a traveler in the realms of me

I was on the tube and there was no one else on it and I thought I was dead and I was having a lovely time, yes I was having a very lovely time and then people got on the tube and I was like HEY, what you doing in my dead, but then they didn’t say anything so I thought maybe they were dead too, and it was quiet, and there was no one else on it, apart from us, and me, and me and us, and then the tube train stopped and the doors opened and no one else got on it and then it was quiet and then the tube train stopped and the doors opened and no one else got on it and –

I glance up and around at all the other dead-me s
I want to squish their fleshy faces and lick the shiny buckles on their bags
like a creepy squirrel

I pull up my socks and wonder if they felt it
I listen to the essence
I wonder if they meant it
I wonder if they want it


and then the tube doors open
and people get on
and it is loud
and the tube doors open
and people get off
and people get on
and it is quiet
and the tube doors open
and I get off
and in all of my dead-ness,
I have never felt so alive


follow your alignment

Find your alignment
Summon your alignment
Dream your alignment
Follow your alignment

The pressures of interpretation aren’t always nutritional
The energy-umbions feed from the oomblets of surroundedness
Floating groundedness
Folded and carried
Wounded, healed
undug, unburied
Opened and shared

Filled with past purpose, free from present meaning
Only un-mined feeling:
These are someone else’s seedlings.

I am transport
I am traveling bowl
Upside down
Unmilk the bowl!
Release the foal!
Feel and echo kindness
Follow your alignment
Summon your alignment
Dream your alignment
Find your alignment
True treasure’s not to have or hold
to claim nor own

The beauty and the unbowled soul:
untangled at the gate,
unstorified by fate

Will you follow your alignment?

I hope and trust and feel and fear a chance you may not take… but it’s not my choice to make.

To do, to do, to do………

HELLO. Here I am. (“Here I am! Where’s The Spill?!” exclaims the brain-echolalia, covering the place in imaginary paper towels).

Did you ever watch ‘Get Your Own Back’ where there was a game on there with giant foam toast and people had to crawl through a toast grid breaking all the toast-boards, and it used to look like it was so satisfying, or at least made a satisfying sound? Well I’m in the mood to do that, apart from, walls hurt your body parts because they don’t want to play, I do not recommend. Unless you have a toast-board… or toast-walls… in which case it’s probably okay. Instead, I threw my face (and the rest of the body it’s attached to) into a big pile of stuff which I just took out of the dryer, which was quite good – it was warm – but, it wasn’t the imagined toast board so obviously it didn’t make the noise I keep expecting to EXPERIENCE. toasty).

After hours of clapping, swinging things around and shaking about for all the times I didn’t when asked to do the oaky koaky (is that even the word? this is going to be like that song lyric thing, isn’t it, where it’s something really obvious and I’ve just heard it as ‘koaky’… OH I just googled it and I’m laughing – it’s Hokey Cokey, apparently. Nothing oaky about it. It’s also bringing back terrible memories of small-child-me feeling pressured to do the same movement as everyone else on demand – never was one for audience participation. or any participation… when made to feel aware of the Participation Part, anyway). ANYWAY – – – I can’t remember the end of that sentence because my attention span is

My rucksack looks like a happy axolotl
(or one gasping for breath)
(a bit like me swimming last month)
(before I discovered how much goggles help me breathe even though I do not breathe with my eyes)

You know those rugs you get – well, which you CAN get – of fake animals lying on the ground, as a rug? well I’ve been impersonating one of those, in between sudden bursts of getting up to spray some SURFACE CLEANER on a chosen bit of surface and wiping it to keep the monsters away. It doesn’t keep any monsters away. or maybe it does and I just don’t know it, because They are Away.

I wish I had a swing. Why don’t I have a swing? well, there’d be nowhere to put it so having one would be useless but, I wish I knew a swing. Why don’t I know a swing? The last time I found a swing I noticed the sign that said I wasn’t supposed to be there unaccompanied (because I didn’t have a child with me) and then I was too scared to go back there in case the SwingPolice took away my swing-rights, for not being accompanied by a child. Number 1 reason for having a child: TAKE ME TO THE LAND OF SWINGS
actually no, I don’t think I want to go to that land as there’d probably be too many people and a high swing-collision probability, but, just one swing would be excellent


and on that note, whilst I’m on this note, before I go to write the other note – Here’s something I wrote a few days ago and FORGOT TO PUT HERE.

