In my case, the most problematic aspect of being Asperger (or is this even Asperger related?) is strange bouts of inexplicable inertia; becalmed at sea, waiting for wind to push the sails. Any direction will do. Movement is impossible without some external force – a current, a breeze, an all-out storm – just something to uproot my sudden plantlike rootedness.
Many times I’ve begun to sort through the nature and source of this awful experience, but this effort too, is overcome by inertia. I’ve read about authors, artists and others who have to cope with what seem to be periods of lethargy – I don’t believe the static state itself is indicative of depression, but the waiting is depressing for someone who taps into nature’s rhythms, like a surfer waiting for a wave that never comes. It’s definitely all about energy; it’s that moment in a sea story, when the becalmed crew smells the wind before it arrives, and they scamper aloft to set the sails.
My thoughts lately focus on this experience as purely physical: I am the sail that waits for the wind. Humans do respond to changes in the atmosphere, to magnetic fields and electrical potential. To see and sense the energy manifested in nature is to be inside nature’s processes; chasing clouds generates the energy that sustains me.