Down with flu

As a teenager and then as an adult I used to fall ill very seldom. Since joining the current employer, I took a sick leave once, in September 2024, owing to serious problems with spine, but all sparse infections I have had were mild enough to work from home. Even my COVID-19, contracted stupidly on a housewarming party, was a mild, though uncanny cold with no complications thereafter.

If the are familiar with previous post, you are most likely aware the fourth quarter of 2025 was a kind of tiresome for me. From the 20 December each night I slept between 8 and 10 hours, vs. long-term optimum of 7 hours sufficient for my body to regenerate. It was desperately calling for rest and regeneration and I did not resist it. But long-term fatigue might have played havoc with my immune system as well.

I a rush of the last quarter of 2025 I have not taken a vaccination against flu, a mistake I am not going to repeat, especially since medical plan paid by my employer offers large supply of doses available at any centre, at any time slot. But for several years, despite being exposed to people infected with flu, I would never come down with it. I had such vaccine once, in 2022.

On 22 December my father went to the hospital in Piaseczno to pick up his medical examination results. He claimed he had waited 15 minutes or so in a corridor full of coughing people. Most likely the story began there. My father was the first to be laid down to bed, complaining about fever, shivers and other symptoms on a Christmas day. He has come out of it relatively quickly, most likely with high body temperature he has combatted the illness fast, but remains weak until now.

My mother felt off-colour on 26 December. On that day it occurred to me except for buying medicines for parents, I should drop in on my dwelling to pick up infection combo tests. I tested my father and the indication was clear – influenza A. My mother got knocked down by the illness. On 27 December I ordered her a telemedicine appointment and she got prescribed anti-flu pills. I drove to town in the evening to get the prescribed medicines despite not feeling particularly well.

On 28 December I returned home, pottered about and thought I would get off it lightly. No such luck. Next two days I felt unwell, yet not tragically, but worked from bed.

On 30 December the fever rose, I would not sleep the whole night, so in the morning I caught a slot with a doctor, my parents’ GP. Thus on New Year’s Eve I fell officially into nationwide statistics of flu infections and got my set of pills. The GP said it would go away within 2 or 3 days, a vivid overpromise (back then and with hindsight). The last day of December was also the worst day, with all bones and joints aching, a headache, cough and runny nose, this all accompanied by fever of roughly +37.5C.

This must have been a turning point, since on 1 January I did not feel that awful, yet tremendously frail. I recalled stories from the worst 2020/21 COVID winter of people getting so tired with a walk to the toilet and back that they had to sleep it off for 12 hours. My state was nowhere as bad, but far worse than any other infection I have had at least in a decade.

On Friday and yesterday I was slowly pulling through. Most symptoms, including fever, are gone, yet I still feel terribly weak. Most likely I will be on the mend for a fortnight, before I am back in top form.

Take care of yourselves!

Antidepressants gone

The episode of depression which smashed me in mid-2022 was the most serious one, yet thanks to swift reaction consisting of proper combination of medications and a wonderful therapist, my head was back above water a few weeks later. My first attempt to controllably give up on pills taken up preventively, taken under psychiatrist’s control in spring 2024 was failed. My dose need to be increased, though not much, but it seemed at that time essential to keep me afloat.

Next months were not a bed of roses. The health crisis and the relationship break-up were likely to bring me down. They did not, but in line with my doctor’s advice I waited out some time after seeing the back of personal setbacks to get ready to do without medications. After over three years of feeding my brain with happiness pills, I took the last one on 29 August 2025.

In terms of mental health or mood, all has been fine until now and hope it stays so. In terms my body’s reaction, the picture is not rose-coloured. I had realised side effects of antidepressants withdrawal would hit me, last a few days and go away. In the first pill-free days I felt dizzy, my tolerance to heat decreased, was weaker, but endured physical exercise well. Then, instead of waning, what I believe are the withdrawal symptoms, have intensified at the beginning of this week.

The long list of nasty afflictions (tested myself several times for COVID-19 and flu, negative) as of now includes:
- aching muscles, joints, bones, or just the entire body, regardless of physical exercise or its lack,
- itchy skin,
- feeling of dryness in mouth, thirstiness,
- sore lymph nodes, with the pain radiating towards ears,
- nasal discharge flowing to throat and clogging it,
- feeling a load on my chest and dry cough,
- once I had a fever – temperature soared within 1 hour to +39C, then plummeted to +36.6C within an hour too,
- feeling that my body cannot give off heat and intense sweating (+15C outside, in a T-shirt I still was sweating),
- at times the opposite – shivers despite high temperature,
- a bloated, aching stomach, despite cutting down on eating, giving up on snacks altogether and defecating twice a day.

