#so like the last few days have made me really accept the agoraphobia diagnosis

[vampireknitting]

[embarrassedcelery]

2 Hour Party Girl

I am pushing 40, awaiting an Autism diagnosis, and sat here in my pyjamas on a weekday.  

I am out of work again, probably through choice, definitely through fear.  I haven't worked since March of last year, having felt literally exhausted since then.  I have had a couple of job interviews, but thanks to my lack of eye contact and practicality in answers to questions, I haven't got the roles.  I guess I was kind of relieved however, as maintaining a constant mask of normality all day, every day, is quite frankly terrifying.  I would need to sleep for a week after working one day, let alone going back every day and doing it again.

So, am I just on the scrapheap now?  Can I just not work, destined to be a dole-bludger for the rest of my days?  The Daily Mail would love me.  The ultimate layabout, not 100% British, claiming sick benefits but still managing to go out on the piss at weekends.  I am an embarrassment to society, a scumbag, a lazy fool who just hides behind some kind of illness in order to do absolutely nothing with her life.

It would be great if this were the case.  Well, actually it wouldn't, as I hope I would still have some sort of drive and ability to get myself out of this mess.  I don't think I could ever be happy sat doing nothing.  And as for the benefits side of things, I am currently receiving £73 per week, and I have to decide whether to eat or pay bills.  Or go out on the piss of course, if the Daily Mail were to be believed.

The thing is, I do actually go out and have drinks.  Quite often too.  This totally contradicts myself, well it contradicts the person I am right this second.  The quiet, shy person, sat indoors in mismatched PJs, make-up free and toes in front of the fire.  But alcohol, you see, is the ultimate mask.  Not that I would ever encourage anyone to drink alcohol, or to try and mask any issues they have with that or any substance.  However, for me, all it takes is one glass of wine and I am the same as anybody else in that pub.  Everyone is silly, inappropriate, loud, animated, self-indulgent, happy and daft, so for once, when a little drunk, I do not stand out if I behave in any of those ways.  It's utterly refreshing, and I'm not just talking about the wine!

I can get up and sing karaoke, talk to random people, accept compliments, give compliments, make eye contact, keep eye contact, not even think about bastard eye contact in the first place.  I come across as a normal person, albeit a rather drunk one, but I am in a pub, that is perfectly normal in a pub on a Friday night isn't it?  It's brilliant, and that makes me live for the weekends.  Nobody else seems to understand this, and think that I am just a saddo that stays in doing nothing, counting down the days until the weekend.  They would be entirely correct.  

I could become a raging alcoholic and go out every night, but that wouldn't be right either.  Weekday drinking feels wrong to me, unless it's a special occasion such as a friends birthday.  There is just something magical about a Friday or Saturday night, and having any old reason to use as an excuse to party makes it all the better.  I have actually had parties for my cats birthday, Summer-themed get togethers just because it is Winter, new job parties, sacked from job parties, kitchen parties, bedroom parties (nothing crude, may I add, the living room was just too messy).  I just love any kind of party.  But as long as I am in control, especially lately.  Nowadays, if having gatherings at mine, it is only a select few close friends.  They understand that my house is not perfectly tidy, and that sometimes I can cut the night short without a moment's notice if I feel too overwhelmed.  The same goes with going out, I know that if I start feeling like hell, I can get the hell out of there and back to my sanctuary.

But yes, I do recognise that this is not a healthy lifestyle.  My intelligent brain is rotting away with each moment that I sit here, struck with some kind of agoraphobia at any mention of having to go out to do normal things.  I had to meet my family for lunch the other day and threw up twice beforehand, for example.  I am fully aware that I am wasting my life, I could/should be doing more, that I am ruining all of the most glorious years of my life that I will never get back, etc etc.  These things are said to me often, and this is what makes it all the more crushing.  I want to change so badly, but I really don't know how.  Will having an Autism diagnosis actually even help?  I guess it would give me the actual card so to speak, it would finally answer all of my questions and explain my lifelong behaviours, but then how would I proceed?

