Anxiety: Learning to Cope

Nobody Home?

It's the strangest feeling, or it would be if it weren't so familiar. I catch myself playing the part, acting "normal", carrying on without conscious intervention while all the time I'm there, watching. I feel like a spectator in my own body, a mere passenger.

I remain aware of everything around me, fully linked to my senses, but my mind is free-wheeling, pursuing lines of thought unrelated to what my body is doing. And every so often I notice that my body has been walking around, even talking to people, while I've been occupied with my thoughts.

Role Playing

I guess it's a form of acting: I'm performing a role that I've rehearsed so thoroughly I don't need to think about what I'm doing, leaving my mind free to wander. This is the state in which I'm most at ease: there is a comfortable familiarity as I run along the rails of routine.

Am I a Stereotype?

The trouble is... as I watch myself I wonder whether I am being myself or whether I am merely exhibiting a set of learned behaviors with the aim of fitting in. What makes me suspect this? I get little nudges from my conscience - a feeling that I should be, say, flapping my hands or talking at length and in detail about some topic of personal interest. Things I used to do as a child but have suppressed as I've grown.

Since discovering that I have Aspergers I have become more aware that a number of things I used to do instinctively were characteristic of the condition. I see my innate Aspie traits on one side of a balance with my acquired "normal" traits on the other, and as one side rises into prominence the other side sinks from view. I've been feeling more and more that I am out of balance and I need to take corrective action to restore the equilibrium.

I've found that whereas in the past I had been led into thinking of my differences as aberrant behaviors to be corrected, I now consider them to be natural aspects of the way I am. I have accepted that I'm different - and the reasons underlying that - and I try to be more myself rather than struggling to "act normal". That said, there are some areas where my instinctive reactions are a hindrance to living independently: it's not possible to go through life without interacting with strangers at some point.

Identity and Self-confidence

My sense of self - my identity - is moderately strong: I know who I am and my core values are well-established in my mind. I might not always have the strength or confidence to actively uphold them but I find that I am incapable of acting against them. My self-confidence on the other hand varies according to the situation from bulletproof to non-existent. And that's where my anxiety creeps in.

The Sum of All Fears

First a bit of background: there is a psychological theory of learning usually referred to as "The Four Stages of Competence". Briefly, the four stages are:

1. Unconscious incompetence where you are not aware of your lack of a skill.
2. Conscious incompetence in which you become aware that you do not understand or know the skill.
3. Conscious competence which is having the knowledge but not grokking it: knowing a sequence of steps and able to follow the sequence but without fluency. One still has to think heavily about the task.
4. Unconscious competence where practice - rehearsal - has made the skill so familiar that it has become habit and little or no conscious effort is required to perform it.

What I described at the start is stage 4: I'm doing things that are so familiar I don't have to think about them and my conscious thoughts can drift off. Problems arise for me at stages 2 and 3 where I come face to face with the unknown.

When I am faced with a situation that is unfamiliar or where I can't predict what turns events may take I become anxious. I lack self-confidence in my ability to perform the task, whether it is making a phone call or interacting with strangers. I know I can manage well-defined, structured interactions such as ordering a pizza or going to the doctor because I have become familiar with the routines involved: I am around stages 3-4 in those cases. But with something that is off-the-wall where I would have to react according to the context I find myself back at stage 2 where I am all too aware that I don't really know what to do.

Breaking the Circle

At the moment I find myself trapped in a vicious circle where I have evolved strategies of avoidance when faced with anxiety-inducing situations. This prevents me gaining the experience to deal with similar situations in the future, and results in greater anxiety if I can't avoid them. I recently raised this problem with my GP and I've started a course of therapy to try to manage my fears so that they don't continue to be an obstacle to me doing things.

Square One

One of the first tasks has been to analyze the roots of my anxiety: what triggers it, what is it I am afraid of? Many people have a fear of judgement: what will the other person think of them? But that's not it for me. My core fear is of failure, of not being able to complete the task. Fears of this kind in particular can affect people who grew up with a "gifted" label as I did. A lack of experience of failing makes any failure, however small, appear catastrophic. This leads to risk aversion, a strong drive to avoid the possibility of failure. Perhaps if I can learn to accept failure than I will be able to attempt things where I lack confidence. I can hope.

Wish You Were Here

Outside the Wall

To be a fly on the wall, an unseen observer. How many people have wished that at some point? Usually because of curiosity: they want to be in on private events that they would normally have no access to. It's a normal human feeling... and I don't experience it; I don't have that curiosity about the minutia of other people's lives.