As it cannot be taken for granted those are heavy and prolonged withdrawal side effects, I need to go through a couple of examinations, to rule out other diseases, including cancer…

Even though abandoning the pills is bearing a brunt on me, I do not regret it. My brain had by all means got addicted to them and needs some time to learn to function properly without pharmacological aids. I also still believe taking antidepressants was the right decision. Given my depression has relapsed several times, its bleak comeback is most likely a matter of time. But by the time it happens, I will not contaminate my brain with medicines.

I am strongly convinced personality matters much in overcoming depression. By character, I am not a kind of person who likes to lie in bed or sit idle, I am not the one who procrastinates, I am the one who needs to be in motion, who moves ahead, does things. I strive to reach a proper balance between venting anger and frustration and keeping up optimism. Believe it or not, it helps a lot.

Written for posterity.

When the love runs out

With hindsight, dissimilarities between were so stark that calling ourselves a perfect match would have been a gross exaggeration. As we shook off the fascination and affection of the first months together, ample differences grew apparent, while the power of attraction waned. Facing the daily grind, while living under one roof has accelerated the realisation of the inevitable.

We talked a lot. We had many sincere conversations many couples probably do not have over their lifetime. It has not helped though. For several reasons, including my inhibitions, I was repeating a mistake of holding back speaking out about stuff which annoyed me, thus accumulating my anger.

The very decision to break up was mine, yet my ex-girlfriend, having got over the initial tremor, acceded to it and after a day or two, internalised it. I feared we would spark a hell on earth in my fifty square metres. Instead, we went separate ways peacefully and calmly. Had it happened a few months earlier, we would have fought for it, there would have been screams, shouts and tears. As the romantic feeling between us has definitely and (probably) irreversibly burnt out, we have reconciled with the imminent end.

We could be friends, travel companions, even flatmates (actually we acted like flatmates during the last weeks of our romantic relationship’s agony), but we our approaches to life diverged too much to give us a chance to raise a family. The gap between us was too wide, so even if we would both bend over backwards to go on compromise, each of us would depart from their self.

At times that relationship was toxic, at times unbearable, at times I just felt like quitting it right away. We are both smart, so our common senses told us both it would not just be uphill, it would get very steep. After two years and five months together, even with proper climbing equipment the ascent became an onerous ordeal. That slope became just too steep and rocks fell off it too frequently.

On Friday, after three days of getting on with each other surprisingly well under one roof, my ex-girlfriend set off to Wisła (I will miss stays there), mostly for the sake of consistency with the decision taken and mental hygiene.

There will be ups and downs on our ways to mend the broken hearts. We are now facing the unknown, including the uncertainty if we ever find our life companions.

But before we open ourselves for new opportunities, we will need to go through the logistics of the break-up. Tenants occupying my ex-girlfriend’s flat are deeply disconsolate to have to look out for a new dwelling. In question is our trip to USA rescheduled for April / May 2025, but I believe it is too early to resolve if to go there and who the participants will be.

After weeks or even months of struggling doubts I feel a bliss relief, which only validates it has been the best possible decision (given in such circumstances there are basically no good decisions – this one was “least bad”).

Autistic burnout

Several times I wrote on the blog about the episodes of depression I went through in my adult life and from which I have apparently recovered. I first made up my mind to share how it felt in August 2017, during the third episode in my lifetime. Last year the “dark sister” turned up again and I dedicated her one post (oddly enough around the same time of the year). At that time I was ahead of being officially diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome.

In each episode I was experiencing some symptoms which overlap a regular depression, but was not affected by others – low self-esteem, decreased drive / energy levels, avoidance of social events – they fortunately did not distress me. I put it down to my willpower and years of working on myself and how much I am worth as a human.

I carried on taking anti-depression pills, decreasing the dosage in line with my psychiatrist’s guidance from December 2021 to April 2022, when I gave up on medicines altogether. Although for my body parting company with neurotransmitter regulators was a harrowing experience, mind-wise everything was in order, until early May 2022, when I began to fall apart day by day. I was knocked down by a combination of factors which could have led to a relapse of depression, but instead of making an appointment with a doctor or returning to my “happiness pills” I decided to scratch beneath the surface. Was I only down in the dumps since the moment in life was anything but easy or was it an illness?

