ADHD, autism and me: sober life

Two years AF. Two years without booze. The alcohol gone, the lead into dodgy decisions, dubious phone calls to some Albanian chap and that late-night madness no more. The addiction that filtered me made me acceptable to others and masked my masking is 24 months gone. My liver is grateful, the chemist uncertain why their dioralyte and 5HTP sales dropped so hard, my wallet (almost) fuller, and my life better.

Like many, it was less the booze and more the flights of afters fancy that proved so destructive. Pissed and f*****, the only way this undiagnosed autistic soul could cope for decades. The social interactions, the disco decisions, the chats, the limelight, the disco politics, and the sensory overload are seemingly better when numb. Turns out I only managed all that as an adult with a drink in my hand, 34 years with a drink in my hand. Many more years with the addictive more. But the result was always less. Less able to cope with the fallout, the downturn that hit my head’s trajectory every Tuesday, less able to be the decent partner, the reliable workmate, the real version of me.

But in replacing one set of addicted stereotypes with a new set of autistic one’s life hasn’t always been as rose-tinted as the loss of my once full glass would suggest. Nightclubs are way louder, you guys are even tougher to read, my words are overthought even more, and the sensory overload tough to ride out. But the clarity that comes from really remembering that last tune, of sleeping at night, of ceilings uninspected till dawn, and learning you don’t have to throw yourself into a space, a lifestyle, a gang, a party you really don’t fit into is blinding. Something Kym Sims and my opticians would only confirm I’m sure.

Without the blurred lines, I see it now. I choose my parties, my crowds, my community. I fit because I want to. I dance because I love to. I’m random because I am. I say the wrong things sometimes because we all do. I fly because I want to. No more Albanian airlines for me. I see it now, I see you now, right there at the front. With me and that last tune. The last tune I now always remember.

Thanks to a certain Sherlock for ensuring sober love was the message and to Queenie for making it possible. Without you, well you know.