I have realised that my emotions are something that I cannot recognise or verbalise effectively.
If something unpleasant happens to me, once the initial shock is past, it is difficult to get in touch with what I feel.
I can state in a matter of fact sort of way that some bad event has happened in my life, but not with any feeling. People have sometimes assumed, in the past, that I do not feel hurt by an event, when in reality I do.
It's as though I have a locked cupboard within, that I cannot access at will. All things painful get stored there. You might think then, that the problem is gone, but something unidentifiable leeks into my day to day life, causing tension in my neck and shoulders, and errascible moods. My nearest and dearest tiptoe round me risking an angry outburst, at the slightest provocation. It's a bit like a volcanic erruption some days.
Twice in the past, I had counselling, and I watched the counsellor's frustration build as I was unable to say what they expected me to say.
Since I came off the antidepressant/antipsychotic mix, I took for 20 years, I have found that occaisionally the cupboard opens a crack, and the true feeling returns. I have a brief window where I may be able find some words for what I feel. This usually happens to me in the middle of the night, after several hours of good natural sleep. I have to be curled up in bed, in the dark and allow this to happen. All too easily I can slam the cupboard door and protect myself from the pain. If I allow it, I am briefly swamped by the memory and the pain of it, like a huge slow motion wave enveloping me, which then slowly ebbs away, leaving me exhausted and I drift into sleep again. When I wake, the memory can briefly, be clawed back if I try, but if not, it fades rapidly and can be forgotten, largely.
I assume this is some form of natural healing process.
A recent variation on this, is related to my realisation that I am on the spectrum. Some years ago, I lost someone, who took their own life. I dealt with the loss, over time. I have been struggling with the idea of autism in relation to myself, not fully understanding why I have found it so hard to come to terms with. Now I recognise, that the one I lost was the same, and have experienced overnight, once again, the sudden release of pent up anger and pain at their unecessary death. Understanding, diagnosis and appropriate help could have saved them. I dragged it back into my consciousness when I woke, as it seemed too momentous an event to be lost.
I have sometimes thought in recent weeks, that others around me could have aspergers. My thoughts have been accademic and detatched, unemotional.
Today, I woke up relaxed and have been unvolcanic in my dealings with people.
This tendancy I have, I think, may be behind all the bouts of depression I have experienced over the years.
Does anyone else think like this?
