I haven't made an entry in any analog journal or digital journal in maybe a few months. Little notes and ideas scattered across many notebooks hither and tither, but never a spell of time spent writing, with little concern for the clock. That is essential to such a task; you must get lost in it. Conscious thought has to take a back seat for a while.

Conscious thought, backseat. I feel like I'm always thinking. Looking at things objectively, I'm restless. As of late, I haven't been able to drive because of some license problems. I'm out hundreds of dollars I don't even have, trying to clear my license so I can get on the road again. I'm out of the house constantly, walking, riding the bus or the train, riding my longboard (no bike). When I'm home, I'm sleeping. Or I'm out exercising before work. My past two nights off were spent out of the house. I was gone all day. I don't know how to take a break.

That's not completely true, I do know how to take a break. I just don't. I'm not in the mood to. I'm not in the space I want to take a break in. In February 2024, I was forced to move back in with my mother/torturer. Prior to then, I had been out on my own since summer 2017. It wasn't easy, but it was easier than living with her. I felt like I was going to hurt myself or her if I stayed any longer. I had few possessions to bring with me when I was kicked out, but I certainly brought along my emotional baggage.

Decisions that should be easy for other people to make were very difficult for me to make. I was/am preoccupied with the quality of my interpersonal relationships and the thoughts of others—a carry-over from childhood—and that was to be my downfall seven years later (and probably for the rest of my life, if I may be dramatic).

I've done a great deal of self-work, in the light and in the shadows, learning so that I may unlearn, and doing so that I may undo, and the 'Me' that you and your friends know is that result of that. I am proud of who I am. But I am not a complete being. I am very, very far from such an ideal. There's more work to be done, and outside perspectives to be sought.

I was asked a question by my friend/coworker last night, on the ride back home. He saw me cry at work last night. On that, briefly, last night's shift was nothing new to me. I must have been overwhelmed completely, and it didn't help that my coworkers were constantly asking me "are you ok?" "are you ok?" Internally, shut up and leave me alone, please. Externally, dismissive "yeah"'s and whatnot, the usual. But anyways, K asks me "So...I don't believe in depression. I get down sometimes, but I just push that shit aside and bounce back..."

"You can't just turn that off? You can't control your emotions?"

No, I can't. I can ignore them. I can acknowledge them. I can fight them, dismiss them, reason with them, note them, dis/agree with them, mis/redirect them, but control them? Can anyone? We use the word 'control,' but you can't command your emotions. You can't rouse yourself to anger, or bring on sadness at will (right?). You can't switch on joy, or switch off jealousy. To me, it seems like some people's emotions are stronger than others'. They are more voluminous. Some of us are cups, and some of us are vases. Others may even have the capacity of a wash basin.

To answer your question, in post, K... I cannot control my emotions. They come, and I use my strategies and tools to endure the onslaught. They come when they please, and most of the time they wash over me and are down the drain in an instant. Other times, it just keeps coming, and I have to endure.

I've gone on long enough, so I leave with this note.

I was diagnosed with what was at the time called 'Asperger's' when I was around five or six years old. Nowadays, that would fall under level one of ASD (autism spectrum disorder), and after some reading and reflecting on my own lived experience, I would say it's quite an apt measure of my struggles. It's a back-end hindrance, making mundane things far more difficult than they are for neurotypical people. A great deal of shame comes trailing behind my diagnosis, and fits nicely into my life motifs. In particular, the idea of being too 'normal' to receive help, and too 'abnormal' to do this on my own.

I wonder what my life could have been like if I just had a strong support network dedicated to my well-being. Ya know, like good parents, or family members. Lone wolf/black sheep.