I’m really sad and I don’t know why.

In the past I used to be interested a lot in managing my emotions. I was focusing on how I felt hoping that will bring me clarity. Unfortunately it only brought me confusion. Have anyone heard about emotional intelligence for autistics? If you do, please let me know, I’d be happy to find out more.

I noticed in the past that if I feel anxiety before an event or starting a new job for example, it’s better to give in to it when it comes. If I do that, I am much more in control when I’m finally in the situation I was anxious about. While, if I try to control the anxiety, I start experiencing it even more when the event is happening, I am then much more likely to say inappropriate things or even not say anything when asked a question. Which, in turn, makes me even more anxious, because I see how badly I’m doing.

I’m not sure the same applies to sadness. Should I check? If I stay indoors the entire day feeling sad (except for a quick trip to the supermarket), will I feel happy and energetic the next day?

Why do I have emotions if I don’t understand them? I don’t even know if I feel sad because my mum died, because of what John said, because my brother is not someone who could support me in any way, because I don’t feel like I can be myself with my strange eating habits, or maybe even because I don’t have permanent job? I guess I’ll wait for all of this to pass. It will eventually.

Or maybe I should force myself and do something productive? Maybe that would help? But then, I’d need to push my feelings aside. Should I not try to understand them?

I don’t know. I realised, however, that due to my emotions I forgot to submit my timesheet before 10am deadline today. So I don’t know if I get paid this week. That’s where the attempt to understand my feelings brought me. Fantastic, isn’t it?

I feel like having pancakes for lunch, but I don’t have any jam (that’s how we eat pancakes in Poland – with jam or possibly with curd cheese). I keep forgetting to buy one. If mum was here, she would be more than happy to go to the shop and then even to make the pancakes for me. But she’s not. She never will be. I’m all by myself now. Although John could possibly make me some waffles, which is close enough, but then we broke up, didn’t we?

I’m sad and I don’t want this life. I want a different one.