There are many thoughts that compete for space in my head when I'm reminded of sex, touch, more-than-platonic affection... When I see couples in the park, or they could be friends for all I know, like a young woman on her stomach, another above her giving a massage. An even younger man, with more than a touch of boy in his face and a sigarette, and a tough haircut, a woman or girl his own age inching closer. When I see someone in a really nice dress, covering what seems to be a nice body, waiting for someone else. Or to the other end of the scale, the grand stuff – a TV show where someone acts out of love, sacrifices and is renewed for love. Where lovers have each other's back.
There's the thought that my life, both internal and external, has changed so much that in not too long, I could be able to take part in things like that again. Hanging in parks-things, if not the grand gestures. Or kissing. Then the other thought that maybe I won't, because behind each thing I've fixed so far, there has been new obstacles, and new ones behind those, on and on. And I think how for a while, I did go around doing those things. In so unhealthful ways, ways that couldn't go on. But there were flirtations... some of those nice thrills... moments of more-than-platonic affection... But it's so very long ago. And even I do meet someone tomorrow, who's to say it won't be the only time for yet another eight-year period?
Unlikely. The final thought to enter is that having a kiss, or a touch, or an orgasm with someone is not a very well defined goal, the goal must be to live a life where such things crop up once in a while. The goal is the have abilities (internal), habits (external) where I come into contact with people, where I can be good to the people I know
... the thought of "it's been so long, and who knows how much longer" intrudes, and is explicitly about sex now, and maybe it's not so bad after all? It's not that they are foreign to me, all those thoughts, they are me. Sexual frustration is a common feeling, sadness and longing are common feelings, they belong to me too. As does hope, and looking forward, and meticulously working to change. Maybe the life I want is really a life where all those things belong, where they don't have to compete for space.
And maybe people to share them with, occasionally.
Viser innlegg med etiketten growing a life. Vis alle innlegg
Viser innlegg med etiketten growing a life. Vis alle innlegg
onsdag 10. juni 2015
tirsdag 31. mars 2015
Moving out, learning life
It's the first night in my new apartment. I've brought an inflatable matress, a sleeping bag, and some pillows, and that's pretty much all that's in here now. That and some toilet paper I bought earlier today. I brought a toothbrush, but forgot to take tooth paste. I have also brought some dental floss, but I have nowhere to dispose of it after use. So I'm skipping dental care this evening.
It's been a long time since I posted anything here, and I'm not sure I've even mentioned that I was planning to move out from my mother's... well, I've been planning to move out from my mother's even since before I moved in. Because for eight years I had a student apartment, but I never really lived there. Except the first couple of years. After that, visits to my mother's began to last for weeks, even months. Among many reasons for this was that the collection of stuff I had laying around there grew for each month I stayed, so it became more and my base of operations; at the student apartment, I shared kitchen and bath with up to four other people, which was more of a challenge than I was aware of at the time; and after a while, the habit of heading towards my mother's rather than home became so entrenched, it was mentally hard for me even to try anything else.
When I wanted to convince myself to go to my own place, it felt to me like a kind of anxiety. Thinknig about it now, it can also have been a kind of confusion I think might have something to do with autism... the confusion of making a decision, when you call up mental representations of every possible pathway and have to bring one to the foreground, and the effort of doing that is so high that you'd so much rather fall back on routine, turn on the auto-pilot.
That sensation feels very much like anxiety to me, and when I think of it, I don't believe it's restricted only to autism. Like with most other things I associate with autism, really. It's the degree and pervasiveness and extra effort of it that makes me different enough to benefit from a diagnosis.
Anyway, eight years is the maximum limit on student apartments, and seeing as I hardly lived there anyway, it was for the best that I eventually had to move out. (Apologies to other student that might have needed that apartment more.) And since then, I have been living with my mother for real. Which is a bit different, because then I can't just go somewhere else if one of us should need some time alone. And it's worked out well enough, we get along great, but, yeah, I've missed having the opportunity of privacy. Particularly over the last few years, when things have been coming together for me mentally, I've missed having a place to build a life in.
Or I should say grow a life, because that's how I'm trying to do it... that's why I left my mother's at around midnight, carrying a sleeping bag and a couple of pillows, even though I'm not actually moving out for some weeks yet. Because I want to start quite literally from the ground, learn how the place works, fantasize on where I will put all the furniture. (Same furniture I had in my student's apartment, only there is more than twice the space now to put it in.)
Same thing with tooth paste and waste bin – I'm thinking that because I don't have those things now, I'll remember to go out and buy them tomorrow, and that way, I'll learn from experience what things that ought to be present in a day to day life. Maybe I won't drift back to my mother's place this time around. (It also helps that I've learned a very big lot about myself since my last try at living on my own.)