Back from last year I knew Asperger Syndrome and depression tend to coincide, or rather people with AS being misfits are more prone to get depressed. I began searching online whether depression of a person in a mild autism spectrum differs from depression experienced by a neurotypical person. Then the penny dropped.

I have come across a few articles which excellently described what I felt several times in life when I was overwhelmed. Autistic burnout or Asperger burnout, a recently discovered phenomenon (knowledge and awareness of it became prevalent in the English-speaking world in 2020 and 2021, although first articles trace back to 2017 or even 2016) is what has made some periods in my life an ascent uphill since early adulthood. Those were repeatable patterns – after a period of living like a neurotypical person, I got exposure to a load of stressors which bore down on my brain and led to a burnout – a blend of fatigue, exhaustion, nervousness, inability to take up major challenges. Some burnouts were severe enough to resemble depression episodes, some were milder, their durations varied, all receded, although some with help of anti-depression pills (and I cannot tell what would have been had I not supported the recovery with medicines). I consulted a psychiatrist who focuses on adults with AS, she confirmed my suppositions and advised to get in touch with a specialised therapist and abandon medicines which are most probably unnecessary if I can carry on functioning quite normally. Despite apparently getting on well with myself and fulfilling all social roles properly, I am determined to take up therapy. It will ease my pain of being alive, something I have felt for years, admitted to myself, but hid it from nearly everyone around.

In 2021 I somewhat shrugged off the Asperger diagnosis, claiming the official label changes nothing. In 2022 I realised to get on with being in the spectrum I need to raise my self-awareness. I already recognise my strengths and know how to make use of them. Now comes the time to comprehend my limitations, learn to embrace them and not to overreach myself trying to overcome them, as such attempts benefit nobody.

I hope by the end of the year, I will happier and… wiser and feeling more comfortable with my imperfection.

Love-life-wise catch-up

I think I last wrote a post dealing with my relationship only in January 2021, after my ex-girlfriend and I broke up for the first time, but not for good. Since then we had our ups and downs, with next “reversed” break-ups in June and August. We endured better and worse days, but it all was going downhill since that time. Eventually, in mid-December we consensually resolved to give it a rest. Prospects were anything, but bright, the burden to carry on our backs was too heavy for both of us.

I did not feel the need to mention it on the blog at that time. The end of the relationship was not a shock, but was a bit of relief. The year-end period at work was busy, Szlachetna Paczka final weekend was just past; I needed to cool down. I knew the break-up was a matter of time and began getting over it well ahead of the actual goodbye. Thus the transition into being a “single” was astonishingly smooth.

More than three months have passed since that moment and believe I can examine the reasons why the relationship had fallen apart. We both talked about it and even agreed it was just meant to fall apart.

My ex-girlfriend for many months before the break-up lacked the feeling of certainty. It held her back from making a step forward, i.e. agreeing to live with me under one roof. When in October I asked her how she would react if I popped a question, she said she would turn it down.

Her lack of conviction towards the relationship with me manifested itself in moodiness, emotional instability and treating me on a verge of emotional violence, something I confess to have put up with for too long.

Before she starts over something new with someone else, she will need to learn that a compromise is essential in a relationship. Sadly, she did not accept me entirely the way I was, but tried to model me on her image of an ideal man.

Given such bitter circumstances, no wonder I got over it reasonably quickly. As we were breaking up, we agreed we would remain friends. Since none of us hurt badly nor harmed the other one, this seemed reasonable, yet I was doing it against myself, as I do not believe in life after love. Time has partly proven me right. A month ago during a casual conversation all of a sudden we both began to dig up the dirt from the past and ended up exchanging grudges against each other.

More than two weeks ago, while volunteering to aid Ukrainians I accidentally met a girl (a fellow volunteer). I thought for a while I would stay emotionally hollow. It has not worked out and I was rejected in a nasty way, but merely finding out there are such righteous, sensitive and kind-hearted people is spirit-lifting.  Hadn't I tried, I would have attained nothing, but with the outcome at least I will not wonder would would have been if...

The moment I met her coincided with a return to Tinder, which is a more shitty area than it was two years ago. More on this in some time. So far no points scored in the application.