Eclipse

What I do experience is a desire to be unnoticed, to fade into the background, to become invisible, hidden. Not so that I can observe others but so that they can't observe me as I go about my daily activities.

Paranoid Eyes

Obviously I'm not the invisible man. But is what people see really me or am I hiding behind this fleshy facade? Looking out through the eye-holes in my mask? Like a mask, my face doesn't show much of what I'm thinking or feeling: this is a common autistic trait. And I like it that way. I'm not comfortable with the idea of my private thoughts being broadcast involuntarily by a traitorous subconscious via facial expressions or other body language. I want to have full conscious control over every aspect of my communication.

In the Flesh

That's an aspiration; the reality falls short and I find that people are able to "read" me in a limited way. But I find I get misread almost as often, so I guess I'm sending mixed signals. I've been wearing this body for nearly 40 years and I still don't have effortless control over its motor functions: it doesn't always move in the way I want so I can be physically awkward and clumsy. And this also applies to facial expressions and even speech: it takes me a degree of concentration if I'm not to speak indistinctly, mumble or slur my words.

Speak to Me

I normally speak softly, only raising my voice when I'm overloaded or in meltdown when I don't have much control. Sometimes too softly and I get asked to repeat myself, which is fair enough given the number of times I have to ask people to repeat themselves. That or I just stand there for a spell while I try to decipher what I just heard into meaningful words. Chinese whispers has got nothing on what I think I've heard at times! It can be quite amusing but mostly it's just confusing and distracting.

Us and Them

What is behind this desire to be apart rather than to be a part in social situations? It's partly a lack of affinity with in-groups: I have never identified with any group or class. Most people maintain an identity based on attributes shared with others, whether they support the same football team, listen to the same bands, go to the same church. I am, and always have been, just me. While I am well aware that my interests and activities overlap with those of other people I know, I don't feel that this makes me part of any social group.

I'm just me, on my own, always on the periphery. Not so much a fly on the wall as outside the wall, looking in through the windows. The eternal outsider.

Handle With Care

Brittle tranquility, a fragile egg-shell existence from moment to moment. Trying not to think about the instant when it will shatter under the weight of my suppressed feelings.

At times I can go for hours, even days, with a happy, carefree cast of mind before the darkness encroaches again and I fall into the depths. It is so sudden, as if a switch were flicked to extinguish the light, that the onset is shocking in its abruptness. One minute I'm my "normal" self, the next I'm falling with an aching void where my heart used to be - such intense, painful loneliness.

At these times I feel the urge to curl up in a warm, dark sanctuary. To hold myself tightly, comfort myself in the most basic way. Tears prick at my eyes but will not flow even though I feel a need for that release - my inhibitions remain too strong. This frustrates me immensely.

All my worrying, anxiety, insecurity: it is little wonder that I have had trouble sleeping on and off recently. I feel mentally exhausted from the effort of keeping going. Reprising my role for endless curtain calls; no respite. I feel trapped by my responsibilities and face a strong temptation to run away but I know that any escape would be temporary. Not sure I could face crawling back to my old life after a hedonistic spree. Can't face severing the ties that bind me to my current station. Trapped.

It is a leaden dullness that holds me to the ground when I yearn to fly, to shine. I sit in the midst of winter-gray concrete uniformity and dream of running through the woods and meadows of childhood's infinite summer. Soap-bubble dreams that burst and disappear so easily: from weightless, iridescent beauty to oblivion in the blink of an eye. As fragile as my veneer of happiness.

Breakdown Timebomb

Handling strong emotions is extraordinarily difficult. Trying to keep them under control - rein them in - is like trying to close a suitcase packed with so many clothes that they threaten to burst out from every side.

I am caught in the currents of my feelings, one minute floating calmly and the next being pulled under by the rip tide or whirled around in a maelstrom of despair before sinking down in darkness. The illusion of control lies shattered around me as I huddle fetus-like in the middle of an barren landscape, no feature to break the monotonous emptiness fading to the horizon in every direction. Out here there is only loneliness. No sound. No breeze. Nothing moves, not even me. Yet within my mind nothing is still: huge, demanding thoughts and emotions slug it out in a battle for my attention while I struggle to avoid being overwhelmed.

And then, as softly sudden as the bursting of a soap bubble, the turmoil subsides and I experience a period of relative calm.

