(I'm)Moderate?
This wetting bathes in a lot of irony...
We’re told to enjoy things in moderation.
“As part of a healthy and balanced diet” often accompanies the food and drink we consume. Usually in small print, but hardly anywhere else in this world of consumption.
Easier said than done in the grand scheme of things when we are now in an era of a paralysingly overwhelming amount of choices.
From the different kinds of Bread and Water we can eat and drink, to what TV Shows or Films we can watch next, or what opinions to believe or discourse we can choose to engage with when it’s presented to us on a tiny screen in front of us.
I cite this, because I’m finding similarities of modern over-consumption and immoderation to my previous and present social behaviour around myself as well as others.
For example, if you’re on Social Media, someone might send you a Cat video that you find amusing. The algorithm’s direct response, is to then incessantly flood you with more Cat videos. That’s just how it works. It’s free to use, so their revenue comes from your activity and engagement, especially with advertisements. You are the product. We know this, but still do it anyway.
Comparatively, finding someone else at Secondary School who enjoyed watching Monty Python & The Holy Grail, and being able to quote it at them (whether they want me to or not) from start to finish, despite only ever watching the absurdity once before on a Bumper Video with Life Of Brian whilst off sick from School.
“Oh, people who like the same things as me. Let’s become their personal Limpet, and throw everything I know about this subject at them!”
And this was at a time that I still masked. Not even knowing that’s what it was called at the time!
Reactive and responsive. But for me, it was for wanting to fit in, not for profiting from data mining.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always tried to project how the world and people appear to me. I have very hazy ethereal recollections of being a Baby and a Toddler, and have never known a time to be without Tinnitus or a sense of confusion.
There’s a good chance my family and ancestors are Neurodivergent. I’ve heard many tales of those from the past that would directly line up with a diagnosis of Autism or ADHD. It is what it is, Paracetamol or otherwise(!)
My first most clearest and most profound memory was of launching a Nurse across a room. I recall this in a previous film of mine, but if you wish to save on your tabs, it was because I was supposed to go for an MRI Scan. I’ve never minded recalling this larger than life anecdote, and have the proof if you’re skeptical.
My Mum had started noticing my speech and communication skills were off-kilter as I grew. She wondered why I would run up to her in the kitchen and state; “8 out of 10 Cats prefer Whiskers” before running off again. Or repeat the same one or two word babbles with a huge smile on my face.
Taking me for referrals, Doctors had first tested my hearing and thought I was deaf. “John is not deaf” my Mum retorted. “I’m sure if you shake a packet of crisps in the next room, he’ll come running!” It was probably because I didn’t understand what to do, or simply chose not to do it. I mean, how would you react if you were stuck in a padded room with headphones and a buttons, not quite understanding what you need to do with it all?
Because I refused to lay down for an MRI scan which came at a later appointment, they attempted to anaesthetize me, and ended up injecting me with an Adult’s worth of Sedatives, yet I was still fighting, still standing, and it’s here I recall pushing a Nurse with such force, she fell backwards. Not even the force of my own Father pinning me down worked. I distinctly remember how yellow the room was, of all things. As well as the navy blue overalls the Nurse was wearing.
Stumbling around the living room in a stupor was the next memory. Talk about mind over matter!
Reaction and response. Because my brain is wired differently, it means I have a heightened state to emotions and sensory perception, much like everyone else who’s Autistic or Neurodivergent. Social and communication struggles and delays, always meant I was late to the party, so perhaps walking around and constantly stating my name as a Child when learning to talk was my act of making up for lost time. Learning of a mutual love of Tom And Jerry amongst friends and knowing particular shorts scene by scene, humming alongside the manic original scores. Overcompensating. The struggles are still present and fluctuate on a day to day basis.
This of course, was before firing verbatim Film quotes and deadpan delivered music lyrics at those who aren’t (unfortunately) deaf, and all through a mask. Too scared to disclose my Autism at Secondary School, this is why I scoff when people remark; “Did you ever know anyone who was Autistic at School?”
Yes. Me. I was diagnosed when I was 4, and it was all explained to me at 10, when I started asking questions about myself. Had I disclosed, I risked more scrutiny and bullying. My Secondary School ‘sentence’ was 2003-2008. Knowledge and awareness was more limited back then. I’d already seen Rain Man, which at that point was one of the only go-to films that was of most access. Endless TV repeats and found as quick as Raymond’s toothpick counts at any HMV. I think that’s where my DVD copy comes from!
I’d have been sick and tired of; “But you’re not like Rain Man”, and probably had toothpicks thrown at me. Though in exchange for what I thought I knew best, I had every insult and slur you can think of thrown at me. Been there, done that, own the wardrobe.
It was eventually stated to one of the main perpetrators. My Learning Support Worker decided to take action, after I constantly imposed self-isolation, and attempted suicide at 16. I’d sit next door from The Learning Support Hub in the Isolation room, designed for “The Naughty Kids”, because in my mind; “I was better off there.”
The kid in question dismissed the disclosure with; “Ah, I just thought he was being rude.” 5 years of rumour spreading, torment, and helping me down a spiral of Depression and Anxiety dismissed with a shrug. Had I been myself and carved my identity faster, whilst still trying to grasp the concept of my re-wired brain, would I have been friends with said person? Would School have actually been ‘the best days of my life’? I don’t know, it hurts my head too much to think about the What If’s, especially when my present well-being is as good as it has ever been...for now!