Sumita +.+

To do, to do, to do………

to do, to do, to do……… to do it I’m falling.

I feel like I’m taking on the world and failing. and I’m not. I’m not taking on the world, it’s only an assignment. and I can’t fail it before I’ve done it, and I haven’t done it, so I can’t be failing. to do, to do, to do, to do, to do………. am i failing doing it, by failing to do it? to do it I’m falling.

I’m tinier than a dead star. I’m tinier than that dead rock-debris fragment that I can’t see in the sky. I am more insignificant than dust. but dust travels. and like dust, any significance i do have travels. and if I can guide the direction it travels in, then I have to care. or I don’t have to, but I have to choose to. or I don’t have to choose to, but I maybe want to? because, there isn’t a because. (BECAUSE OF THE WONDERFUL THINGS HE DOES!, screams the inner-brain-echolalia, into the absence of done things.)

I need to write more lists – nothing is getting done around here. ‘THAT’S SOMETHING!’ shouts a sugarclown. I thought I told them to leave after they insensitively laughed at my baby dream and punched me in the stomach. I squash its tiny plasticine face and lick the candyfloss out of the sky – today we shall be grey-flavoured. I like grey. ‘I don’t’, mumbles a squashed sugarclown, but I’m not listening to its whiny non-joke, they were squashed ages ago. UNSQUASH YOURSELVES, commands the orange-juice-escapee sun, having runway from the recycling-press from the juice-box it was homed on. What do they know, they were 2D in the first place. and what does that make me? I close my eyes and try to sense my ghost-D presence more presently. Nope. Still stuck in future or past limbo, or some sort of amalgamation of the two. I must resume the future-past. I must do to be, and be to Be, and be to do, but mostly Be – not do to do to do to do to do. I fall but I’m supposed to. I be because I am. how else am i supposed to? how else would i do? not being would not do, for me. yet here i am, neither be nor do. Time to fix that. OPERATION ENERGY CONVERT!

With this I must listen; From this I must Be.

The sun streams down onto the duvet, in a little puddle of warm glow – like it does when you’re in the sea, glowing on little underwater sand-islands as it moves position in the sky – or at least, how it appears to be moving from our on-this-planet perspective. My body fills up with September-feeling, as I count 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 strawberry-shapes hanging on a string on my cupboard. I like how objects travel and carry. Essence. Was it the porridge? Maybe it was the porridge. It shouldn’t be a surprise that basic nutrition helps the brain. No, I think it’s more than that. Something is aligning, or has aligned, or will be aligning – or probably all three, considering the time thing. Light has already traveled before I’ve looked at it. By the time I experience it, it’s already gone. I reach out my hands and watch them glow and fade, glow and fade, tiny triangles smiling as they morph and grow, fade and glow. This is not just another sugar-sphere: This is important. This I must carry. This I must absorb, and from this I must form. Internalise and expel. With this I must listen, From this I must Be.

‘I Wish You Knew’ with Pablo – share your stories!


As you may have seen (as I am a few days late with typing this up), the social media team of the show Pablo have been encouraging people to join their #IWishYouKnew campaign. What do you wish someone knew about you, that if they knew, might have helped them to be more understanding towards you or someone else with a similar experience?

“Share your #IWishYouKnew stories and let us come together to welcome and embrace our differences!” @PabloTVShow

(Here is a << link >> to Pablo’s campaign video)

Do you wish that teacher knew that when you were drawing it was to help you focus, not because you were bored or not listening? or maybe you wish you they knew how much you appreciated something they said or did that still motivates you now? #IWishYouKnew

Do you wish that family member knew you missed their party because you were too anxious and overwhelmed, not because you didn’t want to go? or maybe you wish they knew how much it helped to be given the option not to attend? #IWishYouKnew

Do you wish your doctor knew how much you need help when you look like you’re coping fine? or are you glad that they made you feel comfortable enough to be able to communicate with them? #IWishYouKnew

Do you wish that friend knew you were excited by what they were saying when your face and voice didn’t show it? or do you wish they knew how much a small gesture changed your entire day, even if to them it might have seemed like such an ordinary or unnoticeable thing? #IWishYouKnew

It would be great if you could share your stories and use the tag #IWishYouKnew or tag Pablo’s social media pages in it.