It was a conversation with my partner that made me realise that I can't just sit around waiting for this damned diagnosis, I have to understand myself right now and work out how I can achieve the thing I want, around my condition, and not letting it determine me.  I know he was trying to be helpful and constructive, but naturally at first we had a blazing row about him not understanding me.  He doesn't, and probably never will, but he is right.  This diagnosis is going to take over a year in total, at least, as my local M.H services are typically exhausted and underfunded, so I can't just hang around watching David Dickinson in my slippers, waiting for some kind of life changing miracle to happen, can I?

So what is the next step for me?  I don't actually have a clue.  Everything is overwhelming, like a giant unsorted pile of wires.  I know I can sort them, and they can be sorted, but just looking at them, all mixed up and intertwined, makes me shudder.  

Where do I start?  

[tryingtobreathe520-blog]

Future

So, here we are, flash forward. To summarize the past 3 years, after moving out of state to help my grandmother and try to start over, I went into a horrible state after trying to live on my own where my agoraphobia reached a new limit. I was terrified of going outside. Which didn't work for me at all because I was going to school. Of course, I didn't think calling in sick due to an illness of that nature would go over easily, so I tried to go out. Sometimes, I'd make it as far as the corner, but most times, I couldn't get past the door. I had no one to relate to about this. They'd all think I was crazy. But I was feeling a mix of being surrounded by people who were foreign to me, put in massive social environments every day, and expected to (with my history) do everything smoothly? Of course, I had a meltdown. So, instead of turning to God, I tried to find comfort in another person and oddly enough, got another person along with him. I'd always wanted kids. A whole lot of them, in fact, but only after I'd finished school, found some way to keep myself stable (emotionally and financially) and got married. Abortion wasn't even in my mind, and I would never put a kid through the system to suffer, so I had to make a choice. My grandmother had heart conditions among many other things, so asking her to help was out of the question. My only other family was an uncle and aunt there, but they were obviously trying to get their marriage back on track and me and a baby would not help. So, I ended up getting an offer from my old aunt, the one from my teenage years. She'd claimed that she'd left her SO and got her own place with her son and that I was more than welcome to stay with her until after the baby and getting back on my feet. Was I surprised? Of course. We hadn't left in the best of terms when I was a teenager, and I'd certainly avoided visiting her over the years because of her SO, but I didn't hate her. My other options were my uncle in the north or my mother. My uncle was in and out of jail due to multiple times cheating on his wife and her vengeful wrath sent him in and out on many false accusations. My mother didn't exactly stay in a home, and there was no way I could live with her roommate (he argued all day). So, I decided try my aunt and move in. Now I know you're probably thinking, why did I move in with​ her? For one, I did not want to go to a shelter. Growing up in the system, I'd seen and heard the various ways that kids are removed from their parent's care, and the horrible things that can happen at shelters, so that was not an option for me. My other option was to just be homeless, and that was out of the question. She was my only option at this point, and like they say, don't kick a gift horse in the mouth. So, I unpacked all my things, went shopping for the baby while I was 6mo pregnant, and expected things to go smoothly, right? Wrong. Barely a week after I'd been there, my aunt suddenly announces that her SO will be coming over for a few days to see his son. She says he never visited before, so it shouldn't be long. Now, I'm an adult now, with my prefrontal cortex (the decision making part of your brain) still growing, but not as immature as it was when I was a teenager, so the first thing my body does is set off an alarm. All I could think towards my aunt was, doesn't that concern you in the slightest? He doesn't show up for years and suddenly I end up with you and he wants to stay over? So, he came over and stayed for at least 2 weeks. Every day was hell for me, not because he spoke to me, but because I didn't want him to speak to me. I didn't want him to look my way, not even to breathe in the same room as me and my baby. I know, you're thinking, but you're a CHRISTIAN. You're supposed to forgive, and love, no matter who. I had no problem forgiving him, but that didn't mean I'd leave myself open for something to happen to me or my child. I was on alert. 