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.

Autism & Restrictions

When the first covid lockdown was imposed, many special needs parents were match-fit for the coming months. Lots of us were used to life with limited freedom.  Many of us had already given up friends, careers, and sometimes even marriages to adjust to life in a different groove.  As I've often said, ultimately these losses were not a bad thing (even though they weren't welcome changes at the time).  I like the person I've grown into much better because of Autism.

So when covid first hit, life didn't change all that much for me.  I already had a PhD in Restricted Living and was working towards my doctorate in General Awesomeness. Lockdown was gonna be a breeze, and I was destined to graduate as Dr Awesome (with honours).

Of course, the universe had other plans.  It would have been fine if it decided to deliver a discreet slice of humility pie with a gentle reminder to cop the fuck on.  

But the universe didn't do that.  

The universe chose to deliver its life lesson by pouring my mental health into a Magimix and blending it with marshmallows and batshit.  Being a seasoned autism parent, with years of restricted-living experience, did not protect me from cracking open like a fragile (if fabulous) egg.

me losing my shit

I'm well on the road to recovery now, but it was a reminder that we are all vulnerable, no matter how strong we think we are.

I went on a forest walk with my family yesterday.  It was magic to relax, appreciate nature and enjoy each others company.  My daughter and I commented that a few years ago, the same walk with Finian would have been a stress filled nightmare.  Its kinda ironic that I noticed my life becoming less restricted during lockdown.  

Dealing with my mental health problems helped me to see restrictions differently (some are tangible limitations, some are nothing more than our own perceptions).  I would have expected the double whammy of restrictions and a nervous breakdown to be the unraveling of me.... and it was for a little while.  But ultimately they opened me to appreciate the quiet things in life that I often didn't notice.