ASD overwhelm (possibly ADHD related too)

I finish work each day and sit and play a game of solitaire on the Switch to transfer my brain from work mode to being in my own time.

Unless I’m crashed out in bed because the day has caught up with me and my hormones and crap.

Sometimes I blank out, like now. I have plenty to do. Pottery, jewellery, crochet, gaming, writing, walking, anything really. This is that covered ‘home time’ part of the day.

Instead of embracing my own time I fall apart quietly in it. An overwhelm of use of time. A guilt because I am spending more time wondering what I should do versus what I could do versus what I haven’t done yet and need to do.

So instead of doing anything of value I tune out and sit. Usually staring at my phone or continuing to play rounds of spider solitaire h til I go to bed.

Tragic really, but that’s my brain. For some reason I always feel more capable of a weekend.

Image by Matthew Henry in Unsplash.

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The art of self care in family

I was tempted to name this post ‘the art of self care for an autistic mum in an autistic family’. I realised the things that work for me might actually work for neurotypicals, so why pigeon-hole and exclude others when there’s potential relief to be had?

In such a diverse world we seek to label ourselves and others sometimes. It’s a way we have a voice and can self-identify and advertise to others in the act of possibly finding fellow tribe members. I know that’s why I label and get excited when someone is in the same ‘category’ as me.

I used to love a good Myers Briggs discovery of fellow INFJs. Whenever I encountered them I’d squeal with delight. One thing I have always felt is isolated. Alone. Unheard and misunderstood. An island in a sea of people.

Now for me it’s finding other autistic middle aged women. With similar stories as mine. With similar families. For some reason we neurodiverse seem to magnetise others. Whether it be attraction to diagnosed or non diagnosed we find each other eventually, and in that we find we aren’t so alone.

Y’all crazy

A typical Saturday morning in this household of folk I love. After a full on return to term 2 school and work after a week off we hit the weekend.

Normally there are a few moments of peace before the maelstrom. My family are on the spectrum. This is fine for the most part, aside the times we all have our views and ways of doing things that clash with others.

My son wanted to play us one of his new compositions. He asked us both to listen. This involves still, solid focus on him to physically demonstrate our paying of attention. Otherwise he gets upset and stops the song.

So we stopped what we were doing, and the music begins. Two seconds in and H (new reference for hubby) starts looking around for something to rifle through or pick up. He can’t stay still. He has a lot of nervous energy. He HAS to pace on every phone call, regardless who it is. This is who he is in his spectrum experience.

Unable to stay still, he shifts his focus from the music around the room. He zeros in on kiddo’s fabric lunchbox that has been sat on top of the record player since the end of last term.

I know it’s there and been reminding kiddo to deal with it but it has sat there obviously with rotting food in it. As is how my kid works. He has crappy working memory, gets distracted super easily and loses his place a lot when tasked with things. He is also a grotty teenager. That is part of his spectrum experience.

Then there’s me. Full of constant thoughts racing around and ahead, envisioning scenarios that may never happen. All whilst avoidant coping mechanisms hover, ready to take the wheel and turn on the elevator musak. That way I’m not caught up in the emotionally charged disaster I saw coming. Part of my spectrum experience.

Back to the moment and H takes the lunchbox off the record player and looks inside. Seconds later gagging and making a big show of how disgusting it is. By this stage I had seen the fixation with the object occur and set into ‘musak’ disengagement. Knowing full well it was another inability to read the room moment that would upset someone – namely kiddo who was watching us both intently wanting approval and attention on his vulnerabilities as he played us his creations.

As some twee Bacharach played in my head my expression dropped into blank canvas and I watched it all happen from a distant place.

H went over to the sink with the offending object. Trying not to wretch, telling kiddo he has to clean it up and wash it out. Cue kiddo turning music off, getting deeply hurt and offended and setting into defensive position.

And it’s in these moments I am eternally grateful that I have a retreat. A little space in the house I can escape to. While the bomb drops and the fallout settles.

Of course five minutes later it’s quiet again as cool down corners as sought out. Then I call out to kiddo to keep playing me that song. He does so reticently and I tell him how amazing it and he is.

Photo by Edwin Chen on Unsplash.