People often treat others based on what they know, or what they think they know about people… but a lot of the time, it’s what people don’t know which causes misunderstandings – even the most well intended people make mistakes and misjudgements. We probably all have, even without knowing. I know I’ve often thought, ‘I wish that person knew’ – something about how I was feeling, or about something that was happening that I could not explain in the moment… and other times, I’ve thought, ‘I wish I knew’ about other people, because it might have meant I could have approached a situation differently – what works for one person doesn’t work for everyone (and what works for one person in one scenario doesn’t mean that is what will work in every scenario! Life is morphily experiential, we can’t know everything).

I like finding out about the way people think. I find it interesting to consider which things are the same and which things are very different (and which things are the same but different but the same) to the way in which I think. It also helps me to try and be more considerate about the way I am towards others. This is useful when thinking about my own needs are alongside expectations of others, which isn’t something I used to think about so much… though I do often get stuck in what I currently call ‘social riddles’, where something that is helpful for someone else is being unhelpful or interfering for me, and something that is helpful for me is probably unhelpful or might make things difficult for someone else. Some of these social riddles are easier to solve than others, it’s often a bit of a tangly guessing game for everyone.

(People, learning to be people, among other people, who are not the same as them but who are also people, learning to be people, among other people who are not the same as them…)

I think there’s less of the tangly-guessing the more we’re able to reflect on what works or doesn’t work for each of us – that way, we can learn from past experiences and make things better for each other. Even if we can’t change those past situations, voicing those experiences can possibly change future situations – for us, or for others.

It’d be great to turn some of those ‘I Wish I Knew’ s into ‘I’m Glad I Know’ s! By sharing stories we can help each other to communicate our experiences and gain insight to the different ways we think.


The ground doesn’t move under my feet…but it does.

THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOR AGES here’s a thing from about a month or more ago! (It might have been from even before that weird heatwave week, so it feels like a different planet ago)

I have been wanting to write about exercising for ages but there are just so many elements to what I want to output that it seemed such a task… it’s like each small story is full of smaller stories and each smaller stories is a ghost-Big story, full of tiny stories, and sometimes the tiny story is a big story dressed up as a tiny story, etc etc etc. I know I don’t constantly have to explain myself, but doing so helps me to see things that hide from me in my own mind. That is why I write in the first place. Writing therapy is writing therapy because of that, and I must continue to engage in that process, particularly right now when I seem to be spending such little time in the presence of people.

This took me so many days of coming back to writing this (because it was kind of difficult, and also my attention span and energy levels haven’t been the greatest)…

Today [*Edit not Today, this was whenever I first started writing this – this is about the tenth time I’m coming back to finish this!] I tried to run outside for the first time since I last tried to run outside, which must have been over a year ago. I couldn’t run outside that time, and I couldn’t this time either. It was a massive confidence un-boost. I knew I hadn’t been great at running this week due to an unusual and annoying amount of fatigue, but I had been used to running indoors on a treadmill, not outside where the ground doesn’t move under your feet. I felt like a liar and like I couldn’t do anything – and my brain being my brain quickly span out of control and applied this thought-tunnel to all aspects of my life, not just exercising.

Despite the impression my play-doh marshmallow-cushion bodymask may give, I like to exercise 4 or 5 times a week. It is surprising for someone like me to say that I like doing this, as my relationship with the gym and my relationship with exercising has changed a lot throughout my life. I was a fairly active child – small-child me did loads of swimming and enjoyed after-school netball club – but ‘small’-child me was a chubby child and stuff like running was not easy (which I was sad about because I wanted to do the Fun Run and get a badge, but I couldn’t really run)… and then I turned into a fat teenager who was terrible at sport (apart from swimming), and so I hated most sport because I was terrible at it and embarrassed by my terrible-at-it-ness. I always had to do some sort of exercise, though, because if I didn’t I put on weight super-fast and also apparently it’d help my supposed hormone imbalance related stuff and other brain stuff etc etc etc – but I did not like running at all.

