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I have decided to make this my default journal where I write about coming to terms with my synaesthesia.
I have chosen this journal as it is not widely read and therefore one that you can avoid if you wish to.
But I need to get this stuff out of me so that I can learn to accept and deal with issues i should have dealt with over 20 years ago but was too stubborn to accept.
Some of the things I think I might say could well be brutal and harsh, both to me and to those that i love.
But I have to get this shit out of my system as I am literally dying of pent up angst like a lovesick teenager. I am starving myself, depriving myself of love and friendship and generally destroying myself quite literally.
Yes.
I am destroying my beautiful mind that has an IQ of 160, my once beautiful face, my body that was strong and powerful and most importantly, I am destroying any relationship I might have with those I love simply because...well I don't exactly know why. I have been told that my hormones are out of whack and that I have full on synaesthesia. The Synnie thing was a very easy diagnosis because of my extensive medical records.
But the other stuff? Bipolar II? Aspergers? No thanks! Not for me. I am not going to allow them to test for those. It is bad enough that I am a guinea pig for Synnie research as it is! I can't possibly have any more afflictions. Can I?
Piecing the evidence together has been interesting.
I was a troubled child but reasonably well behaved (apart from when I decided I was a dog and bit a stanger on the ankle in Barclays bank)...
And I guess my constant rocking and screaming under the table at Nursery school did not go down too well.
But I was always a highly active, well motivated and obsessive child.
I would sit and polish my shell collection for hours on end.
I loved the smell of the oil that i used and the vision of all my shells stored by species in the tool box that i used to keep them in delighted me. For a whole day at a time.
My parents had to endure hours and hours in specialist shell shops while I located the species that I wanted.
I loved getting lost in books or gazing at the stars through my telescope and memorising every constellation.
My parents had to endure expensive trips to London so that I could go to BAA meetings every month and be with fellow astronomy afficianados.
They had to endure my comic obsessions and my horse and ice skating obsessions and my Sci fi obsessions and the fact that I never had that many friends.
The fact that whenever we went out to eat, they had to bring a pen so that i could draw otherwise I would get anxious and hide under the table.
They must have suffered with my obsessions. Poor, poor things.
But I was happy.
In my world.
My world is made of colours and sounds that I now know the rest of the world do not see or hear. My world can be so overwhelmingly beautiful that I sometimes choose to surrender to it.
So when my doctor writes me off sick for anxiety and depression, she is very wrong.
I am anxious and depressed when I have to force myself to leave the world that is my beautiful mind...yes. That makes me anxious. But when I am wrapped in a slumber of warmth and dancing visions and when I am brave enough to let music embrace me then I am, essentially in HEAVEN.
I know this is not the right kind of behaviour for a grown adult.
I know.
But I was forced to grow up way faster than most people.
I have lost so many loved ones and lived through so many tragedies.
AND I HAVE SYNAESTHESIA.
Imagine your emotions and senses amplified by the power of 10 and you still will not be able to emapathise with what I face every single day.
It is what i was born with. The only reason I know it is not normal is because others have told me over the years that they do not see and feel things as I do.
I want this journal to be dedicated simply towards describing my condition which is rare....and under publicised.
Given that I have the most full on version there is, I hope it may be of some use to write about it extensively.
I will keep this journal public for this purpose.
As I am about to be poked and prodded and studied, it will also serve as a useful journal for the science people!
I have so much more that I want to write about but I shall leave it here for now.
I have chosen this journal as it is not widely read and therefore one that you can avoid if you wish to.
But I need to get this stuff out of me so that I can learn to accept and deal with issues i should have dealt with over 20 years ago but was too stubborn to accept.
Some of the things I think I might say could well be brutal and harsh, both to me and to those that i love.
But I have to get this shit out of my system as I am literally dying of pent up angst like a lovesick teenager. I am starving myself, depriving myself of love and friendship and generally destroying myself quite literally.
Yes.
I am destroying my beautiful mind that has an IQ of 160, my once beautiful face, my body that was strong and powerful and most importantly, I am destroying any relationship I might have with those I love simply because...well I don't exactly know why. I have been told that my hormones are out of whack and that I have full on synaesthesia. The Synnie thing was a very easy diagnosis because of my extensive medical records.
But the other stuff? Bipolar II? Aspergers? No thanks! Not for me. I am not going to allow them to test for those. It is bad enough that I am a guinea pig for Synnie research as it is! I can't possibly have any more afflictions. Can I?
Piecing the evidence together has been interesting.
I was a troubled child but reasonably well behaved (apart from when I decided I was a dog and bit a stanger on the ankle in Barclays bank)...
And I guess my constant rocking and screaming under the table at Nursery school did not go down too well.
But I was always a highly active, well motivated and obsessive child.
I would sit and polish my shell collection for hours on end.
I loved the smell of the oil that i used and the vision of all my shells stored by species in the tool box that i used to keep them in delighted me. For a whole day at a time.
My parents had to endure hours and hours in specialist shell shops while I located the species that I wanted.
I loved getting lost in books or gazing at the stars through my telescope and memorising every constellation.
My parents had to endure expensive trips to London so that I could go to BAA meetings every month and be with fellow astronomy afficianados.
They had to endure my comic obsessions and my horse and ice skating obsessions and my Sci fi obsessions and the fact that I never had that many friends.
The fact that whenever we went out to eat, they had to bring a pen so that i could draw otherwise I would get anxious and hide under the table.
They must have suffered with my obsessions. Poor, poor things.
But I was happy.
In my world.
My world is made of colours and sounds that I now know the rest of the world do not see or hear. My world can be so overwhelmingly beautiful that I sometimes choose to surrender to it.
So when my doctor writes me off sick for anxiety and depression, she is very wrong.
I am anxious and depressed when I have to force myself to leave the world that is my beautiful mind...yes. That makes me anxious. But when I am wrapped in a slumber of warmth and dancing visions and when I am brave enough to let music embrace me then I am, essentially in HEAVEN.
I know this is not the right kind of behaviour for a grown adult.
I know.
But I was forced to grow up way faster than most people.
I have lost so many loved ones and lived through so many tragedies.
AND I HAVE SYNAESTHESIA.
Imagine your emotions and senses amplified by the power of 10 and you still will not be able to emapathise with what I face every single day.
It is what i was born with. The only reason I know it is not normal is because others have told me over the years that they do not see and feel things as I do.
I want this journal to be dedicated simply towards describing my condition which is rare....and under publicised.
Given that I have the most full on version there is, I hope it may be of some use to write about it extensively.
I will keep this journal public for this purpose.
As I am about to be poked and prodded and studied, it will also serve as a useful journal for the science people!
I have so much more that I want to write about but I shall leave it here for now.