In my head
You could say that I’m in my head a lot.
Sometimes I lie in bed and think about all the things I could/should/want to do. In great detail. In so much detail that I get caught up doing them in my head and don’t get up, for a really long time. Before kids it could take me hours to get out of bed or off the couch.
Sometimes I have the most amazing conversations with friends and loved ones, even strangers or famous people, in my head, or with people or situations I’m furious with, and it takes a shift to realize that they didn’t actually happen.
In my head I’m a concert cellist, a scholarly biologist, a chef, an eco feminist activist, a herbalist, a clinical psychologist, an extrovert, a goofy spontaneous mother (not unlike Bluey’s mom actually) a really fucking funny person-dog. In my head I help everyone make healthy-for-them food choices and have a garden, and I give my abundant harvest away to people in my community, I run organizations to access resources and information that change people’s lives, I give unlimited amounts of reparations, and my land is utilized and given back to those who have a desire to heal. In my mind I am on a boat throwing my body in front of shark hunters and picking up pieces of plastic from the ocean and beaches. I’m picking and processing all the ripe fruit all the time. I’m pulling over and burying every single roadkill I see and helping it’s spirit process the trauma of being run over by a semi. I’m volunteering at my kids’ school everyday, and I’m an active member of the PTO. In my head I am so FUCKING COOL.
In real life I’m frozen a lot. Not able to move or speak. Not sure which way to go, which way forward, which path in my head to take (see above — there are many options.) I’m not sure what is needed of me that day, or who has plans that involve or require my help. Or which of the many things that need me is the most important, for I have a good argument as to why they’re all potentially equally important.
I have a million thoughts, daydreams, ideas, songs, stories, loves, sounds, pictures in my head. They’re my fire. Inside I am on fire.
It’s a lot to be in there, and I’m only just beginning to see how this could be awesome. There’s a lot of skepticism still but…
This is where the frozen begins to melt a little bit. Just a little.
You see, I didn’t always have the words to hold all of the feelings that all this thinking brings up. For most of my life this way of being felt feels super broken, super weird, and not at all how I saw see everyone else (except my mom — more on that later) functioning. It felt feels heavy, tiring, like spending everyday rolling a boulder around with you, on top of going to school/work/the grocery store/and what not. I felt feel inadequate, guilty and shameful all the time. It’s like my brain is telling me “see, if you were cooler/smarter/organized/focused/funnier/more attractive and outgoing… look at all the things you could be doing!”
I felt sad, a lot. I felt like I didn’t deserve to be human. I felt really envious of birds and my cat (well, I still do, that’s never going to change.)
Remember how I said that I have a hard time with labels? (check it out)
How the idea of attaching one word to an experience that feels so big and multidimensional feels monumental and impossible? Well it turns out this is one of the exceptions, and I think it’s because I’m working backwards. Hear me out, I have spent my entire life (41 years) feeling and LIVING all the different sensations/feelings/colors/sounds/experiences within these thoughts that I’m kinda burnt out holding them in their random ways all the time. Now, I feel comfortable AMAZING giving it all one word.
That word is Autism.
Click.
Now I have a bucket/harvest basket/handbag/fannypack/pocket/tote bag to put all this in. I have something that I can set on a shelf and admire and celebrate. I have a sun that my brain and all it’s many planets and moons and asteroids can revolve around.
I have a million new arms to hold my daughter with. To guide them with and protect them with, when they need it.
I have relief.
And now I have you. Thank you for being here.
No, I don’t have a formal diagnosis (my daughter does though) and yes you could say that this is anxiety, or ADHD. Some of you may say fuck that, it’s creativity, or flexible problem solving, or detail oriented hyper focused bliss, and I would agree with that too. On any given day, it’s all of these things and more. One thing that it’s not anymore, is overwhelming. Ok, maybe that’s a stretch, today is definitely a good day, but honestly I think that is because of you. Because I can finally own my experience in a way that, regardless of who you are (what labels you check the box on) you can begin to cognitively wrap your brain around me and so your view of me is a little more understanding, accepting, supportive, and dare I say loving?
Because now that I have a label, a word, a precise and neat syllabic pronunciation that is recognizable and relatable, I am safe, I am seen, I am…(word hasn’t ripened yet.) And this time it DOES NOT leave me feeling worse than I did when I started.
I, in fact, feel more alive than I have ever felt.
*Worth noting here that there is a saying that goes “if you know one autistic person, you know one autistic person” meaning it’s a completely different flavor of experience for every single person on the spectrum (you’re welcome for explaining, it took me awhile too, metaphors are not always my thing) and so the word Autism really doesn’t have a clear definition, which is also really helpful for my purposes. Yay. Double win.
**Also, not at all a side note, and absolutely worth screaming about at the top of my lungs — I also know that these labels were written by privileged as hell white supremacist men who definitely saw it as a disability and something to be beaten out of the individual (I have, of course, done a ton of research) and I will never try and beat any of this out of me, nor do I want you to of you either. I love you. We will talk about this more. For sure.
So (for the sake of our relationship because I could go on) I’m going to stop there.
For now.
I look forward to seeing what unfolds.