College-me was still fat and terrible at running, but also I no longer wanted to go swimming anymore because of becoming really aware of the fat thing… and then late-teens/early adult (I’m not an adult) me would sneak out early in the morning to try and attempt to run, because I was so embarrassed at not being able to run properly and didn’t want people to know I was exercising for some reason. Due to my sneaky slow metabolism interfering with my thought patterns, I eventually taught my brain to focus on the narrative that I was exercising to maintain my weight – to not get bigger (and to manage mysterious chemically things inside me) as opposed to exercising to lose weight – that it was just something I had to do – because otherwise, I’d get caught up in the frustration-loop of body-image-related hell. I began to get more comfortable talking about exercising, instead of feeling anxious about people knowing it was something I tried to do, which was really helpful. I still didn’t enjoy it though (although I enjoyed it afterwards… endorphins-dolphins or something like that). (Oh, apart from one night out where me and my housemate decided to run everywhere, I enjoyed that – I think Plymouth was freezing cold at the time, and it seemed the best way to get from each pub to the next)

Fast-forward about 7 years of trying-to-sort-my-life-out brain-mess…

A couple of years ago was the first time I actually ENJOYED running (running at the gym, on a machine, but I try to tell myself it’s not cheating even when I definitely feel like it is). I don’t know how or why, but everything about it seemed different. Before each run I would need to install these different voices into my head just to get me there, which would play out during the run (this was something I had to do to counter the awful voices that would constantly interfere with my mind). I was still terrible at running, but the progress I made through adding my own voices to the voice-mess inside my head was rewarding, exciting and quite unbelievable as I never saw myself as someone who would be able to actually enjoy the running part of running, as opposed to just the bit after. (I also never thought I’d be able to DO the running part, let alone the enjoying part!)

I began to really think about how it was so different or what had changed, and how I even knew to add my own voices, and what it was about them that were powerful enough to counteract the other voices which still existed within me. I realised that I kind of had to do the opposite of what I did before or to what I guess that most people do when they motivate themselves with sport. Those voices used to be really pushing me to go further, to do better. Keep going, go faster. Do more – which seem positive, but when these are naturally accompanied by the things that tell you how bad you are if you don’t then they suddenly become less helpful. ‘Keep going, or something bad will happen’ (often something irrational and specific) ‘go faster because they’ll come to get you if you don’t’ ‘do more because you don’t do enough’, all accompanied by feeling-flavours of worthlessness and disgust and just all the things you don’t really need in your mind aout yourself ever. I would be running with fear, running with self-hate, running with ANGER (a lot of anger) – no wonder I hated it so much – and being terrible at it made me hate it more; I would push myself until I was being sick, yet I would never have gone as far enough as I wanted or what they wanted – it was an unachievable end goal because the voices were always there to tell me that I had not done enough, the voices were always there to tell me what I should have done and what I could not do and what I did not do.

When I started again a few years ago, after a bit of an unintentional break from exercise for various reasons, I really felt like I was starting from the bottom – I felt really unfit, and like I had nothing to lose (other than the weight I had gained from the various-reasons break). I was fighting a lot of anxiety and mood imbalances and I needed to sort myself out with regular exercise again. I also just really wanted to be able to run. I kept seeing people running and it really made me want to be able to do that, as I like the idea of Things that you can just do anywhere without needing Things (or, without needing Many things – stuff you can take anywhere, like drawing, or yoyoing, or skipping, etc). I read some stuff online about the ‘Couch to 5k’ thing where people had gone from not running at all to eventually being able to run 5km – and though the thought of me ever being able to run 5km at once seemed laughable, I felt inspired to give it a go. (Of course, me being me, I was too stubborn and impatient to follow the programme, and ended up making my own goals up instead as I went along). That’s how I started, anyway, my gym-game completely changed at the end of last year and is not focused on the same thing now – but this post is about this running thing so I am rewinding and talking about that.