Wartime memories – first ten days

For some time the concept of this blog has been to save moment for posterity, therefore I have resolved to take down some notes on how the first ten days of Putin’s invasion looked from my perspective. It is not going to be a coverage of the military conflict which can be found in the media anyway. It will be just a personal record of my thoughts, musings and observations, so that one day I can revisit it and bring days the memories of dismal days which hopefully become the history soon, with a fortunate outcome.

 

Day 1 – Thursday, 24 February 2022

My phone shut down before 3 a.m. I deliberately have not left it on a charger overnight. I decide to charge it up in the morning. I get up at 5:30 a.m., eat a small breakfast and before setting off to the swimming pool, I connect the charger and switch the phone on. I check the recent posts on Twitter. I know it has begun.

After swimming I want to take a shower. For no apparent reason it does not flow. My skin stinks with chlorine, but I head home. Warsaw carries on.

Back home I learn the worst-case scenario of full-scale invasion has materialised.

A hard day at work begins. Nobody calls off business as usual due to the cruel attack on the Poland’s neighbour. Never in my lifetime has the warfare been so close to where I live. I find it hard to focus on work, like all the workmates. As we talk, it turns out most of us were hoping Putin would hold his horses. It was naïve, he is a ruthless psychopath, ready to scorch the earth to bring in his visions. Analogies between Germany after WW1 and Russia after the fall of the Soviet Union are so vivid.

As the sunset draws, panic-mongers begin to queue up to petrol stations. Those idiots firstly send money to Putin, secondly contribute to self-fulfilling prophecy that petrol stations might run out of fuel.

As the evening comes up, I feel exhausted. Partly because of tough 10 hours at work, partly because I fear how the story unfolds. The tsar is unpredictable.

 

Day 2 – Friday, 25 February 2022

With the invasion it became clear that accounts which used to spread pro-pandemic and anti-vaccine disinformation have now become pro-kremlin and ant-Ukrainian overt trolls.

The VPN in my company notebook keeps disconnecting itself for the second day in a row. A coincidence?

In the evening I team up with my mates from Szlachetna Paczka. I devise a plan of setting up “starter kits” for refugee families which would settle down locally. My mates immediately agree to join, so I let the mayor of Ursynów know about our initiative. He promises to keep us informed.

 

Day 3 – Saturday, 26 February 2022

In the morning I walk to the Lidl shop next door and buy two bags of hygiene materials and cosmetics (Rexona and Dove away from my basket), pack the stuff into a cardboard box and drop it to a local collection point. I ask to hand it over to the Ukrainian side of the borders, where it would be more necessary than in Poland.

If I could, I would send them weapons! But more and more countries declare such form of support to Ukraine, which is reassuring.

The spurt of Poles rushing to help Ukraine is spirit-lifting, but will it be long-lasting? It will be a marathon, not a sprint.

When I think of sanctions levied to Russia by the civilised world, I believe the main reason for some countries’ reluctance towards them is the cost of financial isolation. Yes, we have to pay the price for keeping Russia at bay, but the lost profits now are a good investment is the payoff is the absence of Russian tanks in the territory of Poland.

Americans urge their citizens to leave Belarus immediately. They are in the know again.

I pop by to some petrol stations and learn temporary shortages of fuel are a fact. Not only those who panic are to blame for it. Several people take trips in their private cars to the Ukrainian border and fuel up their vehicles in advance, thus boosting demand for fuel (and sending money partly to Putin’s pocket). The aid should be better co-ordinated, I believe.

 

Day 4 – Sunday, 27 February 2022

In the morning my father and I drop my mum off to the cardiac hospital in Anin for a planned treatment (ablation) for a few days. I realise she is stressed-out, not only by the planned surgery, but also since she knows she will be sorry for Ukrainian personnel working there. Admittedly, the willingness to keep company to my mother dragged me away from the involvement in aid to Ukrainians this weekend. But given the social response, I do not need to feel guilty.

In the fourth day of war, Ukraine is doing definitely better than expected, with Ukrainians proving not only bravery, but also shrewdness.

After a few days of silence, Putin threatens to use nuclear weapons. In his paranoia, he is capable of turning large swathes of land into nuclear deserts.

Freezing Russian central bank’s assets will be more painful than exclusion of most of the country’s commercial banks from SWIFT payment system. I fear how markets react tomorrow.