I feel the need to escape - a basic animal instinct to flee from threat. But there is no path to the place that draws me because it exists only in my memories, in the past. An illusory golden history, a carefree time of happiness. An amalgam of times and places synthesized into idyllic fantasy. Such a temptation!... to slip away into this perfect dream world.

A number of factors have likely contributed to my current state of mind but they all boil down to one thing: change. Too much has changed and is changing in too short a space of time and it all pushes me out of my comfortable routine existence into an unstable, unpredictable, disorientating state of uncertainty and confusion. I've not been sleeping well as a result, compounding the problem with tiredness - I feel tattered, ragged, frayed, worn out.

Please, somebody stop the world. I want to get off - I've had enough of this ride.

Losing Patience

Several times, especially in recent weeks, I have been put in an awkward, discomfiting position when out socially. One minute I will be feeling at ease among friends and then one person will start behaving badly - disparaging and insulting others, being antagonistic, even spiteful, and completely shattering my sense of calm.

This person absolutely refuses to accept that they might be in the wrong, instead reacting angrily to criticism and blaming anyone and everyone around them; the phrase "chip on the shoulder" comes readily to mind. I'm starting to wonder if there's some psychological problem behind these personality traits - the Wikipedia entry for narcissistic personality disorder includes the following:

Narcissists have such an elevated sense of self-worth that they value themselves as inherently better than others. Yet, they have a fragile self-esteem and cannot handle criticism, and will often try to compensate for this inner fragility by belittling or disparaging others in an attempt to validate their own self-worth. It is this sadistic tendency that is characteristic of narcissism...

But this speculation does not address the issue at hand, namely that this person is causing an increasing amount of ill-feeling and upset. I know that I'm reaching the limit of my patience in dealing with this person's demands and prima donna antics, and I'm far from the only one feeling this way.

I find that I am dealing with the stress caused by this person's behavior by switching off from these interactions - I have become increasingly emotionally detached as a form of self-defense. While I still care, I am no longer willing to be subjected to this kind of bullying behavior.

The Support of Friendship

I fear that this Diamond Jubilee weekend just gone has left me sadly out of sorts with the upheaval and disruption to my regular routines. I accompanied a group of friends to London on Saturday, a lads' day out. I will admit to having reservations in the run up to the day itself - I don't generally enjoy the crowds and hectic work-day pace of the city - but I had not been there on a Saturday for many years and never in the company of a group of friends. As it turned out I ended up in a smaller group of three or four for most of the day and by focusing on just this group I was able to insulate myself sufficiently from the many thousands of people all around us - it felt to me as if we were in our own protective bubble.

The day passed so quickly and I had a wonderful time - my companions were good company and all the strangers around barely registered in my mind - I was relaxed and happy, and had one of the best days out ever. The next day, Sunday, was quiet and flat by comparison - I have no clear recollection of it - but Monday brought another social gathering. This time it was a barbecue hosted by another friend, and again I started out with some trepidation because of the number attending: over thirty people, but nearly all of them people I know well.

I needn't have worried. They were welcoming and genuinely pleased that I had come along and my anxious insecurity was soon forgotten as I joined in the fun. I ended up not going home that night, spending the night at the home of yet another friend where I slept on the sofa - I can scarcely believe that people not only appear not to object to having me around, but even invite me over.

That long weekend is over. But despite my lingering tiredness I have memories of some very enjoyable times, thanks in such a large part to my friends. I cannot overstate the importance that such acceptance has to me - it gives me such a sense of support.

Loneliness Redux

It was John Donne who wrote in 1624, "No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe". Can't say I disagree with this - the more I build protective walls around me, insulating myself from the world at large, the more lonely I feel. Humans are social animals and merely going through the motions, only interacting superficially, does not involve any connexion with others. I find I need some contact but I'm shut away.

The keep stands fast, ringed by its moat,
Secure, yet isolated.
Defending me from close approach;
Connexions subjugated.

All who try to find a portal,
Some water-gate unguarded,
Can only beat against stone walls
With which my self's surrounded.

Fear builds these walls, fear of getting hurt, fear of censure or ridicule. These fears seem to feed on depression, growing stronger until they overwhelm me, forcing me to withdraw and take refuge behind the reinforced barriers of my mental "panic room".

The trouble is that once those doors are closed, once the shutters come down, there is a coldness as my links to those around me are severed. Feelings are dulled and remote, like outside sounds heard through a closed door. In here I am safe from danger but also disconnected from positive influence - a dilemma.

Perfect isolation
Brings a deathlike stillness.
Colorless desert; expanse
Of infinite emptiness.

