Sometimes I write this thing, and I have absolutely no real concept of who’s readying it, or when. The hosting platform shows me a little number, but I don’t delve into that because I don’t really want to write for a specific audience. I’m not trying to grow a brand… well, not here, anyway.
There are people who read it every week. They let me know. I am deeply appreciative of it, and it makes me feel really good that after a few years of public journaling, that what I’m saying has some resonance…
But 2 weeks ago when I posted about my neurodivergent diagnoses, people really came out of the woodwork to let me know they had my back, or… brain… or… whatever they had, they were supporting me.
So, thank you very much. All of you.
Now for the ’embarrassment’ part.
No… I’m not embarrassed. Quite the opposite.
When I was younger, I used to think I wasn’t embarrassed easily. Actually, no… I thought you couldn’t embarrass me if you tried. While that’s probably still true, it’s conditional, because one of the tiny little things I’ve realized about myself is that I can be embarrassed very easily – just not through conventional means.
I fear no ridiculous karaoke song, no questionable stage attire, no public speaking event, no dirty joke, and I don’t subscribe to any ideologies or political views that will come back to bite me in any meaningful way… but I gotta say, being cool; or at least perceived as cool, is vitally mportant to me.
That probably sounds pretty dipshitty… but why would I lie about it now?
When I was a kid, I never felt cool. As a matter of fact, I was certain that I wasn’t. I was kind of a weird kid – I was very quiet, and I had a real hard time keeping up with other kids because I really felt like I didn’t belong anywhere… especially with kids my own age.
I went to a private christian school in Grade 1 & 2, and I was homeschooled in grade 3… and then when I was new to the Edmonton Public School system in grade 4, I got picked on. Maybe we all did, but it sure felt like I was the only one back then. So I did what I was supposed to do – I told a teacher. Allow me to tell you – and I would say it to any kid I meet who is dealing with the same thing – that was the worst fucking idea anyone ever had.
The school talked to the bully.
And they let me leave 5 minutes early to get a head start so I could get home… but within a couple days the bully came and found me and pushed me around.
I told the teacher again, and they called my dad.
In my eyes, my dad was all that is man.
He was a big strong guy who didn’t take any shit from anyone, and honestly he terrified me, because I was ULTRA timid and he worked shift work, which meant he was grumpy, and probably worried about money, though I wouldn’t know what that meant just yet.
I was so embarrassed.
I was so sure that my dad already thought I was a wimp, and if I had my way, I wouldn’t even be a blip on his radar most of the time… but he picked me up from school that day and he took me out for lunch to McDonald’s, which was a rare treat back then.
He instilled upon me that day that “REAL tough guys don’t start fights, but they ain’t afraid to end ’em” and that if you’re backed up against the wall, sometimes the only way out is to punch your way out.
Since then I’ve really only had to throw fists a couple times… but I remember consciously deciding at that point that I didn’t want to be the kind of person who gets pushed around ever again. I wanted to be the kind of person who – if someone saw you pushing me around, they’d think YOU were the asshole, and not worry about whether or not I was okay… because guys like ME are ALWAYS okay.
That’s a long way around the bend…but all that was to say that there’s a level of vulnerability around mental health diagnoses that’s required, and although I intuitively want to share and help destigmatize and demystify these things – it DOES kinda go against my laurels to open up that way.
So for me, I had to decide not to be embarrassed by it. I had to decide that it’s totally cool to be transparent about my neurodivergence and my challenges so that maybe some twerpy kid who’s as unsure of himself as I once was can look at me and my neurodivergent cohort and say “if he’s cool with it then I can be cool with it, too.”
Anyway… if you read all that, thanks again.
The Conscious Pilgrim 