Keeping it real

One thing that always seems to surprise people, even the ones who are closest to me, is how easily scared I am.

Especially by things that aren’t real.

© Jenny Reiswig | Flickr.com

I’ve been struggling with this a lot recently. It’s like those childish fears, of things that go bump in the night, never left me. And it’s not a momentary shiver either, or something that I can rationalise and then not worry about anymore. I am often utterly convinced that if I were to look out the window at that particular moment, I’d see several zombies or White Walkers pressed against the glass.

And it scares the crap out of me.

I know that I’m not the only one who is frightened of things like this, because otherwise we wouldn’t have scary movies. It’s a fear that speaks to a lot of people. Where I seem to be different from most people is that my fear is so disabling. I’ve never managed to get past the water cup scene in Jurassic Park. I had my best friend in stitches because I “watched” Arachnophobia from behind her sofa. Shaun of the Dead, even though it’s hilariously funny, had me scared out of my mind for weeks. Not helped in the least by my then-boyfriend, who thought that pretending to be a zombie whenever we were in the bedroom together would help me get over it. Or just to give himself a good laugh, I don’t know.

I didn’t think it was funny. I was unable to see that him pretending to be a zombie wasn’t real.

I have the same problem with dreams. I tend to have very vivid dreams, and the times that I’ve been truly upset with someone because of something they said or did to me in a dream are too many to count. Rationally, I know it was a dream. But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels just as real as zombies outside my window and bloodsucking spiders underneath my bed.

In a way, it’s probably related to perserveration. I can’t let the thought go. It takes hold of me, takes on a life of its own.

Again, it’s not that irrational fears are something abnormal. It’s how crippling they are. I want to be able to watch TV shows without turning off the sound, without covering my eyes, and without nightmares afterwards. I want to be able to climb up the stairs without fearfully looking over my shoulder and feeling my heart beat in my throat. I want to be able to get into bed without suddenly thinking that my feet will get bitten off if I don’t pull them up.

Swiss Family Robinson – a Japanese cartoon that had the family being chased by wolves in the dark in one episode, leading to me being afraid to get out of bed at night for months.

Even though it all sounds so childish, the fear feels real. Far too real.

I have been laughed at and made fun of, even by my nearest and dearest, for being so afraid of things that are fiction. At best, I get empty reassurances that it’s not actually real and there’s no need for me to be scared. But neither of those are any help. They weren’t helpful when I was a child, and they aren’t helpful now that I’m an adult.

Maybe I should just keep a poker next to my bed. Screw what anyone else thinks.

 But monsters were easy, at least. She’d learned how to deal with monsters. She picked up the poker from the nursery fender and went down the back stairs, with Twyla following her.
 ‘Susan? Er… what are you doing?’
 Susan looked at the poker and then back at the woman. ‘Twyla says she’s afraid of a monster in the cellar, Mrs Gaiter.’
 ‘Actually, that’s a very clever idea,’ said someone else. ‘Little gel gets it into her head there’s a monster in the cellar, you go in with the poker and make a few bashing noises while the child listens, and then everything’s all right. Good thinkin’, that girl. Ver’ sensible. Ver’ modern.’
 Susan sighed and went down the cellar stairs, while Twyla sat demurely at the top, hugging her knees.
 A door opened and shut.
 There was a short period of silence and then a terrifying scream.
 Susan pushed open the door. The poker was bent at right angles. There was nervous applause.
 The party went back up the hall. The last thing Susan heard before the door shut was ‘Dashed convincin’, the way she bent the poker like that…’
 She waited.
 ‘Have they all gone, Twyla?’
 ‘Yes, Susan.’
 ‘Good.’ Susan went back into the cellar and emerged towing something large and hairy with eight legs.

– Terry Pratchett, Hogfather

A day in the life

9:15am
That’s nice. Cat has allowed me to sleep in for a change.

9:20am
Get dressed in clothes I remembered to pick out yesterday evening (based on criteria of cleanliness and making me feel confident and pretty enough to go to outdoors festival thing). Feed cat. Check to-do list and remember to put on deodorant.