How to resolve this? It is paradoxical that in my loneliness I feel a need to be alone, to get away and be by myself for a while. To regain my balance, rebuild my strength and, hopefully, recover my happiness. Because at the moment I am down. Have been for some days or weeks now - not quite sure how long.

The blighted trees were once so green
But now stand gray and twisted.
My woodland haven, tranquil scene,
Destroyed, demolished, blasted.

I feel exhausted. There are reasons - I know what they are but not how to resolve them.

Solitary inmate; my prison
Is of my own making, no less
Secure for that. I hold no keys
That will unlock these cold steel bars.

Outside my cell the corridors
Are silent, no guards to patrol.
My small cell lost in this fastness.
I cry out; echoes fade to naught.

Trying to find some inner peace is difficult right now. I try to recall times of happiness and comfort such as walks in the countryside, views across lakes to distant hills and forests - but instead I find I am transported to exposed rocky slopes with the cold wind howling around me as the rain lashes down and thunder rumbles ominously in the distance. I am a long way from shelter and the day is rapidly drawing to an end to leave me on my own in the stormy night.

Trudging endlessly through the long night, the search for a place to rest seems a Sisyphean task. But I cling to the hope that the storm will abate, a new day will dawn and I will at last find a place to lay my head. To cast off my weariness and return to the light.

The Point of No Return

History and literature are full of examples of actions that cannot be undone, steps that cannot be retracted. Julius Caesar commanded his legions to cross the Rubicon, countless seaborne invaders have burned their boats, Shakespeare had Henry V exhort his troops "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead". Common to these is the idea that, while the action might be a desperate gamble, turning away would equate to failure - come back with your shield or on it, death or glory.

Such actions are invariably described with the benefit of hindsight and portray the events as heroic and aspirational. But can they really be considered to set a good example - are there situations in which risking everything on the roll of a die is the rational course of action?

Obviously the answer depends on the consequences of turning away, of choosing not to act. In Caesar's case his term as Proconsul had expired and he had been recalled to Rome in the face of Pompey's accusations of insubordination and treason. If he had not invaded Italy from Gaul thus instigating a civil war he would have found himself much reduced, his political aspirations in ruins. For such an ambitious man that would have been intolerable; he preferred to risk defeat and death but was aware that he could count on significant military, public and political support. Bearing that in mind, it was a calculated risk.

I would describe myself as risk-averse - I tend towards courses of action that have less uncertainty, smaller chances of incurring harm. I find uncertainty - any kind of gambling for example - to be stressful. The worst kinds of situation I can imagine involve having to decide between courses of action that each carry risk: being between the devil and the deep blue sea. It is a combination of fear of the unknown and fear of the prospect of suffering injury.

Problems arise when faced with such dilemmas - I can easily be frozen into inaction by my fears, even if doing nothing carries its own risks. In consequence I will attempt to keep my options open, to leave myself a route back to where I started. To pass the point of no return is, to me, like jumping off a cliff (I have a fear of heights which makes this allusion particularly apt). I am over-aware of the consequences of failure and this biases my judgement to favor the path with the least bad risk rather than the one with the highest potential benefit.

It all boils down to fear and anxiety, those often irrational feelings, that steer me away from particular situations or courses of action. I guess I am at least predictable in that I will act to minimize my anxiety. Avoiding becoming trapped - cornered - with risk on every side is crucial to this. There will be no passing the point of no return for me, thank you.

Let's Talk About Me

Writing can only achieve so much. There are times when I feel I am holding in so many silent thoughts, so much unexpressed emotion that I get mentally exhausted. It's difficult - if not impossible - to let go, to let it out. Like a locked door to which I do not possess the key. The pressure builds up behind the barriers and the strain makes me fractious.

Mental tension leads to physical tension, that characteristic tightening across the shoulders causing muscular discomfort, aches and pains. How can I relieve this stress? Get things off my mind?

It doesn't help that I subconsciously avoid analyzing the causes of my feelings. As if afraid to confront them head-on I avoid letting my inner eye gaze long upon them. Must avoid eye contact, even in here. So these nebulous concerns accumulate while I refuse to reify them, to give them substance, because that would require that I acknowledge their presence and admit that I cannot handle them.

But admit to whom? To speak of such things to another would need such a degree of candor - such openness - that I would feel too exposed and vulnerable, succumbing in that instant to overwhelming fear, and hastily slam the shutters closed.

