Weighing Reality and Hope (Aspergers)

At times, it gets too much. It’s lonely and boring and dull. It’s me and the TV after work. I can vary what I eat and what I watch, but mainly it’s me on the sofa and the TV. I have early bedtimes. I wind down and I sleep. I get up, follow my routine and then go to work.

Maybe that’s all I can handle. I don’t particularly want to go out, I don’t particularly want to see anyone. My weekends have the kids. I like that and I’m focused on them. Then it’s back to the week and me, myself and I.

Maybe I don’t need excitement or change or different. Just float along, get older, have the routine. Stick with it.

I’m trying to avoid accepting a decision. Accepting that ‘it is what it is’

Me and the TV. Push away the other thoughts. Accept it.

I’m 45. Not young, Not old. But, what does that mean? What should I expect? Another 25 Years? Longer? – is there something to strive for or to believe in or to think that my life can change significantly. I could push it and look for more and think ‘I want to be happy!’ – but what if maybe I am already?

The blog, the twitter, reading articles online. Building a Lego kit now and again. The odd Instagram photo. What’s coming soon on Netflix. The tips from others on what’s good. Day to day at work. A message from my daughter. A text message here and there.

Maybe, I read some more philosophy. Maybe, I look at the graphic novels publishing list. Maybe, I see the rail forum or the train and bus magazines. Think about the paintwork, think about the bathroom. Read the bills again, look at the online banking.

I’ve had a life. I’ve tried in the – what I know now is a – neurotypical world, I’ve pushed myself at 100%, their 120%. I’ve had ‘friends’, I’ve tried and I’ve been there and done that. I like my once a month meal somewhere different, I like eating out with my daughter and going to the bookshop. I like my random chats with my youngest and the mad friendly welcome from the dog.

Maybe, I accept that I’m fortunate, that I’ve got where I am and it’s good to get there and yeah, this can be better or that could improve, but I basically stop myself from pushing and railing at it all. Be content. Try to be wise and good and kind. I don’t need someone else to do that and there’s validation enough and it’s okay to be separated and alone.

I think I’ve always had the ‘romantic dream’ of miss right ‘rescuing me’, probably delusional, based on tv and film and that thought that ‘one day it’ll be me’. Maybe I met her and never knew it, maybe she walked past me, maybe she never existed. It’s a pleasant day dream or illusion as much as being a god fearing good man or to always be a gentleman.

I’ve read about involuntary celibacy and I’ve sort of questioned it. Firstly, I choose to do what I do. I might meet a woman by going drinking on my own, I might not. Social skills set deficit after all.

Obviously, if you go out on a Friday or a Saturday night drinking in places the opposite sex are, then it’s more likely. I suppose I choose not to.

That’s my voluntary choice and it reduces the likelihood of any chance encounter.

I don’t do evening classes or other activities, I don’t sit in a coffee shop for hours on end, I don’t go hillwalking or running or any of that sort of thing, again my choice and my circumstances.

Obviously the more human contact, the greater the possibility or chance. It’s odds, I suppose, you gamble a bit, you may be lucky, you may not. If you don’t play the game at all, then you’re unlikely to win.

So, therefore, I can’t bemoan being ‘involuntary celibate’. I can say I don’t go out much and I can say that I lack the practice in interaction with anyone new and that yes, I’d find it awkward and strange and a bit scary too.

Now, the question, is balance. Accept what you are and what you have or stretch out life seeking something or someone that maybe isn’t there.

There might be an equivalent woman around my age and with my interests, that’s got her own commitments, life and work and maybe feels about the tv and sofa thing as I do. She might not even be on this island. A needle in a haystack, a pin in a box of other pins. What might be out there is out there.

It’s a ‘might’ or a ‘maybe’ or a ‘what if’.

I’ve a tendency to say ‘travel in hope’ to others when they’re disheartened. I suppose I can throw in ‘it’s not the destination, it’s the journey’ and the other tidbits that one picks up along the way. I know a lot about not giving up and keeping going.

But, the question I have for myself is ‘Can you accept being alone and make the best of it?’

Accepting the life, the day to day routine and focus on the kids and be content. I’ve a way to go yet in resolving my inner conflicts, but I could make a simpler life for myself by being easier on myself by accepting what I am and letting go of fantasy and delusion and leaving dreams alone. Reality can be enough at times and getting through a day or a week is tiring enough.

I can read and ponder and keep going, but making a decision or classing myself as something? Perhaps that can wait.


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