Okay.  Just Okay.

A Sunday morning much like any other.  I’m sitting in bed, hot beverage in one hand, phone in the other.  A bit of a treat in actual fact as on workdays the phone is left out of the bedroom overnight so the temptation to scroll and procrastinate isn’t there when I wake up.  But it’s Sunday, I have no plans, nowhere to be, nothing that needs doing urgently, so scroll away.

There’s no hangover but there’s a good explanation for that.  I haven’t had a drink this week, nor have I really wanted one, despite the busy working week and Wales’s latest rugby defeat.

So Twitter (sorry Elon, still no plans to start calling it ‘X’) and Instagram checked and I’m into a puzzle.  I started playing them years ago as a way to slow down the racing mind and calm the anxiety.  Nowadays it has become part of my morning routine and a nice, relaxing way to get my brain engaged and focused before starting the day.  Can’t promise that’ll work for everyone but seems to work for me.

Anyway, I’m halfway through a game and something hit me.

Was it the fact that it’s John’s birthday? (His name isn’t really John but there are 3 friends and we all call each other John.  Long story.  Funny, but long). No, it’s not that.

It’s St Patrick’s Day!  No, that’s not it either.

Was it the fart?  No, but when did I eat cabbage?  Crikey!

No, it’s this – I feel okay.

And I don’t mean physically or medically.  I just feel alright.  In the words of Larry David, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty good.

It feels like after spending most, if not all of my life thinking that I’m not good enough, it has just dawned on me that I am, in fact, okay.

And it feels amazing!

Now I might not be a Gosling to look at, or a Fry to talk to but I’m funny (at least I think I am, even if most of Twitter doesn’t), loyal, well mannered, mostly kind hearted, very forthright and honest.  I have a lovely family, friends, a job that doesn’t make me want to self-harm and a roof over my head.

See? Okay.  Won’t stand out in a crowd but, with my social anxiety that’s the last thing I would want.

It’s been 10 months since my autism diagnosis.  Maybe that’s how long it has taken me to come to terms with that.  Just a bit of time to get all my life ducks in a row and just start shooting them down one by one (Disclaimer – Life ducks are fine to shoot and are even suitable for vegans and vegetarians.  I’m on the fence regarding the shooting of actual ducks as they’re both beautiful creatures and delicious).

Anyway, let’s assume that, by now, everybody knows how amazing my parents are.  Fact.  I don’t take it for granted but that’s a given and I’m very lucky to be living so close.  However, I think this past year has been an eye-opener and given them a better understanding of my issues which perhaps wasn’t there before the diagnosis came.  Yes, they have seen the general improvements over the last few years but now realise that there are still days where I struggle to put one foot or one word in front of another and there are some days where I give in and choose not to.  And that’s okay.  Sometimes writing a day off and starting again tomorrow is good if it means that you can face tomorrow with a renewed energy and motivation.

As well as my folks, there have been some very meaningful conversations with friends over the past few months.  Ones with Neil and Ben last Summer, after the shock of the diagnosis was still rife, Wendy on my last visit to Exeter shortly after, Alex, Paul (aka John and John) and Zoe on my London trip before Christmas.  Most significant of all (not that it’s a competition) was with Kelly just a few weeks ago.  I say that because she was somebody who I thought I’d lost from my life which as it turns out was largely due to someone else’s lies but, once again it just goes to show what loveliness can ensue when people get together and talk in an open and (I can’t stress this word enough) honest way.

Each of these conversations may not have meant a thing to them but they were very meaningful to me and I thank each of them for that.  Five of these seven wonderful buggers no longer live locally and the other two have families and work commitments so time with them is also limited but nevertheless wonderfully good for the soul when our stars do align.

So it would appear that this whole post has boiled down once again to the importance of openness, honesty, surrounding yourself (even from miles away) with good people and taking the time to show some gratitude for what you have, not what’s missing.

If you can do that then, who knows, maybe you will start to feel just okay, too.

Good Evening. Here is the News.

This time last week I was coming to the end of a 2.5 hour mental health assessment (and Mum a 2 hour interview being held simultaneously with another clinician) which came fifteen, yes FIFTEEN YEARS after I was first referred by my GP.

Even back then, in 2008, my mental health had been a real problem for me for many years, culminating in a total breakdown on Boxing Day 2001 but, like many others hitting rock bottom, I woke the following morning, feeling that tiny bit better, so I got up and I carried on. Poor mental health had been a constant, in fact for as long as I could remember but, early in 2008, shortly after the very sudden death of my best friend, and the resulting, subsequent increase in an already high alcohol consumption, I went looking for help.