To what kind of person could I reveal the detailed depths of my inner turmoil? Whom could I trust implicitly to keep the secrets of my soul safe from the sight of others? It's a puzzle, to be sure - I would have to know somebody well to feel comfortable enough to consider opening up, but having done so I could not subsequently feel comfortable around them. It would be as if I were laid bare. So I end up believing that exploiting such a level of trust would destroy it.

The end result is that I continue to accumulate the hurt and pain, trying to keep it locked away from my day-to-day thoughts. Trying to appear carefree, chasing distractions and amusements that will occupy my mind for a while and give me some respite. Until the darkness returns, as it inevitably will, since I cannot open my mind's doors and let in the light. I am simply not able to talk about me.

Time Pressure

Time pressure - a compulsion to complete a task or be somewhere by a fixed time - is a major cause of anxiety for me. As the deadline approaches I feel myself getting increasingly tense, short-tempered and twitchy: sure signs of anxiety. It can happen in any situation: at home, at work or out and about; when I am alone or in company.

I've never had any success trying to find a strategy for handling time pressure. I'm not even sure why I feel under such pressure and get so anxious. It might be a fear of failure - an aspect of perfectionism - but I've not been able to analyze it sufficiently. It's pretty much impossible to take a detached, objective view of my own behavior when I'm in that state of mind.

The effects on me include a tendency to rush and miss details, and my concentration is impaired. If it's one particular task I need to complete I will become increasingly manic and unreasonable in my attempts to resolve it in the time remaining. It's worse when I'm around other people because I stop noticing things like tone of voice and body language that indicate that people are getting annoyed or offended by what they perceive as rudeness on my part.

It happened last night. We were taking part in a pub quiz. There were a number of people around the table which can be stressful because I need to maintain a space around me to feel comfortable. There was one question that we hadn't got an answer for and time was running out to hand in the answer sheet. So I was feeling under pressure to both come up with the remaining answer - I feel compelled to complete tasks - and also to hand the sheet in before it was too late. It's a wonder there wasn't steam coming out of my ears! I managed to really annoy my wife with my repeated insistence that we put an answer down for the last question and hand the sheet in - apparently I appeared very impatient and rude, almost shouting at her, and I just didn't notice what effect I was having.

It's hard to explain just how strong the urges are when under time pressure: I've used the word compulsion because that is literally how it feels to me. I have no control over it, I am pulled along by the tide. It doesn't matter how important or trivial the task to be completed is. It might be something big like getting my wife to one of her appointments on time or it might be something so small and unimportant that nobody else sees any importance in it. The key aspect is that to me there is no distinction. There is simply the fact that something has to be done by such-and-such a time.

Dead Washing Machine And Thanksgiving

My wife and I's ordeal with our washing machine is (hopefully) nearing its conclusion. After numerous phone calls and repeated engineer call-outs it has finally been written off and we're going to get a new one. From a different manufacturer. We've been without it for nearly two weeks now and don't we know it - hand washing is hard work. There is a laundrette locally but I can't use it - the unfamiliar environment and people cause me too much anxiety. And my wife's not physically able to get there. So we're stuck in the laundry equivalent of the dark ages!

It's not until they go wrong that you realise how much you rely on these machines: washing machine, dryer, cooker, freezer. How on earth did people manage before they had them? No wonder a whole day used to be set aside for doing the laundry.

And then there's the hassle of getting replacements. At least the internet saves having to physically travel round a bunch of stores to compare models and brands. But you still need to use the phone when it's an insurance- or warranty-related problem, so it ends up being extremely stressful and exhausting. Not to mention time-consuming: I've spent a total of about an hour on the phone over the past couple of days - including the time holding in a queue before I even got to speak to a person. That's a ridiculous amount of time to sort out a fairly straightforward problem.

Anyway at least we're now going to be getting a shiny new machine, so this story has a happy ending - a cause for celebration... and speaking of celebration, Happy Thanksgiving to all the Americans out there!

Getting Through

I have times when I feel such utter frustration and helplessness, times when I feel buried under a growing mountain of pending tasks, times when almost everything I touch seems to go wrong or fall apart and I don't know what to do to fix it, times when I just feel trapped by the flow of events - pulled in so many different directions that I feel dizzy and overwhelmed: adrift.

At times like these there are some things that help me get through, none more so than the support of kind words from friends. That gives me just enough of a boost - a positive feeling of hope and self-worth - that I can face the situation and start to deal with it instead of feeling dwarfed and powerless by the terrific enormity of what is facing me. I need to have my mind at peace to handle difficult, stressful situations - this is a great challenge to achieve and I often need help. That little bit of support, telling me that I'm doing OK and I've got somebody behind me who can catch me if I fall.

