“You’re no longer preoccupied with sex, so your mind is able to focus.”

Focus, by Unabashed Autist

M. won’t let me clean his apartment after he gets all his stuff out.  I’ve never lost a deposit in my life.  It’s pride…  I should probably work on that, but in the meantime, I’m a cleaning ninja.  I came by my skill in the Army, where I was given ample practice.  Heh.  M. said it would be weird to have his girlfriend clean his apartment.  Evolved is so sexy.  😍

I rewatched some Stevie Nicks interviews on YouTube earlier.  I can’t quit smiling.  In one of them, she mentioned how hard it is for her to stop an addiction.  She used overeating as an example, stating once you take a bite and realize it makes you feel great, you’re likely to continue until it’s gone.  The hard part is the stopping.

Naturally, I overthought it for a bit.  I consider myself addiction proof.  I don’t like most of the things people seem to get addicted to, for one thing.  Being weird has its perks.  If I find myself consuming something, then learn I shouldn’t continue, I stop.  I think because it’s logical, and I like logic.  But I think these are only minor reasons.

I think the biggest reason is that addiction may manifest differently in me.  I’m not literally addiction proof, I just do it wrong?  Or right, for me.  I don’t know if this is an autistic trait, but I think it may be related.  I tend to hyper-focus on what I’m doing when it’s something that interests me.  The way I write code is a good example.  I could write code through a thunderstorm if it began while I was hyper-focused.

Otherwise, I have to wear noise-canceling headphones or earplugs.  (Thunder is pretty close to torture for me.  It’s a cruel quirk for an adult, IMO.)  Sometimes, I think there was really no way I was going to get through this life without acquiring PTSD.  Oddly, that makes me feel better about it.  When Stevie Nicks mentioned trouble stopping, it clicked.

I have trouble stopping, too.  In my case, it’s what I’m doing.  It’s so hard for me to quit reading and go to sleep.  (Often, I don’t.)  When I start a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle, I have to keep in mind it’s entirely possible I’ll complete it without a break, (so go first!)  I love jigsaw puzzles and reading so much, I never want to stop.  I’ve come very close to wetting myself while hyper-focused on coding.

It’s a close call by the time I pay attention to whatever keeps trying to interrupt me, (nature calling.)  When a new World of Warcraft expansion comes out, it’s a given I’ll pull a leveling marathon until I max out again.  It’s baffling to me in hindsight.  I’m not a competitive player.  I spend more time flying around looking at the scenery than anything.  I explore in search of artifacts and easter eggs, too.

When I do stop, it’s very disorienting.  I have to anchor myself to the world all over again.  It’s an anxious process.  (Like falling.)  There are usually unpleasant consequences to doing things for too long.  I often walk like I just learned how, because I did something for too long without moving recently.  I’ll get absorbed while in the process of sitting down, and assume an awkward position.  Then stay like that until my cat gets my attention.  (M. sends Amelia Bedelia to interrupt me because she does it correctly, just not as consistently as he’d prefer.)

Despite these awful consequences, I still behave the same way.  It makes me feel great, and I don’t want to stop.  Sounds like an addiction to me, eh?  So I guess I’m addicted to completely immersing myself in what I’m doing, (when it’s something I enjoy.)  I see no reason to change.  Besides, if it kills me, it will probably be in an amusing manner, assuming you also have a twisted sense of humor.  Here lies Alison who died from wandering into traffic while imagining the clouds pairing off and dancing across the sky.  Or something.  At least I’d be happy to the end.  🙃