Wishing the fog were outside and not in
A glimpse inside a “different brain” | recommended reads, watches, and listens | an inspirational quote
Brain fog has overwhelmed me the past two weeks.
The “bug” we caught last week was probably Covid.
In my experience, Covid has been the only persistent bitch-ass virus that gives me unwavering brain fog for a time. (“For a time” potentially being years, at this point…).
It’s a bitch, but I’m working my way around it. Slowly.
A lot happened this week.
I hit a moral, figurative brick wall with some people in my life shortly after I’d written a generous essay featuring them. I spent my therapy session this weekend talking about it, and had a general idea for how I wanted to approach things that allowed me to sleep the night-of. And now after talking to a friend, I feel significantly more confident with an action plan underway.
Dealing with people has never been my strong suit. I’m hopeful I’m doing the right thing for, at least, the young people involved.
Anxiety is a jerk. Tossed with an extra dash of over-thinking, and a heavy dose of Autism with ADHD (plus, I’m sure, C-PTSD doesn’t help, either), I question myself constantly. But one thing I know for sure is, with compassion in mind, that my gut instinct always has my best interest at heart.
Yet, something I’ve learned after working hard on growing my awareness of self and of others over the past few years is that having self-awareness sucks sometimes. It’s so much more work. And as someone whose neurology doesn’t offer features such as the ability to create habits or engage in a sort of autopilot (unless I’m dissociated1)—every single thing I do requires a decision and manual, sometimes step-by-step instructions wire-transferred from my always overloaded brain, and delivered to the areas I need to function as needed—just a few minutes in my head is enough to exhaust me for a couple of days, even.
This manual work isn’t as black and white as me telling my body to “take a step with the left foot, take a step with the right foot” to be able to walk. But most actions require intentional system operation commands, of sorts: A constant stream of in-brain voiceovers and conscious, self-provided instructions. That is, if I want to get anything done, of course.
Here are a few beats in my head while out, say, walking home from my favorite lunch spot:
“That sound (in the distance) is irritating—try not to think about it. Okay, trying not to think about it makes it more intense, for some reason. Focus on something else. … That’s not helpful, either. How can I think about anything else with that sou— Oooh! Be careful of that rock ahead—you so clumsy. If you fall bad enough, no one will be able to get your big ass off the ground. Ugh, then there’d be more physical therapy, and— Eww! The person ahead of you just coughed: Hold your breath for 30 seconds—don’t inhale their nasty suspended spittle, or whatever the heck that stuff is called. Phew! (Gasps, trying to be quiet.) Should’ve breathed in before holding my breath! … I didn’t realize how pretty this neighborhood is. It’s actually quite peaceful. Still, don’t wanna live in the ‘burbs. Not even the urban suburbs. This is gonna be a 30-minute walk, and my left knee and right Achilles are protesting—I’ve really gotta stop pushing my body so hard. ... Maybe I should go back a block and catch the bus. But it’s just four stops, and it’s out of the way, technically. If I take the bus, then I’d have to catch the streetcar home, too. It actually might be smarter to walk. I don’t know. What if I get hurt worse? Ugh. I never learn… Stop that. Don’t talk to yourself that way. You do learn. You just have poor prioritization, and all the ‘little things’ seem louder, requiring immediate attention most of the time. Or, it’s probably just because they’re easier to process and tackle, and you need ‘simple wins’ to give you enough dopamine to make getting up in the morning motivating enough to be worthwhile. But, if I get hurt, I’ll have to extend PT—I already have to get shockwave therapy done every six weeks. What more do I want to pile on..? (Still walking, further away from the bus stop.) Crap. I forgot to schedule physical therapy for (Middle)…. Should I stop for a second and make a Note? Will I check that again? I’ll just forget it…. Besides, if I look at my phone now, I’ll keep thinking about other things to do on the phone for the entire walk, then ruin productivity at home by getting stuck in a scroll.2 I could do a voice note… that I’ll never listen to. Oooh! I could text myself. That’s actually a good idea. Dictation. Okay: Don’t forget to schedule PT for (Middle). Annnnd sent. Hmm. Doesn’t someone-or-other make an e-ink cellphone?3 That would be so much simpler and better for me—I don’t need a mini-computer with me at all times. Except for music. iPods aren’t a thing anymore, are they? I think the e-ink phone I was looking at a while back offers GPS—that would be amazing. But I think Brian said they’re not secure or something like that. Second dictated text to self: Look up e-ink cellphones again. Fuck! Uneven pavement! Ouuuuuuch! Frigging flimsy body! Third dictated text to self: Mention ‘crappy right ankle’ to the Physical Therapist while you’re bitching about all the other joints and ligaments. Or should I just wait for the next shockwave treatment..? I don’t know. I’m so tired. And that sound is still fucking annoying.”
Welcome to my head. I go to sleep with these thoughts, and wake immediately with them.
They’d keep me up all night if it weren’t for the prescribed, multiple sleep aids.
Hashtag: Grateful. (That’s not a thing anymore, is it?)
One.
As Tayyaba Rehman defined on AskDifference, “A ‘habit’ is a recurrent, often unconscious pattern of behavior acquired through frequent repetition. A ‘routine’ is a fixed program or set of actions followed regularly, often consciously designed.”
I’ll write more about the Autistic brain’s (for most) inability to form habits versus the beneficial and often our deep-seated need (and possibly (probably) obsessive tendencies toward) routines, instead. I recently found out from AuDHD creator Purple Ella that they’re not the same thing, and had to look it up to confirm.
Two.