That's all I need to reduce my anxiety and insecurity to a level I can manage, a level at which I can think straight. Because when my mind's thrashing about, floundering, wasting energy in an attempt to keep afloat, it can escape my notice that I'm not really out of my depth - I'm just so flustered and panicky that I don't realise I can touch the bottom and instead feel as if I'm drowning. That's such an unpleasant sensation. The relief I feel when somebody helps me find my feet and steady myself is immense.

Eye Contact

I can look you in the eye
When I talk to you sometimes,
Or when you speak to me. My
Instinct is suppressed: thought crime.


I would rather look away,
At the walls or into space,
But I had to learn to play
Your social game. I misplaced


My natural self. This mask
I hide behind forever
Part of me. I only ask
You spare a thought, whenever

I evade your gaze. Comfort flees
My mind faced with such a stare;
Swiftly borne by the hot breeze
Of fear. You are unaware

Just how strong are my urges.
Compulsion to turn aside.
Panic rises, heart surges,
Primal need to run and hide.

Inside A Torture Chamber

I spent for too long at the hospital yesterday accompanying my wife as she went through a series of tests and scans. The X-Ray/Ultrasound department has recently moved to a refurbished suite and it's all new and shiny.

Too shiny. The lighting makes its white walls harshly bright. It's all straight lines and square corners with no relieving softness. I know hospitals are clinical - obviously - but do they really have to look so cold and unfriendly? I was feeling on edge when we got to the department reception desk. Luckily my wife dealt with the receptionist - with the bright lights, echoing footsteps and other voices all claiming my attention I couldn't concentrate on what he was saying at all. We got directed to a small waiting area off one of the corridors - an alcove with a row of six chairs on each side, facing each other. About half the chairs were occupied; I took one at the end away from the corridor with my wife sitting next to me.

I feel uncomfortable in waiting rooms at the best of times; I get very anxious when people are sat looking at me. And I don't like to feel I'm being overheard when I talk to somebody, so I was inhibited from speaking with my wife. I ended up just sitting there, stimming in a fairly subtle manner by tapping one thumb on the other with my hands together, fingers intertwined - trying to keep reasonably calm. However the pressure of having other people facing me in such a small space was making me increasingly anxious. (I have similar problems using public transport - that's why I will walk miles rather than catch a bus.)

So there I am in this small waiting area with too many strangers looking at me, the harsh light making me feel even more exposed and uncomfortable. I can feel I'm getting close to a sensory overload. And then somebody goes through the door in the corridor just outside this alcove. How to describe the noise made by that door? If you've seen those old horror films where the castle door slowly closes to the accompaniment of a tortured squeal from its stiff, rusted hinges you'll know exactly what this door sounded like. That did overload me. I had to shut my eyes every time that door opened or closed because it was as if somebody was shining a spotlight into them. It hurt. I was starting to ache from the tension across my shoulders and up my neck.

I thought to myself that they couldn't have designed a more effective environment to torture somebody with sensory processing issues if they had tried. I just felt like curling up in a corner and shutting down but I had to keep myself going to keep my wife company. By the time we got out of there I was tense and exhausted and just wanted to rest. It took a massive effort to avoid shutting down and left me drained. I'm not sure how much support I gave to my wife but at least I was there and mostly responsive. I find it hard to believe that a hospital could get its design so wrong in terms of providing spaces for people that are comfortable and promote a calm state of mind.

Rising Stress

Here's hoping for a quiet weekend. At least things are going well in my main job. Everything else though...

Tonight will be my first shift in the pub with the new manager. I've met her already when I got introduced Tuesday night but it takes me a long time to get used to a person so I feel comfortable. Hopefully she'll be pretty laid back and leave me to get on with things. I'm anxious about it, worrying about what might happen - trying to plan how I'll handle various hypothetical scenarios. But I just don't know her well enough to predict how she will behave. So I'll be stepping into the unknown when my shift starts.

There's other stuff going on outside work that I can't go into yet that is causing me a huge amount of worry as well. While I usually handle stress in particular areas of my life by compartmentalising and concentrating on other things, in this particular case it's intense enough to leak out and affect everything else. The end result is that I find my stress levels increase and the danger is that it affects my ability to cope with my normal routine. I can't concentrate as well and I experience sensory overload much more easily, which then makes it more likely that I will shut down. I'm worried about shutting down because I am caring for my wife while she is ill, and I am obviously no use to her if I can't function. So the stress and worry is spiralling upwards because I feel anxious about worrying in the first place. It's completely irrational. It makes me want to scream!

