Mask Off

 Sometime around 2018, a much younger colleague asked me if I was autistic.  Being raised in the 80s, I had a very specific idea of what autism is and I didn't identify with that.  I told her I clearly wasn't autistic, and I brushed off the offense, or at least I thought I did.

Years later, sometime around the pandemic's start in the US, I found myself "stuck" at home, thriving.  I was immersed in life with animals, house plants, and phone dates to watch movies with a friend who lived two thousand miles away.  Life was good.  During that time at home, I found myself losing weight, regulating my sleep schedule, and just feeling stress-free.  The entire world was in chaos and I was living my best life.  

During a night of usual self-reflection and over-analysis, I started thinking about that conversation, a few years before, and wondering why on earth she said that.  At first, I wanted to dismiss it as a rude comment, but then I thought about questions she had been asking me, leading up to that point.  She asked if I thought literally, in black and white.  She asked if I had to think about making facial expressions... there were a few other questions.  Regardless, I started wondering if I maybe was dealing with some sort of developmental issue.  I recognized that my hyper-intelligence was present for as long as I can remember, but my emotional development was hella delayed and that was what I kept hidden for so long.

Fast forward a bit, back at work in person, I reach out to one of my colleagues and ask her if she knows much about high functioning autism.  She tells me a bit and I share with her that I think maybe that's what I have.  She waved me off, saying I'm gifted not autistic, and then she handed me this checklist.

I had a long list of checkmarks on both sides and when I showed it to her, she shrugged "see, gifted", and that was that.

Except, it wasn't.  Recently I was watching content on TikTok and noticed a message from a friend.  I clicked it up, watched the video she shared, and read the accompanying message.  "Have you ever wondered if you were autistic?"  As someone who has known me for thirty years, I had to give her question some weight.  The truth, as you know, is that I *had* wondered if I was autistic, but I didn't know what that meant much beyond wondering if I had a pervasive developmental disorder that I wasn't previously aware of.... but one of the beautiful things about TikTok is that it allows you to consume content created by multiple creators in such a short amount of time.  Before I knew it, I was obsessed, watching successful, middle-aged women talking about how they had always known they were different, that life was unreasonably hard for them-and why would that be?-before they realized that they're autistic and just really, really good at masking.  I started watching longer talks, reading books, and it was the book Unmasking Autism by Devon Price that helped me arrive to the place where I can say that I undoubtedly know I am autistic.

I created a list of traits, that I may pick apart, piece by piece, that I have tied to my autism:

• I've always felt like another species and so I observed humans to learn how to be one as it didn't come naturally to me
• I never made eye contact when younger and was shamed into doing it through aggressive language, bullying, and teasing by my mother
• I've always had special interests that haven't waned: animals and acquisition of knowledge amongst them
• I'd easily express anger (autistic meltdown much?) but any other emotion was like trying to pull teeth
• I'd practice facial expressions, tones of voice, accents, body language in the mirror and try to learn to mirror a number of things that other people seemed to accept socially
• I have always been incredibly clumsy
• Small talk and not connecting deeply with someone I share space with makes me incredibly uncomfortable and zaps my energy
• I think literally and still have issues with some idioms.  I can tell you which idioms are appropriate for which contexts/situations, but I don't know what the hell it means.  (Relatedly: did you know the chicken crossed the road "to get to the other side" is a euphemism for he crossed the road in order to get hit and killed?  I sure as hell didn't until two weeks ago.)
• I've always been very slow, even when competing in athletics, unless I was running, in which case I was fast.  Really fast.
• I have weak ankles and achilless heels
• As a toddler, I was quick to speak and read, but I didn't want to walk, I'd roll everywhere
• I look younger than I am and frequently hear comments about this
• I stim nearly non-stop when not at work-- constant humming and singing, if not aloud, then definitely in my head

I'm going to end the list here for now as I don't want to spend much more time on the list itself.  But, some interesting facts that are worth noting:

• I have had a potassium deficiency my entire life.  In 2018 or so, they discovered it has to do with a benign growth on my adrenal glands.  They're finding now that the channels that allow potassium movement within the cells are impacted by autism, implying that autism may have a connection with lower potassium serum levels.
• I had a benign growth in my abdomen as a child.  I also have benign growths on my thyroid and adrenal glands.  There are studies linking tumor growth, due to a mutation leading to cell cycles not ending when they should, to autism.  To this day they don't know what caused my abdominal tumor nor my tumor in my adrenal gland.
• My grandfather exhibited many traits that I now recognized are spectrum-y behaviors and autism has a genetic link.
• My baby brother is a diagnosed autistic.

More later... I'm exhausted.

