Add Moron

This is a fox I painted, whose nose is too broad, making him look like a Corgi dog.  Still, I like the colours.

Struggling with feeling overwhelmed?  Can’t make a decision?  Too many choices?  Too much on your plate?  Fret not, I have the solution.  Add more on.  Yes, that’s right - do what I do, and add more to your plate of ever-expanding options.  Never mind that the more you add the less you find yourself able to choose or, ultimately, do anything at all.  Instead you’ll become catatonic with chaos, paralysed by perplexity, incapacitated by information overload.  Embrace it!  After all, variety is the spice of life (so they say).  

And look what fun you’ll have, spending oodles of hours (not to mention money, probably) accumulating all of this wealth of ‘stuff’, which will ultimately leave you poverty-stricken - poorer in mind, spirit, body, and bank balance.  But go on, I say, throw caution to the wind.  You only live once, so you don’t want to miss out on the opportunity to drown in all the wealth of choices life has to offer.

And now I would like to make an interjection, in order to clarify that I am, of course, being ironic.  Please do NOT do what I’ve just suggested.  On the contrary, my advice would be to ignore it completely (if you can).  My point is that this is what I do, and a fat lot of good it does me.  It appears to be my default mode - something to do with a fault in the wiring which leads me to confuse the words “more” with “less”, and “complicated” with “simple”.  Beyond that, I cannot explain the bizarre and perplexing nature of this particular ‘quirk’.

As a consequence of the undesirable results of this behaviour, I am now trying to make a change by doing the opposite - whilst, simultaneously, attempting not to do the other thing I do, which is to go to the polar opposite i.e. rather than lessening my options, ending up removing them completely, and deciding to become a minimalist, or go and live as a yogi on the top of a Tibetan mountain.  Ah, the vagaries of being a person of extremes, with no middle ground to speak of (never mind live in).

So here, hopefully for your edification (and my own amusement), are a few examples of where I have tried applying my version of simplification.

ART SUPPLIES:

Compared to a lot of the artists I’ve seen on YouTube, I don’t have an excessive amount of stuff.  However, for me what I did have felt overwhelming as it was (all the choices left me with barely enough time or energy for the painting itself).  So I came up with the stonking good idea for how to lessen the overwhelm - I gave myself more options.  Yes, I added more, and now I have double the overwhelming choice I had before.  Marvellous.

ART SOURCES:

And still on the subject of art, which is an endless source of overwhelm… I find most of my ideas for my paintings on-line (Pixabay is a good site); but, as with everything, I can’t just have one photo at a time to use, I have to look at and download more (despite the fact I already have a collection of photos for this purpose on my computer), thus adding to my woes when it comes to trying to decide what to paint.

BOOKS:

I couldn’t decide where to start with re-reading the books I already owned, so I decided I should try the minimalist route (having recently become obsessed with reading about the idea on the internet), and get rid of any books which weren’t my favourites, and wouldn’t be re-read.  Strangely, there was a major fault in the way my brain translated this instruction because, rather than getting rid of any of my books, I ended up buying more instead, and dramatically increasing my library.  I’m still quite baffled as to how this happened.

YOGA:

Do you know how many yoga mantras, meditation techniques, mudras, gurus/teachers, and schools of thought there are?  No, neither do I, but I’ve tried incorporating many of them, and then wondered why I don’t feel particularly serene.  It’s because I was too busy worrying about all of the other options I thought I was missing out on, and how in the name of Shiva’s socks I was going to fit them in.  I am happy (and relieved) to say that here, at least, I have managed somewhat to simplify my practice, mostly by giving up wandering about on the internet looking at yoga sites.  As you may have noticed, that’s the third time the internet has been implicated.  It has a lot to answer for.  Speaking of which…

THE INTERNET:

Yes, the very thing which is the source of too much information and too many choices is the first thing to which I head when I feel confused and overwhelmed by too much information and too many choices - thus adding to my ever-expanding pile of options, and my ever-increasing confusion as to what to choose.  And yes, I know it’s obvious what to do when it’s written down, but not when you’re in it: and not when you have an addiction to excessive (and inappropriate) internet use. *sigh*

BLOGGING:

And finally, I have even managed to complicate the process of blogging.  Not content with simply writing things and then posting them, I decided that they needed to be categorised, and also embellished with photos, the way I’ve seen other people do on theirs: you know, “proper, professional-style” blogs - the kind I can get distracted by for hours.  Copying again. *sigh*  I also imagined that it would inspire me to write more consistently for my blog, but it’s simply overwhelmed me, and now I can barely remember all the categories that I’ve implemented.  Plus, the purpose of my blog has become rather obfuscated in amongst all these supposed ‘simplifications’.