So I'm sitting here hoping that things run smoothly over the weekend. I'm not sure how much more stress I can handle and I'm inclined to head for the hills at the first sign of trouble. But there's this little part of me that's watching with interest to see exactly how high the levels can get before something breaks. Seems I can't get away from analysing myself the whole time.

Different Roles

It's strange, but my behaviour changes depending on what I'm doing. I reluctantly went to the usual pub quiz last Tuesday night without my wife, who wasn't well enough. This is the same pub I work in at weekends. When I'm behind the bar, being a barman, I have the confidence to speak to people. Because of the context of the job I can interact with complete strangers. So why do I feel so darned uncomfortable when I'm on my own in front of the bar?

I got there a good hour before the quiz started and the place wasn't yet busy. I probably knew almost everyone in the there. But I didn't feel at ease joining anybody's group. I did hover at the edge of one group for a while but ended up sat on my own at the usual table reading the news on my phone. Even when the other members of the team arrived I felt isolated. It's not that I wasn't included; it's just that I always put myself under pressure because I feel that I should be active in conversation. If it hadn't been for numerous people asking after my wife's health I don't think I'd have said very much all night.

So why does it feel so different among the same people in the same environment depending on whether I'm a customer or a barman? I don't really know. I do know that I hate to take a break while I'm working because for half an hour I'm out of barman mode and basically just a normal customer. I usually come back early from my break and hope I won't get sent back out again. I guess it sounds weird but that's me!

Even when I'm on my own behind the bar with a pub full of customers I hardly ever feel intimidated - I feel safe. Is it the solid counter between me and them? I don't think so. I suspect it's because the interactions are constrained and I understand the boundaries - I know what to expect from the customers because they just want to be served. When I'm in there as just me - no role to assume - there are no such boundaries.

I realise now that I can handle much more socially if I am fulfilling a role than if I'm just being myself - exposed, unprotected. In a way these roles are like masks that I can hide behind.

Too Much On My Mind

Sometimes...
      there are too many thoughts
      running round and round
      inside my head.

Sometimes...
      I feel so anxious
      I find it hard to focus
      on the task in front of me.

Sometimes...
      I get exhausted by the effort
      of forcing my conscious thoughts
      through the noise.

Sometimes...
      I just want to close the curtains,
      switch off the lights
      and lock the door.

Until...
      my spinning thoughts slow down
      to a manageable speed
      and my mind becomes quiet.

Fear Is...

Fear is a black dragon
Hunting through the night sky.
Eyes glowing like hot coals,
It seeks my hiding place.

Fear is a frozen waste
Where ice needles pierce me.
There is no warm relief,
Only this burning cold.

Fear is familiar:
Frequent companion,
I know its aura well.
I try to run away.

Fear is a pallid ghost
Haunting rooms in my mind.
Never quite clearly seen,
Skirting the edge of sight.

Fear is my enemy,
Waiting to ambush me.
Lurking in dark corners,
It waits for me to come.

Fear is invincible:
I fight its claws and teeth
As it rends flesh from bone:
My weakened spirit breaks.

Fear is a chimera,
A product of my mind.
The ultimate bully,
Preying on my weakness.

Routines are Comforting

Routines are a necessary part of my life - adherence to inflexible routines is one of the more common characteristics of Aspergers and other autism spectrum disorders. They serve a purpose in that they reduce my anxiety level by making me feel comfortable through familiarity - I don't handle change well. Any change - an interruption or obstacle that prevents me carrying a routine through to completion - causes me stress that can overload me, triggering a meltdown.

I have learned to cope with some small variations in my routines without suffering much more than discomfort - a sense of uneasiness. It's the same sort of feeling I get when I notice that books are not arranged in order. However, major upheavals will almost always set me off.

Some of my routines take the form of a fixed sequence of actions, others are behavioural rules. An example of the former: I always wash parts of my body in the same order when I shower in the mornings. A behavioural rule: after I get up in the morning I can't eat or drink anything until I've brushed my teeth. (These are just two examples - I've got plenty more and they're not all related to personal hygiene.)

Most of my routines either take place in the privacy of my own home or are small and unobtrusive, generally escaping notice by people around me. For example, at home I have a particular knife and fork that I always use. A more public example: when I arrive at my desk at work the first thing I always do is place my phone in a particular place on the desk, remove the USB cable from my pocket - always the left trouser pocket, uncoil it, plug one end of the cable into my PC and then plug the other end into the phone - a small routine to be sure, but a routine nevertheless.

