Trials and Tribulations


Lockdown has been, they say, good for reflecting on the past and thinking about the future.

My ADHD/Autism lockdown has been a rollercoaster of lows and very lows during which reflecting has only made things worse when one realises what an extraordinary botch one has made of life.

I’ve lurched, sometimes physically as Fibromyalgia can be a real nasty piece of work and throw balls of fire at you when you least want it, from moderate crisis to confused crisis to why am I even here crisis to shall I stop now crisis to end it all crisis to ‘Save me from these people!’ crisis to ‘stop the world’ crisis to ‘Damn it, we’ve run out of biscuits!’ crisis, often all in the same day!.

I have existed. I can’t say I’ve lived because I’m sure that many people share my view that the last few months haven’t been fit for living but more a case of survival of the fittest. Or unfittest. Or luckiest. or rule followers.

If this ‘space’ was supposed to give me time to think then ADHD, with it’s beautifully scatterbrained approach to life, has wrecked that. A million thoughts collide in my head and then splinter off into a million more, none of which hit the intended target. I start with the best of intentions and end with a crisis of confidence.

Plan ahead say the mental health bods. For what? I reply. I want to but then I’m lost again, struggling to cope with today’s demons and the ghosts of the past. Trying to find my way through the woods when I can’t see the woods for the trees.

The dream is real enough. The house. The dog. The space. A sleep perchance to dream. But reality is torn between desire and that same reality.

Money for A but if I have A then there’s no B. So I’ll take B but if I do then I can’t have A. And C is the compromise that suits nobody.

It’s hard to step back without falling off the cliff. Hard to get a sense of perspective when your lens keeps fogging. Hard to take control when someone’s taken the batteries out and hidden them.

It’s hard to reflect when each reflection is disturbed by the pebble in the pond and each ripple on the water pushes you further away from that island of calm.

Yes I’ll come out of this; this period of strangeness but I’m not sure I’ll come out wiser or better or with a deeper understanding of where I’m going. I didn’t know before but now this disruption to my most basic routines has muddied the waters even further. New routines have fallen away in a clattering muddle of brain jenga.

I’ll be certain of only one thing, that I’m even more certain how uncertain I am.

How disconcerting.

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