Even as recently as fifteen years ago, poor mental health was, in the eyes of most medical practitioners, simply a by-product of an unhealthy lifestyle.

Suffering from depression? So stop drinking.

Anxiety? How much do you smoke?

Yes, it is true to say that alcohol and tobacco aren’t good for you. Nothing controversial or surprising about that statement but this was no ‘chicken and egg’ situation for me. The issues were there long before I discovered ciggies and booze. They were simply an ‘off-switch’ for a few blissful evening hours.

But I knew something wasn’t right. In fact, many things weren’t right and smoking and drinking were just two of them and so I need to make clear that I’m writing this, not to excuse any previous behaviour or diminish responsibility in any way in the eyes of people that I’ve wronged in the past, but to at least try to explain to a certain extent that there was more going on than met the eye.

The majority of people suffering depression, anxiety, panic attacks etc can, sometimes with the aid of therapy, pinpoint a period of time or a specific traumatic event as the root cause and can therefore start work towards dealing with it or at least managing it moving forward. I never had that. My upbringing, my family and in particular my Mum and Dad were (and still are) nothing short of wonderful. I realise that you have to take my word that I’m not being overly biased towards them but I do have friends who will back me up on that so I have witnesses, if required. So my main question has always been, why? I can only try to deal with it if I know what it is. Ten years of antidepressants have given my thinking some much needed clarity but the big answer has never been forthcoming.

That is until last Wednesday, when, aged 48, I was diagnosed with autism.

It came as a surprise to me and I’m sure it will to most people who know me but for decades I have wanted an explanation and now I have it which, as soon as the news sinks in (it still hasn’t yet), will result in the biggest sigh of relief and, who knows, maybe even a little smile might break out. The making sense of all this will come in the days and weeks to come. There is a full written report to explain the diagnosis in more detail being compiled as we speak and should be with me and my doctor in a few weeks time but this, right now is where I’m at. Surprised, shocked, relieved, maybe even a bit happy.

I’m hoping to be able to use this platform again, moving forward, once I have more of the facts and the findings at my disposal.

Does this explain my crippling social anxiety, despite knowing that I’m a polite, funny and friendly guy even with the guards up and the brave face in full effect?

Does this also explain how on numerous occasions, especially in my younger (and fitter) days, when faced with the real prospect of a relationship with someone I completely adored, my first and, in most cases, only reaction was to run away very quickly? Similarly, would this also explain why the toxic relationships went on for too long?

Does this even explain that despite my speech being fine, I have a writing stutter (worse in certain letters, ‘M’ being the worst. Sod’s law with my name being Martin!) that my friend Kelly used to find particularly amusing?

I don’t blame Kelly for laughing at that. It is, like me, as it turns out, fucking mental!

But hey, normal is boring. x

https://music.apple.com/gb/album/getting-away-with-it-all-messed-up/1440723717?i=1440724560

Autistic and Overthinking – A Minute In The Life

6.30am

ALEXA! Alarm off.

Ok, here he comes. Robert Nesta Marley. Man, I love him, although with that middle name I really wish his surname was ‘Tables.’ Good to start the day with a happy, positive tune. Ok Bob, I’ll try not to worry about a thing. Good to know that every little thing’s going to be alright. Is it though? Hey, I woke up, that’s a pretty good start. Ok so we’re handing out kudos for performing natural bodily functions now are we? I’m going to be needing a piss in a minute. Am I getting a fucking medal for that too? Right breathe. Remember the old me? Didn’t drink again last night did you? Slept properly. No sitting up drunk at 3am saying hello to people on Messenger! Jesus, why bring that up? Breathe. What’s the weather like? Alexa just told me. Memory like a sieve. It’s 7 degrees and rainy. This is Wales, did I really need Alexa to tell me that? I’m not leaving the house today so what difference does it make? Wait. Is it Saturday? No. Tuesday. Nice try genius. Hey, work’s alright. And it’s only about 10 yards away! Lovely people too. Most of them anyway. Ian, Brian, Mike, Ivanna, Nia, Glenys, all wonderful and just a couple of clicks away. Who else? Kenny G! I wish our Ken played the saxophone. Or was it a clarinet? I can’t remember. Still can’t believe he’s Geraint’s cousin. Why? They’re both sound and come from the same town. I should be more surprised that more of us aren’t related. I am half Davies after all. Wow! Thinking about Geraint and now Grandad already. That didn’t take long. Yep, still miss them. Breathe. Ok Bob, what have you got for me? Rise up this morning and smile at the rising sun. Didn’t spend much time in West Wales did you Bobert? And if there are three little birds upon my doorstep they’re not singing sweet songs of melodies pure and true. They’ve been mauled and left to die by the neighbour’s cat.

