nothing

This meme would be a good summary of my day, though it doesn’t quite capture how distressing doing nothing can be. It was a 39 degree day and my dad and I were going to go to the beach, but that never eventuated. Instead this is what my day looked like:

I wake up at 4pm and turn on my laptop, as I usually do when I wake up. A news article pops up: “Doctor shares what happens to our bodies moments before we die”. The doctor apparently wants to reduce people’s fear around death, but the article does a pretty crap job of that. There is absolutely nothing transcendental or comforting about the article. Lets just say if you don’t already fear death you probably will when you get to the end of this article. So that is how I begin my day… staring into the fate of myself and those I love: complete oblivion.

Talk about dying, something starts to smell really off, like a dead animal or old socks. I discover the carpet next to my bed is rotting from when I tipped over my smoothie a few days ago. I hadn’t properly cleaned the area, I just scrubbed it with soap and water and then left it wet. I had nothing in me to do a proper clean and I’ve never been taught how to clean either. I ask my dad to help me clean it. He uses some strong laundry detergent. It gets the rotten sock smell out, but replaces it with the artificial scent of laundry detergent, which, being autistic and highly sensitive, irritates me as well.

I proceed to have a break down because I can’t find my pink trackies. I have OCD and get extremely distressed when I can’t find things. I turn the house upside down looking for them. I go through all the clothes I hoard. It seems pointless having so many clothes when I rarely go out. I usually just sit in my PJs all day doing nothing. I only really put effort into my dress when I saw my psychologist, but now she’s gone. I stare at chaos all around me: clothes everywhere, bags yet to be unpacked from my countless hospital stays, clutter covering all the table and bench space. This is what my life has come to. How did it get to this point? I open my draws and look at a pale pink t-shirt with butterfly and floral prints. I am immediately and unexpectedly hit with a wave of sadness as I am reminded of my relationship with my psychologist for some reason. That is the thing about grief; the most innocuous things can trigger another wave of it. My psychologist to me was who Claire was to Astrid in White Oleander: the mother she had always longed for. Astrid’s clothing style changed to more pale, feminine colours. That is the only explanation I can think of for why this piece of clothing has triggered me. It is soft, feminine and sweet, like the relationship I thought I had with my psychologist. I think it is time I pull out my angry, black, gothic clothes. In some cultures people wear black for a certain period of time after they’ve lost someone. I feel like doing the same. I look some more and finally find my pants. They have been shoved in the shelf where I usually store my jumpers.

It is 9pm and I feel like I’m going mental. I am frantically checking Facebook for notifications, for some kind of “hit”. Where is everyone today? Dad and I decide not to go to the beach. I never manage to clean my teeth, which are probably decaying from all the sugar I’ve consumed. I start this post, but I have writer’s block.

It is now 11pm and I’m about to walk to the park. It is warm and windy. I find the wind cleansing. I am not going to bother getting dressed, I am just going to go out in my PJs.

So that is a summery of my miserable day. If you get this far reading then thank you for taking the time to read what is probably the boringest post you’ve read.