At that point in my life, I was spinning so out of control that my brain needed something to latch onto, and the fixation was born. I feel the lump in my throat - it’s still something so difficult to talk about, but this fixation caused pain and depression and anxiety and gallons of tears for a year and a half. It involved specific high school events, an unforgiving administration, an emotionally manipulative teacher, and a group of enablers who were my friends at the time.
BIPOLAR PROCRASTINATION AND HYPERFOCUS SKIN
Even writing about it now makes my skin crawl and my hands tremble. I’m quiet about it, and will still take the specifics of it to my grave, because it is something that I am so embarrassed about, although it is something that I didn’t (essentially) have much control over. My first “fixation event” I can recall was one that I still hold close to my chest, and is probably the first instance of this controlling force based in the chemical imbalance of my brain chemistry. My hyperfixation became a prevalent, noticeable issue during my senior year of high school. Or it can also be an ugly thing that rears its head when you least expect it, one that leaves you crying in your bed at two in the morning, praying for the first time in weeks that some higher power will scoop your fixation out from your brain and leave your mind silent at least for an hour or two. Hyperfixation can be a coping mechanism (thank you, The Lightning Thief Musical hyperfixation for getting me through part of this 2020 pandemic).
I’ve hyper fixated on people, places, and things, as well as phenomena, events, and an immeasurable number of other things. Hyperfixation, as I call it, has controlled my life at more points than I can count.
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