The View from a Drawbridge

This year has started off rather rocky for me. I was extremely sick for the first ten days, and I’m still dealing with the exhaustion and residuals of that illness. Because of this, I’ve had a lot of time to think about, well . . . time. And aging. And unfinished business. And neglecting the things that I want to do. And self-imposed stress. And regrets, and the avoidance thereof. And the things I can control and the things I can’t. And what really matters, and what doesn’t.

And now that I know that I’m autistic, I’m learning that I’m dealing with about ten times as much stress as the average neurotypical person. I’m grateful to have discovered that, actually. Here I was, thinking I was just spectacularly worse at dealing with the world than everyone around me. That sucked. Now I know that it’s just that I’m trying to volley ten times as many tennis balls as the average tennis player. Can I be blamed if a lot of those balls get past me?

Jeez, no wonder I’m exhausted.

I want to read more books. I want to be creative more often. I want to be a major player in happy memories. I want to explore. I want to dig myself out of a mountain of clutter.

I want to look at all the guilty “shoulds” that I’ve been carrying around and toss away those that have been placed upon me by others and by society and by my upbringing. I want to enjoy that sense of accomplishment when I do those things that I really, truly should. The rest isn’t mine to take on.

I want to simplify. I want to say no when I’m thinking no, and say it louder if I’m not being heard. I want to strengthen my boundaries. I want to prioritize self-care. I want to stop trying to right every single wrong that I encounter.

Basically, I just want to give myself a damned break. Most people think of breaks as short-term things. I want to give myself a break for the rest of my life. Is there anything wrong with that? And do I actually care what anyone else thinks about it? Less and less.

I’m beginning to realize that I put a lot of effort into trying to be enough for people. I try to get their approval and their love and their admiration. I try to do what they want me to do and feel what they want me to feel and be who they want me to be. Why? So they won’t leave me? So they’ll love me? In retrospect, that’s a bit pathetic.

If I were to do an honest evaluation of my past, I would have to say that I failed at all those efforts to twist myself into a pretzel. I now understand that those people who stay in my life do so voluntarily. Those who are going to leave, or who want me gone, will reach that conclusion on their own and act accordingly. F**k ‘em. I may as well reserve my limited energy for just being myself.

Those who are not okay with who I am can take a flying leap. I know I’m a good person. I’m naturally kind and generous. I have interesting stories to tell, and I love to hear the stories of others. I have integrity. I love to learn and share what I learn.

I’m fascinated with the minutiae of this world. I know that means I sometimes miss the big picture, but I’m often happier that way. I like living small. My spirit animal should be a tardigrade.

Living small doesn’t mean shutting myself off from the world. It just means I prefer to roll through it like a marble, not a . . . is there a huge, fast-moving thing that doesn’t destroy everything it encounters? I can’t think of anything. But you get the idea.

I love to travel, and often find that I see things that others don’t. It’s just my way. It’s not a better or worse way. It’s just mine. I’m getting sick and tired of people placing their value judgments on me. Extroversion is not superior to Introversion. It’s just different. Loud is not superior to quiet. And my energy level is my own. If I’m holding you back, run on ahead. I’ll catch up eventually.

The older I get, the less tolerant I am of bullshit. And huge swaths of the things we concern ourselves with can be described as bullshit. They just don’t matter.

So I’m going to free up time whenever I can, and I’m going to spend that time doing the things that I enjoy or that matter to me, as well as doing the things I need to get done to maintain a happy home. As the song says, I’m going to lighten up while I still can. I’m going to take it easy.

I’d rather be a hammock than a trampoline.

This will probably piss a lot of people off. Lord knows, I pissed a lot of people off last year as I learned about my autism and stopped masking as much. But I’m not here for them. They can take care of themselves. I’m here for myself, my Dear Husband, and my dogs. Everything else is frosting. I do love frosting, but it’s not required.

Also, at this age, I should know myself well enough to not take on projects that I’m not going to finish. No more wishful thinking endeavors. It’s time to get real. I’m never going to make that quilt. I’m never going to see a sunset and a rainbow on every continent. I’m not going to build that tree house, or even that extremely unique bookcase. Laying those burdens down is actually liberating.

If any of this resonates with you, I hope you’ll take it and do with it what you will. I genuinely believe that we all need to be much more gentle with ourselves. There’s no shame in admitting that we’re more fragile than we first thought. In fact, it’s probably crucial to our longevity.

Having said that, here’s some news: I’ve decided to pare down my blog once again. I’ll only be posting on Mondays and Thursdays moving forward. It’s not like I need to produce content for a book. That’s another project I have to admit is too big for me. Creating your own immortality is an illusion, anyway. Better to focus on curating a life well lived.

I’ll still be here, Dear Reader. Just not as often. Namaste.