My inflexibility also shows when something I am expecting to happen either doesn't, or happens in a different way. It might be that my wife has asked me what I want for dinner, I've said something such as pasta - having a quite specific picture of it in my head - and when I get home she's cooked something different. You can pretty much guarantee it will be a very nice meal - she's a talented cook - but I won't enjoy it much because it wasn't what I had in mind. I'm still learning how to deal with this one (ten years and counting...) and I think I'm getting better at it - sometimes I'll be very specific about what I want and other times I'll deliberately have no expectations. Avoiding the cause of the problem is easier than handling the end result.

Eating is another good example of my repetitive behaviour - if left to my own devices I'd most likely live off spaghetti bolognese for the rest of my days - I could happily eat the same thing for every meal, every day of the year. I don't get bored of that, unlike the average person on the street. In fact the regularity, the predictability, is reassuring and comforting. It all ends up preventing or reducing my anxiety.

Worst of Times; Best of Times

The last few days have been a time of striking contrast. I have plumbed the cold, dark depths of sadness and soared high on bright waves of euphoria. Both Friday and Saturday nights were very low points - it was so difficult just to carry on. I don't know how I'd have got through without the distraction of work - for those hours I could just do the job and not think about my problems. But outside of work I had nothing to occupy my mind - no persona to adopt, no mask to hide behind. And so I felt the full impact of my negative feelings.

There were a number of reasons for my unhappiness - being in situations I did not want to be in and feeling trapped, picking up strong negative feelings from somebody close to me and being unable to handle the empathic pain, shutting down in public and attracting unwanted attention when I just needed to be left in peace - it all combined into a destructive overload where I was fighting against myself to avoid a meltdown, to avoid lashing out. I was sleeping badly, not eating well and - although I didn't realise it - becoming physically and mentally exhausted. Even watching my team (Wigan Warriors) win the Rugby League Challenge Cup on Saturday afternoon didn't affect my mood to any great degree.

Sunday didn't start well. However I had a busy shift that afternoon at the pub - the time flew by and I got a buzz from it. I also had some supportive feedback from the couple of "down" posts I'd published the previous nights which lifted me. So I was feeling somewhat better by the evening and, even better, relations with this person I'm very close to were considerably less frosty - this is somebody I love very much but we have communication issues from time to time when she gets very openly emotional and I overload and become uncommunicative. I know it doesn't help the situation but it's the only way I can handle the emotion I feel as a result.

But anyway, there were signs that things were getting back on track so that helped. And that evening I had organised an event in the pub - a darts and quiz night. It's a measure of how comfortable I feel in that environment that I felt able to put myself forward for such an event - organising and hosting something lasting two and a half hours. I had ten teams of two competing and I was nervous as anything starting out even though I knew all the people taking part. I managed to round them all up, explain how it was going to work and get things started. After three rounds of questions I was feeling under pressure and took a short break. My legs were shaking and - I found out later - I was exhibiting a couple of tics that my wife could easily identify as signs of my nerves. I was wondering what the heck I had got myself into - why I had put myself in this situation. I felt it might be slipping out of my control. I hadn't been able to plan the event in detail because I'd not known how many entrants there would be on the night - I was out of my comfort zone and - to a degree - making it up as I went along.

It was about ten minutes later that I got things going again with the next round. The break had calmed me enough and I felt I was getting on top of things - I felt that it was running more smoothly. Nobody had complained yet - in fact a couple had told me it was going well, and that gave me a bit more confidence. By the time we finished two people had made speeches thanking me and called for a round of applause as appreciation for an enjoyable night. Everybody there told me they had had a good time and that I had done a good job of running it. I felt pleased - but more than that I was utterly exhausted. I slept well - over ten hours - and it was Monday morning when I was feeling more refreshed that it sank in and the elation hit me. I found myself flapping my hands in the shower! I feel a real sense of achievement for carrying the evening off successfully, and I know that even a year ago I would never have been able to stand up and speak in front of a group like that - let alone direct the proceedings.

I'm not in any hurry to repeat the experience - it was nerve-wracking and exhausting - but I feel proud of myself for doing a difficult job competently and managing to handle my anxiety. Thanks are also due to the people who took part on that night and were so supportive towards me - I couldn't have got through it without certain people telling me early on that I was doing well and giving me a well-needed confidence boost.