*The term F**k that shit moment was coined by Katrina Ruth (Facebook).
This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
(Sara’s Fb page)
Before our coaching call, I always give her a headsup.
The good news is, my conclusion from our previous call is still valid.
I really do believe that I can “store” my creativity in my body, in my sexuality, the same way Voldemort hid his soul in horcruxes in the Harry Potter books. Or, as I later recalled, the way Sauron hid his spirit in The One Ring.
My body, like a horcrux or the one ring, has the capacity to preserve the spirit and my creativity in the form of an active sexuality. Staying in its coarse and tangible form, until better times when it can expand again into writing, into creating videos, into BEING Lauren Harteveld, where one sexual encounter can nourish me for months because I keep writing about it.
Like the hall of mirrors (thank you for that metaphor) where the sexual experience can be relived, again and again, through the art it produces.
But if I start working for an employer, or for whatever reason do not have ample time to create art, then I will get myself an action packed sex life to keep the juices flowing. Until better times.
That all still stands.
As do the two main conclusions from my previous letter to you:
To not eat shit sandwiches for purpose work.
And the second conclusion in my last letter: It (every problem) is always about a man.
So you see, all good news.
Lessons were not wasted, they were remembered. And if anything I have become MORE determined to live by them.
Oh no wait!
Before I get into the nasty bit, where I got bitten in the ass (and not in a good way) by an old “friend” I need to tell you the fourth big epiphany I got.
So we had the Big 3:
1. Use my body as a horcrux
2. Don’t eat shit sandwiches for purpose work
3. It’s always about a man. And when it’s not about a man, it’s still about a man.
The next one would be:
4. Work like an autist
I can’t even remember how I put one and one together… Or why I didn’t already. But it suddenly became crystal clear that the reason I dreaded a job so much was because I wasn’t approaching it as an autistic person.
As soon as I started owning my Asperger, I knew what it meant for my ideal work environment, but also that a key element to me being such an avid writer was that it offers Flow.
Flow is a state your brain comes in when you’re totally absorbed by your work.
For me this is a normal everyday state, in particular since I started writing.
I completely zone out of the real world when I write.
To my surprise I have met little – if any – people who are so used to working in flow. Apparently it’s not something one can just summon to happen. Most people assume flow is acquired through discipline.
But since I ve never been disciplined in my life I sincerely doubt that.
When I took the time to design an autism-friendly job, working for an employer, I saw two things.
One: I want to work from home (preferable) or on a company work floor between other anti-social people who just bury themselves in their cubicle.
And two: I want to work on one project, much like a computer programmer.
This was huge.
Like I said, I cannot imagine I didn’t see this before.
The reason I get into flow when writing, is because it is only one single-minded thing. Flow is guaranteed.
And this one project could be really really big.
In August 2017 I published 10 books. I had been working on eight manuscripts over the years but in one month I brought them home, four plus four plus two bonus books. They were numbered and published in a chronological order.
I would not know a neuro-typical (=a non-autistic person) who would be able to “hold” such a big project in their mind space while working on them.
I suddenly I saw that I could also do this for someone else, for example for a publisher.
Or how I could dive into a large collection of files and sort them out, categorize them, deduct their most important story lines and information. Maybe join a research center, political party or the city counsel.
Either way the key to me is:
One big project at a time, that I can totally dive into.
As soon as I saw this, I became very happy and excited to get to work!
Meanwhile I had also contacted a reintegration consultant who was going to fine tune this with me, and everything looked amazing.
It was Monday night, and after a couple of days where I had felt really miserable (because of rule number 3 – It is always about a man) I was now on top of my game.
And in bed on time.
I put my alarm clocks to test drive my planning the very next day, and fell asleep feeling hopeful and happy. For the first time the thought of getting a normal job no longer made me feel suicidal.
And then I woke up at 2 AM suffering from my undiagnosed heart problems and thought: “Fuck! I’d almost forgotten about that!”
And the whole thing fell to pieces.
As certain as I had been that I, with my autistic qualities, had a lot to offer to a future employer, that’s how desperate I became. It was such a setback to realize I had apparently no idea what my “heart triggers” were.
I had been feeling hopeful, and at that moment I was not bothered by financial stress (which I thought was my dominant heart trigger) because I was convinced I would get a paid job in time, and boom!
