Worrying

I worry about a lot of things, not at the level of Monk and being afraid of milk, but still a lot of things. When I got out to the cinema by myself I worry from before I even step outside to the exact moment I get back. I worry about the chance of people making conversation, friendly or not, about marauding bands of teenagers, about random and unlikely things going wrong, about losing or forgetting something. Which is impossible given that I check that I have everything about every thirty seconds, I know other people find that really annoying, to go through checking and rechecking before I leave the house and then they find that it doesn’t stop when I leave either, Because I do the same whether someone is with me or not, I should be less afraid when someone is there, but it doesn’t stop me rechecking everything.

It seems that I spend more time worrying about things than I actually spend doing things. Take friendship for example. I actually spend very little time with the people I consider to be my friends, I could spend more time with one of them, but I don’t. I don’t mind that the bulk of our interactions is e-mail based, I’m happy with only having actual face to face real-life social time once a month or so. What I’m not happy with is that the rest of the time is spent worrying about what I’ve said or written, if someone doesn’t directly answer something I think is important in an e-mail, or they take a few days to reply, I automatically conclude that something is wrong, that I’ve said or done something wrong. And when more than one person fails to reply to you in what I think is a timely manner, I start getting a little paranoid about it and thoughts of a conspiracy creep into my mind, which of course I know is patently absurd but telling myself that, time and time again does not stop such thoughts from occurring.

People know I worry a lot, they know I misread things, that I sometimes I miss what’s between the lines and other times, I see things that aren’t really there. But they forget, I know people have lives of their own and important things to remember, they can’t remember every little quirk of mine. I consider it unforgivable however when it comes from a fellow spectrumer. I thought that was the point of being friends, that we know and take into account each other’s quirks and issues, because we both know what it’s like when people don’t do that.

Other than worrying about social mistakes, the other thing very much on my mind at the moment is sleep. At the same time I’ve getting too much sleep but not enough. Sometimes you sleep for twelve hours and when you wake up, you feel like you may as well not have done so. I’ve gone from on extreme to the other, from sleeping too much to too little. I’m sure that only seven hours sleep after being awake for approximately 24 hours is not enough, but my mind is awake and says otherwise. And if you’re awake, you may as well get something done, like make more Jogi videos, this time from the Poland and the Ireland games.

Random thought on sleep and dreams, when I only sleep for about six or seven hours, I either don’t dream or don’t remember them, and I wake up feeling somewhat refreshed instead of feeling hungover like I usually do. When I sleep for between eight and ten hours, I do dream and remember them, but I wake up feeling terrible. I wonder if dreams are worth having, is it better not to have them? Usually cool stuff happens in my dreams that will probably never happen in real life, things like having a conversation with Jürgen Klopp whilst watching Joachim Löw play football (an actual dream from two or three nights ago).  Sometimes it seems like dreams are more important then real life, like I can’t wait to go to sleep so I can see what will happen, like the dreams are reality and reality just dreams.

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