This next ‘wetting’ (post) I’d say is more personal than the first. Less film-related!
It might be one you take with you on your day ahead of reading this, but then again it might not.
I’m by no means an expert in psychology, but when you’ve spent as much time inside your own head as I have (normally, through no choice), you might try to make sense of the patterns of emotions that emerge as a result of various circumstances, and mental health issues that like to manifest themselves with what’s already occupying the space between the ears.
Like with other aspects of life, we use similes (a post in itself that’s a completely different kettle of fish!), and analogise the world and who’s in it around us.
The title refers to such an analogy I’ve come to use for trying to make sense of my mental health, and thankfully isn’t a cautionary fairytale or a shaggy dog story. Before, I’ve compared it to a triangle, but hope this also makes as much sense.
I’ve come to visualise that Autism, for me, is a house that I reside in inside my head. I can leave it, but it’s my home that I will always return to, because it’s a part of who I am, whether I like it or not.
The house runs in a peculiar, but manageable way, and the furniture is laid out in a certain way too. It has made more sense and become more manageable the more time I’ve spent living inside it, and for the most part, this house was on its own. Until two more were built, when I was about 14.
So now, these two neighbours reside each side of me. One appears to be looking ahead, and the other behind.
Normally, friendly neighbours (speaking from personal experience), may muster small talk about the weather, even become close friends, or simply keep themselves to themselves. These two invite themselves in unnoticed, and at times, refuse to leave my house, even when I’ve changed the locks. It reminds me of my personal experiences with neighbours of an opposite disposition!
Anxiety often insists on running around, turning on all the lights and being a general nuisance with wasting the energy of the house on such trivialities. Whereas Depression insists on dragging me on to the sofa to sit and watch a depressing section of DVDs from my collection, or turn the TV on to something just as soul-destroying, reminding me of painful or cringeworthy memories.
These days, they don’t even want to do that, let alone talk. Just create an atmosphere and become part of the furniture. I ask them to leave, and they refuse. Moving the furniture around (diet, lifestyle changes, exercise etc.) works for a while, but they’d simply vacate themselves upstairs and hide, and re-emerge just when I’ve put my feet up with a trustworthy brew in my hands.
It makes you wonder why they bothered building houses for these two in the first place!
Anti-depressants, could perhaps be represented in this allegory by a court order? Police? Some sort of authority that the pair manage to find legal loopholes around?
Fleeing the foibles for one moment, and I’ve found having to simply get on with the pair that cause me grief more of a benefit then the 6 different kinds of anti-anxiety and anti-depressant medications I have been prescribed with over the years.
Yes, I’ve also had counselling in all shapes and sizes, courses too. The former’s of more benefit, but after each course of counselling subsides, and each technique becomes embedded as a habit, the duo seem to circumvent the interventions, and wheedle their way back into my house, or simply find a convoluted way in.
What draws them to my house? Why can they not simply leave me alone for good instead of taking part in some sort of unsolicited sub-letting scheme? Their houses have got to be more intact than mine...though, saying that, if they are who they say they are...
As already said, simply co-existing with the pair seems to be the only solution. I’ve addressed their causes, implement coping mechanisms, but much like my Autism seem very much a part of me and the house. Do I ask for planning permission to build an extension or annex?
Latching on as a result of how my mind and body have dealt with various kinds of stressful and distressing situations. What others might find easier to brush off than me, and try as I might to follow suit, the inner conflict becomes too overwhelming.
The analogy may have its basis on the areas of residence in my life. Wondering why as a child, I wasn’t truly allowed to go and play outside until the street lights came on. I was very tempted to analogise to neighbours above and to the side of me in a council flat, somewhere I’ve previously lived and recently moved away from.
It might be what draws me to writing characters faced with such internal dissension, and then how they present themselves to the world outside of their house. Or whether within their mind there’s more than three houses. Perhaps a high rise’s worth of issues that need to be dealt with. Everyone’s different, and as platitudes go; the mind needing as much care as the body I feel needs taking heed of more often.