You Can’t Handle The Truth.

I spent my earlier years fighting against the system. Fighting against a world, that even at an early age, I knew wasn’t functioning, fairly, shall we say. I realised quickly that, to make it in this world, albeit from the perspective of a working class misfit, it was every man for himself. I didn’t know why everything was such a challenge. It just was.

As the years went on, and brick walls had caused a battering that was beginning to show on my face, I decided to channel my experience-based opinions into academia. It was enlightening of course, without which, I wouldn’t have discovered Foucault, Habermas, Bachelard, Bloch, Bauman, to name just a few. At first, these Great Thinkers opened my mind, sucking me in to new ways of thinking, before I started to reconsider these accepted truths in the academic arena. My conclusion; it’s all relative and no man or woman on this earth can possibly reach a state of empathy, necessary, to be able to discuss the nuances of our society, without a large degree of criticism. That said, there are a rare few, but you would have to go back. I mean, right back and dissect the inner workings of their very own existence; their experiences, environments, belief systems and origins, to really see that. You see, a philosopher, sociologist or any self-labelled expert is much like an artist, in that, their work arguably has both an intended and perceived voice; the perceived voice being the most misunderstood and complex element of any art form, whether that be literature, music, poetry or visual arts.

I digress. Experience arguably creates a heightened state of awareness, which can lead to a state of empathy, and if you’re really unlucky, frustration. A frustration that lingers like a bitter taste in the mouth. With it, comes a range of emotions, which exacerbate the frustration and cause a distorted and complex view of the world. I set out on this journey to raise awareness of the troubles we collectively faced, whilst developing my own knowledge and skillset, with the intention of representing this through a creative outlet.

It has been several years now since I started this journey, and I have encountered more frustration than I could have possibly imagined. Embracing my passion for the arts, simultaneously allowed me to pull down the mask and see the world completely unfiltered, but that also meant bearing my own self to the world, perhaps in a way previously unseen.

I believe this helps me to explore in a playful and experimental way, to truly explore the world around us, and discover what it really means to be human. With this, I have faced some of my own demons. In 2021 I was diagnosed with ADHD and 12 months later Autism. Was it a shock? Probably not, but it was certainly a bitter pill to swallow, and now I find myself chocking on half a dozen of them, 3 times a day, just to function.

As I said to a friend recently, our neurodivergent brains have a tendency to feel emotion almost 3x that of a neurotypical individual, causing us to dance around like a 5 year old on Haribo, or feel like the walls are caving in and using every ounce of energy you have to avoid trying to kill yourself. Yep, it’s really that bad and sometimes this can transition in an instant.

At the weekend I was invited to a local micro pub to watch some live music. I am a self-confessed melophiliac, which essentially means I am drawn to music and certain music tends to create a hyper-emotional state, which most likely explains my love of singing and dancing. I danced wildly and felt on top of the world, dancing with others, being generally playful, happy and even embracing the audience. Then boom. I came crashing down as the landlord told me I’d had enough to drink.

The only thing I was drunk on, was life.

After sending a message later that evening asking politely that he please try not to misunderstand ADHD or autism for being drunk, I was subsequently told I wasn’t welcome to their establishment any more.

I was devastated and I still am. It invokes a complex array of emotion, of shame, self-loathing, hurt, anger, sadness and an almighty dull, heavy ache in my chest.

This is why I continue to fight through the medium of art. This.

There is no greater tragedy in our society, than the suppression of expression and whilst I sit here feeling overshadowed by the black dog, I am equally motivated to put an end to our disparaging view on the square pegs that seemingly don’t fit into our round world.