Too few spoons…

As an Autistic adult, I sometimes ignore my limitations and start borrowing spoons from upcoming days. For example, this past weekend I spent a large amount of time shopping for work clothes. On the second day after a few hours in the mall, my sensory issues were at a high and I was in such autistic sensory overload I felt I might pass out from the stimulation. I then started an 85 hr shift at work. The problem with this neurological phenomena is you crash, and crash hard. Your body becomes weak and sore, your mind is sluggish and depressed, and your emotions plummet down. All the negativity you could feel bubbles up, and you’re plunged into a very real and very severe depression that you recognize, but can’t just snap out of.

I’m there. It’s like an overwhelming existential crisis where you over analyze the world around you looking for light to bring you out of the darkness you’re enveloped by. The lack of understanding creates an overall sense of insecurity and inability to feel like you belong to the world around you. Catching my own eyes in the mirror is frightening because you can’t seem to recognize yourself because you’re a shell existing in a state of extreme solipsism, a philosophical crisis.

Of all the aspects of Autism, this is the most debilitating. It is a constant reminder that no matter how much therapy you’ve had, how many coping mechanisms you’ve employed, and how high-functioning you may appear, you’re still chained to a neurological abnormality that dictates your life beyond control. That the world around you is a constant trigger.

(The spoon theory is a disability metaphor and neologism used to explain the reduced amount of energy available for activities of daily living and productive tasks that may result from disability or chronic illness. “Spoons” are a visual representation used as a unit of measure used to quantify how much energy a person has throughout a given day. Each activity requires a given number of spoons, which will only be replaced as the person “recharges” through rest. A person who runs out of spoons has no choice but to rest until their spoons are replenished.)

She’s functioning…

Hello readers.

It is not hard to see I’ve neglected this blog for quite a while. If you’ve commented and I’ve not responded, I apologize. If you’ve reached out to me on my Facebook and I’ve been radio silent, I profusely ask for your understanding and forgiveness.

I guess I would like to preface this by saying, functioning is a constant struggle no matter how well you seem to appear on the outside. I am going to write a little timeline to condense this time I’ve been away, and I may choose later to expand on the events in later blog posts.

• I got divorced November 19th, 2015.

To say we started having problems in May of 2015 would be an understatement. Our marriage was problematic before we said “I Do”, and the slow unraveling of my psyche was in large part due to this. What started out as simple emotional abuse slowly led up to a an event that could not be forgiven or forgotten. In the middle of an argument about the most asinine thing imaginable, something so minuscule that even to this day I could not recall the subject, my husband walked up to me and spit in my face. Not only that, he told me that “when I leave, I hope you kill yourself.” Now, as you can see, I am alive. That night I did escape to a hotel room, but was pulled back with promises and empty apologies. We separated in August of 2015 and the divorce was finalized in November. I am going to write a follow up post to this specifically about my marriage and its implosion.

• A few days before my divorce, my furbaby died.

Spanky was my child. When he was born, I removed the amniotic sac and hand-reared him as he was the runt. He was as connected to me as one of my limbs and had been with me for almost six entire years. He was my emotional support, my love, and even to this day I cannot speak of his death or him for more than a few minutes. My ex had taken our other dog, Kennedy, in the separation. He never wanted her in our marriage, did not train or care for her, but insisted he was to have her. I was left husbandless, childless, and with little connection to the familiar.

 

• I changed jobs.

In July of last year, I began working at a non-profit as a Direct Support Professional with low-functioning adults with intellectual and developmental disabilities. I worked with all types of disabilities, but they brought me in specifically to work with the adult non-verbal autistics. I loved my job, but it did not pay a wage that could support my newly single lifestyle and the chaos of everyday had triggered my sensory issues to such a level that a few weeks before I quit, I was in a Dr’s office sobbing and begging for pharmaceutical relief. Spoiler alert…I didn’t need the pills. I changed my jobs and have been working really hard on my coping skills in the meantime. During that job, I began doing in-home caregiving with a participant. Now I am a full-time caregiver for a few different clients with a spectrum of disabilities and ailments. I may not be able to help myself all the time, but I am AMAZING at helping others and have found my true calling.

• I will be living alone in two months.

For the first time in my life, I will be living in my very own apartment. By myself. No one helping me. I will have reached a level of independence I never thought possible, and I can’t wait to share it with you all.

There have been many times I wished I could turn to this blog and vent, but I decided to wait until I had a clear head. I’ve missed you all, and wish to reconnect with my readers and reach some new ones. Until my next post…stay happy my friends.