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I’m sitting here enjoying my morning coffee, and into my brain pops the thought, I really should write a post for my Stack. There’s that word. Should. The truth is, I want to write a post, but I want it to be helpful or at the very least interesting to you. However, what I’m needing to write is a bit of self-indulgent, navel gazing, nay, self-reflective thought processing.
I’ve realized that the way I process what I’m experiencing is through thoughts and with words in my head. I don’t necessarily feel what I’m experiencing in the moment, and that is actually not a new revelation, but one I’ve tucked away due to shame. I became aware of it in high school, I guess. I remember telling one of my best friends before I had the words or understanding to explain that I didn’t really feel emotions like I thought I should. I told her that I felt like my life was a movie and I was just acting a part. She laughed, not in a, “Ha-ha, that’s funny!” sort of way, and she said, “Jennifer, that’s sick.”
I do experience emotions in the moment. When something scary happens, I’m scared. When someone stomps on my boundaries, I feel pissed off. My face gets hot and I’m mad. When I’m hugging my husband or my kids I’m filled with love and warm fuzzies. It’s the more nuanced emotions, that I don’t feel until I sit down alone and think about them, and I’m not even sure that’s exactly how it is. I’m working it out, right now, in real time.
A few weeks ago, I finished a psychiatric evaluation for ADHD and ASD (autism spectrum disorder). I’m still waiting for the final report, but the clinician told me after our final interview that I definitely have ADHD. There were some other words attached to that diagnoses that I don’t remember, and she topped it off with a hearty, “Congratulations!” I did feel happy about the official diagnosis even though it wasn’t a revelation, and then she said, “Dr. So’and’So will review everything, but we’re leaning toward a diagnosis of autism level one. We talked a bit more about that and about how high-masking I am, blah blah blah.
I guess, I’ve been in limbo, waiting for that final report along with recommendations and resources, since then. We also talked about how treatment with medication is life changing for many, and I’ve been daydreaming of a life with clarity and the ability to get off my butt and get some shit done ever since.
“You celebrate what works and take tender care of what doesn’t, with lotion, polish, and kindness.” ~Anne Lamott
I’m also probably recovering from burnout. It’s summer break, and throughout this process I’ve realized that I spend most of my life, especially at work, masking my natural traits. I love my job, working with neurodivergent kiddos all day. The fact that I am neurodivergent myself, is probably why I am naturally great at what I do. I have a pretty special rapport with the students, and I think that is because I treat them with kindness and respect, and I understand them. That said, my job wears me the fuck out.
I would not be exaggerating when I tell you, that so far, I have spent almost every waking moment of my summer watching Dateline (Did you know there are over 30 seasons streaming?) whilst simultaneously playing solitaire on my iPad. I spend every morning trying to talk myself into getting out of bed while everything in me screams, “Sleep a little longer!” My sleep cycle has turned completely around, as it tends to do, and I am sleeping between 4am and noon.
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I had one really good day when I realized that my inner child is completely running the show right now. I negotiated with her and promised that if we cleaned up a little, in small chunks, that I would reward her with video games and true crime in between. She agreed.
Our first ten-minute cleaning session went so well that I wanted to keep going. My inner child squawked, “Hey! You promised!” I remembered that I did, indeed, promise, so we sat down and played Hello Kitty Island Adventure. Ha!
I want to rebuild trust with her. Anyway, we got a lot accomplished that day, and little Jennifer was a happy girl. She does like things to be orderly and clean. She just doesn’t like getting all sweaty and not being able to rest and play. (There’s another all-or-nothing entity living inside of me that sometimes runs the show as well.)
I think what is going on is that outwardly it looks like I’m doing nothing much. It looks like I’m resting and recreating, but inside my head I am think, think, thinking myself ragged. I’m settling into the fact that I am neurodivergent, and realizing that it is a fact, at fifty-six years old, is incredible. So many years to reflect on. So many things that could have been different had I known and gotten treatment. Or maybe not. Maybe treatment won’t work for me, or maybe I won’t be able to tolerate the medication. Who knows? I remain in limbo, wondering.
You've got a lot going on, Jennifer. Reading from the outside and imagining the inside, many i's to be dotted and t's crossed perhaps? Hopefully, lots of wiggle room, grace and realizing that where you are in this now moment took what it took. Moving forward will be one moment at a time as it has been and YOU are your wisest counsel and best healer. Trusting that you have been with yourself longer than anyone has and will feel into what feels helpful and what isn't. Gentle care as you do this in quarter pivots and don't expect a full 180. For me, that's when I tank myself before I've even begun. XO 🩵
Sending wishes for grace and serenity, Jennifer. All the hearts to you!