Comments on: Chasing Oblivion

By: pome / makoto / AIME

pome / makoto / AIME — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 09:55:38 +0000

Reminds me of when I was pushing myself to meet the world on its own terms (as I thought of it at the time): the tough-guy attitude that the world doesn’t care and will never change, so you have do all the adapting, whatever the cost. (“Whatever the cost” doesn’t seem so bad until you find out what it is.) “Tired? Too bad, keep going. In pain? Tough sh**, do it anyway. Can’t read or think anymore? Then read it 20 times.” — and so forth.

In the following ten years of nearly continuous overload that followed, I’d numb out (dissociate?) during the day at work and/or school, and then come home and chug vodka until I could feel enough artificial insulation to let the armor, and the built-up programming of feigned responses & understanding, and suppression of all manner of natural reactions, drop for a few hours. (It took years to figure out how to drop it naturally.) As time wore on that devolved into simply wanting to obliterate my consciousness.

When alcohol wasn’t an option, there was suiting up and climbing the steepest 10 mile grade in the area I could find. I’d titrate my effort by the tunnel vision & ringing in my ears, to the edge of fainting; to the edge of consciousness.

The world was like a brush fire, but burning everywhere at once and never burning out. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Turning out the lights of my consciousness made sense on an instinctual as well as a literal level.

In those years I used to have a recurring dream about driving very fast on the freeway at night in the rain. The rain would be heavy, sometimes so heavy that I couldn’t see and could only freeze at the wheel, hoping that the view would clear up in time to avoid a crash. But it doesn’t clear up. Ten seconds… twenty… “are those lights coming at me or going away? …Holy sh**!” and then wake up right before the head-on happens.

I could escape from the dream world into reality, but (as you mention) I had a lot less luck making it work the other way around.

I am definitely no longer a fan of the “the world won’t change, so you must do all the adapting yourself at any cost…” club.

By: Alexandra

Alexandra — Sat, 26 Apr 2008 08:07:41 +0000

At times I have tried to kill myself because I believed that I did not exist and therefor continuing to be alive was a lie. I was told it was depression and I said “no I wasn’t depressed at all I just didn’t understand the separation between “me” and everything else. The didn’t get it and claimed it was depression.

By: DeeDee

DeeDee — Mon, 12 Nov 2007 03:50:31 +0000

My 21 year old son who was a college student (diagnosed with high-functioning autism, as opposed to Asperger’s due to language delay as a toddler) died by suicide this past March. He has been struggling with depression for at least 10 years, and was being treated off and on for it for the past 5 years. I consider the frequent bullying that he suffered since mid-elementary school years, at the hands of other children and sometimes teachers, to be a very large contributor to his pain. Our schools are not doing enough to help any child who is “different”, to appreciate and value the differences in all of us. Now his pain has been multiplied and passed on to all who knew him and loved him.

By: ballastexistenz

ballastexistenz — Mon, 29 Jan 2007 08:50:51 +0000

Lack of school might (or might not) have helped.

By: Stephanie

Stephanie — Mon, 29 Jan 2007 01:03:14 +0000

As the parent of an autistic child, I have to ask: Is there anything, of any type, that a parent, teacher, peer, etc., could have done (or even can do now, for that matter) to help you during those times of stress, overload, and confusion? Be it something physical, emotional, or even behavioral on their part; removing stimuli or teaching you how to remove yourself from the situation (any specifics to that?); etc.?

By: mk2crack.com

mk2crack.com — Mon, 22 Jan 2007 21:18:14 +0000

I can relate to the concept of non-existence. It is something I have felt throughout my teen years and into adulthood (I am at the age of 25 now).

My contribution is somehow pessimistic, however, as it refers to the circumstances wherein one would develop an urge not to be present (or at least not to be confronted with the demands and expectations of their surroundings, as Sue W stated). My personal situation involves my Asperger’s syndrome and the fact that I have grown up under extremely favorable circumstances.