24/7. Any movement, I was awake. This continues to this day. He claims to come over for that day, stays for a week to a month. I was not able to even breastfeed my own child. When he's over, I have to sleep with her next to me. I don't trust him, and would be dumb to do so, and I say this from experience. I've known girls 11 and 12 in the foster care system whose uncles or fathers or step-fathers have sexually abused them multiple times as well as their siblings because their mother or aunt thought, "oh, they won't do anything with me around. The kids are safe" I went through that abuse as a child, but I would not have my own child suffer because of negligence. Right after having the baby, my aunt made the suggestion that we should all move into the same house. I have many thoughts that I'm not proud of, and ever since she made that statement, I haven't been able to see her right since then. I've prayed about it, but it may be that the only thing to help is time away from her. And I've been trying. Job hunting like a crazy person, but since my aunt has it in her mind that the baby's safe around her SO because he wouldn't cross her, I can't leave the baby there to go job searching. I've been stuck online, trying to find a job. At the same time, trying to find a housing program. If you've ever felt trapped in a situation, then you know how I feel. My aunt, over the time that I've been here, has not left me any money (from the little that I get each month) to try and progress in life. What she leaves me, I budget and squeeze the last dollar to take care of my own child. I've tried saving even a dollar for water, but sometimes that even gets stolen. It does not help my faith. As much as I love my aunt, the whispers of doubt creep in and try to change that. It does not help the way she treats my daughter. If she and her son are sick, they try and get as close as possible to the baby. I've been praying every day that she doesn't get sick because I simply cannot afford it. Whenever I try and calm the baby, she inserts herself into my position and takes the baby away, which hurts me because I am her mother, and do love to comfort her, something my mother never did with me as a child. I've seen that my aunt is trying to put my mother and I against each other by describing her last mistakes and how tarnished our relationship is, but she doesn't realize that we are making it work, and getting better. The racial slurs and the language used in the home makes me want to cover my baby's ears. I feel like I didn't really know my aunt before. It's been mostly denials from jobs, but I'm praying that I get something soon in a different city. Since my diagnosis with cancer, I've been so sick, and I'm not even sure it's from that. Sometimes, my stomach clenches like a vice is pinching my insides. It puts me in a cold sweat and I end up on the floor most times. The pain always makes me nauseous. Sometimes it lasts for 30 minutes and I'm crawling around, trying to move through the pain. I have no help during these times. If I am sick or in pain, my child is ignored, and I force myself -no matter how difficult - to take care of her because I don't want her to feel alone. Sometimes I wish I had some kind of help. That her father would call, if only to say hi. That we had somewhere else to go. I don't think I've even cried since I've been here. Not because I don't want anyone to see, but because I simply haven't had time. Doctor's appointments, baby feedings, changing, walking, job searching, house hunting, trying to keep an eye on predators, lack of sleep, constant prayer... I haven't had time. Even though it seems hopeless, I haven't given up hope. I know that one of these job applications will go through. One housing program will accept me. And we can move on with our lives. I'll work as hard as I can, take classes, save up my money, get a car and show my daughter the beautiful parts of this world. That there are beautiful parts of this world. I'll write poems, songs, and stories, sing (as much as my anxiety will permit), and travel. I'll teach in foreign countries, make lifelong friends, and see friends I haven't seen in years to let them know just how special they are to me, and everything they helped me through. When I have finally saved enough, I want to start a center in my country for people struggling with suicide. I want to open many centers, for so many people. There are times that I truly believe that my suffering is not for myself, but for someone else. How many times have I tried to talk to someone about what was going on in my life, cried out for help, but no one understood because they had never once walked in my shoes? No, I don't believe my suffering is for myself, so I will let other people know what I have been through, what I am going through, and that they aren't alone. I know that -despite all these things- I have a future, as does my daughter, and that all I have suffered will not be in vain. For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.