This morning

I got up aching, tired and feeling quite drowsy. I was deep in thought with the fags and coffee. I've got my interview at the workhouse today. The man made it quite clear last time that he was put out that I'd asked a mental health professional to help me into work. He also said some things last time that have made me feel uncomfortable ever since. He said that I want diagnosis just to get a label and to get things for free. I can't forget what he said about my good degree: "I have a friend who has a masters but he's an alcoholic. The bit of paper doesn't necessarily say anything". By the way this is the same man who, when I told him I find it difficult working with people, suggested potato packer, warehouse operative and fairground ride operator as suitable occupations.
I'm feeling a bit apprehensive about the forthcoming interview, and a bit browbeaten. Public services could do with being a bit more informed about mental health issues.

A change of mind

The ASD diagnosis has been a life-changing event for me. Last week there were more downs than ups, but that is to be expected. I have had a lot to think about. I now realise that I used to be very hard on myself, and I suppose that is why I have felt depressed for all of my life. In my own mind I was a complete failure and an idiot, for not managing so well in life, and for not making a success of myself. Then, of course, I didn't know I might be autistic until a couple of years ago. Earlier on it was just a case of depression. Depression, in my mind, was the same as failure, weakness and idiocy. When I suspected autism, a new set of worries superceded the old. Was I imagining everything? Was I only trying to find excuses to blame my own inadequacy on? Was I mad? Was I just completely useless?
The diagnosis has helped me to see things I hadn't previously noticed. I now understand that the things that have made my life such a struggle are to do with my neurology, and that I am not making excuses for myself. I now know that I am not a failure. Of course my life is not where I would like it to be, but I must have coped fantastically well to have made it this far. I know too that I am not weak or feeble-minded. I have really had to be very strong to stick it out in the most atrocious jobs, and coping all the time with how I felt. I feel much more comfortable with myself than I ever have done. I am finally meeting myself for the first time. Myself, rather than the self that tried so hard to fit in with what society expected. For the first time in my life I am starting to gain in confidence.

Diagnosis

It's D-Day minus two and the thing is foremost in my mind. I'm apprehensive about it. I don't know what to expect and it's something completely different in my life. I've been going over and over how I'm going to get to the appointment. I'm going to leave about an hour before I need to, just in case there are any delays to the journey.
The thoughts were very much around all evening, but the dvds held my attention for a bit. I was tired at bed-time but didn't feel relaxed, so I put on a cd of  Boccherini's string quintets Op29. That gave me something different to think of when I dropped off.
I know I was deep in thought all night because of the fragments of dreams that I remember, and because my bed looked like it had been vandalised this morning.

Time

Diagnosis, diagnosis... It's all I can think of. I've waited two years for the appointment and now I feel so impatient. I know it's no good thinking like this, but I can't help it. I know it won't come round any faster. I think that I'm going to feel very deflated and perhaps a bit odd once it's been done, so I'm going to do something very rare for me and have a drop of gin in reserve for afterwards.

Thinking again

I'm still thinking about the diagnosis stuff, but all the frustration and the feeling of being ignored and not mattering have gone. It's full steam ahead for me now. There's no going back.
The workhouse are definitely trying to push me into places where I don't want to be. The man is definitely put out that the mental health team are helping me with the employment stuff. The fact is that they understand not only my qualifications but how my mind works. The workhouse man definitely does want to help me, but it's patently obvious from the things he said that he understands neither. I'll have to ask my people about it.
I'm also thinking about the sea today. I could see from the library window that it has cut up rough. I love the sea in all its moods, but the mind-blowing quantity of water under the surface terrifies me when I think about it.
I'll be seeing my best friend at least once this week, which will be lovely. I wonder what back-breaking toil he has lined up for me!!!

Moods

I'm still up and down, although there is still some up which is a good sign. Thinking and thinking all the time. I don't want to be on tenterhooks all over the weekend, when I'll be busy playing. I think I might well pop down to see the diagnosis people today. The weather isn't very nice, and it's a fifteen-mile bus trip followed by a lengthy walk. I might come away none the wiser, but I think I'll give it a go. The best outcome is that I'll get a date for my appointment, or that I'll be told that a date will be forthcoming. Let's see.

Communication

The phone call I am waiting for, to sort out an appointment for ASD diagnosis, still hasn't come. It's really bugging me now. Waiting and waiting around, always waiting. Everything seems to be going in slow motion with the process. I've decided that if I haven't heard from the people by Monday, then I'm going to turn up at their offices on Tuesday to try and get it sorted out. I'm getting really fed up with it all.
Yesterday afternoon, by the way, I was copied in on an email from my MP to someone or other, asking them to investigate the time I've had to wait. Of course I will thank the MP once I'm nearer to resolution, but the issue of waiting times remains so still needs to be looked at.

Great expectations

I'm expecting to hear from the people who will undertake my diagnosis for ASD. I'm a bit jumpy, as the phone call could come at any time. On the other hand they may just write, given the information I sent them the other day. I fear the third possibility, that I won't hear from them at all.
The diagnosis has been weighing heavily on my mind for nearly two years. The feeling has been even more acute since I received the letter a couple of days ago. I just want it sorted out.