I have had a caring family with a middle-to-high income which has essentially meant that I have had little or no real shortages of either material goods nor emotional support throughout my childhood.

But that does not change the fact that I have constantly struggled with a sense of isolation from social relations which conforms quite easily with the conception of “not wanting to exist”, which of course leads back to the beginning of this thread by ballastexistenz. My point is, however, that this feeling occured despite the fact that I had much support (though not pressure) from my family. As I have had favourable conditions to begin with and that I nonetheless suffer from the same problems suggest that those of you who have had a more difficult childhood and parents with different demands (like born in 1916…) have already demonstrated quite a degree of resilience and ability. Otherwise, we would not be in the same situation.

If this does not present itself a compliment, then forgive me. It was meant as such.

By: Ettina

Ettina — Sat, 20 Jan 2007 12:51:08 +0000

When I’m really having trouble with flashbacks sometimes I wish I could just stop being aware of anything.
It’s probably a general reaction to overload.

By: Sue W

Sue W — Fri, 19 Jan 2007 17:40:13 +0000

I am NT but relate to much of what you have said in this post. For much of my childhood and all of my teenage years I wished to not exist. Not to die, but not to feel or have to think or have the weight of other peoples expectations and demands placed upon me; also to escape from the physical and mental experience of the situations I was placed in (or their aftermath and anticipation).
I was in a very secretive,as well as mentally abusive family set up where those outside of the situation felt free to and expected me to fulfill the role that had been set for me by the family and would punish me (physically and mentally) if I varied from it.

Many of the things around me changed ( death of a pivot person, kicked out of family home)and people I came into contact with allowed me to do what I needed to and aided me in finding other safer, more acceptable, less violent to my own person, alternatives (phyiscal contact with textures and temperatures, obsessive videogaming – as well as the NT staples of talking and physical contact but without compulsion and an understanding that I did not want to reciprocate).

As an adult if I become over stressed over stimulated etc I find that I will automatically try to revert to these earlier patternings. It does happen less so and as wisely recommend this is a time to do something different and try to cut off from the demands/stimuli.

This nearly became a larger epic but it would be presumptuous and is unnecessary and harmful to dump all of the details here.

Thank you for articulating clearly what I have been unable to do so for a long time and far more succinctly than I ever could have.

By: Tokah

Tokah — Thu, 18 Jan 2007 18:21:40 +0000

“I really worry about all the kids who are put through rigorous programs that make them do more and more, and the more they can do the more work is piled on them, to the point where their systems can’t take it.”

This happened to me. First my body reacted by giving me seizures, and finally my brain seemed to break in half. I lost my memory and most of personality for 9 months, after 8 hours of paralyzation. Recovery was a long uphill process, and I’m not even sure I’m entirely “back” yet.

By: lordalfredhenry

lordalfredhenry — Thu, 18 Jan 2007 01:16:18 +0000

Some days, I feel completely normal. I mean, more normal than most kids…because many kids adopt a subculture or style. I grew up, not goth, not punk, not anything. I grew up in some way, with the dullest, childhood one could ask for. In a sense, it was due to growing up in a shut in family. Shut in because they had to. Shut in because the best place to raise kids in their situation was next to the jails and halfway houses where the parking was cheap. Not that I myself have anything against prisoners judging how well our system works with autistics…still, there is a good enough measure of horror there to not enjoy my living situation. Every night, scared someone would break in…because on occasion, they tried and by that, I mean I nearly took out a grown man’s fingers by shutting my window before he could force his way in. I looked normal…only because I was quiet, still and trying what you were describing. Ordinary but in the middle of a kind of hell hole that was anything but. My parents were ok in some ways. They stayed together….that’s about it though. My mom pushed me to succeed. My dad pushed me to be as generous as possible to other people despite having more needs than everyone else around me. I was normal in that I was as close to having nothing as possible and a fair amount of 18th century abuse for a child. “just different times” I suppose. I mean, when one’s father was born in 1916…that’s what one gets.