Disregulated

I’m a 42 year old woman. Sometimes that fact is lost on me. Some days I feel 19, other days I feel 65. Today was a 65 day. It was stressful, from start to finish.  I expected some level of stress as it was an unusual schedule and not a typical day at work. Knowing that, in advance, prevents me from achieving the highest levels of anxiety, but I can still get to an 8 on a 10 scale. Today was an 8. 

I frequently find myself in leadership roles because the absence of leadership causes me distress. I like to think I’m a fairly decent leader, but the truth is, everybody is different and the type of leader they work best under is going to be different. It’s not a one size fits all situation. When dealing with people, you have to aim for one size fits most… 

But today was hard because someone who works well with our students was outright insubordinate. I don’t have a huge ego (at least I don’t think I do), so that’s not so much a personal hit as problematic because of the impact her actions had on the rest of my staff.  She’s destroyed trust and that’s so difficult to earn back. 

I envy people who can work without having to put their heart into it. So many times over the years I’ve dreamt about quitting, getting a work from home job and just doing the 9-5 thing in my pajamas. Have distance, keep feelings out of it, clock in and clock out. Instead, I’ve stayed in an increasingly emotionally draining field working with people who are increasingly emotionally drained. 

Because of this situation, I’ve found myself disregulated. Anxiety built up, anger festered, and I found myself unable to tolerate even the best of company. 

I have some reflection to do.

Ask 8-Year Old You

I am so happy to come home every day. This is a relatively new feeling and I’ve been pondering that a lot lately. 

I chose to rent this house because it felt right. It was a gut-feeling, not one of my usual overly-calculated decisions. The house has character and land and it made me remember a picture I drew when I was 8 years old. At school, we were prompted to draw our perfect home.  In hindsight, I recognize that most people drew their human family because that’s what they associated with home. Instead, I drew the inside and outside of a house that was centered on me and animals. As I got older, I assumed I’d find a life partner before I hit the ripe old age of 20, and we’d both settle into this animal-centered life and spend our days sitting on the front porch, talking and drinking lemonade with our dogs and spend the nights by a fire, reading our respective books and just enjoying each other’s existence in silence. 

I didn’t find that person at the young age, nor did I have that sanctuary life very early on. Things were chaotic for a few decades but now the waters have stilled and I feel peace. The one thing that’s surprised me most about it is that it wholly comes from within. Once it’s taken root, it grows to fill every little nook and begins to overflow to the surroundings…. But it really does come from within. 

8 year old me knew. 

Close Enough?

I’ve had a difficult couple of days. Times like these, I find myself more in my head than usual… which is terrifying to think about, really. 

I sat outside this evening as the sun went down. I tried to focus on the fact that I live on a sanctuary that I built by myself, in an effort to soothe the unease I’ve been feeling these last 48 or so hours. 

As a plane’s light flickered tens of thousands of feet above earth, I wondered what people were aboard. I wonder how many are happy, how many are in love, how many recently lost a loved one, and how many are staring out the window down at the clouds below.

A very real thing is that I never feel loneliness generally. I only feel lonely when there is someone, in particular, I long to be close to but just can’t. Sometimes that distance is literal and the gap can be bridged, and sometimes that person’s body can be inches away but their heart and mind are in another world. 

I’ve been befriending silence again. The last time that happened I got swallowed by it. I have connections I didn’t have before but sometimes I don’t know if they’re strong enough to hold my weight if I let go. 

I can’t do long-distance as easily as I could twenty years ago. I’ve spent too long alone.  But my mind is starting to play tricks on me and it’s got me wondering if even when he is nearby, will he be close enough?

The Timing is Perfect

 I've always had vivid dreams and I've been fortunate enough to remember the details when I wake... at least most of the time.  This wasn't such a blessing when I was younger as I had frequent nightmares.  I remember reading once that the average person has about two to three nightmares a year.  I didn't believe it, so I had to look it up myself.  Turns out that the average adult has one nightmare a year and kids have maybe 5-10.  Still, I was having that many in a week.  But, that's not the point of this post.

I've been noticing lately that my dreams are all about the changes happening in and around my life right now and instead of fear and trepidation, these dreams are filled with positive symbolism and experiences and I wake feeling more confident, more at peace, and more filled with love than when I went to sleep.  

When I was a child, I felt like my brain was an enemy, that my intelligence was an impediment and that my inability to not over-think or to shut off my brain at night was going to be some critical flaw that caused my eventual undoing (I was so dramatic as a child), but the truth is I feel that those things are what allowed me to arrive to this point in my life, where I'm filled with peace and hope and contentedness.

I'm 42 and I am finally in love.  The man causes me to actually feel things, which in and of itself is a miracle, and I find myself excited at the thought of forever (insert echo of the word "forever" here)...  Part of me wishes I would have found him sooner, because that's what my brain does, it focuses on what could have been better, but the truth is, I don't think either of us was ready for one another until now.