9:28am
Make tea and remember to have breakfast. Yay me! Another item off my to-do list.

Toast with prosciutto and mozzarella

9:35am
Spend 5 minutes agonising over what to do with my hair. I should have made an appointment at the hairdresser’s about 2 months ago. At least I took a shower yesterday so don’t have to worry about hair also being greasy.

9:45am
Check bag for necessary items (purse, keys), put jacket on and go to bicycle shop. I want to exchange the second-hand bicycle I bought there for another one because I don’t like the tires on this one, they make me fall over when I try to turn a corner. I should have done this the week after I bought it. It’s now been 3 weeks.

9:47am
Discover the bicycle shop is still closed. This upsets my schedule. I need a bike before 11:00am.

9:52am
Nice man from launderette next door notices my trundling back and forth and tells me bicycle man is on his way.

10:03am
Bicycle man arrives and I explain why I’d like to exchange the bike I bought from him. He asks me for the receipt. I reply that I’ve lost it but if he needs it I’ll go back home and look for it, no problem, I understand, I’ll go home now then? I think my voice sounds fairly panicky. He says it’s ok, he remembers selling me the bike.

10:23am
Finally manage to choose one bike from all the ones he has for sale. I should take my time and consider all the options but I feel like I have to make a choice. And this one looks nice and it’s more expensive than the old one which sort of makes up for my guilt about returning it weeks later and without a receipt.

10:26am
Get home and realise I’m 34 minutes ahead of schedule. Make more tea and read some blogs.

11:03am
Look at clock and notice I’m now running late. Oh bugger it. Check bag for necessary items (purse, keys, phone, sunglasses, sunscreen, deodorant, scissors, plasters). Tell cat goodbye and cycle to train station on new bicycle.

11:10am
Spend next 10 minutes trying to wrestle bicycle up and down train station staircases to get to correct platform. Luckily the 11:25am train is late.

11:25am
The announcer says something something mumble something 11:25 train to Amsterdam will depart mumble mumble. There really are a lot of people on the platform. Why can’t they shut up so I can hear what the announcer says? Panic slightly, then tell myself fuck it, if train departs from a different platform I can simply take the next train. Relax.

11:32am
Train arrives. I’m not going to be in Amsterdam at 12:00pm. And I don’t have a hand free to text or call my friend to say I’m running late, because the train is super crowded. As in, we’re standing on the balcony. With three bicycles. One lady in a wheelchair. 8 Spanish tourists. And a very loud hen party, 3 of whom are trying to find the toilets.

Empty train balcony (photo by Recensiekoning)

11:57am
Arrival at Amsterdam Central Station. I’ve reached the point where every time one of the hens screams, I screw my eyes shut and hunch my shoulders. I know this makes me look like a nutter. I don’t care. I just want to get off. When the doors open I manage to hoist my bicycle out without tripping, falling down the gap between the train and the platform, crashing into someone else, or making a complete idiot and/or nuisance of myself. Victory.

12:04pm
Realise that my headlong flight out of the station has been in vain, because I need to go back in and find an ATM. Fuck. Do I have to?

12:12pm
Finally on my way. Bliss. Sunny weather, bicycle. I’ve lived here long enough to know the fastest ways to get somewhere, but also the quietest and most scenic ways. Guess which one I’m taking. It’s beautiful out here.

12:24pm
Arrive at beer festival location which is a farm out in the middle of nowhere. Not that many people here yet, which is why I wanted to get here early. Lots of choice in food and beers. Start feeling panicky again because there is no leaflet listing where to find what. I don’t like having to make a choice while people are looking at me expectantly. I don’t know what I feel like having. I end up having a low alcoholic beer from the last stall in the line up because it’s set up under a large tree and the dappled light is soothing and they look like nice people and I don’t want to walk back because people might think I’m being rude. Their beer turns out to be very nice.