In the meanwhile

I collected the keyboard and then set to work. After moving everything I could from my bedroom into the spare room, I hoovered and shampooed my bedroom carpet. I couldn't believe how much muck was sucked up by the machine.
Then on to the counseling session and it was a productive one. I told her about the man I see about work, about my horrific experience last weekend and about the one just gone, which was lovely. I told her about my recurrent dreams (travel, missing connections, menace etc) and told her I thought it symbolized autism driving me, and to places I don't want to be. The lady told me she too believes I am autistic, so I felt comfortable about discussing issues around that (eg being affected physically by sounds). I also discussed a little diary of thoughts that I'd recorded last Thursday week.
At last I am getting the support I've always needed. My nephew asked me last Saturday how I'd managed to cope all these years. I gave a bland answer, but in truth I don't feel I really did cope at all. I just used to hide what I felt, which isn't the same thing. I think that this time I am going to come through feeling very strong and able to manage life a bit better. I want my life to be my own.

Thinking

I still keep thinking about last night. I like the company I am thrown together with. It's all very friendly but comfortably so. I like being with people to whom I am not an oddity. I am taken seriously. The nice thing is that I don't have to worry about ulterior motives. I like a laugh and a joke, but I also like a little bit of intelligence now and then. And most of all I like it that I don't have to be on my guard. Ideal. Lovely. Wish I'd done it sooner.

People

Having been let down by someone last Sunday, I was let down again by the workman. Twice this week people have made appointments with me that they didn't keep, and that they didn't contact me about until well after the event. That's twice that people have told me that they will do something, and then not doing it.
What is the matter with people? For me an appointment is an agreement between people and a matter of trust. It's also a matter of mutual respect and consideration.
In my last job I had to manage people who behaved like this. They would agree to do something, not do it, and then say that they'd forgotten. That's what children do. I've come to the conclusion that people at large simply cannot be trusted.
By the way the workman has just contacted me and asked to come straight round. I've relented and told him to come round in half an hour. By the way too, I'm only three minutes away from home.

A melodrama

My treatment for the depression stuff begins next week. In a way I'm not looking forward to it. I hate talking about how I feel, and know it's going to be very difficult. What if I don't feel like talking at all? Then it'll be an hour of twiddling my thumbs in excruciating silence. In another way I am looking forward to getting things started, in the hope that this time they will finally be able to help me.

Mind your language

It is important to me that people say clearly and unambiguously what they mean. I cannot work out motive or intent, and am therefore liable to misunderstand things. This is even more pronounced when I can't see the person I'm talking to. That's why phones in particular are such a problem for me. I have just had such a misunderstanding and it really shook me. It always does. I realize it must be difficult for 'normal' people to understand what I go through.

The melodrama

I've heard from one lot of people. I'm no longer on that waiting list and my treatment will start in a fortnight. Meanwhile I've heard nothing further from the autism diagnosis people. I, therefore, remain on their waiting list. Yawn. I hope I hear from them before I get too old and frail to attend the appointment.

Why?

I took my time with the fags and coffee this morning. I couldn't make my mind up whether I wanted anything to eat so I went without.
My thoughts were all over the place. Then I started wondering why I publish things about autism and mental health on social media, as I am usually the last person to want to draw attention to myself. The train of thought was as follows; people look at me and know what they see. The truth is I don't necessarily know what they see, but at the same time they probably don't know what I see when I look out. I publish only the things that are relevant to my own experience, for example difficulties with employment, using telephones, sensory overload, waiting times for diagnosis, associated health issues, understanding others and so on. It's not that I expect everybody to read everything, although I hope that people might read some of it, but the writings give a professional account of the things I experience, in a way that I could not express for myself. The writings give voice to how my life has been.

The melodrama

I am being diagnosed up to the eyeballs lately. Yesterday I had another letter by email, which was a copy of the one from the mental health people to my doctor. It represented exactly what I do feel. While I felt pleased that the woman had really understood me, at the same time I was taken aback to see it all on paper. I know she both listened to me and heard me because she will maintain contact by email, which is what I am most comfortable with. Gone are the days of 'Oh you are miserable. Take a tablet', and good riddance to them too.

Earlier

Between workhouse visits nos. 2 & 3, I went along to the mental health people for my assessment. The woman who saw me this time was very good, and understood the connection between my various issues; ASD, depression and seizures. I was so pleased that I wasn't being treated as a case of depression. Depression is a cunt, but that's not the half of it.
The session itself was quite grueling. I really don't like talking about how I feel. I had quite a headache from the earlier phone calls, and did my best to maintain some level of eye contact with the woman. She thinks that psychological therapy would be beneficial to me, and has put me on the waiting list. She said that in future she will refer me to agencies who specialise in my needs. She clarified that the therapy she offers is different to psychotherapy, which I am strongly averse to.

Tomorrow

I have my assessment with the mental health team in the morning. I need some support from the system, and know I shan't get any until after the diagnosis. I've already waited nineteen months for that, and could end up waiting anything up to three years. Let's see if these people can help me before I go completely barmy.

My usual self

Usually I would never plan something on the spur of the moment, so I felt a bit out of place with myself after deciding to stay an extra day at my friends'  I'm glad I did stay though. It was a lovely day. All the time I did what I usually do; that is, worry. Although I had bough some electricity prior to my travels, I worried incessantly that my electricity might have run out and that my freezer would defrost, making all my food unusable. I also worried that something might have gone wrong with my flat. At the same time I worried that my little garden might have died, because I wasn't there to water it. I worried that I would not hear my alarm this morning and miss my lift home. Of course I don't want to worry about things all the time, but I think there must be something in me that needs to worry about something.

The visit

Although I look forward to seeing my friends, and I do miss them, I'm feel under the most terrible stress. I'm stressed about the travelling (such things as will the coach come, will it be crowded, will I miss my connection), and stressed about how many people will be at the wedding. It must seem strange to those of you who don't know me, but this is how I feel. My arms and legs are tingling with it all, and I'm getting a headache over my left eye.