My Holiday Journaling Experiment
In recent years, I have observed that journaling can be a useful method for people to cope with a range of stressful circumstances. But as a year filled with profound self-discovery about autism comes to a close, I find myself confident that I want nothing to do with journaling. I have never been fond of the idea, nor have I done it before. Now that I understand my autistic mental health much better, I believe I know why.
It is not so much a personal preference as it feels like a cautionary tale. I literally get by each day by maintaining a near-constant state of distraction. If I focus too long on the ever-present negativity of my situation, I fear that I risk falling apart. I decided to take this risk to prove to healthcare providers just how time-critical accommodations for monotropism and economic integration are for us. *Reader discretion is advised*
Journal ENTRY — Thursday, 12/21/2023:
- As soon as I left the autism support group’s Christmas party, a wave of despair washed over me. I felt distant. Even though I thought I had a good time while I was there, I was unable to smile afterwards. This malaise never went away completely. Each day now, I feel as if I am slowly slipping away. I question the lack of initiative from my care provider. This four-week gap in counseling sessions is making my skin crawl. I look at the Christmas tree in my bedroom and wonder, “Is this the last year that I will see one?” Do they care about helping autistic me?
Journal ENTRY — Friday, 12/22/2023:
- I did not sleep well. I kept feeling restless and uncomfortable about the gift opening on Monday. The thought of it makes me feel mournful. Worse is how 2024 gives me such a fright because I have no path forward to get anywhere. Something weird happened tonight. As the day wore on, I swear I felt the emotional equivalent of ants behind my eyes. Is this normal? I must conclude that now I know what my biggest support need is (economic integration), which creates a treacherous waiting game. The longer it goes without being attended to, the worse I feel.
Journal ENTRY — Saturday, 12/23/2023:
- Today, I felt an increasing sense of desperation. No matter how I think or what I do, I am constantly expending energy to hide from the reality of my situation. This is the waiting game that I have been afraid of. Over the last two months, it has become increasingly unavoidable and exhausting to cope with. Since my healthcare provider has not taken the core issue — economic integration and monotropism — seriously, I lack the most basic socioeconomics a person needs to feel peace of mind with their mental health. I was not tired before bed because I was so on edge.
Journal ENTRY — Sunday, 12/24/2023:
- This is the day before what used to be my favorite day of the year. It is all but empty for me now. The neighbors’ kids across the street, whom I grew up with, are visiting. Seeing their young kids fills me with a deep sense of, is it, loss? Am I, or is this that bad? It reminds me of a movie I re-watched recently. The parents with kids were prominently rushed to be saved, while the childless and older waited on a beach for their end to come. I am not a child anymore. There is no rush to help. More of the world looks alien to me now that I see it through these open eyes.
Journal ENTRY — Monday, 12/25/2023:
- I published “A Christmas Memory” before I went to bed. That bled off some of the angst I felt. But not enough. All day long, with every attempt at positive thought or distraction, there was a consistent pushback. Opening presents was awkward. I smiled anyway. Festive-season greetings all felt hollow. Merry Christmas… Seeing my friends’ children, now teenagers, on Facebook made me feel empty because I have none. No happiness I feel is ever able to last. I never had a life of my own when it mattered. The longer I lack that now, the weaker I become.
Journal ENTRY — Tuesday, 12/26/2023:
- My chronophobia does not waste time. As soon as I woke up and opened my eyes, I felt more distressed. After I ate brunch, I tried to decide whether or not to put more effort into this journaling. But I was too stressed. Then, after supper, I started feeling indecisive about the stuff I planned to watch over the next two weeks. I literally stood in front of the selected DVDs and could not choose. This is the same problem I have with employment. It turned me inside out. I ended up fixating on journaling for the rest of the night. I went to bed late and was still not tired.
Journal ENTRY — Wednesday, 12/27/2023:
- Today, I felt more at ease. I am surprised. And I think I know whom I have to thank. One of my Twitter followers helped me think of social support networks. I forgot that I had not had one for over a decade. That is a very long time to be your own support person. So I sent them a GIF of cheers for solidarity. Then, I realized I do have more people supporting me. I just did not see it through the constant coping. Since my autistic followers come from such a diverse background, it feels as if humanity itself is reaching out to carry me forward. I owe them thanks.
Journal ENTRY — Thursday, 12/28/2023:
- I did not sleep well. An hour after I went to bed late, I woke up. I hate that. So I felt a lingering tiredness the rest of the day. I did have my eye doctor’s appointment, where I ordered new glasses for the first time in five years. However, during the drive home, I seemed to zone out. I feel like I am out of place. Is this some sort of socioeconomic identity crisis? Now that I am honest about the waiting game, I can see this dissociation effect. But I think I did manage to fix the monotropic indecision with what to watch: Star Trek Next Gen films leading up to Picard.