Anyone with the tiniest bit of gym-fear or people-fear or going-into-the-outside-world-fear will know how scary it can be going into a gym. Starting anything new is scary. Add a lot of anxiety to the mix and it’s even worse. and if that’s autism-flavoured anxiety it’s just – well, if you’re autistic and gym-anxious you might know what I mean. There is a lot to be confused about and asking people about the confusion is often not an option. and what if someone uses the locker you always use, and why has someone gone on that machine when I was just on my way back with the cleaning spray to clean it, what do I do now – etc etc etc. (the correct answer is: you do a small panic-dance, then clean the one next to it that you didn’t even use, then laugh about it because – why did you do that, what are you doing?!, and then run away to dissolve into your own private universe-sphere)

Anyway, by the time I had even got INTO the gym when I restarted a few years ago, I had already defeated more anxiety-demons than anyone really knew. I was already energy-drained from all of those fights before I had even been on one machine – I felt physically and emotionally exhausted – but for the first time, my brain really let me fully acknowledge that… it just started saying these things, kind things, encouraging things, to let me know that I was doing well. Instead of pushing me over an already-over-pushed limit, telling me to work harder when I was already working harder, it was doing the opposite. ‘You’ve done really well to be here’ ‘Don’t worry if you need to slow down to a walk, you’ve achieved a lot just being here’ ‘Look after yourself, don’t overdo it’ ‘Be sensible, don’t make yourself ill’. This felt SO ALIEN TO ME – I didn’t really understand the feelings it was making me feel, but somehow it was making me work harder, to be better yet to also enjoy myself, perhaps because I wasn’t being swarmed by concentrated hate-voices. I didn’t even perceive it as a positive feeling at first, because it just felt different and strange. I thought, who do these things think I am, why are they trying to trick me into not working as hard. Why do they not want me to reach my goals? Why are they trying to make myself ‘give in’ – I didn’t know which voices to trust and was over-suspicious… but for the sake of trying to de-escalate anxiety, I began to tune away from processing the thoughts and deciphering the words, and tune more into the feelings – and that’s when I started to notice that those voices held some sort of sparkle-light which was too magnety to not listen to. and when I listened to those voices that ALLOWED me to have a break, that congratulated me and praised me just for being in the situation, before even reaching a single target, something different happened – and it helped me to listen to the positive things, to stop without feeling guilty yet to make much greater improvements and better progress. The feeling is a bit like having a really thin tingly layer emerging from the outside of the skin of your bodymask (for some reason it feels like loads of inspiring people who have died have arrived in the form of good vibes to say hello) which in that moment allows you to appreciate how much you have done, how hard you have worked and how well you are doing to be trying your best – and then it super-quickly rushes through your whole body and disappears. The memory of that feeling then becomes the energy-drive that battles the other feelings, defending me against annoying demon-monsters.

There is so much I could say about this topic and I will come back to writing about it, because it’s not just running I want to write about in the exercise-topic-realm – exercise is amazing to me because it really helps me to form an eating and sleeping routine – for someone with an often-disordered both of these things and a need for routines to function well, this is a great thing! but, to finish this thing I want to go back to why I started writing all this in the first place – I was writing about having been running outside for the first time in ages and being terrible at it and feeling disappointed. There I was, struggling to maintain a jog, on my second or third circuit of mostly walking with small intervals of ‘running’. It was quite busy in the park as it was sunny, and I was wearing shorts which I never usually do, so the combination of people everywhere, feeling body-anxious and generally just trying to run in very-public made my anxiety spin loudly. (This definitely did not help my running as it meant I couldn’t breathe properly, which was probably a main part of the not-being-able-to-run problem). Then, someone who was walking past – a friendly-faced stranger – signalled a thumbs up to me and said ‘Well done! You’re doing well!’ and disappeared… I was so surprised because, before I’d actually processed what was going on, my brain heard the words and took this as a signal to remember all of the positive stuff I used to feed my brain before I went running – and I suddenly realised I had forgotten to install these things into my mind. It didn’t suddenly make me be able to run for the rest of the lap, but after that, I definitely had a couple of moments where I remembered that actually, I was not doing as bad as I thought – I had left home, I was out in a busy park, I was wearing shorts, and I was attempting to run, despite a lot of anxiety. I WAS doing well, and I needed to remind myself. I’m so thankful to that person I didn’t know for those words – it was probably the only words physically spoken out loud to me that week and it really made such a difference.