And there you have it - but a small selection of all of the opportunities available to me for making my life more complicated and overwhelming, to which I run at the drop of a hat.  Now I just have to learn to recognise when it’s happening (which is relatively easy to spot - it’s when I’m thinking about things, unattended by the guidance of God/a Higher Power; or another, sensible, human being who knows me well enough to recognise the signs), and then run in the opposite direction.  Screaming.  

The Declutter Bug

“The ability to simplify means to eliminate the unnecessary so that the necessary may speak.”    Hans Hoffman

“Keep It Simple”

I’ve been decluttering for the past week or so (I’ve kind of lost track of time, as I am wont to do when I get locked onto one of my little ‘projects’).  I say “been”, but the fact is I’m still in the midst of doing it, though it has calmed down to a trickle rather than the flood I had going on last week.  But, even though I had the physical evidence as proof of the extensive clear-out (a massive pile of bags, boxes, and random large items, all carted off to the charity shop), my home doesn’t look that much different.  In fact, if you were to see the state of it, you’d maybe wonder whether I was being delusional, and a tad optimistic: it looks more like I’ve been doing the opposite, what with the chaos that abounds, kind of like the aftermath of a mini tornado. 

So what has it taught me?  Well, apart from the obvious, which is that I hoard things (even though I hate doing it), my approach to the process of clearing out has been an illustration of certain of my ADHD, and autistic, traits running rampant.

Of course, I never meant for it to be - I had every intention of approaching it like a sensible, neurotypical person would, the way I’d read about it on the internet (of course I ‘had to’ go and read about it first, and then keep returning in order to re-motivate myself.  Nothing at all to do with getting distracted by being on the internet… not much).  It’s a wonder I actually managed to get anything decluttered at all.  And it’s why it has taken me so long - ‘cos I don’t really have that much stuff, nor that much space.  I live in a small, one-bedroomed flat.  But there we go.

So I started off in typical fashion - not accepting that, as someone with ADHD and autism, reading about something that is actually very simple was a bad idea, especially given that it was being espoused by a lot of non-autistics/ADHDers; only to find myself, once again, comparing myself to them, and using them as my template.  

And I discovered that, for something so simple, there were a lot of variations, and an enormous amount of blogs/sites out there dedicated to the art of decluttering/living simply/minimalism.  I guess when you’re making a living out of it you’d have to stretch it out, otherwise you’d have nothing to write about on your blog (or in your book/s).  It’s kind of ironic that we apparently need a book, or a blog, full of instructions on how to live simply.  But hey, I’m dumb (and willing enough) to buy the idea.

Of course, when I set out I didn’t really make a decision at all.  I just sort of fell into it, with the desire/need to empty out and get rid of a set of drawers, which I duly did: and then it simply escalated - as these things have a tendency to do with me.  I kept making vague murmurings about needing to slow down, focus on one bit at a time, and not move onto another area until I’d completed that.  But, in true ADHD fashion, I ended up starting in one place, becoming overwhelmed, being distracted by thoughts about what needed doing elsewhere, losing interest in what I was doing, and abandoning it to go start somewhere else, ad infinitum…  

Hence I’m now sitting in a flat in a state of semi-completion, with smaller piles of unsorted clutter in each room - but, still, piles all the same.  I’m beginning to think I might be allergic to order and tidiness, because I never quite get there (‘there’, I think, being a kind of utopian state where everything has a place, and it’s always in its place).  Or I do, but it only lasts for about sixty seconds.  Or I get one bit, or most of it, done, but never quite finish it (I have a problem finishing things in general - and starting them.  But I’m okay with the bit in the middle).  

