Sometimes I have a good laugh at myself, like when I think back to the other day, (actually it was several days in a row), when I told myself I didn’t need to verbally process anymore; that after 240 days of blogging, I was good to go; that everything had been cleared and cleaned out of my head.

I actually believed I was no longer troubled with thoughts and logical reasoning and cluttered ideas and inspiration and nonstop jibber-jabber of the brain. I was a housewife, a mother, a cleaner of all things grime and cooker of all things organic. I wasn’t this complex person requiring repetitive time of deep processing.

HA! I shout HA!

I actually thought I am entirely NT (neurotypical) and I’ve created all this Asperger’s mumbo-jumbo in my head. I actually thought and thought and thought…until I realized I was thinking an awful lot! So much so, that I likely had Aspergers.

And I got all twisted in my thoughts, again analyzing that perhaps I was trying on the persona of an Asperger’s person for size, actually inhaling and emulating Asperger’s traits because I needed an identity to function in life. That in truth, I was perfecting said Aspergers, as Aspergers was my new inspirational role.

Yes, I’d garbed the facade of an Aspie woman to the state of complete life-like amazement.

And if this be true, if in fact I was a woman convincing herself she had Aspergers, so she knew who to be and how to act (role) in order to function, was that insanity?

And what is insane? And who isn’t insane? Or more so, who is sane?

Then, after hamping (think of my thoughts as a mad, bad ass hamster on a wheel), I concluded, like I have done more than a trillion-dozen times throughout this blogging endeavor, that if indeed I was once again taking on the persona of Aspergers to feel safe in the world, as I need a role to feel safe, then indeed I had Aspergers. Brain Pain!

Hmmmmmm.

So last night, I’m thinking, at the late hour of eleven o’clock as I’m watching reruns of the show Glee, and getting all tingly like I get when I hear good music, that I ought not have coffee after the noon hour because then I can’t sleep and my thoughts speed up like Sheldon on The Big Bang Theory.

Then I’m thinking, I relate way too much to characters on television, and how much more superb and brainiac-ish if I related to characters in books. But I don’t. So I’m stuck as a character on television.

So as I’m processing, basically alone, as the rest of the household is sound asleep, including Spastic Colon, aka: my labradoodle Violet, I’m starting to get stomach pangs of growing anxiety, dread, and fear. I’m telling myself it’s the dang coffee, as well as my binge into the wheat-zone. (I try to avoid gluten as it increases thoughts of impending doom….like dying of toe fungus or a nose pimple).

I keep reassuring myself all is okay. That much of what I’m experiencing is bio-chemical, while cursing to the star-fairies: Why do I have to be so fricken sensitive to everything on this planet! But the reassuring (and cursing) isn’t working, because the episode of Glee happens to be about the adorable school counselor having OCD and taking  medication to ease her symptoms.

And I get so tangled up on tiny-amounts-of-anger when I hear the overdone generic fallback, over used by psychiatrists (when speaking of medication) for over a decade now, that hums to the tune of: “If you had diabetes, you’d need insulin. This is no different.” And in my mind, I’m screaming, “Dang straight it’s different. Diabetes is proven and shown on blood tests. It’s in black and white. Plain as day. Mental challenges (issues, trouble, illness, etc.) are not that black and white. It’s not so simple!

And that got me thinking, do I need medication? My husband would shout an adamant NO, as the last time, some six years ago, I was on low dose anti-depressant I ended up with suicidal thoughts. My natural path doctor would concur, and advice continuing my strict diet of healthy eating and supplements/herbs.  But beyond that, what would other professionals think? And what are the professionals’ experiences? And how do they know what’s best for me? And who knows what’s best for me anyhow……  And all these thoughts spun off a minute-long section of a comedy/singing/drama show I’m watching on the boob-tube.

At this point I’m exhausted, but too awake to sleep.

Next came the wave of panic that ensued after I opened an envelope—an envelope from the university I attended for one semester when I was stuck on working towards a second master’s degree; until I was humiliated and discriminated against by the professor(s), and high-tailed it out of the university on my own therapist’s advice, and my inability to stop my crying and my trembling-fear of returning.

Months later, in reflection, I realized, if the terror at the college hadn’t occurred, likely this blog would not exist….so alas, I understand.

The panic I felt upon opening the envelope was energy related to the university.  The university had sent me another bill; a bill that is likely a mistake on their part; which means, once again, I’ll have to play phone tag to try to clear up the financial issue. And this sets me into coffee-plus-wheat induced terror state.

Impending thoughts:

1) What if they are right and I owe that money?

2) What if they are wrong but don’t figure it out and it goes to a collection agency and their error ruins my credit?

3) Boy was I rude when I left that message on the phone to the finance department tonight. Is it okay to get mad? I rarely get mad? What type of example am I setting? That’s not me. Should I apologize when they call? Why should I apologize? Everyone gets mad once in a while. His Holiness the Dalai Lama even says so.

4) The last time they said I owed thousands of dollars, I took them on their word and wrote a check, and then they sent the same amount back to me. What is their problem.

5) Wow, I still have lots of unresolved issues around the university. Maybe I should have sued them. No. That’s not right. That doesn’t feel right. I wonder how much money I might have gotten. Hmmmm?

6) Why is this bugging me so much? I have Aspergers, so the envelope was unexpected…surprise equals panic and fear. Answer: Unresolved financial matters makes me nervous. It is hard to relax until the situation is resolved. I  feel wrongly misjudged and like I did something bad when I haven’t done anything wrong. I am looping on the word “Collection Agency” if not paid by October 21,2012. How could I pay that fast when I just got the envelope?

And now my brain spins on numbers. Months. Days of the week. And back to the money numbers. Round and round with digits and doubts.

7) Deep breaths. Maybe I do need to still verbally process through writing. Maybe.