The thing I thought about running outside instead of running on a treadmill, is that the ground doesn’t move under my feet when I run. The ground moves under my feet on a treadmill so I run or I get thrown off. but I’ve now realised that outside, the ground DOES move under my feet… It’s moving all the time. The ground is always changing. and when I choose to run, I am running knowing I will repetitively get thrown off – but the ground carries on moving… and it’s okay that it carries on moving when I’m not running on it, but it doesn’t stop. I must carry on at my own pace, whilst the ground moves at its own pace… and I must challenge my own pace, improve my own pace, improving the fast the slow the long the short – all of the paces must be given equal care in order to nurture the possibility of pushing potential… but just because I do not feel it moving, it does not mean I have been thrown off. It does not mean it isn’t going to throw me off either, just because I think I’ve stopped. Sometimes I need to realise I’m still running when I think I’ve stopped… and as much as I need to keep running, when I’m running, I also just as much need to allow myself to stop, when I stop.

Yellow Shoes 💛

I would love these shoes! Someone find me these shoes (or tell these shoes to find me)

(The animations are from Pablo – ‘Pick Us, Pablo’, episode written by the wonderful Rosie King – you can watch it on CBeebies or iPlayer or Netflix

In the episode, Pablo can’t decide which shoes to wear as he doesn’t want the others to feel left out).

It’s probably a good thing that I don’t have these shoes, because I don’t need these shoes…

…so instead, I sometimes pretend that I am wearing them and that I’ve taught them how to fly (which wasn’t easy as they were stubborn and found learning difficult)

and then they teach ME how to fly and we fly up hills and mountains and into space where there are moonhills and moonmountains and other planet hills and other planet mountains…

…and I’d have no idea where I’m going or why these shoes chose me to wear them, but I’d have made myself invisible so that I don’t accidentally absorb any of the attention that was actually supposed to be given to the shoes…

…and all the other shoes on planet Earth would be smiling whilst they observe the journey of these happy shoes in space…

…and then we’d zoom back down to Earth-ground and let a different pair of shoes have a turn and do it all again 🙂

the panic-boats arrive in my sleep

write, she said
because something happens and words appear
write, when you don’t know how to talk
when you don’t know what to talk
write, when you don’t know why
when it doesn’t matter

i have a new hobby-habit
of checking my pulse and worrying about it
the panic-boats arrive in my sleep,
and i wonder what would happen if they didn’t arrive
would i get swept up into the dreamspace?
why can’t i get swept up into the dreamspace

it scared me, not being able to breathe like that
because no-one was here and no-one was to know
and so i monitor the situation by tracking meaningless numbers.
i want more data
i want stop and ask everyone in the street
make detailed comparisons and come to a pretend-solution
when all i really need to do is stop panicking
yes, just stop panicking
(do NOT recommend me a mindfulness app, i’ll kick it in the face)
if panic is supposed to be saving me, what’s it saving me from?

why the bright? i needed rain
i needed grey

what is your pulse right now?
I’m worrying about my pulse
of all the things that i worry about
or all the actual things that actual people worry about
Actual things worth worrying about, deserving of worrying about,

what is your pulse right now?
am i worrying about my pulse or am i worrying about my pulse compared to your pulse compared to their pulse compared to –

what is your pulse right now?

it’s important, i need to know
you don’t need to know, leave your wrist alone
i need to –
stop staring at everyone’s wrists it’s creepy

how often do you check your pulse and cry because you don’t understand this wave of feeling pathetically sick when there’s nothing actually wrong with you and have to lie like a sobbing jelly in a bed when you wanted to go and exercise to help you feel better?
and it’s a good job you can’t describe what it feels like because you’d only be looking to google to tell you it’s horrendous

i’m so tired but i fear sleeping because it’s so uncomfortable when the panic-boats wake me up

apparently a low pulse rate is meant to mean you are VERY FIT
hahahahahahah look how amused the SugarClowns are at that LOOK AT THEM
(i am NOT very fit)

but what i don’t understand, about the weird floaty breathing panic-things that have been happening,
is that how can it feel like everything is going really fast,
yet instead of a fast heartrate it’s a slow one?