Journal ENTRY — Friday, 12/29/2023:
- “What the fuck is this shit?!” I have not been this terrified in years. Only half an hour after going to bed, this time earlier because I was tired, I had a full-blown nightmare. So I took a few notes before I tried to get back to sleep. All I can remember is mumbling something out of fear, clutching the bed covers over me like a shield, and wondering how long before I could peek out for air. When I finally did, the air was warm and stale. I was in such a state of panic that I was hyperventilating. I thought I was being attacked. I finished the notes soon after I woke up.
I slept in until the afternoon but felt on edge through much of the day. Needless to say, the uplifting mood two days ago has already dissipated. Now, I am back to the creeping sense of not belonging that seeps its way into everything I see or think of. At least I am now resolved to take this journaling seriously. Maybe my care provider will prioritize effective action with this evidence. My Autistic Chronophobia Theory comes to mind more. It may be the first year that the heightened distress does not subside after the New Year. For my sake, I hope I am wrong.
Journal ENTRY — Saturday, 12/30/2023:
- I did not have another nightmare, but date references make me visibly cringe. I hope my parents do not notice. Hiding it from them is so hard. I almost want to go back to not knowing, compared to any year like this, where I faced such unrelenting trauma. For anyone who has had to move back home, beware. Seeing those same walls when you wake up and go to bed can take a toll on your mind. This is what being late diagnosed after lacking economic integration by age 42 does to us. I am grateful for my parents, relatives, friends, and followers who keep me going.
Journal ENTRY — Sunday, 12/31/2023:
- Again, I awoke in the middle of the night. I left myself a three-word note, but it was too confusing to be useful before the memory faded. The day was dominated by constantly having to cope. I watched the movie Star Trek: Nemesis in three sittings. I tried listening to several of my recent favorite songs to make myself feel happier. I helped my wonderful neighbors on the Hay Day farming game app that I have played for over a decade. Every half hour, I shared my most popular autism writings from 2023 on Twitter. In spite of everything that I did, I still felt it.
Sometime after 8 p.m., I was sitting in the upstairs bathroom. My mind was clear, which was surprising considering the circumstances. And yet, without any effort whatsoever, I could actually feel the instability lurking just beneath the surface of my face. It dawned on me how easily I could have faltered in that moment. Yes, life goes on. But for how many? I practically had to force myself to finish this journal entry. My journaling is not so negative because I want to be this way. This is reality. Crawling over the finish line is no way for a human being to live.
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Journal ENTRY — Monday, 1/01/2024:
- No wonder New Year’s Day is so awkward. It feels like an emotional hangover. After six weeks of holidays, I am exhausted, but the change of pace is uncomfortable, too. And I think this journaling is having a side effect. I feel like there are two of me. Most people know the first one because he smiles and blends right in. The other I must mask so no one rejects him for all this negativity. He has never felt actual stability because of his late diagnosis. Now, he has this huge developmental gap to compensate for. I hope watching Star Trek: Picard lifts his spirits.
Journal ENTRY — Tuesday, 1/02/2024:
- Christmas seems so far away. As the holiday hangover fades, it is replaced with what should be: life going back to normal. Except that my life is not normal. At age 42, I have zero economic integration. I look like I blend in, and that hurts me more when I go out in public. I cannot lie to myself about my lack of integration anymore. But I cannot cope without it. Until my monotropism is accommodated with employment, I will be fixated on this. I guess this is the dirty little secret that I have been hiding from everyone. I feel like I am in a no-win scenario…
Journal ENTRY — Wednesday, 1/03/2024:
- … or the lost and found. Watching Star Trek: Picard has given me inspiration. I identify with Sir Patrick Stewart. I am also listening to Season 1, “Main Title,” as I write this. I have found myself and found my course or curse. I just want to have a life. I do feel confident and ready to tackle the challenge of economic integration. But inspiration is not enough. I need a viable pathway to employment. I am living and breathing primary-source proof that reasonable accommodations are needed. How long do I have? Long-term stress does have consequences.
Journal ENTRY — Thursday, 1/04/2024:
- I decided to skip the autism support group so they would not see me like this. Yet, I still feel so conflicted about hiding it. From my parents. From you. But I need to recover. All these years, I never developed like my peers. The mental health profession’s neglect of autism caused it. I will not find stability unless I find my way with employment. I did not choose to face my mental health in 2016 to waste time. I did it for survival. Imagine someone who has it worse than me. All neglect of autism needs to stop. I just hope this journaling is enough. No more…
At the end of this unsettling experience, I learned a few things I did not expect to learn. When I first made the hesitant decision to do this journaling, I never realized just how important it would be to be honest with myself about how I feel. Many people in my life seem to want me to only think happy thoughts. I do not want to feel so hopeless. But if I am not honest with how I feel, I will be making the same mistake I discovered in June. I would be in denial, while the core problems would not be resolved soon enough.
There is more. As I painstakingly wrote my way through the last two weeks, I constantly had to fight an urge to mask my emotions. Neither did I expect to peel back such a layer of self-defense each day to discern what I was feeling. But I did. The truth is clear. Either my economic integration is accommodated or I will deteriorate. Although I made it to the New Year, the clock is ticking. For many more people than just me.
My course is laid in. They are my mission…
Continued here in My Journal’s Notes.
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