I am guilty of gluttony, and I don’t mean that double-scoop mint ice cream on a sugar cone, followed by cheesecake and chocolate bits.
Gluttony has changed meanings from its original origins. At its roots, gluttony was referred to as self-punishing, self-pity, and self-affliction associated with the act of harming oneself in hopes of making amends to a higher power, most prominently represented as the remorseful priest whipping his back in a brutal attempt to make amends to God. It was viewed as a sin because even as the action is perceived as a sacrifice and admission of wrongs to God, it is in actuality the highest from of ego-based self-focus. It sets one’s agony above everything else, and the person becomes the focus not God.
As an Aspie, I am gluttonous as I whip myself mentally, damaging my self-esteem whilst under the guise of ‘wanting to be better.’
I think many Aspies are glutton for punishment, not because we desire to be but because our brains are instinctually wired to over-analyze, pick apart, and find inherent flaws. Typically, and ideally, we would be suited best for work as engineers or solvers of planetary problems; yet, most of us don’t have something to occupy our minds continually that is directly related to problem solving for a company or the whole of the world. In actuality, most of us experience several hours of the day, if not more, in isolation, trapped in our thoughts revolving around problem solving that doesn’t do anyone any good.
My thinking is: when we don’t have a BIGGER solution to solve, we set about to solve ourselves or someone else.
My trouble starts when I focus on someone else and what he has said or done or when I focus on myself and what I have said or done, or a combination of the aforementioned (aka Double-Whammy).
Because my mind is a vast endless landscape—think bland canvas upon blank canvas in repetitive mirrors beckoning to be painted—I can create havoc if I focus on an individual, especially if that someone is out of sight. In my case, out of sight does not mean out of mind. In my case, out of sight means trapped inside the hamster wheel of my mind: looping.
My gluttony, (self-affliction/whipping the mind), happens when I set about to focus on someone else but I can’t find answers about someone else, I can’t find a solution, and/or I can’t reach an endpoint. Given the obvious fact that people are not stagnant beings, and are creatures constantly changing in emotions, outlook, opinions, and behaviors, (not to mention biologically, aka cells shedding, blood pumping, microorganisms, etc.), the quest to reach an end conclusion with any particular person is a ridiculous rendering to begin with. Even if an accurate, or semi-close-to-accurate conclusion about someone or self is reached by said Aspie, the answer will not stick. It’s an impossibility to know an outcome of anyone because we change. Unless the person happens to drop dead right at the moment of discovery and all conclusions are said and done. Morbid, but true, and the only likely scenario in which my over-thinking and resulting theorizing might feasibly match a singular moment in someone’s life. People aren’t objects. They aren’t things. They aren’t puzzles to be solved, but somehow my brain thinks they are.
I feel like a tracking device set down on earth that narrows in on some subject and then dissects and gathers information, and then takes the data and internalizes it and digests it and then attempts to reach conclusions, without noting that the subject at hand is both impossible to understand in completion and that I am not a robot or machine. I forget that. I truly forget that I can’t reach a conclusion with people which will lead to a predictable outcome. I mean, like rolling dice, there is always that chance that my choice will match what’s in front of me; but even then, eventually the dice will be rolled again. I can’t seem to get this fact to compute though: that no amount of thinking, and re-thinking, and re-working will relieve my crushing anxiety and solve the problem.
And that’s at the core of it all: Anxiety.
And I don’t know what comes first—the anxiety (generalized anxiety disorder) or the perceived problem. I know that my body is predisposition to respond to stress in a fight or flight manner (as a result of Post Traumatic Stress, and as a result of the way I am genetically structured with a joint mobility syndrome that affects my autonomic functioning). So at times it is the anxiety that comes first, like trigger-chemicals that put my body on high-alert, and then from there I search for the actual problem. I get scared first, and then I try to figure out why. It’s a fact-seeking mission. Danger! Danger! Will Robinson. I am the robot on high alert; I am Will; and I am Danger. That’s the way it goes.
From there, whether it is an actual trigger that comes first—aka something someone said or did, a thought, a symbol, image, etc.—or my body’s biochemical makeup (fight or flight), I dive bomb into an oblivious state of confusion. I become a master puzzle solver, a master puppeteer of self, too, as I set about to dig myself out of where I have been buried. On alert, I feel walloped, cornered, and frightened, and I set out to search for answers, with my little stick with the bundle at the end, a hobo with her knapsack thinking the travel will bring me to some destination that spells RELIEF. But the truth is, I ought not set out. I shouldn’t. I should just set up camp and stay where I am. I shouldn’t just tramp or jump train. But I do. I do. I do.
I become lost then, on an endless destination, wanting to forge through the muck of data—some thick ivy-laden forest—to reach the other side in order to feel relief. I want nothing else but to end the anxiety. And my mind thinks if I think enough I will end the anxiety. It thinks: I got this. It says: Let me take over. It shouts: Just rethink it one more time! And I go round in this circle, nonstop, grabbing onto any semblance of information, any speck of hope for absolution. I just want to stop the pain inside of me, this nervous panicky feeling that resembles being abandoned, kicked out of my only home, and left naked on the floor of a monster’s adobe, all at once. I want to run and run through my mind’s files to find the answer, to bring anecdote, relief. Only I can’t. I can’t!
