?
Like Neo, keep myself reasonably content in a solitary construct of imagination so that the natural need for human connection, partnership and intimacy is suppressed.
Year after year, sleeping in my “pod” wasting away time, precious time, alone, the pain so great from loneliness, every kind of distraction and addiction is used for what ends up being insufficient band aids to the darkness.
But, because of my neurodivergence, it’s not just chronic debilitating depression, it is every emotion turned up to maximum and cycled like clothes in a dryer.
Food, alcohol, overspending, drugs, sex, mania, sleep too much, not at all. Anything that lit up my brain could be something to abuse and rely on to patch up my brain for short periods of time.
What do you think happens if you can no longer return to your fantasy world? To the world of denial where you are reasonably content and with a modest amount of hope for your future while in reality leading a self destructive shitty existence.
What wouldnit take to shake me so badly that no matter how hard I try, nothing works to gain control of the tumultuous range of emotions & impulses. I cannot return to the safety of that mind numbing existence.
What could’ve happened to end that?
Love.
The emotion which most people begin experiencing in their teen years didn’t truly enter my life until I was too old and worn down to do anything about.
I wish I could go back to my pod.
Now everything is too painful and I am more lonely now than even during my abusive childhood.
It’s been almost three years since my life inexplicably changed. That’s what I believed until recently.
On the surface, that may seem like an appropriate if not trite statement to make given my circumstances, but the truer and more horrifying reality is the acknowledgment that I have always been in this place.
This dark prison cell of my own making.
Instead of considering myself a victim of COVID-19 I have been a victim of my own making for my entire life. Covid19 only obliterated the set dressing of a life.
That’s not completely accurate.
What if in order to keep yourself in a matrix of your own design, you need to wall yourself off from any close relationships?
Like Neo, keep myself reasonably content in a solitary construct of imagination so that the natural need for human connection, partnership and intimacy is suppressed.
Year after year, sleeping in my “pod” wasting away time, precious time, alone, the pain so great from loneliness, every kind of distraction and addiction is used for what ends up being insufficient band aids to the darkness.
But, because of my neurodivergence, it’s not just chronic debilitating depression, it is every emotion turned up to maximum and cycled like clothes in a dryer.
Food, alcohol, overspending, drugs, sex, mania, sleep too much, not at all. Anything that lit up my brain could be something to abuse and rely on to patch up my brain for short periods of time.
What do you think happens if you can no longer return to your fantasy world? To the world of denial where you are reasonably content and with a modest amount of hope for your future while in reality leading a self destructive shitty existence.
What wouldnit take to shake me so badly that no matter how hard I try, nothing works to gain control of the tumultuous range of emotions & impulses. I cannot return to the safety of that mind numbing existence.
What could’ve happened to end that?
Love.
The emotion which most people begin experiencing in their teen years didn’t truly enter my life until I was too old and worn down to do anything about.
I wish I could go back to my pod.
Now everything is too painful and I am more lonely now than even during my abusive childhood.