Autism & Mad Mothers

This has been one of the most difficult years of my life.  

There was Autism, usual family stuff, college and covid.  But in the Spring, the shell protecting my mental health cracked open and I fell to pieces.  One day, all the defenses I used to avoid my issues (maintaining facades, perfectionism, anxiety, depression, overwork, wine, rationalizing emotions, denying my own needs, unhealthy boundaries, whatever you're having yourself) just stopped working.

It was about fucking time.

My breakdown immersed me in a world of pain that I'd been avoiding for a very long time.

Many months of therapy have helped me to integrate most of my big psychological injuries.  There's still one or two sticky issues  I need to befriend, but I know I'll get there.  Tbh, I'd rather french kiss Boris Johnson after he's eaten a packet of Monster Munch, but you do what you gotta do.  Am wearing Big Girl pants now, and all that.

The big surprise is that processing the awfulness isn't as terrible as pouring all my energy into avoiding it.  I mean, therapy is horrendous.  It's like being atomized in a high-speed blender and then re-shaped in a really unfamiliar new mould.  It takes a while to get used to.  And making friends with the dark creatures in my mental basement has been...... unexpected.  

But avoiding it has been worse.  The relief of allowing the mask to slip is wonderful.  Breaking down gave me the freedom to recognize and discard what was bad for my soul.  It's a work in progress, but yanno.

Autism was the catalyst that forced me to engage with my mental health in a meaningful way.  It's very possible I would have continued to spin in my resistant groove for the rest of my days, had Autism not driven me mad.

It's kinda comical to be grateful for something that caused me pain, but here we are.  Alice in Wonderland knew her shit when she said "curiouser and curiouser".  

Autism & Processing Emotions

Finian got his covid booster today.

He was not amused.  

Despite social stories, schedules and reward incentives, he screamed the fucking place down.  The staff were amazing, though, and after half an hour of slowing everything down, he got his jab.  

It was a stressful procedure for him.  

And for me.  

I learned to sweat from entirely new pores while attempting to hold him.  My heart enjoyed a few interesting new arrhythmias as it tried to exit my body.  I discovered that my son makes a pretty decent kick-boxer.

So it was quite the learning experience.

What was really surprising, though, was to witness the range of emotions Finian went through, and how he processed them. 

On the car journey to the centre he was a little anxious, but was happy about the prospect of  a hot chocolate and McDonald's afterwards.  But when we reached the centre, fear overwhelmed him.  He was locked in a full-on adrenaline-fueled flight/fright response, and reasoning was pointless.  He was terrified and incoherent.  Three of us couldn't hold him.  He kicked and screamed like he was possessed (def a 'fight' rather than 'flight' guy, it seems).  After a spell of calming him down we decided to reschedule, which meant that  Costa and McDonald's were off the cards.  When he realised this, he sat down, pulled his sleeve up and sold out for a happy meal.  His legs were shaking with fear, but he tolerated his terror to get his treat.

On the walk to get his drink he skipped, jumped and flapped to offload his adrenaline.  There may have been screaming.  In Costa, the adrenaline wore off and gave way to intense sadness.  It was like watching a tsunami rising.  His sadness swelled and he howled over his hot chocolate.  He buried his head in my shoulder and sobbed.  There was zero inhibition.  There was much lusty wailing and salty tears.  It was an unapologetic snot-fest.

After maybe ten minutes of naming his emotions and giving him space to feel them, he was ready to move on.  It was like magic.  If we could all experience and express our emotions as freely as Finian, we'd be a lot healthier and happier.

By the time we got home, he was singing Lofty and the Giant Carrot (in Albanian), so all was well.

We're conditioned to be so scared and ashamed of our own feelings that we disown them.  We're numbed out under layers of booze, drugs or mindless distraction.  Or we're paralyzed by anxiety and depression as our suppressed emotions scream to be heard.  We don't know ourselves at all.

In therapy, I'm still processing deeply buried emotions from five decades ago........  all for the want of being helped to own my shit.  It's truly humbling to witness healthy emotional processing from an autistic kid.

sofa cuddles to re-calibrate

 

Autism & Fear

I finally finished one of this semester's assignments, and I celebrated by having a nap and reorganizing the hot press (airing cupboard, to non- paddies).

My gangsta vibes are lit.

It's a lovely feeling to downgrade my fancy performance anxiety to everyday existential dread.

Fear is not the most popular kid at the emotional party, but we probably wouldn't be here without it.  Our inner alarm system has saved us from being devoured, starved or trampled out of existence a long time ago.

But we can have too much of a good thing.

We live in a time and place when fear is used as a marketing tool.  Unscrupulous people with shit to sell cleverly tap into our western values, our innate insecurities (often of not being lovable or good enough) and access to 24/7 information assault.

Sex sells, but fear sells better.

We're relentlessly scared of everything, and it's literally driving us insane.

Aging.  Bad breath.  Missing out.   Being uncool.  Drinking the wrong beer.  Malnourishing our kids.  Cancer.  Body hair.  Having normal teeth.  Loss. Not being rich/thin/clean/ripped/popular/successful/young/sexy/stylish/accomplished/nourished/travelled/fragrant/healthy enough.  Last season's shoes.  Boredom.

We're strung-out consumers blindly buying the next antidote to fear, forgetting that fear is just another normal emotion.

Unless you're Finian.  

One of his many superpowers is deflecting marketing strategies.  He'd probably eat this season's must-have shoes.  Yum.  The only things that scare him are his Bob toys being misaligned, and loss of WiFi.  

Sometimes Autism rocks.

It's taken me almost a year in therapy to know how to process emotions and understand why they call it "work".  Finian is miles ahead of me.  He's almost casual in his genius at knowing what is worth fearing, and what deserves no attention.

I'm still terrified by my laundry monster (it definitely growls at me some days), and some of my college tutors are kinda scary.  But I'm learning from my favourite teacher.