Last updated on November 26, 2023
The future scares me. The Pessimistic Me dominates my internal deliberations when I try to prepare for the future.
I’m an odd mix of pessimist and optimist, which isn’t easy to explain. A friend said that’s true of other creators and entrepreneurs. Yes, I gamble on the future, but I prepare for the worst.
The past offers evidence that things will go wrong.
I’ve written and spoken on the difficulty of being trapped in the past. I struggle with past events in my life, unable to let go and move on. I must actively avoid triggers, which isn’t easy. You might read some of those past blog posts.
Yet, I also live with constant fear and dread of the future… because of the past.
Tomorrow won’t be great. Something bad will happen. I will make a horrible mistake. I won’t be able to handle the stress. The Autistic Me will fail, yet again, as events cause sensory, physical, and emotional overload.
The bad memories, traumas, and failures of the past lead my mind to construct negative scenarios of what will happen.
Frozen Anxiety
Consider the example of winter. I dread winter. I start dreading the next winter shortly after the snow melts.
Thank goodness we moved to Central Texas because my dread of winter was consuming a lot of energy.
It’s not an exaggeration to say that every winter in Minnesota or Pennsylvania, I suffered at least one minor injury related to ice and snow. Every single winter, I ended up with bruises, sprains, cracks, and broken bones. The weather contributed
directly to painful and serious eye damage in Minnesota, so I live with a daily reminder that winter will be disastrous.
The past fed my anxiety, making it difficult to go outside the house. I anticipated the pain of torn corneas. I expected to slip and bruise my ribs — or worse, break something. The stress reached a point that I would be awake throughout the night, worried about having to go to work in cold weather.
I don’t have seasonal affective disorder. I know several people with SAD. No, I am worried about the seasonal emergency room visits. I have a seasonal ER anxiety disorder.
During the winter, I want to remain in bed, safe from the outside hazards. But, I don’t sleep well because, eventually, I’ll need to go outside, walk, drive, navigate stairs, and try my best to delay the inevitable accident. I’d like to sleep so my mind might escape the anxiety.
Many variables contribute to my insomnia. Fear of the day ahead is part of a circular anxiety. I look back and cannot let go of the failures of the day behind me. The past feeds my fear of the next day. Impending doom ruins my sleep. It also makes the days long.
Anxiety, for the Years Ahead
It’s one thing to dread winter for nine months, starting in March or April, but another to worry about events years or even a decade off in the future.
When I was in elementary school, I was already worried about getting into college, so I pushed myself to do the best I could. I was simultaneously giving up on going to college while I was working to have the best grades and test scores.
In college, I worried I wouldn’t graduate. That was a valid fear. The anxiety was overwhelming from the day I moved into the dorms. I struggled, constantly anticipating disaster.
When I start I job, I anticipate it ending. I can’t assume a job will just “be” year after year, because so far my jobs have ended badly. My negative academic and employment experiences probably contribute to future failures.
When things are going well, my anxiety increases as I anticipate the eventual moment of failure. I know I’m going to collapse. I know something will go wrong while interacting with people. Life is only good between disasters.
When you fear the future and live with anxiety, there’s a horrible tendency to sabotage yourself. I expect things to go wrong in relationships, at work, as a parent, and in every other aspect of life.
No wonder autistics make other people uncomfortable. Constantly on edge, expecting conflicts, my tension is likely sensed by other people.
Live in the moment, people suggest. Focus on the good today, instead of what will happen.
It’s logical, and I do my best to enjoy what is good. Yet, I also cannot avoid contemplating the negatives. In the same moment I’m enjoying a moment, I’m anticipating that time ending.
Anxiety makes me rush to finish things before it’s too late to do them. Rush, rush, rush. Never assume something can wait, because tomorrow might not arrive.
If I don’t rush through schoolwork, I might not be able to finish it tomorrow.
If I don’t do something fun with my daughters, I might not have a chance to have fun in the future.
I’m obsesses with finishing something worthwhile. I want to make a contribution to society. I want to achieve something, yet I’m near-certain that’s no possible.
It’s a strange paradox that anticipating disasters and having almost no self-confidence makes me seem optimistic and incredibly confident. Pushing ahead through my anxiety, I give the appearance of having no fear of failure.
When I wake up in the morning, I think to myself, “Another day that shouldn’t be wasted.” I’m getting older. I’m paranoid about my health. Tomorrow might not arrive, so I had better cram a lot into the day.
As the day ends, reflecting reinforces my sense of failure. On any given day, I didn’t complete the tasks on my list. Most days fall short of my ambitions, so I assume tomorrow will fall short, too.
Where will I be in ten years? In 20 years? I had better do something! At the same time, I expect the worst: I won’t get anything done. I’ll be 70 years old, looking back and realizing I wasted an entire life. After all, I already wonder how I wasted 50 years so easily.
I wish I could stop looking ahead, projecting the past onto the future.