And still I find myself doing this—tramping, train, forest, file-finding—whatever. Just moving and moving and forging and forging. I get so tangled up in thought that the immobility sets in, and from there any tiny task seems impossible. Forget doing the dishes or leaving the house, the prospect of bending over and retrieving a piece of rubbish from the carpet seems as difficult as climbing Mt. Everest. I can’t bend. I can’t move. I can’t function. I shutdown, literally, like a computer on overload, overheated, and with her memory overstocked.
That’s it. I am done for. And from there I start to wonder what is wrong with me. I begin to brutally beat myself up. The whipping begins. It’s not so much: WHY can’t I solve this. It’s more so: WHY am I trying to solve this? WHY can’t I shut off my mind. WHAT is wrong with me. I AM flawed. I AM wrong. I NEED help. And there is NO ONE that can help me. The whipping continues on from there. I am good for nothing. How can I go on like this? How do I turn off my brain? And then the really redundant thoughts set in, that most humans suffer through, the ones based on childhood trauma and drama, all the negative messages we collective like to lick at like old wounds that won’t heal. I become that dog—lick lick lick—needing a cone over and about my head so something can save me from hurting me. But there’s no cone. Just me and my brain, my glorious brain.
Everything eventually leads to gluttony. Unless something stops me midstream, like an unexpected event or calling, something that catches my eye or heart, then I am okay, leaped out of the cyclic pain by a momentary distraction. The only thing is that my monster mind is still lurking in the background, that part of me that likes to munch at data and delete any sign of sanity.
I have yet to find a way to make any of this stop. Sure, I am getting closer as I delve into deeper and deeper analysis, bringing along a fleet of fellow Aspies with me that nod their heads and delirious gorgeous hearts in recognition. But it seems the deeper I dig the more grand the journey becomes—like opening up a jar and finding a universe inside. I just can’t seem to get to the end of me. And then I remember it’s my mind again, taking what it perceives as solvable and spinning the endless webs into oblivion.
12 thoughts on “512: The Whipping Girl”
I am going to be reading this again but for now my thought was it had to be exhausting to write this ,,,,, to pour out your soul on paper! If people had any idea of what was really going on in our minds I’m sure they would be afraid to say anything to us at all. I don’t think I am going to say anymore right until I have time to reread this and think about it some more. Thanks for sharing.
sometimes.. but mostly the posts renew me and clear my head and make me feel less alone. This came out of me in about 30 minutes. Just kind of pours out. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment. Yes, it is exhausting existing with my mind. Much love.
Do you think life as an Aspie can cause PTSD?
I think that it certainly makes us more prone to PTSD. We are generally more sensitive and that includes sensitivity to change. Sudden change, beyond my control and explanation, can cause me to suffer depression, confusion, anxiety, OCD and PTSD.
like opening up a jar and finding a universe inside! how I love that. Amazing is what you are. I have just woken from a complex and upsetting dream so will have to re read all this! Incidentally I am on a course of Fluoxetine and am finding a lot of relief. I do still think a lot but it seems the the thoughts turn back from the door to anxiety and pick up another thought and repeat………never reaching the depth……..I was getting so tired.
Sam, you have just described the way I have spent the last three days…the way it starts…the way it progresses…the way it leads to immobility and how it finally and inavitably leads to the state of cluttony, the beating up of Self 😦
I know for a fact that it would help and relieve me to share those thoughts with a like-minded aspie woman at the very time they occure. I spin and spin and eventually fall from grace due to the fact that I find no acknowledgment. Yes, it is ‘overthinking’, but it is never wrong thinking. Like you said, the ways of our minds would be useful enough to solve the most pressing global issues, and it is just as useful for analysis of people, conversations, events etc., as this serves AWARENESS. Only there is no validation for the seeking or spreading of awareness, as in the neurotypical perception of the world this isn’t the done thing. AWARENESS is not required by most as awarenessas requires a readiness to receive the truth in a state of humbleness. Awareness would naturally be followed by a transformation and responsibility of Self. We go crazy taking ALL the responsibility for our own actions/thoughts as well of the actions/thoughts of others as this is not yet the done thing in this world. The beating up of the Self occurs out of fear and anxiety…as we stand alone…bonding with the neurotypical ways of the world would require a betrayal of our Self and that is simply not an aspie option. But it is very lonely and terrifying to stand alone. We are trailbalzers…but human after all. Trailblazers with human needs for acknowledgement, bonding, sharing, sheltering, nurturing, love. Is it any wonder we suffer perpetual anxiety?
I totally agree with you. I’ve thought this forever and a day, and remember even putting it on a form in school when we had to let the ‘career counselor’ (they don’t counsel so what’s that about?!) know what sort of career ambitions we had: “Providing the solutions to world decisions/problems”. I was told the session wasn’t a joke and to put something sensible.
My ongoing frustration with life is the complete inability – disinterest? – of NTs to be aware, to be responsible for their actions, to see that every action they take is a ripple in the ocean that stretches around the world, and that ripples hit other people’s ripples and so on and so forth. It’s just simple logic isn’t it? Why do they insist in walking around with their eyes closed and have then have the tenacity to call us weird? I really really don’t get it. We must be geniuses all of us, trailblazers as you say, because all the greats are misunderstood and shunned in their own time.
Sabine, you put that beautifully. The immobility is a killer, just moving is like climbing a mountain.
Carol, I usually am immobile as long as it takes to process all life’s input. I cry alot and call it ‘adjusting my water levels’ ;). It takes as long as it takes but finding acceptance and understanding of my own process can spead up recovery…and than I’m ready for new input. Thirsty for the truth.