and so i check my pulse
and it’s low
and then i worry until it speeds up
and then i settle
and then i check my pulse
and it’s low again
and so i worry and check until it speeds up
and then i settle

(until the next anxiety-thing)

the panic-boats arrive in my sleep
slow, like an oil-puddle thick-drip soupcake
hovering out of the bodymask,
hovering still in it
air-discs slow-swirling, tight-loose pulling

the panic-boats arrive in my sleep
to warn of unsafety in dreams
perhaps they remind me to breathe

but in sleeping or waking,
there’s is no escaping –
they never allow me to leave.


Today was one of those days where you reach the end, get ready for bed (one of those anomaly days where you actually get ready for bed, instead of avoiding it completely), then realise you’ve been wearing your pants the wrong way round all day and are suddenly applauded by all of the crowds of SugarClowns that inhabit your mind. (‘whhheyyyyyyyyyyyy‘, they cheer gleefully, as if you’ve just dropped, and smashed, a glass in the school lunch hall. I begin to wonder if they knew all along, and just decided not to tell me for their own bored amusement). By ‘you’, I of course mean ‘me’, but it gets confusing as there seem to be so many ‘me’s that I forget which one I’m talking from, to and about at varying moments of the day. The bodymask is such a strange collective, the jellyghost is such an odd, over-complicated form of transport for these energy-bubbles that need to be transported throughout the multispheres.

I feel like I’ve entered a… like, if you got an inflatable oblong-shape, but it was a bit like when you blow a bubble out of bubblegum, except it would never pop, but that same stretchiness with all of the little wisp-lines – I feel like I’ve entered one of those and am just, unpeacefully chilling there for a bit. Kind of unsettled, but on the surface it’s like everything is still – morphymoving, but calm-ish – on the SURFACE. You don’t want to look at what’s on the outside of the bubble-world, even though if you tried hard enough you could notice the different hues of light trying to peer in through the stretchy bubble-wall, visible shadows in memory-colours. I wanted to make stuff, I wanted to make stuff do stuff be stuff – but I needed to help my mind and body first. and I am. but I’m just – I’m just HERE, in this space, and this THING in the back of my mind is telling me I’m not trying hard enough – when I know that I am just doing my best… and unfortunately, doing my best doesn’t mean BEING my best at any one individual thing. That is what frustrates me a lot recently. but there are so many spheres, so many marble-spheres, so many marbly marbly marble-spheres if I was my best at one of them I’d lose all of the rest… and I do lose most of the rest even by trying to do slightly well, even by trying to even attempt stuff regardless of actual progress…I WANT to push myself, and I do most days – whether that’s a day out in chaos-land or a day in bed dealing with brain-land. Just because a run wasn’t the same numbers as a previous run, it doesn’t necessarily mean it wasn’t an as-good run – sometimes it was better run – the numbers don’t always depict the full circumstance. It becomes a game of Keep Going (but then remembering to stop so that I can KeepGoing better next time). I will return.

June Jumbles (Part Two)

This is my third or fourth attempt coming back to this Draft but I’m determined to get it posted before June ends!


I was supposed to write this in May
but May turned into June whilst I wasn’t looking

and now I’m on a different planet-sphere because that’s what happens when I leave it too long – everything shifts, it’s constantly moving

The rest of May… what happened there? I can’t really remember. I think it’s mainly been me wanting to learn how to read properly again, because I have reading to do for assignments (plus there’s stuff I want to read). It’s become difficult and I need to get better at it – I know how to read but my attention-span/focus needs improving, and an odd anxiety thing happens when I try and read books, it makes the letters go all jumbly, which is really annoying because there are so many books I really WANT to read. Things that usually helps when this happens is finding books that I can open on any page and read a small section of it, and to close it and open it again on another page. Watching things helps too, I need to make myself watch some things. as in, a film or a programme or something, not just watching things out the window or on the street.