It’s as if I see the finish line, where the spectre of neatness stretches out in front of me like an endless desert (a bit like an extreme minimalist’s home), and then I seemingly panic and baulk at running through the tape.  I don’t know whether my mind subconsciously worries about what I’m going to do if I haven’t got anything to distract me, and so basically sabotages it all; or whether it’s as simple as me needing to accept that I’m a bit of an untidy person, that it’s a character trait of mine, but as long as I don’t end up hoarding, and let it get overwhelming, it’s okay.  It’s not life-threatening (I’m not going to die from chronic untidiness), and it doesn’t make me a ‘bad’ person.

I’ve been chasing after the illusion of wanting to be a neat person for years, and so far it’s eluded me.  That’s a lot of years.  Perhaps if I stopped chasing it, my own version of order and tidiness might come to me.  After all, there isn’t only one way to be ordered - there are those people who find order in chaos, or enjoy creating order from chaos - perhaps I’m one of those, and I should stop trying to obliterate what might be an essential part of my personality.

When I was on my web-trawl (doing my ‘research’ on decluttering) I saw a photo of Steve Jobs’ office, and it could only be described as looking rather messy and chaotic - and yet he created, and managed, Apple.  Obviously to him his ‘chaos’ was inspiring rather than distracting, and he looked to create order and simplicity in the computers he built, rather than in his environment.  Just think if he’d done what I do, and spent his time worrying about the fact that his room was untidy, and how to go about decluttering it - his Apple tree would still be a sapling, and never have grown enough to bear fruit.  

“To each their own”, as they say.  Now, if I could only stop trying to follow everyone else’s…

Art Failure!

Oh dear, I’ve discovered something which gives me a justifiable reason for hoarding rubbish – it’s called ART! More precisely, it’s crafts. And, to be even more specific, at the moment it’s actually papier mache. Prior to this it was decoupage – I was going to decoupage everything in sight: I still might do so once this obsession has worn off. In fact I can even combine the two things and decoupage my papier mached creations – how great is that?! Well, it would be if I could ever take the plunge and make a start on the bloody thing!

I love making things, but what I seem to love even more is collecting stuff with which to be creative, and obsessively thinking and reading about the activity. I’ve already come up with half a dozen ideas for what to make with this particular craft form, not to mention having rescued numerous materials which would normally get thrown in the recycling bin. I’ve even bought the additional necessary items required to get going (the flour for making the paste, and balloons for the first easy project). All this, plus having deluged myself with research on-line about how to make paste, how to make pulp (how many different recipes for making the same paste and pulp does one person need?!), what techniques to use, and numerous inspirational guidelines for what to make. Noah’s flood was a light shower compared to this!

And yet I continue to look and, in the process, manage to avoid taking the BIG LEAP of having a go myself. It also has the contrary effect of dampening my enthusiasm for the whole idea, as it starts to get more and more complicated - whose advice is the best?; which instructions should I follow?; how am I ever going to be able to make anything like the things I’ve seen created by other people on some of these sites?; what if it doesn’t work?; should I even bother?!

Ah yes, it’s the Cycle Of Doom! It’s the way I approach everything new (and not-so-new) in life, especially when it’s something that’s meant to be enjoyable. It seems to go like this:-

 First we have a spark (or conflagration!) of interest in a new idea or activity;

 Then the fire gets fuelled by plenty of petrol (meaning I start thinking, reading, talking, and dreaming about it all the time – commonly known as obsessing!);

 I “plan” to do it (this is my version of a plan, which means a kind of vague wandering in my mind going over the instructions again and again, and, if required for chosen activity, start buying or hoarding things for it – one of my favourite parts of the whole process!);