12:30pm
Friend arrives! I always feel less conspicuous in company and this is a close friend who knows I’m dealing with the autism stuff right now and who is the first of my offline friends to know about this blog.
*waves at offline friend*
Spend next hour or so just talking and trying out food and beers. Having fun! Also take some new pictures for blog header.

14:00pm
Small anxiety spike because ex shows up. I get along OK with ex but he always says very rude things about good friend. I don’t know how to deal with that. Decide to try and focus most of my conversation resources on friend and not worry about being rude to ex, because tough titty.

14:30pm
More people arrive. Another good friend joins group. Getting more crowded. Still having fun though. Although the music is a bit distracting. Maybe I should pace myself. But I’m having fun!

15:00pm
First friend has to leave because he’s having people over for dinner. Awww. It’s now getting so crowded that someone has to stay with seats at all times to prevent them from being taken by others. Sun is also getting very hot. Decide to move to a quieter spot with ex and other friend. Turns out quieter means less crowded, but louder music. Still having fun though!

16:00pm
Can’t remember much from this point on. People. Sunlight. Music. Talking everywhere.

17:00pm
Realise I need to go home. Well, should have gone home about 2 hours ago. Another friend is here and he’s doing this spiel with my ex about therapists saying I have no right to decide what’s best for me because well, autism obviously means I’m not capable of coherent thought and it’s really funny. But I notice my responses are getting flatter. So I should probably head home.

17:35pm
Actually say out loud to my friends that I should probably head home because I’m getting tired. Say goodbyes.

17:50pm
Cycle back to train station. Still gorgeous weather and gorgeous scenic route. Very nice. More traffic on road though. Have to pay attention.

18:04pm
Decide that it’s more practical to leave my bicycle across the water because that’s where I can pick it up when I cycle to work. Take the ferry behind the station to drop off my bike on the other side. Am fast enough locking my bike that I can take the same ferry back. Score!

18:24pm
Take more pictures for blog header. Realise I’ve just missed the train back.

18:36pm
Next train arrives. I get a seat to myself. Not for long. Two minutes later I get joined by four boisterous males in their early twenties. I know this because they proceed to talk about their own ages, the ages of the girls they could be dating, and the age of the boys their sisters are dating (one of the sisters is dating a Russian who is 5 years older than her and whose parents have a speedboat and a dacha on a lake somewhere), for the next 25 minutes. I feel old when they start talking about a girl born in 1996. I’m honestly trying not to pay attention and to concentrate on what I’m reading. But I can still recall most of their conversation a day later. It isn’t even interesting. How fucked up is that.

19:02pm
Thank god I can get off the train. Oh. Just thought of something. Bugger. Because I took my new bike to the station this morning, and that new bike is now in Amsterdam so I can use it for my work commute, I don’t have a bike here at the station to get home. Will have to take bus. Bugger McBuggerypants.

19:03pm
Call friend in UK while walking to bus station because this is usually a good time to reach him. Talk on phone for what probably amounts to an hour. I think. Somewhere in that time I must have gotten on a bus and got home. No idea what time though. I think I might be talking too loudly on the phone. In English. People probably hate me. I always hate people who talk too loudly on their phones when on the bus. And instead of talking about my day so I can start calming down, I talk about all sorts of things that are among my special interests right now and I’m getting more and more hyper by the minute.

20:10pm-23:00pm
No idea. Complete blank.

23:00pm
Realise I’m really really tired. Go to bed. Read for half an hour, then turn off lights.

00:15am
Still awake.

2:00am
Still awake. Images from day still going through my head. Reliving conversations. Not in an anxious or worried way but I keep going back to things. Can’t let it go. So tired.

2:15am
Give up trying to fall asleep and start reading book again.

4:15am
Turn lights off again. Fall asleep.

5:30am
Wake up again. Go downstairs to get some water. Fall back asleep after about 10 minutes.

7:02am
Get woken up by cat biting my foot because his food bowl is empty. I love my cat. Honestly.

Are you coming? I’m HUNGRY.