I’m not bitter though. I let all of that go years ago. What happened, happened. My masking backfired, and I learnt a lot of lessons the hard way. People saw an A.I. version of me. This Uncanny Valley, Frankenstein’s Monster, because I was too afraid to unmask when still trying to get a grip on how my brain works differently to everyone else around me.
Back to the present where I do understand the rhetoric that catapulted me through this ironically immoderate tangent.
To play Devil’s Advocate, you want what’s best for your Child as a Parent. You wish for them to have a fulfilling life. However, if you have an Autistic Child that’s Non-Verbal, or needs more care than your average little ‘un, there is sadness, frustration and guilt. So when news that Paracetamol during Pregnancy is cited as a potential link, (despite it being the only safely recommended painkiller during that time in the UK), you do question if your actions led your Child down this path.
It is ironic however, that the chase for a cause and a cure plays out like an Autistic or Neurodivergent hyperfixation.
Perhaps understandable from their perspective, when diagnoses have multiplied tenfold over the last 2 decades.
It wasn’t that long ago though, that the MMR Vaccine was seen as the cause. Now, theories are intertwining.
A present solution seems to be Vitamin B and Folic Acid. Before that, it was a mixture of Mineral Supplements and chemical compounds found in Bleach. No, I’ve never tried, and don’t wish to, but further down, I’ll discuss ‘cures’.
To my understanding though, Autism envelopes around your personality, upbringing and environment. How those core moments shape your outlook and your senses at a more intensified level. Intersectionality sometimes at play, especially for myself, having grown up in a Working Class Family, and am still Working Class now, despite those accusing me of ‘pretending’.
An intensely perceived reality instils an intense reaction. Newton’s Third Law perhaps? So if the world around me continues to be even more immoderate as a front for convenience and complacency, is that why I reciprocate the immoderation in return? Heavy naval gazing subjects bathing in this irony right now!
Not so much in my communication at times these days though. Or that’s what I’m told. Those who have met me have said that I’m passive, and calming, especially if around similar Neurodivergent folk who have been subjected to endless prejudicial judgement and discrimination.
Have their epiphanies of late diagnoses come as a result of the immoderation of modernity? The mind can only take so much before it cracks, especially if masking without realising. Doubled alongside the additional awareness of such re-wired brains. Clarity (especially amongst women) that their behaviour when they were younger had meaning, and they weren’t just “being overly sensitive” or “quirky and unhinged”.
I’m not talking about watching one TikTok video, and thinking; “Oh my god, that’s SO me!” without further thought or research. I’m talking how all one’s Planets align. The epiphany clicks and the realisation is often articulated into the quiet utterance of the word; “Shit”. I had a similar epiphany following my Irlen’s diagnosis, and the relief that it wasn’t psychosomatic and something could be done about it, bared similarity to when my Mum explained my Autism to me.
I’ve found my intensity does come through in my work though. My film Snapshot has either been described as ‘powerfully poignant’, or ‘uncomfortable and overwhelming’. Make of it what you will, but I set out to try and portray my lived experiences through a short story that does give light at the end of the tunnel and hope.
“Can it really be that intense?” I’ve been asked, especially at the film’s most pressing of moments. “Yes”, I reply; “That’s as close as it feels.”
My fascination with how people walk and talk greatly inspired my aspiration tell stories around Social Realism and Magical Realism. Perhaps I hit a little close to the truth for some, finding my slices of reality on offer; “A bit much”. I do wish to explore other genres and subjects, but feel these sorts of stories need to be told first.
I sometimes forget that I’m a lot more desensitised to things than other people are, hence my rather frank and candid discussions and tone.
Contrastingly, we all have strengths and valid contributions to society, no matter how small or insignificant they may feel. These wettings as well as my film work, may help one person, and drive another way. It is what it is.
When my Asperger’s Syndrome was explained to me (aware this term is no longer used), my Mum asked me; “If they ever found a cure, would you take it?” At that moment, I didn’t even need to think about my answer for very long. “No. Because this is a part of me and who I am.” I was met with the warmest of smiles. It was (and always is) my gut instinct answer.
What good would a cure be for me now though? I’m nearly 34! At what cost? Would such personalities be extracted? Would it only get rid of the Tinnitus that constantly rings in my ears? Would my Filmmaking abilities and creativity be limited or gone completely? Would I be able to talk about the weather without finding such small talk incredibly banal?
Would a cure mean we can all be Worker Bees and comply? Daren’t question the immoderation of over-consumption and simply say yes and no in the right places with Pound, Dollar and Euro signs in the eyes of those above us. That we would (pretty much) all walk and talk the same? A pretty rigid mindset if you ask me!
The fact that there’s potential links between Neurodivergent and Neanderthal minds, makes you wonder if such ‘differences’ have (and will always be) the founding ancestors of progress. The fact they perhaps invented the wheel, whilst others stood around talking about the weather, or what Mammal they’d hunted last night.
“All in all is all we are” of course, but it’d be a pretty boring place if we were all the same. Ironically, we wouldn’t know this to be the case.
This continuous tightrope walk of social pleasantries, and knowing if (or when) to self-edit the ‘special interests’. The need to self-edit, and restrain and regulate in order to function.
By comparing my life of reacting immoderately to what I feel is immoderation around me (including neglecting moderation with the use of such a word!), I drown in more irony with one of my longest wettings to date, continuously swimming, drifting, perhaps coasting through this ever evolving, ever questioning plain of societal existence that continues to fascinate and fright me in both equal measure.