The Divine Ms M once said: ‘Modern painting is supposed to be the panacea for all the ills of modern life, and yet everyone still buys the painting that matches the couch.’
This resonated with me in my early twenties – how there might be something universal that does not need language to communicate and could provide a solution. At the same time, no one seemed interested in a universal ‘upgrade’ to their lives; everyone was more interested in keeping things pretty. I had this sense that something was there in the background that would rip the painting off the wall and throw the couch out of the window. My diagnosis has felt like that. It was a wakeup to see that what I thought was a pretty facade I had created was actually a lot deeper, and the message had always been there.
Before the facade cracked, I survived through intense, unconscious regulation. For starters, just considering the office: I was able to commute, but only by completely disengaging to the point of absolute dissociation on the journey if I was not able to read, or later, watch things on my mobile phone. The open-plan office environment had always seemed stressful. I started my day by wandering around to get my energy flowing (seeking some form of stimulation to spark interest and wake up my nervous system before being able to touch the computer keys). At that time, MS Office was frustratingly slow and simply could not keep up with my thoughts, adding an invisible layer of irritation to a system already running hot.
Managers and colleagues made fun of the amount of caffeine I consumed in the morning, which strangely calmed me down: a half-litre of green tea, followed by a double espresso and a 500ml Pepsi Max. It didn’t feel unhealthy – no, to the opposite, it balanced me. My brain was using stimulants to slow down the internal galloping. Excess energy from the day was then violently worked out at the gym through back-to-back exercise classes, followed by a total crash at home (not being able to do anything but eat dinner, watch television, and read all at the same time, as long as I didn’t have to move or think).
The magical skills people seemed to have in forming friendships or talking to strangers, I tried to explain by how I looked. I created a highly curated version of myself, right down to the clothes styled exactly like the magazines. Following diet books and recipes to the T, getting genuinely upset when exotic ingredients were unattainable – the tiniest disruption to a rigid recipe lineup could send me into a total tailspin. It was the 00s, so there were many hard-to-find ingredients, and each one felt like a high-stakes test I was failing.
Looking back, I am surprised it took so long to get the explanation behind what seemed like weird, eccentric behaviour. It is a massive relief to finally be able to avoid the busy, open-plan office environment when it seemingly becomes too much.
Medication has magically cured me of my extreme caffeine cravings and helped with focus (though focus is a loaded word – t is simply the ability to do something without the urge to run somewhere else that might seem more important; the constant scanning in my head is gone. My regular yoga practice helps me ground and become somatically present on a daily basis.
With age, I am looking less at the perfect body, and more at the need to feel accepted as a human – if not socially, at least physically. I am so ok to do the things I like now, sometimes with friends, and sometimes completely on my own. I will go watch a theatre play that is deemed ‘too out there’ for others without a second thought. And if I arrive late (and there still is a huge likelihood that I will) it is ok. Theatres, I found, have these specific moments at the beginning of plays when they admit latecomers. It feels like the perfect, pre-built solution for a brain like mine.
I have also been able to adjust my home environment to be less stimulating, using app-controlled lighting that changes color and fairylights in my bedroom for a calming atmosphere. I keep a double-digit number of pillows and cushions on my bed with different levels of softness and fillings to accommodate my sensory preferences. The times I find a brand-new hobby or special interest have reduced, but they are still very much there, ranging randomly from crystals to adult toys and the likes.
The secret is, I am finally ok with the randomness. I guess eventually, I did find the painting that matches the colours of my couch.