🎵 “So I’ll worry, about everything, Cause every little thing, is a piece of shit (do do do dooo do do), Lie here this morning, Curse at the blackening clouds, Three little birds sat on my doorstep, Singing no songs, They’ve been mauled by the neighbour’s cat, Singing, This is my message to you-hoo-hoo”🎵

ALEXA! Music Off!

Shit! Now I need a new tune for tomorrow. Ok breathe. Where’s my phone? Oh right, I leave it in the other room now. Why is that again? Straight on it first thing is no good and you won’t get up. Not missing anything am I? Twitter? Guessing the planet’s still warming up, the Tories and that guy at work are still using public money to help their friends and family, the police are still a bunch of racists and Piers Morgan is still a wanker. Dog videos though. Come on. Aah dogs. The greatest creatures on Earth. Rescue dog? Would it solve everything? Probably not. Nice to have one round the house though. Jesus, I can barely look after myself. Hasn’t the poor bastard suffered enough? Don’t decide now. Just woken up. Should I exercise today? Fat, so yes! Don’t want to. No motivation. To look and feel better? For who? 48, single and barely ever see friends, never mind actually go out and socialise. And you know what happens when you do. Get panicky, scared, paranoid, so you drink quickly and heavily and make a twat of yourself. No more of that shit. Things have been fine since I ditched the wine. Bit of poetry there. Can’t go back now. No more falling over, no more stupid o’clock messages to Facebook friends. Should I apologise to them? That’s right, send a DM to someone to apologise for the first DM, idiot. But they probably think I’m a right weirdo. I was sad, drunk, lonely, a bit pathetic and completely lost but not a weirdo. Well a bit weird maybe but not one of those creepy ones. Finally having no self esteem is paying off as there are proper weirdos out there that DM with sex chat and photos of their bits. I would never dream of doing either of those things. Maybe not so bad after all. A bit stupid maybe but not bad. Just this once, give yourself some credit for not being a wanker. Ok breathe. What’s going on today? Ok. Kettle, piss, shirt, shorts, make coffee, spare room, 7am work, laptop, emails, coffee, brush teeth, can’t have a minty first coffee, work, exercise, shower, work, second coffee, take vitamins, work, lunch. Ooh what shall I have for lunch? Should I become vegan? What about cheese? Cheddar, Stilton, Brie. Oh my God, Brie! Definitely order Brie on my next shop. What about just veggie then? Bacon dude, bacon. Chicken? Mum’s steak pies? Holy shit. Tofu’s fine but those steak pies are something else. When did I last eat tofu? That vegan restaurant in Notting Hill with Alice? What was it called? The Pharmacy. Man, that place was nice. I love London. I should move there. Maybe I could keep my job now I work from home? Pharmacy. Have I got enough medication? Yes, breathe. What was I thinking about? Can’t have been important. Why must I have been thinking about anything? Because that’s what you do. That’s all you do. Just get up and figure it out from there. Christ, the birds are loud this morning. Apart from those three poor fuckers on my doorstep. Ok, made yourself laugh. Just don’t tell Dad I made a joke about dead birds, next time you see him. He loves birds. Not in a 1970s Benny Hill way. Actual feathered birds. I do too actually, all animals in fact. Apart from flies and big boy spiders. Getting better with them though. Catching them in a pint glass and chucking them out these days. See? You’re a better person than you give yourself credit for. So get up, pay some invoices, cost some roadworks. Fuck’s sake, really? Hey it pays for the house and food and stuff. Think about that when you’re ordering that Brie. Ok deep breath. Hey remember in Worthing when anxiety was so bad that I couldn’t take a deep breath? Scary. Look at you know with a full set of lungs! Feels good. Embrace the little victories.

6.31am

Fuck me, I’m tired.

Something’s Happened

3rd May 2023.

Like the title suggests, something happened today.

However, even as a 48 year old, and as someone who’s experienced his fair share of life’s ups and downs, I’m going to need a day or two to process this, but this blog starts here and will begin in earnest just as soon as I find the right words to proceed.

Are you intrigued? Well don’t worry, I am too but, if you happen across this first post then please feel free to start following, as there’s a lot to come.