 

Day 5 – Monday, 28 February 2022

In a conversation with my workmates I strongly posit the only way out would be to kill Putin. Easier said than done. He is protected too well to make an assassination doable for a foreign intelligence agent, but Putin will not be alive for long. Irate oligarchs or infuriated military officer might be the ones to liquidate him.

My Facebook account gets restricted on account of posting a derogatory film mocking at Putin. The blockade is imposed by an algorithm, hence I file a complaint. Thus I become a passive user of the platform.

At work there is no major turmoil. For many years lending to companies involved in doing business in Russia was an excessive risk to my employer. Today the restraint pays off.

Boycotting goods with bar codes starting from “4 60”? Noble, yet you will find few of them in the shops, as Russia manufactures little. If you want to spite Putin, turn off the radiator in your dwelling and walk, cycle or take public transport whenever possible. Besides, time to boycott Polish companies which carry on doing business in Russia.

This is the first day of actual carnage of civilians in that war. Shelling residential estates in Kharkiv and shooting civilians on the city’s streets bear out Russians are barbarians. This is genocide.

Besides, conceivably the premises near the Polish-Ukrainian border might be attacked by Russian aircrafts.

 

Day 6 – Tuesday, 1 March 2022

Putin has done what no man has not done for decades. He messed with nearly everybody across the world and brought so many united against him.

My Facebook account gets unlocked after a verification by a human.

There is evidence Russia used vacuum bombs in Ukraine, so far not against civilians. Such weapons are prohibited by conventions and kill even people hiding in shelters.

Russian trolls work at full blast in the Polish Internet to sling muck at refugees from Ukraine. Poland must not fall victim of disinformation!

 

Day 7 – Wednesday, 2 March 2022

I learn with antidepressants I still take, though in lower doses, I cannot be a blood donor, while blood is what Ukrainian hospital need to rescue the injured soldiers.

My mother’s ablation is called off or rather put off until Friday. She is stressed-out and it also affects me. Her health is a yet another reason for concern to me.

In the neighbourhood I spot three cars on UA number plates. Glad somebody has played host to them. I admire people who let Ukrainians stay at their homes. I am afraid that would be beyond my comfort zone. Besides, such accommodation might last months.

 

Day 8 – Thursday, 3 March 2022

A week into the war, most people have shaken off the shock and are slowly coming to terms with the new reality, meaning the war is waged just across the border. With time indifference will grow.

I no longer take it for granted the war does not spill into Poland. The membership into NATO might scare off Russia, but the attach on the Treaty will bring the world on the brink of the nuclear war. I sadly have very little impact on the course of events, hence I convince myself not to worry in advance.

Three cars on UA number plates parked outside my block of flats. Will there be many more? Or is it just a stopover?

Brent oil price reaches nearly 120 USD per barrel, while USD/PLN trades around 4.30. I see double-digit inflation coming to Poland and the threat of stagflation to the whole civilised world. The least civilised part of its will be back into the misery of late 1980s.

 

Day 9 – Friday, 4 March 2022

Wake up to the news Russian missiles nearly missed the biggest nuclear power plant in Europe. Given the lack of precision of the Russian obsolete and run-down military stuff, I suppose we were lucky to have averted a nuclear disaster. Have the invaders lost control or are they trying to blackmail the civilised world?

I somewhat fear the aggressor might attack the Polish-Ukrainian border and civilians aiding there. With the uncivilised enemy, everything is conceivable.

NATO keeps holding back from getting involved in the conflict. I believe the fear of WW3 is the key reason for their restraint. Hoping their words about getting prepared for the worst-case scenario are not just hollow declarations.

In the afternoon my mother has her ablation. Preliminarily doctors say the treatment is successful.

 

Day 10 – Saturday, 5 March 2022

So far over 700,000 (exact numbers vary depending on source) refugees from Ukraine crossed the border with Poland. Will they be able to returns to their homes and rebuild their country soon? Will Poles exhibit so much hospitality towards them as they do these days? Will European Union help Poland take the burden of allocating refugees across the member states? Are the just past the first wave of migrants? Is it just the beginning? So many questions remain unanswered.

Helping Ukrainians will be a marathon, not a sprint, while people who rush to aid are sadly likely to run out of energy and resources far too soon. I recall the beginnings of the pandemic, the spurt of responsibility and solidarity which gave way to fatigue and indifference several weeks later.