 And then I procrastinate about making a start, as I worry about how and where to begin, what the end result will be like, whether I can actually do it, whether I’ve understood the instructions properly, what a waste of materials it will be if I get it wrong, what will I do with it if I get it right, where will I house all my creative efforts (having, as I do, very little space to spare, and visualising being snowed under in an avalanche of solidified paper!), what will I do instead of this if I discover that I either don’t enjoy it or am useless at it, and what will I do for my next project if I ever get this one finished! As you may have noticed from my list of worries there’s no logical progression from one to another, and they generally all descend on me together – it’s like being mugged by a bunch of dufflepuds! (For amplification please read ‘The Voyage Of The Dawntreader’ by C S Lewis.);

 By this time I’m almost in a state of meltdown, my whole happiness has become dependent upon the success (or otherwise) of my ability to make a bowl out of a few bits of newspaper stuck onto a balloon: everything else in the world has paled into insignificance, to the point that if I don’t manage to prevail then all the meaning to my life will be lost and, basically, there will remain no reason to go on.
You think I jest? You think I exaggerate? If you’re non-autistic you probably do: if you’re autistic you’ll likely know what I’m talking about and know that I don’t, that it’s no laughing matter .... at least, not while it’s happening!;

 Then finally, after reaching a crescendo of anticipatory dread and anxiety (with, if I’m lucky, possibly a smidgeon of excitement lurking guiltily in the background!), the magic moment materialises and I take the plunge. Well, actually, it’s more like dipping a toe timorously in the water, in case something hideous is hiding ready to leap out and get me – like, perhaps, an unforeseen bout of enthusiasm!

So, there’s the Cycle: and here’s the really thrilling thing – I get to go through it with every single project I undertake! Yes, every time I come to the end of making one article I have the great good fortune to have to endure the exact same process, with no omissions, for the next creation. There’s no “once you’ve taken the plunge the first time, the next will be easier” for me. No: I’m always wary of sticking my toe in the water, even when it’s the same water and I’ve been keeping a check on it to make sure that no-one changes it or introduces something untoward during a moment when I might have been off my guard – people are like that, you know, always wanting to tweak things!


BREAKING NEWS!!! AUTISTIC WOMAN TAKES PLUNGE INTO PAPIER MACHE!!!

Not literally, of course, but yes I have made a start and, in the attempt, braved the Cycle of Doom 2 – The Revenge! Yes, this is where, having survived the first, I’m hit by the Second Wave of Doom – very similar to the original, with just slight modifications to take into account the fact that I’m now doing, rather than just thinking about doing, whichever activity it is that I’m trying to avoid!

I’ve also discovered that I can’t blow up a balloon! Seriously: I have seemingly forgotten how to do it. The instructions, simple as they are, just don’t compute. I know I used to be able to do it, but it seems that, as with all things connected with being an Asperger, if I don’t keep up a consistent practise then, for some bizarre reason, I forget how to do it (I swear I’d forget how to breathe properly if I didn’t have to think about it for yoga!). And since balloon-blowing hasn’t played much part in my life, not really being a necessary skill for living (unless you have children, are one of those balloon artists who make strange shapes out of them for a living, or do papier bloody mache!), the technique has deserted me. Which is a bit of a bugger considering that it now appears to be a requisite for my newly-acquired interest in the paper mashing arts. I’ll just have to buy a balloon pump – it’s either that or go around asking people if they can blow up a balloon for me; and then I’d have to explain to them that I don’t mean that I want them to use an explosive to blast the thing to smithereens – just in case they’re literal too!

So I’ve ended up having to use a bowl to make, of all things, a bowl! And I’ve also ended up having to dispense with most of the ‘rubbish’ that I’d managed to accumulate in the space of a week because it turns out to be not very useful. This should come as no surprise, really, as I also have an innate ability for being incapable of knowing what’s important and what isn’t, which translates as being able to dispense with what matters whilst holding on like a limpet to what doesn’t! So I think that, in an attempt to copy the Egyptians, I shall have all of my most treasured worldly goods buried with me to take into the afterlife – which means that I’ll be surrounded by papier mache sculptures and, rather than bury me, someone will just need to strike a match and I’ll go up in flames. Performance art!

Attachments

What is it with aspergers and things? Why do I get so attached to stuff, and end up hoarding? And, let’s face it, some of the stuff is useless, and cannot be classed as having sentimental value, or any other kind! And yet I still do it.