The whole plan had to go back to the drawing board.
I m working on a plan B, to finance the time it might take me longer to get a (full-time) paid job. And tomorrow I m going to see the GP to get a referral to the hospital or a diagnoses. I think the heart condition has to do with autism, and I m not keen on medication.
But on the other hand, I am far more willing than I used to be, to take my heart problems seriously.
So right now it’s Thursday night, and my house is the superlative degree of “as if a bomb exploded”. I m unsure why I didn’t tackle that first. I know cleaning and tidying my house, even though incredibly time consuming, is like a healing experience on its own.
I could just see myself sitting here at my desk, typing to you at 10 P.M.
In a beautiful serene atmosphere I like to call “Hotel Chic”. Maybe a glass of alcohol-free wine and I even heard classical music which surprised because I never listen to classical music.
Since I didn’t clean my house, but decided to write this letter first, the situation is a little bit different.
My desk is covered with papers from the past 7 days, with things which I should do, or note down, or not forget. It’s covered in notebooks tied to different projects and different administration.
I haven’t cleaned the floor in any way shape or form, in a week. There is sand from the balcony everywhere and toys for the cats, boxes for the cats and papers for the cats are scattered over the entire apartment. The kitchen is a mess, and I have two loads of laundry to fold. The bathroom is dirty.
All because of a man.
I once read to women a clean environment is like foreplay. That their minds keep racing at the sight of clutter. That is why they feel hot in hotels (hence the desired look “Hotel Chic”) but too anxious for sex at home.
I ve realized this is true long ago.
When a man would come over, and I would spend up to four hours cleaning up my house and myself. By the time he arrived he was almost an extra:
I already felt so good, just from making the preparations.
So I know this is all linked.
To let my body become the horcrux that preserves my sexuality while building up to making 40 hour weeks for an employer, I also need to keep my house in mint condition!
But ever since I had this weird thing with the new love interest, it’s difficult to see that happening.
Oh wow….I suddenly see it!
How could I not.
What if, yes what if, the heart problems were a delayed response to the difficulty with this new man? Because of rule number 3 It’s always about a man.
That makes total sense.
So here was the story:
In our last call I realized that I needed to start prioritizing my sex life, in order to be able to “retreat” there. To horcrux myself so to speak.
But naturally, it takes two to tango.
First of all, I hadn’t heard from my lover Big in quite a while. That made what happened with the new interest extra sour. I have heard from Big again, so I feel better now, but last Monday that was not the case.
So I saw my new Slash-like love interest, on the occasion where I expected to see him. But he was a little distant and then he let another woman come between us. He didn’t invite her or anything, but he didn’t exactly object either.
So he was already kind of keeping his distance, sending mixed signals is a better way to put it. It left me feeling puzzled since I had not expected that – and then Poof!
Like a chess pawn, he just placed her between him and me.
So just in case I wasn’t sure if I had interpreted his distant behavior correctly, I now had this woman standing between us, literally.
I excused myself and talked to someone on the other end of the room, didn’t look at him once and left about fifteen minutes after.
The strange thing was, and I know this is going to sound idiotic, but the strange thing was I felt challenged. Not defeated. His disinterest felt like he was hoping for an easy way out, and at the expense of my self-esteem.
Doing this with the pawn-move definitely made me think he’s married or otherwise involved.
And you know what the crazy thing is? If he had said to me: “I’m in a relationship, I don’t want to fall in love with you.” I would have been the first to comply and respect him for that.
I actually did that with Christopher last year.
He told me he didn’t want to see me anymore because of his marriage, and I respect him greatly for that.
But if you put another women between us, hoping I will give up? Oooohhhh, I feel challenged! I will push it so frickin hard that the next time we see each other you will start wanting me with every cell of your body. You will come after me.
I will see him in a couple of weeks.
And to stay in the game with Slash – or at least for it to stay interesting, keep the dice rolling, and store my sexuality, in its purest, most dense form – I need to stop whining, uplevel, and start playing this game like a pro.
I need to become the sexiest horcrux in history..
An unexamined life is not worth living
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My f**k that shit moment
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7-figure Rock Star Writer part 5: “1994”: fanfic inspired erotica
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