Autism & Villages

I spent much of today procrastinating.

Instead of tidying up a few irritating loose ends in my college portfolio, I draped myself across the couch like I was in the terminal stages of a Victorian wasting disease.

My portfolio will be assessed in three days.  The bits that need attention will take about an hour to tidy up.  It's not even proper work.

But I acted like deadlines weren't even a thing.  It was of grave importance that my eyebrows were tweezed into perfect symmetry.  It was most urgent that the dog was groomed.  And all the tea wasn't going to drink itself.

My portfolio gathered dust while I alphabetised the spice cupboard.

I'd like to make my procrastination sexier by saying it was a coping mechanism, used to protect me from my fear of not being good enough..... like a type of performance anxiety.  But the real, and tragically less sexy, truth is that I was just being a massive lazyarse (real word).

And I loved every minute of it.

I idled the day away deeply appreciating having a lovely husband who will take Finian to youth club while I crack on with (*cough*) work.  I am weak with gratitude that I have emerged from the happy side of many months of intense therapy, now able to eat, sleep and not view the world as a hostile place.  

Having a kiddo with autism is hard.  That's hardly headline news.  Crawling through decades of psychological awfulness (without much grace, it has to be said) was also super not-good while managing autism.

But when things are hard, I've learned to look for the good people.  The ones who hug you when you're a stinky mess.  The ones who meet you for a walk or a coffee when you're Not Your Best.  The ones who let you know they're there for you, even when you've driven them insane with your lunacy.  There are good people who supported me without knowing it..... my yoga teacher, my college buddies, strangers who smiled at me in shops.

Before this becomes an Oscar acceptance speech, I think it's important to point something out.

Among our autism circles, we often remark that it takes a village to raise an ASD kiddo (albeit a weirdly niche one, characterised by much talk about streaking kids, and children taking enormous dumps in the display toilets in B&Q).  

But as I continue to flounder my way through this perplexing world, it's clear to me that it takes a village to raise every one of us.  It takes a little humility to accept this, but all of us need each other. 

Portfolio done, with fabulous eyebrows

Autism & Spells

I'm not normally superstitious.

But you know when you say something and then think "I really wish I hadn't said that" ?  Well, that happened me this morning.

I was having coffee with a friend while our boys were at youth club.  The craic was great.  We had hot coffee, a good laugh, and two autism-free hours.  All good-for-the-soul stuff.

But then I said it.

"You know what, Finian's in great form these days."

I could almost hear the wind die, the earth stop rotating and the planet collectively hold it's breath.  Small creatures dived for cover and birds dropped from the sky.  They looked at each other in disbelief and stuttered "she said what???"  Minor demons stirred from their lairs, rubbed a thousand years sleep from their eyes and whispered "we'll see about that".

Fuck sake, like.

I scanned the coffee shop for a black cat, a pair of magpies, a rabbit's foot..... anything to undo the hex I'd just woven on my son's demeanour.  But Costa was fresh out of spell antidotes.  I couldn't even get them on my points card.  

We almost got away with it, too.  

Fin remained in good form until this evening, when my jinxed words caught up with me.  He indulged in a most impressive meltdown.  I spent over an hour lying on the sofa with him screaming in one ear, and Little  Einsteins screaming in the other.  It's next to impossible to decide which was worse.  

On the surface of it, I was attempting to co-regulate his emotions.  In reality, I was wondering what unspeakable creature invented Dry January (probably one of the minor demons I woke up), and why in the name of Jesus, his mother and all the holy baby lambs I was doing it?   

Anyway, the meltdown has passed, the earth has caught her breath, and the demons are safely tucked back in their satanic little beds (they're cute when they're asleep).  I'm drinking chamomile tea instead of industrial-grade ethanol.  Finian is singing Here Come the Rubber Dubbers in Russian.  The rest of Dry January will be a piece of piss.

"you just can't afford us"

 

 

Autism & Storms

I love storms.  

Which is just as well, as there's a monster howling against the windows right now.

There's a sense of Mother Earth baring her teeth and reminding us that we're here only because she allows us to be here.  There's something primal about being reminded that civilization has a very thin veneer, and it wouldn't take a huge amount of effort on her part to whip it away.

Storms give me a sense of my place in the world.  I feel a strange sense of peace when the elements are showing me exactly who's in charge. 

I finished seeing my clients early today so I decided to surprise my husband at work with a coffee (he's an Emergency Department nurse).  This took me down an unfamiliar road.  The storm was still a few hours away, and ragged clouds whipped across intense, low sunshine.  Twisters of red leaves exploded in the squall.  Light and dark chased each other across a sky brimming with unspilled rain.

I could barely breathe with the beautiful drama of it all.

It felt like a joyful synchronicity with the storm of emotions I experienced about Finian over the last few days.  Nature was performing the age-old play of finding beauty in chaos, using the sky as a stage.

Yesterday I wrote about the guilt and pain I feel about needing respite from Finian.  The responses I received, in public and private messages, were humbling and raw and humanizing.  

We're all in the storm.  And there's something kinda thrilling about that.

Autism & Misery Porn

 Last night I met three friends (all Autism parents) for something to eat.

The food was lovely, the service was awful and the craic was great.

The thrill of travelling outside a restricted zone and sitting with Actual Humans was intoxicating (my family and close circle sadly don't qualify as Actual Humans).   Eating in a public place without fear of summary execution felt positively decadent.

We had a year and a half of talking to catch up on.  As seasoned Autism mothers, used to summarizing lengthy events into brief, efficient sentences (usually in between peeling children off ceilings etc etc), we covered a lot of ground.  We talked kids, hair, husbands, getting older, mental health, lgbt, missing Pride, work, money, covid, home improvements, school etc.  

We laughed a lot.

Inevitably we talked Autism.  It struck me that we were able to talk about the overwhelming, soul-destroying aspects of living with Autism without spiraling into a well of despair.  We talked about the fear, sadness and exhaustion that colours our days while celebrating the joy that our kids bring into our lives.

We acknowledged the awfulness of it without becoming the awfulness.

It felt grounding and somehow safe to spend time in the company of friends who are practiced at walking that line.  It's easy to get stuck in the habit of misery.  It's equally easy to be seduced by the reality-denial of toxic positivity.  In reality, we have a foot in both worlds.... but hopefully not so deep into either world that we lose our centre of gravity.

There is a balance somewhere between toxic positivity and misery porn.  

It became clear to me last night that surrounding myself with people who don't suck the joy out of me or expect me to be relentlessly buoyant is a healthy place to be.  There is no balance in extremes.  There is liberation in spending time with people who can accept my sadness and  joy with equal enthusiasm.  

Remaining in a state of perpetual misery can be a blind addiction.  Catholic Ireland is especially good at validating torment; suffering is good for the soul.  

Equally, denying the painful stuff, and insisting on relentless positivity, condemns us to an inauthentic existence filled with repressed emotions and stomach ulcers.

Being with friends who see me and accept me, without trying to change my experience to fit their world view, is affirming at soul level.

There is wisdom in keeping good company.