If this all is hopefully over, there will come the time to bring to account those who advocated Russia recently. The first to be cracked down on will be the deputies of Konfederusja, mentally ill Grzegorz Braun and eccentric nutter Janusz Korwin-Mikke. Support for the far-right party declined below 5%. Hope they won’t make it to the parliament in 2023.

Szlachetna Paczka 2021 , past the final weekend.

As some of the readers might remember, my experience with Szlachetna Paczka last year was rather bitter and shortly after the 2020 edition was over, I was intent on giving up on it (as a volunteer).

In mid-2021, as the virus eased and the vaccination programme was giving hope to put the pandemic closer to an end, I reconsidered my decision. In July, when I learnt a fellow volunteer had been appointed the leader of Ursynów area, I have made up my mind to join.

This year we started out early and closed our ranks in early September to look out for families which could become beneficiaries of programme. Thanks to concerted efforts we have managed to visit 74 families (vs. around 30 in 2020) and decided to organise aid for 46 of them (vs. 14 in 2020); thus we achieved a decent hit ratio of 62%.

I personally visited 15 families, 9 of them were brought in, for 4 I was a primary volunteer, which meant I had to do all the paperwork for them and co-ordinate contact with donators.

Back in July I was appointed to be in charge of logistics. This meant I had to find a centre of operations (magazyn) for the final weekend. I have fixed us up with the space in a newly opened Ursynowskie Centrum Kultury “Alternatywy”. The location and the very facilities have turned out to be a perfect venue. I have also drawn up a plan for collection and distribution of gift packages. Picking up 46 packages from donators and transporting them to 46 families seemed a big challenge, but thanks to an excellent planning (I will not spare myself praise this time) and execution (hats down to fellow volunteers), it all worked like a dream.

Human-wise, delivering packages to families, seeing their emotions and hoping the aid would kick-start them and open a door towards a better tomorrow brought off a lot of joy.

Although delivery of packages is over, the edition has not come to an end. I shall visit my families in coming weeks to see how they are faring and help them overcome some of barrier that hold them back.

Although we definitely pulled it off in 2021, there are lessons to be learnt before the 2022 edition in which I will definitely get involved. Firstly, we will start even earlier. Secondly, donators will need to instructed how to pack the gifts (nobody feels like lugging huge boxes whose weights reached 30 kilograms) and their preferences regarding pick-up timing will need to be agreed earlier. Thirdly, volunteers ought to handle transport of furniture and heavy white goods well ahead of the final weekend, so that those gifts do not go through the centre of operations.

Reasons to worry

Being in a swing of things, I write for posterity, to record my mindset.

Note many reasons for optimism, but I keep hoping the future is brighter than today.

I worry about my country, about how it is ruled.

I worry about the rising inflation, since it impoverishes those already underprivileged. I do not worry about myself. The recent pay rise has offset the higher costs of living and my savings have been parked in inflation-linked government bonds. I know how to take care of myself.

I worry about my compatriots, stupid enough not to get their jab and merrily spreading the virus which takes away more than a thousand lives every three days.

I worry about my girlfriend’s mother, who is pulling through from COVID-19 (also unvaccinated) and possible long-term implications for her health.

I worry about my parents whose access to healthcare has been impeded by the pandemic. I worry about my mother’s cardiac problems which prevent her from having a hip joint surgery. I worry about my father who is facing a diagnosis to confirm or rule out a prostate cancer.

I worry that 5 out of 46 families looked after volunteers from Ursynów area in Szlachetna Paczka have not found their donators, less than a week ahead of the final weekend. More on this on Boxing day.

I do not worry, but have had several stressful moments after a car collision I had over a month ago. More on this in two weeks.

I long for a peace of mind. I long for a restful sleep and waking up later than 5:00 a.m. Fortunately, some of those issues will be sorted out. Others, which cannot be influenced by me, should not worry me excessively. Keeping a healthy distance towards whatever the life brings sounds like a good recipe for not ending up as a bundle of nerves.

The Asperger syndrome – diagnosed

Since early childhood I have felt a kind of different. I have long felt my perception of the world differs from the way the surrounding reality is seen by other people. Years went by, the sense of difference has lingered, yet no longer bothered me. In the adulthood I have been mature enough to foster my distinct personality and learnt not to try hard to fit in where I do not.

With hindsight I believe this blog, which I run mostly for myself and for posterity rather than for a handful of readers, also reflects the syndrome I have.

