Tag: maturity

permission to feel

I’m someone who spends a lot of time in their own head. I struggle to shut my brain off at the absolute best of times and quite often, there’s nothing more comforting to me than to field a question about something that I am particularly well-versed in.

Beyond that, I take medication that acts as a stimulant, that – if I were to intellectualize it – allows the energy level of my body to catch up to the energy level of my brain where there can be some sense of equilibrium. It may even divert some energy, but that remains to be seen. These are ADHD meds, and since I am AuDHD (combining forces of Autism and ADHD), my Autism is a little more ‘free to roam,’ as it were.

The assertion that Autistic people don’t feel emotion is incorrect. They just process it differently. I would argue that they feel emotions to a higher degree and that regulating those emotions are more of a challenge… so don’t confuse that monotone voice and that deadpan look for anything other than what it is – honesty. If you’re seeing that face and hearing that voice, then you are looking and talking with someone who is not ‘masking’ their disability, and if it feels awkward, it’s not the Autistic person who doesn’t know how to react, it’s you.

Anyway…

… with ADHD meds working in full force, I’ve ultimately never felt more autistic than I do now.

Sorta makes it sound like I live even MORE in my head than before, right? Well, kinda. Except I can put thought to action way more easily without my ADHD symptoms clouding judgement and distracting me, metaphorically tying my shoelaces together.

There are not a lot of Autistic people who will tell you this, but I actually love my autism. Being able to see how I function differently from the people around me is not a new thing… I’ve always been different – but to know WHY and HOW is a comfort I’ve never felt before.

It’s allowed me to walk in the truth that I am very smart, and very resourceful, and good at a lot of things.

It’s got it’s challenges… especially for a “tough guy, rock & roll guy, a hot rod guy, a dad… of a daughter…” and all of the other tropes that beset men. Don’t get me wrong – I know this whole society was set up for me to succeed, but it comes on the condition that we must all be as stoic, stiff-lipped, and unrelenting as Rooster Cogburn in True Grit.

… now who’s not regulating their emotions?

Right.

The truth is that you can have a good life and still be sad. you can be smart and also make a poor decision. You can be a professional and still perform poorly.

And… you’re allowed to feel shitty.

Shitty is a feeling that is just as valid as happiness and just as important to acknowledge, live in, and move through. It’s repressing that feeling that hurts you, because you hang onto it, and add to it, until it’s bigger than you.

I try to remember these things when I’m consoling someone who’s sad, because I have to ask myself if I’m trying to make them feel “better” because it makes the dynamic in the room less awkward for ME… when really, the person being consoled should be made to felt SAFE to feel those feelings.

flexibility

We all have these idyllic scenarios we run in our heads – at least I hope we do, or I am a weirdo – where we know just the right thing to say, or we have the answer to the problem that no one else sees, and we are proud… heroic, even. We rehearse what we’re going to say and we anticipate what the other person’s response will be, and it all goes so smoothly… and we win.

We do this in spite of the fact that it’s never actually gone the way we wanted it to, and ultimately nobody wins. We change nobody’s mind, and nobody changes our mind. We alienate people and risk coming across as assholes despite our best efforts to outwit the other person in the impending confrontation. Not only does our proposed scenario that we’ve rehearsed to death not play out as we thought it would, but the scenario has an ending, and real life has aftermath. For a real trip, try and have this confrontational visit with someone who’s completely fried their brain on designer chemicals and has little-to-no control over their emotions. It’s entitlement en masse, with a heavy dose of rage, and a penchant for blaming everyone around you for things you’ve done.

Perhaps maturity is realizing this in advance, or at least realizing it in the moment and showing some compassion.

The difference between schooling someone in a confrontational conversation, and being of service to their needs comes down to intention. Basically, do you want to wag your finger or do you want to help?

Me? I want to do neither… which is why being of service is such a massive personal sacrifice, and ultimately, why I keep droning on about it time after time.

This manifested itself in my life recently as looking after my niece in the event that her unhinged parent decided to cause a massive scene at my mother’s house. We deemed it best if my niece wasn’t there for that. Personally, I don’t think my mother should have been there for it either, but living in fear isn’t a thing we like to do, and my house is small.

The last thing I wanted to do was entertain a 10 year old. My entertaining-10-year-olds days are over, in my mind, but it was a need – not a want, and it was an act of service I was able to offer, regardless of the fact that I didn’t want to get in the middle of things any more than I already have in recent weeks.

But this wasn’t about me.
And it sure as shit wasn’t about my quiet evening at home, or the shitty sleep I got as a result of doing it.
But it was hard to let go of my quiet evening and my good night’s sleep.
It was hard to switch my brain back into 10-year-old mode.
It was hard not to step into the situation, lay out the facts as I saw them, and shut the bullshit down as I saw fit.
But I did those hard things.

I served.