Crushing Skulls & Merry-Go-Rounds

 A friend called yesterday and before I knew it, we were discussing merry-go-rounds, as people do.  It reminded me of a couple of stories, related, though 20+ years apart, and I shared them both.

Sometime during the late 80s, we were visiting my grandmother's sister, which we did weekly, and just as we did every time we would visit, we took a walk to the local park.  My grandfather stayed behind, talking with the men in the dining room area, only taking interest in our affairs long enough to shout "keep an eye on her", speaking to me of my grandmother.  I was a child and somehow, I knew, I was responsible for my grandmother's welfare.

My younger brother accompanied us to the park and once there, we saw a merry-go-round.  His eyes widened with excitement and my grandmother encouraged us to "hop on" and enjoy while she pushed us.  We got on, my brother sitting between vertical handle bars, which he held on to for dear life, and I stood opposite him, legs spread a bit, waiting for movement.  My grandmother grabbed ahold of one of the verticle bars and, now I remember this quite vividly even now, instead of standing still and pushing the bars as they passed her, building up speed over time, she took off running, bar in hand.  Immediately, I was confused, but my grandmother had her own way of doing things, so I let it go, and just tried to enjoy.  I remember looking at my brother, his body turned away from me, but I could imagine how happy he was to feel the breeze in his hair.  Then it happened...

Somehow my grandmother tripped, and for whatever reason, didn't let go of the bar she was holding on to when she fell.  Before I knew it, my grandmother, decked out in a denim skort, was being dragged through pea gravel while my brother giggled.  Panicked, I turned and dropped to my ass, stuck my legs over the edge and dragged them to slow us down.  As I did this, I shouted to my grandmother, "let go, just let go... you're tearing up your legs", but she didn't listen.  After what felt like an eternity, but was really just a few rotations of the merry-go-round, at best, the thing came crawling to a stop and she let go of the bar and rolled outward and away from the merry-go-round.  She was filthy, covered in dust, dirt, and blood and she had small gravel stuck beneath the skin on her knee.  I asked her what on earth she was thinking and she stood up, literally wiped the front of her skort and made a comment about her legs being torn up, and said, "I didn't want to crush my skull".

I was confused, yet again.  And, I told her as much.  

"Well, I was afraid if I let go, I'd roll underneath the merry-go-round and my head would get squashed."

I turned to look at the base of the merry-go-round to find that there was about an inch and a half of clearance between the bottom of the thing and the gravel.  I don't think she had any idea how big her head was....

Upon returning to my aunt's house, my grandfather looked my grandmother up and down, then turned to me, "what the hell happened to her?".  I was, at most, 9 years old.  She was, at least, 50 years old.

That memory stuck with me through the years and after my grandmother passed away, I was going on a tour of sites that held some great childhood memories.  I would leave a pinch or two of her ashes at each site, and each stop was a story I'd share with my children, as they accompanied me.  When we got to the park, two of my kiddos ran to the merry-go-round, while the other went to the giant metal caterpillar.  I had the girls get on the merry-go-round and I pushed them (by standing still and pushing the bars as they crossed in front of me).  As I was pushing them, I told them the story of what happened that day, over 20 years before, on that very merry-go-round.  Well, unbeknownst to me, my son had left the caterpillar behind and was standing to the side and slightly behind me, just in my blindspot, near the merry-go-round.  The girls were giggling and suddenly I saw movement, my son had jumped from where he had been standing to land on the metal floor of the merry-go-round, only the merry-go-round was doing what it does best, going 'round.  

The next thing I knew, my son was airborne; he had been tossed off of the merry-go-round like a cigarette being flicked from a car window.... and it happened so suddenly, he had no idea what was going on.  The girls' mouths dropped open and my oldest hung her feet over the side to slow the merry-go-round down so she could hop off and check on him.  He landed, with a confused thud, in the pea gravel, and I rushed to his side.  Looking down at him, I asked him what in the world he was thinking, and he said "I just wanted to go around".  

I pulled out a small jar from my pocket, opened it, and took a couple of pinches of grandma out and sprinkled them just beside him in the pea gravel.  He looked over to what I was doing and before getting up he said, "hi, gigi-ma".

For what it's worth, I found out that about a year later, that park which had stood there for over 40 years was torn down and paved over... but these memories will be around for a while.

Ramadan, Year 2

I wasn’t as prepared for my second year of Ramadan as a Muslim. I have been preoccupied and, if I’m being 100% honest, I have pulled away from my religious studies since October.  I don’t think it was intentional, necessarily, I just felt overwhelmed with information while I really just wanted to focus on my connection with Allah. 

I find myself missing the learning, though. So, this Ramadan, I want to re-center around seeking knowledge and learning.

Insha Allah, that will allow me to spend more time outside of myself and reflecting on how I can be of more service to others.  

Ready or not, we are on day 2…. Time waits for no one.