I am finding that I have a much different relationship with my stress than I had a year ago. Back then, I didn’t know that I was autistic. I didn’t realize that my neurodivergence causes my stress level to be exponentially higher than the average person’s. Until quite recently, I assumed that everyone’s spring was as tightly coiled as mine.
Imagine being a full body burn victim, standing in a crowd of perfectly healthy people. And now imagine that those people, whether they intend to do so or not, are poking your open wounds at random moments. Welcome to my spot on the spectrum. I don’t blame you for not wanting to stay a while.
There is no cure for autism, and I’m not sure that I’d want there to be one. Autism is a big part of who I am. I’m learning to embrace my many superpowers, but I am all for finding coping skills for my many challenges.
My primary focus these days is attempting to find ways to deal with my stress. I can just imagine the comments this post will receive. “You should try meditation!” “Exercise more!” But it’s a little more complicated for me.
I already go through life feeling as if I can’t keep up with everyone around me. I’m never going to run with the big dogs. A great deal of my stress comes from a lifetime of guilt for not being able to pull my own weight, and frustration for not knowing why. Until now. So the last thing on earth I need is yet another item on my to-do list, even if it is meditation. I’m already overwhelmed.
Once I started focusing on this challenge, it quickly became clear to me that I needed to come at this from an entirely different direction. First, I had to acknowledge the fact that I was buried under a f***load of stress in the first place. That was actually a giant leap in my self-awareness. I’m sure it has always been blatantly obvious from the outside, but you have to remember that I have been turned inward and was operating under the assumption that this was the norm for everyone, and that I, somehow, missed the memo that described how to take it all in stride.
Now I understand that I’m not broken. Autism isn’t a crack in my otherwise perfect porcelain teacup. It’s a different kind of teacup entirely. Different. Not worse. Not better. Just different. I’m the first to admit that I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, but now I’m starting to realize that that’s okay.
Next, I had to accept the fact that I’m never going to be able to keep up with others. I need to cut myself loose and allow them to go on ahead. I’ll catch up. Or maybe I won’t. And that’s okay, too.
Now I’m trying to practice not biting off more than I can chew. I’m also learning to ask for help when I need it, and to delegate whenever possible. I’m saying no a lot more than I used to, and some people find that upsetting. But as I begin to understand my limits, I’m trying to accept the fact that people will sometimes be disappointed when I refuse to power past those limits.
For the first time in my life, I’m discovering my angle of repose.
A very simplistic explanation of the angle of repose is this: You’re a grain of sand in an hourglass. You’re dropping down into the lower chamber, where there’s already a cone of thousands of other grains of sand. The angle of repose is the point where that cone’s angle is such that you no longer have to worry about sliding to the very bottom.
Various substances will have different angles of repose, depending upon their density, shape, level of friction and a whole lot of other factors that would send us into the mathematical weeds, and that’s a place I prefer to avoid. Suffice it to say, when park rangers are trying to determine the risk level for a potential avalanche, it’s important to know if the snow is powdery or wet, and also if the angle of the slope is such that the snow can’t lie in repose.
We’re talking about stability, here, people. And as boring as this may sound, stability is what I crave more than anything else. I’ve never had it. I need to find that angle where I’m still upright enough to participate in the world around me as best I can, but not so upright that my entire emotional slope cascades into a pathetic heap down in the valley. That’s not a good look.
I guess it all boils down to doing the best that you can without overextending yourself. Don’t give up entirely, but don’t set yourself up for failure, either. Know your limits. Know your boundaries. And understand that while it may seem like a good idea to push past your outer envelope from a cultural standpoint, it’s not always the best idea from a personal standpoint.
Finding a healthy balance–that’s what I’m working on. I know I’ll always feel stress, but there are things that I can do to keep that stress from turning into an existential avalanche.
Wish me luck!
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