I love music and singing various songs across several genres. Although classically trained and was a budding semi-professional opera singer in my late-teens and early-20s, I actually prefer to sing Alto to hard rock/metal/Nu metal songs.
I always loved the sound of these genres, but never understood why singing them was so preferential to me until this week.
A few months ago, I reacquainted myself with the band The Pretty Reckless. It was right around the time I was watching Gossip Girl out of curiosity (and pulled a lot of parenting advice out of it—another at-present stewing essay); I remembered the younger sister of one of the lead characters played Cindy Lou Who from Jim Carrey’s How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Then, remembered she had a band that I recalled liking years prior.
Although the lead vocalist, Taylor Momsen, can hit one note lower in our similar octave range. I’m a Contralto/Alto/Mezzo Soprano/sometimes-can-still-hit-Soprano-notes Soprano—thanks to aging, it’s very in-my-head-voice notes now—and she’s a solid Contralto/Alto. My “comfort range” is Alto/Mezzo Soprano. Otherwise, she’s my “vocal doppelgänger” in the sense that I usually sing men’s songs best for more popular or modern music because most women’s songs are too high for me. Taylor’s songs feel tailored to my voice. (Pun intended. But minus some rasp. I wish.)
In my youth, I’d fall for the sound of a song over the lyrical content, but age and probably the deepened obsession with words made me fall for a wider array of songs and music I previously wouldn’t touch. I don’t think I’m musically artistic enough to understand all The Pretty Reckless’s songs, but I consistently love their sound and the way their music feels when I sing it.
Just this week I discovered why: Trying to match Momsen’s gorgeous vocal range, pitch, and vibrato is the perfect vocal self-stimulatory behavior for me—my perfect “vocal stim” music.
Particularly, this song—which the band said is a love song, but apparently not the same kind of love I experience—is my absolute favorite to sing for the total body and brain calming it offers me:
If I could sing this on a loop all day, I’d probably be the most regulated person I know. But, I have a feeling my family would get sick of it quickly. And maybe me too, at some point.
ADHD and Autism don’t often make the best bed fellows.
Autism: I can listen to and sing the same song all day, every day, on a loop.
ADHD: Find another fucking song before I lose my frigging mind!!!
AuDHD: Listen to the same song because you love it so much, then burn out on it and don’t listen to it again for years, if ever again.
Three.
The lovely Katie Hawkins-Gaar wrote about “grief math” this week. Such a heartfelt and grounded piece.
Katie wrote, “By identifying significant dates, years, and ages, we create new touchstones—another way to connect with the people we miss.” This is true, in my experience. Even if it sneaks up on us, it still packs the same punch of equal parts pain and gratitude for the time you got to have with your passed-on loved one. And a forecast for future life-markers that may simultaneously ground and dissociate you.
Four.
And Amanda B. Hinton of The Editing Spectrum published a questionnaire from Autistic writer, Amy Yuki Vickers.
When asked about a recent “creative spark” that she was really excited about, yet what ultimately fizzled out, Amy responded, “It depends on where you draw the ‘fizzle’ line. I’m a perfectionist, so I’ll rework things until I’ve memorized them. I don’t consider it a fizzle to move onto something else. My creative life is like a long road trip. I might see mountains, cities, beach sunsets, etc., but my momentary focus on one thing doesn’t diminish my appreciation for the others. Sometimes, I go back to projects years later. So, I guess that, for me, there’s no such thing as a true fizzle.”
She went on to say, “Of course, there are disappointments. I ‘give up’ all the time, but the thing is, I keep waking up the next morning wanting to write. And, just like on a road trip, there’s nothing to do but get out of bed and keep going.”
I admire Amy’s ability to communicate and way of beautifully describing this. And I agree entirely.
Five.
“If you can’t fly then run, if you can’t run then walk, if you can’t walk then crawl, but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward.” —Martin Luther King, Jr.
P.S. I predominantly write from my personal experience as an Autistic person with ADHD, chronic illness, Anxiety, and more. Each of these factors can influence my individual experience overall, as well as my experience of each condition.
What I share is not a substitute for medical advice.
Self-identification of Autism and ADHD (what many call “self-diagnosis”) is perfectly valid. If a personal Autistic experience I write about resonates deeply with you, consider these resources on Embrace Autism (starting with the Autism Quotient Test) as a first step. If professional assessment is important to you or your life has been impeded enough that you may need to qualify for Disability, you can print your results to bring to a diagnostician. (Having all those tests completed in advance saved me a lot of money!) Although there are many more diagnosticians available, here is a comprehensive list to get you started.
Lastly, some of my opinions may have changed since I first wrote the piece that lead you here.
Comment with any questions, and I’ll respond as soon as I can.
What is dissociation?, Very Well Mind
What’s “a scroll,” you ask? Anyone can get stuck in one, but in this case, it’s basically neurodivergent hyper-focusing on the easy, dopamine-infusing scrolling of the internet, short video content, social media, etc. Neurodivergent brains don’t make enough dopamine on their own, so when we find easy access to hits of dopamine, it’s often difficult to break away from the source that provides the necessary neurotransmitter compound needed to simply function on a daily basis. Therefore, we get stuck scrolling until, sometimes, someone (or just self-shame…) breaks us free.
The Light Phone is the brand of e-ink cellphone Brian and I were talking about. I’m actually re-considering it now. Only the new generation version is on pre-order now, and the first time I looked into the phone in 2018, I believe, they were in pre-order on the first generation for, like, two years. I didn’t jump, I think, for that reason. (Other than Brian’s concerns for security, too, I guess.)