In its natural state, my brain is almost always over-stimulated. This doesnâ€™t seem like a bad thing if you havenâ€™t experienced it, but in practice, it means that I just shut down after a certain point. Thing that are easy, run-of-the-mill tasks for most people are insurmountable mountains for me. Calling someone on the phone to sort out something? Panic-attack inducing. Even answering emails or messages can be overwelmingly scary. Am I staring at you blankly? Itâ€™s probably because I have entirely forgotten how to make smalltalk and Iâ€™m reminding myself that you asking what Iâ€™m thinking does not mean you want to hear about my recent foray into reading about â€œalternativeâ€ STI treatments in the early 20th century (readers of this blog notwithstanding). Sometimes the ability to function in society is just so overwelming that my brain snaps.
Iâ€™m not going to hurt myself. Iâ€™m not going to hurt others.
However, I canâ€™t perform at my optimum or even close to it without mind-altering drugs. Right now, due to a fun insurance screw-up, Iâ€™m stuck with self-medicating through caffeine and the occasional Sudafed. This keeps me functional enough that I can keep my job, finish tasks, have hobbies and occasionally write.
It does not keep me functional enough that I can pay bills on time without an overly elaborate setup of cell phone alarms, scheduled emails and scheduled payments. It keeps me functional enough that I can go be social with people, but not functional enough that I can do so without an irrational and gripping fear that I donâ€™t belong, that I wonâ€™t be welcome or that people will hate me.