whereismiko

i think my fandom friends are the people i feel the closest connection to.

at the same time, my fandom friends will never know the true me.

i have been to an english speaking country once in my life. it was one of my favourite times ever; not only did i see hamilton live, but the cashier in sainsbury's called me 'darling' and let me pay with only the change i had for the ice cream i was buying. i think it cost 23p more than i had; she just winked at me and told me not to worry.

that was 8 years ago. and since then, i haven't been in an environment where i would have to use only english to communicate.

i love english. it made its way into my brain effortlessly; my english teacher was perpetually mad at me for not learning the stories he was assigning us. we had to learn these little stories called 'shaggy dog english'; they had the most englishly dry humour possible and were absolutely wonderful. my memory is very good, so it took me two readings before i knew what the stories sounded like, and was able to tell them from memory.

i don't like to speak in english. there is something ugly and humbling when hearing my accent slip through the words i say. it's embarrassing to forget a word, and it's so awkward to not be understood immediately and having to repeat myself, or worse, change the wording of things. talking in english has this additional layer of awkwardness embedded in it, which makes my autistic self terrified to say anything.

at the same time, i know i should be proud of my capabilities. i write prose in another language. what you're reading right now is not merely a translation—it's the real stream of consciousness, it's the exact way the words form in my brain. i think in another language which is completely foreign to me. nobody in my family understands english. nobody in my family understands the english part of me.

but you don't understand me as well, not fully.

there is a big portion of my thoughts that will stay hidden from almost everyone reading this. you will not get my humour. you will not understand the Polish that i have within me. i feel weird about that. i feel weird about the fact that some of the things vital to my culture i will not be able to explain. it's strange to have such a big part of yourself hidden from the people you feel the closest to.

it gains another sort of depth after studying translation. spending hours reading the essays that come to the same conclusion: there are some cultural obstacles that language and translation will not be able to carry through. you can be close, but it will never be the same. you can read what i wrote, but you will never know what i had in mind for certain. it's a depressing thought.

lately, i've been feeling very lonely. and the fact that there are two halves of me that are hidden behind two different languages makes me want to scream.

i just want to be understood. i just want to not be lonely anymore.

and i can't even find the right words to express it.

how i'm feeling: sad
current song: mitski - brand new city

so as it turned out, my problems that stem from anxiety actually stem from autism, so the most traditional handbook of dealing with things im anxious about is not working. its not not working either, its just i do have my anxiety under control when i don't try to control it. sounds counterintuitive, but it boils down to the fact that my subconsciousness has it under wraps up to a point. up to a point of when the anxious/scared emotion goes up to an 8, and then my mind tends to blank and i melt down. which does not happen that often lately! i am not overly stressed by anything, my parents are in support of my life choices, i will be moving to a small town and maybe buying a flat next year (fingers crossed), i have a job that i don't entirely hate and i'm finishing my bachelor's! so in terms of general life direction, i'm seeing a lot of light at the end of the tunnel. hell, the tunnel is even lit a bit, and maybe the lights are flickering from time to time and i would prefer the light to be yellower than this sickly blue white, but it's still nice.

that brings me to the main thing, which is: i am not sure where my problems lay and how to cope. my therapy goals before were:
1. i will eat 3 meals a day (mostly okay at that now)
2. i will take a shower every day (...meh? but also i don't leave home much and don't feel as gross not showering)
3. movement once a week (i have a physical job that i count as movement)
4. i will call people back on the phone (not great, but happened a few times and i did not die so. semi-success here)
5. i will ask people for help (not sure, i think i'm fine with asking but sometimes can't cope with the fact that people reject my requests or agree and then don't do the things)
6. i will not resign when there are setbacks
7. i will not cut ties with people when one thing goes wrong
8. i will not use black and white thinking
- i will accept other people's faults
9. i will experience things with more self-consciousness (i mean like. sometimes in life i feel like a baloon that's just blown onto by certain things. i kind of know? the direction and i kind of know? how to control the flow but there's no real purpose or idea behind that. i have things to do and i do them and i don't stop to think why or how do they make me feel)

