Running in the morning is orderly and relaxing, even the occasional spider in the room is nice when compared to the thought of the occasional human in the room. At home, I can easily make myself understood and all my feelings get communicated because we have spent time building that up. But there’s never enough time to hang out before having to mingle with coworkers.
Ideas that soar and jokes that go unsaid because my anxiety prevents any appropriate delivery. The complex ideas that form easily in my mind get stuck and create a traffic jam before ever becoming a reality. Trying to write even takes the magic from my thoughts, takes the feeling and emotion, and my arm starts to feel sore from the stress and anxiety of typing.
These words never come out right, somehow they lose the direction and instruction they were given, and combine with twenty other thoughts, coming out in a jumbled mess. Instead of respect and admiration for my ideas, I get confused smiles and quick changes of the subject. From then on, it’s the quiet rode of saying only what is necessary and even then, planning it out very carefully and analyzing it for any errors.
This post has about twenty different thoughts in it, but that’s just how fast my brain works, and I am pretty much powerless and unable to stop it, because the energy I had to control it was spent on maintaining my facade and being productive at work in front of people.
The support groups only exist for the very disabled, those on the spectrum that really need advice. I don’t need advice for getting around daily challenges, I need support and understanding and accommodating because I have to work my way around an obstacle course just to accomplish daily tasks. Support groups show the horror stories of people unable to cope or leave the house for fear of noises and driving and unable to speak due to anxiety inducing mutism.
I may have learned to cope because I was taught well, but it doesn’t mean the basket case happening on the inside is any less stressful or any more controlled than those who can’t hide it as well. Support from normal people can be helpful as I am not seen as the person I feel I am. Maybe now this post has a bit of cohesion to it.
Words aren’t enough to express, or at least the right ones don’t come as they should and I sound like a babbling child who gets dismissed in social gatherings. My mind may be able to handle it all and is big enough to house me and my world so I can escape for brief periods of time, but I’m the only one in my mind. Words still have to come out and relieve the pressure building up inside, but they don’t, and then a meltdown is inevitable. Anger and resentment and tears result from the coke bottle being shook up all during the day and now the cap can’t hold it all in.
Running is my solitude, the rhythm of my feet, whether on sidewalk or treadmill, calming. Treadmills and sidewalks both provide separate benefits. Sidewalks give me an adventure to escape from my mind and take my mind off of my thoughts while finding new roads. Treadmills are stationary and consistent and controllable. Treadmills go what speed they are told, and spider is still quiet, albeit scary and stationary.