When Writing Feels Risky

Several years ago, I wrote about how my Memory Hoarding OCD manifests: by compulsively writing, filling notebook after notebook with the details of every single day, every single event, every single feeling. I could easily fill a normal A5 sized notebook in under a fortnight. Journaling this way allowed me to document my life and provided me with a safe space to store all of my memories so I didn’t feel like I was constantly trying to carry them all. It also gave me a space to process everything that was happening and work out how I felt about it all. But the amount I needed to write down only seemed to grow, no matter how hard I tried to reduce it: I once wrote about fifty pages about a single concert, partly to document the show (a huge stadium tour date on a world tour with multiple sets, talking breaks, costumes, dancers, etc) and partly to try and process all of the feelings that were being brought up throughout the show. Trying to document every event began overwhelming the event itself; instead of being excited, I would dread them because I would already be anxious about the writing afterwards, calculating how much time it was going to take and how much further behind it would put me in my writing backlog.

I’d just about managed to keep up during my Bachelor’s degree but by the time I started my Master’s a couple of years later, I was writing so much that I was often days or weeks or even months ‘behind’ and I’d be writing all day everyday, just trying to catch up to the present moment. I’d managed to cut out a lot of ‘irrelevant’ detail but I was still writing for hours every day. It was already at this extreme level when I started my Master’s and my anxiety immediately increased as I tried to balance the courseload with the compulsive writing. I kept trying to make it work, make it manageable, but I just couldn’t and so, for months, I was pushing myself to the limit as I tried to do all of my coursework (and I found the jump from BA to MA brutal) and then spending every spare second filling notebook after notebook. I felt so much pressure to ‘succeed’ at both and the worse I felt about it all, the more I had to write; the anxiety was creating more for me to write about. I felt caught in the middle of a tug of war; the problem was just snowballing and I had no idea how to stop it.

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When Food Is A Challenge (July In Photos)

TW: difficulties with food, food sensitivities, sensory sensitivities, disordered eating, eating disorder behaviours, and related topics.

When I originally saw the photo challenge for July – every prompt being food related – I immediately closed the window. Nope, not for me. As an autistic person with a lot of sensory difficulties, food is a daily nightmare for me and the thought of having to think about food even more than usual did not sound like a fun thing to sign myself up for. But then I thought about it a bit more and thought that maybe it could be the vehicle to talk more about the relationship between autism and food, from my point of view at least, which is something that I’ve wanted to do for a long time but never quite felt able to…

I have struggled with food for as long as I can remember. One of my earliest food related memories – I can’t have been older than eight – is of reading an article about someone who needed IV nutrition and/or a feeding tube because they were unable to eat by mouth and I vividly remember showing my Mum and telling her that I wish I could do that, I was that distressed by food. I dreaded meal times because I found food stressful. As an eight-ish year old, I obviously didn’t understand how difficult this lived experience is for people but if there ever was a way to just fulfil your nutritional needs through just a pill or an IV rather than food, I would choose it in a heartbeat. The only way I actually enjoy food is when it satisfies a sensory seeking stim (I’ve talked a little bit about this in my recent post about my current stims).

For a long time, I didn’t understand why I found food so difficult and I was labeled as a “picky eater” (which is a phrase that I think should be struck from all human languages and if you ever want to see my deepest levels of fury, I actually dare you to use it in front of me) and it was a source of frustration for everyone in my circle. No one was intentionally unkind about it – I am a hundred percent sure that most of that frustration was about me missing out, both on a nutritional level and on the enjoyment of food that they were all experiencing – but I don’t think that that didn’t impact me on some level. Everything always felt too complicated and overwhelming to me: all of the tastes, the textures, the dry things getting wet (yes, I am an autistic person who separates their food on a plate), and so on. All of that is incredibly stressful to me so plain, simple, separated foods remove (or limit) that stress and allow me to engage with food at some level. When food becomes stressful, I struggle to swallow, my gag reflex becomes super sensitive, and sometimes I can’t even be in the same room as food; I will just avoid it rather than engage with it but it’s more like a fight or flight reflex than a choice. I also have terrible interoception (I don’t feel or recognise signals that I’m getting from my body about hunger, thirst, muscle tension, etc), which isn’t uncommon with Autism, and so I often don’t realise I’m hungry or in need of food until I can’t stand up or I’m shaking from the lack of it and by that time, I barely have the energy to find myself food. All of these things make it very difficult to eat healthily and it’s something that I really struggle with, something that I constantly feel frustration and shame and self-loathing about. The Autism diagnosis helped all of us to understand and manage the situation better but it still an ongoing, exhausting battle.

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Introducing: Taylor Tomlinson

TW: brief mentions of depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, mental health treatment and therapy, living through the death of a parent, religious trauma and deconstruction, and medicinal cannabis use.

At the beginning of the year, I was getting semi-regular ads on social media for Taylor Tomlinson’s new comedy show, Prodigal Daughter. It made me snort whenever I saw it but because I’ve never really enjoyed stand up comedy – or most comedy, if I’m honest – I would just move on. But then, after seeing it multiple times, I decided to give it a go and as it turns out, it was one of the best decisions I’ve made so far this year…

I was captivated and cracking up for the whole show. I was just finishing it when my Mum got home from work and I just pressed play again; my Mum enjoyed it almost as much as I did and I loved it even more on the second watch.

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