so from what i can see, the problem that i have is resigning when there are setbacks, withdrawing when there's any failure. which is directly connected to the black and white thinking, which is directly connected to the fact that i detest discomfort. a lot of things in my life would be easier if i could just make the discomfort sensors less... sensitive. if i could make myself less sensitive! so the biggest thing i would like to work on for now is making my discomfort window bigger. allowing myself to feel the emotions i feel, but being able to push through them, or make it less unbearable. because sometimes even the easiest chores and situations and changes make me physically and mentally hurt, make me drained. and can my brain be blamed for not wanting me to suffer all the time?

there's some internalized christian thought of penance here. that i deserve the things that happen to me. that it shouldn't be easy. the more it hurts, the more meaningful it is. and i think that's one reason why autistic people thrive in catholic church! because it makes their suffering worthwhile and sets some rules, examples, routines. but i digress. the question is: really? do i really have to suffer so much? and if not, what can i do to not feel terrible?

on tomorrow's session, i will try to estabilish that. how to make myself be able to live in discomfort (which is unavoidable), but while not suffering. that would be pretty neat.

how i'm feeling: working

it's so funny to think about black and white thinking while trying so hard not to assume it doesn't concern me. because surely i have some shades of grey?

well, i kind of. don't. and there's a multitude of reasons i can point to and say: “look, that's why i do that!”. but until i started therapy i didn't really stop and think how it affects me, to always follow extremes.

something that comes to my mind first and is omnipresent in my daily life, is making mistakes. or rather: my attitude towards making them. it's the most practical for my brain to just assume it will not get better, that it's not worth saving, that i should just delete, not finish, run away. i think my first memories, and sort of a memorial of my black and white thinking, is the arsenal of unfinished drawings in my parents' home. and okay, maybe some of these were a result of my undiagnosed and untreated ADHD, but also i remember tearing pages from my notebooks, sketchbooks, and rewriting them whole just for them to be perfect. to not have any trace of a mistake. (well. i actually did the same thing just today while setting up a bullet journal. so i haven't really got better on these grounds.)

i hate making mistakes. i've been creating since i can remember, but mostly hiding my art and writing deep, deep in my drawers, so no one could see. i really didn't want to be called out on any errors, mistakes, to be given any feedback. being perceived is a nightmare, but for a thing you put your whole heart into to be perceived is another, worse story. though sometimes i'm glad people were not subjected to my vladimir putin fanfiction (talk about being an edgelord at 13. sigh.), because i was apparently too scared of making a grammatical error in the bit about him dancing ballet.

another thing is quitting. or sometimes, not taking up stuff for fear of not being immediately good at it. i think a lot of neurodiverse folks have that experience of being above average at Some Things, usually the creative stuff. so you excel, excel, but then there's a plateau. and you don't have the motivation or strength to push through that plateau, because the motivation was coming from the fact that it was easy. it was pleasant to be hitting these milestones faster than expected, to be doing a month-long coursework in two evenings. but then there's nothing. you are not on the professional level; you notice there are people better than you, who have been doing the Thing for years, who are not amateurs with some flair and a more-than-averagely flexible brain.

so you stop.

and with every stop, it gets more and more anxiety-inducing to even make that first step. because you were doing so good then, but now you can't make your brain do that. and it's frustrating, and maddening, and sad.

and well. i refuse to be sad anymore, and i refuse for my hobbies to be something that i do to prove to someone (who? not sure. i'd say capitalism, and that's /hj) that i'm not worthless. because i'm not worthless either way, whatever i decide to do with my life. and i want to do good, and that's something that matters.

this week my therapist told me to look at my behaviour and search for these signs of extremes and black and white thinking. so i will be thinking about it some more this week, and catalog some of these thoughts, and maybe i'll be able to tell you some more soon.

for now, i resist by finishing this imperfect blogpost, drawing my kpop boys without any knowledge of anatomy or color theory and simply living.

how i'm feeling: okay
current song: la femme - exorciseur

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Entries tagged with life

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black and white thinking

who am i.

February 2026

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