Discover Top Posts Tagged with #this might be random

The Cube ( an allegory on anxiety)

Ever since I was twelve, I felt great pangs of anxiety. I wish I could figure out what was going on. Something just felt off. My heart began to beat irregularly, and I felt like I was suffocating in the summer heat. I felt every single emotion inside my body. If I felt angry, I would panic about thinking inappropriate thoughts.

The cube is a cruel place. The walls are made of thick glass, thick enough to become sound proof. The walls had ninety degree angles hidden in each corner.

The rules were strict to the point of being almost hypocritical.

In the seventh grade, If I got a C in a test, the employees running the cube would tell me I disappointed my mother. In fact, any thing, a preteen did was a violation of law. If my homeroom teacher (very mildly) scolded me, the employees would tell me I was a horrible person.

One night when I was sleeping, I felt like I was falling. Sometimes It would be a roller coaster plunging down. I woke up in fright. the sensation of vomit would come up in my mouth. I had to vomit. Where’s the bathroom? I asked myself. I scrambled down the ladder. I felt like I was going to die. I would rush down the hallway. The sensation of needing to vomit grew powerful. I was going to vomit. I was going to die. My body trembled as I opened up the toilet.

Nothing happened. The employees running the cube chanted that my body was forcing up food. I shook violently. I retched into the toilet. Nothing came out.

The coming months turned into a almost endless loop. The employees would yell that I was disappointing everyone. If I could avoid this disappointment, then I had to follow rules. Every day after 3:30, I was to show up for cross country. Clean yourself. I was clean. Clean yourself. Again. Don’t mess up. You messed up, so you have to rewash your hands. My mother asking me if something was wrong.

Don’t read urban legends. Your banned from reading books about Urban legends. Don’t read books about Supernatural creatures. You have to watch out for monsters, ghosts, and ghouls. This is one rule I broke. This one moment of ultimate rebellion. Don’t summon monsters from different dimensions.

In a moment of “don’t do this” , I had the book of supernatural creatures in my lap. I was in my dads car. One of the ways the employees would try to scare me was by telling me I that Buddy Mary was real and would drag me off to the netherworld.

*Buddy Mary was based off bloody Mary*

I read the urban legend out loud.

*Suddenly two hands appeared out of the hand mirror. I screamed as I was dragged into the underworld. Sam and Dean Winchester and Castiel rescued me.*

Nothing happened. I sat in my dads car waiting for the ghost to take me to the underworld. I just sat in a 1990 Honda in awkward silence. In a way, I just wanted to confront the fear of Buddy Mary existing. In a attempt to do this, I often thought to myself, “Buddy Mary, I took your bacon.” In the original legend, you had to say Buddy Mary, I took your baby. I guess this was a way to avoid being dragged off into the underworld. Maybe it was just a creative way of fighting against the cube of anxiety.

*Buddy Mary was really unhappy I stole her bacon.*

This lead to a physical battle of the wits. As I grew into a stubborn adolescent, I often fought with the employees of the cube. They tried to feed me lies and cut off my oxygen supply as punishment. I still prevailed. What was I being punished for? It happened during moments of boredom. I felt like Uma Thurman punching the inside of a coffin. Instead of climbing out, I just punched the cube even harder. Words felt restrictive to me. What could I say? What couldn’t I say?

The cube changed its rules. Instead of fearing I’d die, I had the ability to change into different people. If I touched someone, I would absorb their appearance, their confidence, or their mannerisms. Imagining turning into different people, and doing cool moves like sneaking into Surely, this should have been a perk. I should have absorbed confidence. Shape shifting should have been a cool power. I should have learned cool social skills. Instead I panicked even further. I developed a minor fear of being touched by the hand. I told my social worker, I was afraid of losing myself. She would reassure me I was fine.

The ability to change into different people slowly turned into a perk. It wasn’t shape shifting, but a natural reaction. I learned new phrases, sat up, taught myself how to smile, and listened more.

I didn’t shift shape. It was my body trying to tell me I was undergoing changes. I was learning how to adapt.

One of the employees was gentle. While the other employees of the cube yelled nasty and scary words, he was patient. If I misbehaved, he would tell me, “That wasn’t very nice.” or “That wasn’t very appropriate.” Whenever I doubted myself, The employee would tell me, “You can do it. Look at Stephen Hawking, he had ALS, and he managed to write complex theories on black holes.” The nicer employee tried to push me to try new things. For example I had a fear of European badgers. Curious about the outcome I drew them. I guess this was a coping method of being on the spectrum.

I started to repeatedly draw european badgers on my notebooks. I was soppoused to reserve the notebooks for my fanfiction.

Not american badgers. EUROPEAN BADGERS. The dog sized critters with black stripes on their heads.

This was a big gap from drawing *gasp* fan fiction about musicians from 1970s. I drew badgers as police officers, as people, and I started to write a satire on Atypical. Atypical was about this autistic boy named Sam who’s trying to get a girlfriend.

That show I slightly disliked but my parents loved it. I started to draw pictures of an autistic badger named Billy who got dragged into weird nonsense. Like supernatural weirdness. The employees of the cube ( my manifestation of anxiety) hated the drawings.

So to spite them, I started to draw even more badgers. My parents loved them and encouraged me to do some more.

They also hated it when I went out shopping or actually started to socialize with my peers. They hated it when I go outside, volunteered for a job, or advocated for myself.

I’ll break free someday.

#european badger #this might be random #based off my experiances with anxiety\#autisic #actually autisitc #actually ADD #Atypcial #supernatural #sam whinchester #dean winchester #sam and dean #castiel #urban legends #creepy pasta