I’m supposed to be writing a uni assignment, but oh my god do I just need to write something for myself and not for anything tied to uni or our end of year show (which has basically consumed by life for the past month). And I’m not going to feel guilty about it.
It was about a year ago that I wrote about being lonely in your 20s. And the response to that one post was crazy (I love getting your responses and thoughts, so please feel free to let me hear them!). So, I thought I’d touch on the subject of solitude again, but perhaps a little differently, a year on.
Right this minute, I’m in my flat, alone. And have been for the past week. My flatmate has a new job up in London, and is currently in the process of moving back there. And so I have this weird few weeks of limbo time, where I wait for a new flatmate at the end of the month. I have really enjoyed living with another person this year. Someone to chat to, laugh with, watch TV with. It’s nice. It forces me to stop retreating inwards. But I’ve also relished the time I’ve had alone. I no longer feel uncomfortable sitting with myself for a long time. I don’t feel like I have to avoid being by myself, or that I have to be constantly busy (although this is still something I’m working on). The difference of knowing I’m coming home to a place where everything is just as I’d left it, with no expectation for me to talk or put up a front is significant. Especially due to my currently long and hectic days of non-stop interaction. And the constant stress of someone watching what I’m doing, what I’m eating, my weird habits and my routines has been lifted. But perhaps this is also something for me to bear in mind - I shouldn’t have to feel like this when I’m with others.
Which brings me onto something I’ve been pondering for the past year. I never wanted to make it a big thing, but it really could be, quite a big thing. I’m currently on the waiting list for an Autism assessment. It could be years before I get an answer, but there is something inside myself that is telling me it could be a strong possibility. I am fully aware of the criticism around the ‘trendiness’ of neurodivergence, but in my head, I believe that people would not put themselves through the stress, time-consuming questionnaires, and seemingly infinite waiting lists if they didn’t require some sort of help, some sort of answer.
One overwhelming piece of evidence was a round of therapy I had this year for my ongoing disordered eating. We talked about my possible neurodivergence, and from that moment, my therapist ran the course completely differently to the ways I had known before (they never worked!). The difference this made, in the way I was able to attack things, put me in a position where I began to ask myself the questions I’d been avoiding.
What if there is a reason for my life seeming like it’s been out of control since I can remember? What if instead of trying to get rid of the things everyone has always told me were not good or normal, I actually embraced them? Learn to adapt my life with them, as part of me? What if I could ask for things and not feel embarrassed all the time, like I’m going to be caught out but with no idea why.
But then there’s the flip side. What if I am not neurodivergent? Then what? Would I have to continue trying to abolish my need for routine, force myself into difficult situations with the belief that the more I do it the easier it will get? Am I lying to myself? Trying to fit into a box, once again? Trying to belong somewhere? And they don’t do a brain scan, they can’t know for sure. And that throws up even more dilemmas. It’s down to me, and what I say. And sometimes I don’t know how to access the real me, and I’m worried I’ll just spurt out what I’ve spent hours researching or reading about. Giving them exactly what they want so that they’ll give me a diagnosis.
But then, I’ve been living the last few months with the internal belief that I am neurodivergent, and seeing how it feels. And it does feel… good. I can’t quite explain it, but it feels like I’m in my body, not just just watching it form the outside. To have something to explain the way I do things. To remind myself that it’s okay for me to message my flatmate and ask when and what time she will be back, so I don’t spend the day on the edge of my seat, waiting for the door to slam. To not feel weird for buying earplugs, to use in the city when things just need toning down, or for reading a book at lunchtime when there’s noise stopping me from being able to process the words. To not push myself to eat out or eat intuitively, but to feel fine about eating what and when makes me feel safe. To not impulsively book a trip to Sri Lanka on my own with people I’d never met, with the intent on being spontaneous and adventurous, and then turning round and flying back the minute I get there (maybe I’ll tell the story in full some time). And most importantly, to know that I NEED solitude. I actually need and crave it in order to function. And crying outside my front door when I can see my flatmate moving around inside the kitchen is an acceptable way for me to behave. And most times, it’s fine. I can walk through that door, have a little chat, and go into my room, and actually feel better for talking to somebody about my day. And I look forward to not being alone here again soon, because as much as I like my own space, I also thrive from connection. Hence the theatre degree. Being creative, and bringing people together in an audience or a production team/cast, makes me feel so joyous and alive like nothing else. It’s that word again. Balance. Sounds weird in my mouth.
This is a little scary for me to post, because of course I have no formal diagnosis, and I want to emphasise that. And if I never get one, I’ll probably feel embarrassed about this post. But I’ll also look back on the stuff that I’ve actually learnt, about myself and the way brains work, as a massive positive. I know myself a lot better than a year ago. But I also have so much more compassion, in so many areas of my life, and in the way I approach things and others. I honestly believe the modern world isn’t suited to the majority of us. Yet we pressure ourselves to suit our lives and personas to it. To quote myself a year ago, it’s time we all asked if the ways we live “are what we want, rather than what we are supposed to want.”
Some Magic
I URGE you to indulge in this YouTube channel. A series of masterly videos of conversations that never happened. I loved the David Byrne and Ed Sheeran one, but they are all great.
I’m currently reading Shades of Grey by Jasper Fforde. Only heard of it recently, and like a sign it appeared in my local charity shop. It’s zingy and absurd, but so fun! It’s set in a dystopia where people are classed by which colour they can singularly see.
I’ve become entranced by The Libertines.
If you are ever in Bristol (although coming to the city just for this is fully comprehendible) visit Bokman. A tiny Korean restaurant with huge flavours and a lovely atmosphere. I took my Dad, who I wouldn’t say is a particularly adventurous eater, but we both couldn’t stop talking about it afterwards.
I LOVED this Substack post from
about morning routines Far from perfect, but so much more lovely.