I didn’t realise that I did it until fairly recently. I thought that I was rather good at clearing stuff out, and keeping my home clear of useless clutter. I hate clutter, and chaos, and yet it seems to regularly follow me around, and I’m always amazed when it happens! I don’t mean to do it!

I have learned to override my instinct to hoard, and throw things away, otherwise I would now be living with piles of boxes, not to mention carrier bags, glass jars, papers, clothes, and just general miscellaneous bits and pieces for which I can find no use, but am loathe to throw away “just in case ...” Just in case of what? That there might be a sudden world shortage of cardboard boxes exactly when I really need them? Or, perhaps, all the carrier bags in the world suddenly become an extinct species?!!

I had a clear-out the other week and discovered, to my complete surprise, that the “few carrier bags, glass jars, and boxes” I keep, to be re-used and recycled, had somehow multiplied when I wasn’t looking: it was like they’d mated and had off-spring! I decided to throw most of them away, with the helpful guidance of my NT friend who told me what was a reasonable amount of carriers to keep, and talked me through whether I really needed the boxes and the jars (the answer was no!)

And then came the hard part – actually discarding them! It was like pulling teeth, or losing an arm: “Couldn’t I just keep these three jars that are really nice to look at, and which I’ve had for ten years, but not actually used, but if I try hard I’m sure I can find a use for them now that there’s the threat of having to get rid of them, PLEASE?!!” “And I really like this particular carrier bag, and that one, and that one is useful for heavy stuff, even though they’ve all been stuffed in this bag with the rest and forgotten about, and never used either, OH PLEEAAAASE?!” And the boxes: “I might move ... in a year or ten! Or the thing that came in the box might break down, and then how do I send it back? Okay, so most of them are for things that are now no longer under warranty, but they could be really useful ... Oh, okay, I’m just stalling for time!”

It’s weird, isn’t it, how attached to things we get? And try explaining that to a neuro-typical. Hell, try explaining it to yourself!! I’ve used the good old stand-by of it being because things, unlike people, can be depended upon: funnily enough I’ve had two computers conk out on me, not to mention hi-fis giving up the ghost, washing machines dying, lawn-mowers fizzling to a halt, etc,etc. And that’s just the major appliances! But the idea that they don’t require any emotional attachment from me is quite bonkers considering that that’s exactly what I do end up becoming – emotionally attached! And that’s even to the bloody carrier bags!

It’s worse when the thing I’m trying to let go of is something that has been of real use and value to me, but has now come to the end of its life – for that I feel almost as if I am abandoning a faithful old companion! I bought myself a new yoga mat a few weeks ago. I’ve had my old one for nearly seven years and I desperately needed a new one. I was very excited to get the new one. However, I am attached to the old one and was loathe to just throw it away in the dustbin: it just seemed so callous! If it were possible I would probably have a burial ground for all the things that I have to get rid of, and give a funeral service!

So anyway I put it away, with the idea that perhaps it might come in handy for something: I could use it for when I travel (er, “when?” being the operative word!) so that I don’t lose or spoil the new one. I told my friend. She told me I was hoarding again, and to throw it away. I dithered, but in the end I did it. I know she’s right, and I really don’t want to live in a house full of clutter so I know I have to keep on throwing things away when they are of no use, despite what my strange mad asperger’s voice tells me, and despite the peculiar feeling of loss I experience every time I have to get rid of something.

So basically I have come to the conclusion that I don’t know why I do it, I just have to accept that I do. And then I have to decide whether I want to keep on doing it, and risk being pushed out of my own home by piles of rubbish accumulating, or to change the behaviour. One thing I do think is part of it is that I have great difficulty in distinguishing between what is and isn’t important or of value, and so I have the fear that if I get rid of something it will turn out to be the very thing that I needed at some point in the future. In order to curtail this possible eventuality I then just want to keep everything. Fortunately I have been blessed with a friend who helps me with this stuff so I don’t have to struggle with making those kinds of decisions by myself. But even this does not explain the weird emotional attachment business, and perhaps nothing ever will. As the French might say, “C’est l’aspergers!”