Now, the apartment: I have been so very lucky. For one thing, it's only a five minute walk from where I lived before. That's why it was easy to go over just around midnight, with my sleeping bag and my couple of pillows. And it means I don't have to leave my neighborhood, which has been one of the reasons I've been reluctant to move until now – I've lived here as good as all my life, am familiar with all the streets (though for some reason not with street names), have my favorite coffee shop here, am even starting go get a favorite pub here. I feel at home here.
And for another thing, there's a convenience store in the block next to mine, a hardware store less than a block away (for when I need things like a waste bin. Or frying pan.) A bookstore and a movie theatre as well. That favorite coffee shop? If I lean out the window, I can see it from here. And for a third thing, it has a fairly comfortable size, and a fairly comfortable prize. I had really not believed I'd be able to afford something like this. And my landlord, well, I've a feeling he's a really good guy. If nothing else because the friend-of-a-friend I got it through says so, and that person has been living here for a long time.
That's what I'm planning to do. Live here for a long time. Figure out what's what, and how to keep up with change. Grow myself a life.
It's been a long time since I posted anything here, and I'm not sure I've even mentioned that I was planning to move out from my mother's... well, I've been planning to move out from my mother's even since before I moved in. Because for eight years I had a student apartment, but I never really lived there. Except the first couple of years. After that, visits to my mother's began to last for weeks, even months. Among many reasons for this was that the collection of stuff I had laying around there grew for each month I stayed, so it became more and my base of operations; at the student apartment, I shared kitchen and bath with up to four other people, which was more of a challenge than I was aware of at the time; and after a while, the habit of heading towards my mother's rather than home became so entrenched, it was mentally hard for me even to try anything else.
When I wanted to convince myself to go to my own place, it felt to me like a kind of anxiety. Thinknig about it now, it can also have been a kind of confusion I think might have something to do with autism... the confusion of making a decision, when you call up mental representations of every possible pathway and have to bring one to the foreground, and the effort of doing that is so high that you'd so much rather fall back on routine, turn on the auto-pilot.
That sensation feels very much like anxiety to me, and when I think of it, I don't believe it's restricted only to autism. Like with most other things I associate with autism, really. It's the degree and pervasiveness and extra effort of it that makes me different enough to benefit from a diagnosis.
Anyway, eight years is the maximum limit on student apartments, and seeing as I hardly lived there anyway, it was for the best that I eventually had to move out. (Apologies to other student that might have needed that apartment more.) And since then, I have been living with my mother for real. Which is a bit different, because then I can't just go somewhere else if one of us should need some time alone. And it's worked out well enough, we get along great, but, yeah, I've missed having the opportunity of privacy. Particularly over the last few years, when things have been coming together for me mentally, I've missed having a place to build a life in.
Or I should say grow a life, because that's how I'm trying to do it... that's why I left my mother's at around midnight, carrying a sleeping bag and a couple of pillows, even though I'm not actually moving out for some weeks yet. Because I want to start quite literally from the ground, learn how the place works, fantasize on where I will put all the furniture. (Same furniture I had in my student's apartment, only there is more than twice the space now to put it in.)
Same thing with tooth paste and waste bin – I'm thinking that because I don't have those things now, I'll remember to go out and buy them tomorrow, and that way, I'll learn from experience what things that ought to be present in a day to day life. Maybe I won't drift back to my mother's place this time around. (It also helps that I've learned a very big lot about myself since my last try at living on my own.)
Now, the apartment: I have been so very lucky. For one thing, it's only a five minute walk from where I lived before. That's why it was easy to go over just around midnight, with my sleeping bag and my couple of pillows. And it means I don't have to leave my neighborhood, which has been one of the reasons I've been reluctant to move until now – I've lived here as good as all my life, am familiar with all the streets (though for some reason not with street names), have my favorite coffee shop here, am even starting go get a favorite pub here. I feel at home here.
And for another thing, there's a convenience store in the block next to mine, a hardware store less than a block away (for when I need things like a waste bin. Or frying pan.) A bookstore and a movie theatre as well. That favorite coffee shop? If I lean out the window, I can see it from here. And for a third thing, it has a fairly comfortable size, and a fairly comfortable prize. I had really not believed I'd be able to afford something like this. And my landlord, well, I've a feeling he's a really good guy. If nothing else because the friend-of-a-friend I got it through says so, and that person has been living here for a long time.
That's what I'm planning to do. Live here for a long time. Figure out what's what, and how to keep up with change. Grow myself a life.
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