At the beginning of the relationship with my girlfriend I told her I considered myself a weirdo (dziwadło). It got on her nerves when I called myself a weirdo, yet she noticed in some ways I am unlike other people. She spent hours digging up the Internet and her supposition fell on mild autism or Asperger syndrome. To cut the long story short, I went through a comprehensive (and not inexpensive) diagnosis and have been officially diagnosed with Asperger syndrome.

If you know me well, how would you recognise I am afflicted with this inborn and incurable syndrome (I prefer not to use the word “disorder”)? I am fascinated with everything which can be described with numbers (including the pandemic), memorise them easily, have strong analytical and problem-solving skills, I have specific uncanny interests (recall my winter timelines?), tend to focus on ideas and am guided by principles. Unlike most people with the syndrome, I have no major problems with communication, empathy, recognising emotions or fostering relationships, nevertheless I tend to get stressed when facing new situations or people too intensely.

The team who have diagnosed me told I me I was doing reasonably well and actually did not need therapy to function well in the society. I just have the Asperger syndrome and need to get on with it. They claim I have put in a lot of hard work to develop social skills which come naturally to other people, but for an observer unfamiliar with the syndrome the difference between me and a neurotypical person is hard to grasp.

I should not attempt to change myself, rather embrace myself with all skills and deficiencies which are a part of me. I only somewhat fear my children might inherit the syndrome as forms of autism are generally hereditary.

Frankly speaking, I am still coming to terms with the diagnosis, climbing into a higher level of self-awareness and self-development.

Depression – another episode

4 years ago I wrote about depression. At that time I felt something wrong was going on with me, yet not fully realising I was in for the third episode thereof in my lifetime. The first one struck me in late 2005, a few months before high-school leaving exams, the two other ones came in summer of 2011 and around autumn of 2017. I fully recovered from the last one in early 2018, with decreasing doses of pharmaceutical support. With such track record I am at the group of risk for suffering from recurring relapses of depression.

The pandemic did it bit in increasing the odds of a recurrence. During early months I did not fully isolate (numbers of infections were 100 lower than in late March 2021) and fleeting relationships originated on Tinder were lifting my spirits (or bringing me down). I actually considered myself quite self-aware and claimed I would easily recognise the first symptoms of the illness. In November 2020 I began to wake up two hours too early and had problems to fall asleep again. I put it down to stress and shrugged it off. Then came the continuous tension and inability to relax, resulting in constant fatigue. It kept me company since early 2021, but was bearable and did not influence my daily functioning.

Things took a noticeable turn for the worse in late June 2021. I blame a combination of four factors which sparked off the fourth episode of depression:
- prolonged social isolation (staying in home for too long, too little direct contact with people),
- general grudge borne against the society, actually the noisy fraction of them who do everything to keep the pandemic going (anti-vaxxers),
- my parents’ problems with health (amplified by lack of proper access to health care since March 2020),
- ups and downs in my relationship, including three break-ups (all revoked, we are still together).

How it encroached on me? I was void of any energy, felt constant anxiety, lost appetite and drive, had troubles focusing on even simple tasks, everything appeared to make no sense, future seemed full of negative events, I had attacks of sobbing without any specific reason. Life was overwhelming, getting through each day seemed a tremendous effort. Being quite aware how this black hole works I resisted other typical symptoms such as lack of self-esteem or suicidal thoughts. I also did not withdraw from social life (although in the darkest days interactions with people were horrifically tiresome).

In mid-July I consulted a psychiatrist and was prescribed medications. Side effects thereof were the most noticeable in my lifetime, despite moderate dosage. I felt dizzy, felt dry in my mouth, broke sweat even if not moving, my heart was beating faster than normally. For nearly 2 weeks I had to give up on driving and watch out when cycling or swimming. Then my body and brain got used to the chemistry.

Currently I can function normally or even intensely at work and socialise. I have no problems with concentration nor drive, my mood is neutral, gone is the anxiety. Sadly, I feel totally indifferent to any emotions and impulses, both negative and positive, I do not consider it natural. The tension has not waned yet and I still wake up around 4 a.m. I feel on the mend, yet a long way is ahead of me. It will involve several months of taking medicines and a therapy, to learn how to take some burdens off my mind. I also worry relapses might hamper the life of my family in the next years, even despite I have learnt how to deal with it and do my best to overcome it.