The rest of May was also trying to deal with a load of brain things – irritating noise, irritating voices, annoying emotions. Surges of panic. I’ve been trying to get on a new routine but I’ve had to be easy and hard on myself at the same time because of the brain-things. Once those things are settled, I can work on better routine-building. and they are more settled, so I’m getting there. I did a lot of walking, which helped – walking new routes, walking along the bus route – I love that I can walk all the way down this giant straight road for a couple of hours without worrying about getting lost, following all of the familiar-number buses that are going the same way, ending up in these different areas with different things in them, looking at the bus stops along the way and finding out where the buses are all going… and then walking all the way back whilst the sky changes colour.

I’ve been back at the gym a lot, which is always the thing that helps me the most. I love it, but I wish I knew how to do more when I’m there. I was very focused on it before, but when I began making my IndoorGoblin show the hyperfocus switched to that instead and everything else just stopped because all of my energy was on the show, I didn’t know how to work anything else around that. Going back to the gym after a break was as difficult as it always is. I knew I had to get back there because eating was getting difficult again and I didn’t want that to escalate. The gym really helps me with food-related brain-voices. (“and with brain-related food voices,” says a SugarClown)

Disordered eating can take you by surprise because you think you’re doing fine and are like ‘la la la just eating this thing’ – and then all of a sudden you spit it out because a stupid non-existent creature-thing makes you, before you’ve even processed what’s going on. and then you’re like, oh, that was weird, why did I do that… and then you carry on like ‘la la la carry on eating this thing’ and then the creature is like SWALLOW THAT AND SOMEONE OVER THERE WILL DIE – and so begins the comic-strip-style fight between you and these stupid things in your head, when all you want to do is eat the sandwich, drink the drink and carry on with your day! and I laugh at it, because I do find it funny, maybe because I have to find it funny, but when I remember particular moments when it’s not been the easiest it’s suddenly not funny anymore and makes me determined not to let it escalate. ‘How much are you willing to let it escalate?‘ – that’s a thing my brain started repeating this year.

There are so many factors to disordered eating, it’s not just nutrition and body image related things, there are other things like routine and associations and voices and irrational imagination-things, supermarket-hell or ordering-food difficulty, electricity-fear leading to not being able to cook… social anxiety can make you not eat things you want to eat in public, and social anxiety can make you eat things you don’t want to eat in public too. I wonder if there are people in the world for which food doesn’t require much thinking about. Anyway, the gym really helps because I want to be better at the exercises; eating helps me to get better at the stuff, and going the gym reminds me to eat and drink – and allows me to eat. The last few weeks of gym-going I’ve been able to eat without these stupid things in my head interrupting me, which has been a relief, and I’m improving at exercising too which I find rewarding and exciting. It’s funny when I realise I am still learning to remember that eating and sleeping helps general functioning and improvement of the mind and body… it seems like such a basic human thing to understand, it almost feels like it should be an automatically-known robotly-installed thing… but I guess when I remember that if a person finds it difficult to sort out the eating and sleeping thing, it’s no surprise that all of the other factors become even harder than it already was before – and then those things in turn affect the eating and sleeping. (‘THE CYCLE OF ENTRAPMENT’, says a Sugarclown).

Talking of ENTRAPMENT… haha, no, I’m only joking, I’m so not ready to go into that yet!

It’s a constant game of balancing with my brain – like it probably is for most people, I can’t imagine how it wouldn’t be. Keeping above the surface, maintaining one bit then maintaining another bit then maintaining a different bit – I wish I knew how to maintain all of these things at the same time, like having loads of tiny builders constantly in motion – but when I look away the decorators go back to sleep, and then when the decorators wake up they REALLY wake up and want a decorating party and want to decorate for the decorating party, with shiny things and sparkly things and squidgy tubes of icing, even though the rest of the tiny builders are all either asleep, want to be asleep or really absolutely do not want to go to, have, or be any way involved in a party. More on that kind of thing another time – but for now, there are things to be done. Step one: Try and do the things. Wait – No – enough is Enough (*I’ve been kicked in the jellybody by a tumbling SugarClown*) – Step one: DO THE THINGS.

Thanks for reading, if you’re reading. (I think).

Sumita +.+