Take a nap. Write something.
I should have timed the prompts better. I rarely nap on Mondays. Ah. But normally I write my Mondays posts on Sunday! I see what you did there past me…you made a plan, and I messed it up.
I am writing this from my magical Monday space. It’s been a busy (for me) morning. A whole row of folks wanting coffees, groceries, and their mail brought to them.
***two hour writing pause***
The shop has been full of conversations, new friendships, queer magic. I feel so overwhelmed, in a good way.
I’m also still in awe from the movie I watched yesterday. Like it re-gifted me the awe I’ve always had and multiplied by an intangible number.
***pause for autistic overwhelm moment during a work interaction***
*sigh*
The thing about being a giant open heart walking around with pathological demand avoidance and the social inability to not cry when I’m told to stop talking when I’m trying to predict a command/demand before it comes…
Ugh. It is hard to be a capable human in so many regards, and then to be thought of as soft/hysterical/a cry baby when all that is happening is a physical reaction to being in the world.
Gratefully I work with people who like me, and we are learning how to be a team. And I’m not going to give up and leave because sometimes I cry when taking directions…because when I know what I’m doing, I’m really good at it.
When I was younger (not terribly young) I would have a list of places I could go because I’d had a bout of overwhelm and starting crying, or had a meltdown.
Usually I can leave if I feel the prickling sensation of overwhelm in my body. I used to look up at the ceiling and pretend to yawn to keep the tears back and ground myself.
But when you’re in a work situation…there is nowhere to go.
And if I have a meltdown people want me to explain what they did…and it usually isn’t them. It’s that I’m legitimately experiencing a trigger…whether from my particular autism, or my c-ptsd, or my OCD, or my generalized anxiety. I’m a bundle of potential meltdowns walking around in the world and since I’ve been here, I’ve been mostly ok. But I think it’s because I’ve been masking, a lot. And I thought I was being open and honest, but I’m tired…so tired…so I have to figure out what’s happening.
I think I need more time in my garden. More time sitting with the ocean. More time tending to my open heart.
See. I love people. I love being around people. I am fascinated by other humans. And I’m really good in short bursts. Which is why customer interactions which have a beginning, middle and an end are great for me. I am expected to predict and can ask clarifying questions. That works with my brain.
Today I cried because I was asked to fill salt and pepper shakers. Not because I didn’t want to do it. Because I so wanted to do it, and know how to do it, and really didn’t need a set of complete of instructions, or to be treated like a child who has never worked at a restaurant. I have. If I have questions I’ll ask them.
But we all have different modes of being and I do see how my penchant for predicting what a person is about to tell me could be seen as rude, or socially inept. I can see how I’m being difficult by not just LISTENING.
Which I why I generally prefer working alone. Because I’m the problem if there’s a problem. Because I’m so good at what I do that my co-workers can’t predict a meltdown over salt and pepper. Like later when my endocrine system is chilled back down I will likely find this funny.
But all I want to do is rewind to the moment where I’m being given instructions and just listen. Because that’s what the person giving instructions needed.
And though I can say, these tears are because I’m autistic and traumatized, and because I watched a movie yesterday that has me walking around feeling EVERYTHING. But I feel like I’m never explaining it properly, and sometimes I just want to go back to my little shop where I could lock the door and have my meltdown, or go home. Because there I’m in control. I’ve created the rules of engagement and taught everyone how to express their boundaries. In my shop we had secret non-verbal signals for when I needed to help escort other neurodivergent folks out of pre-meltdown situations.
We had built a world for ourselves. And we could meltdown. We could cry. We could also come back the next day and try again.
The world is already so hard. I feel like I’m playing on extra-hard mode and I really just wish there had been an easy-mode.
But the shop is quiet now and everyone is gone, and two young men came to get cinnamon buns and they were so sweet, and didn’t mind that I walked them to door and opened it so they could go back into the day.
I love it here, and it’s hard to not wish that I was different so that I wasn’t…different.
But I’m trying to do the thing where I just let myself be optimistic and not guarded. So maybe it’s not that I’m masking. Maybe that it’s I’m being me, and not everyone is going to be cool with this walking iridescent robot trying to find the right protocols to deal with the world.
I spilled the salt too, and I can’t remember how not to live a life full of curses. This is a joke. Kind of.
Writing this helped. And I get to come back next Monday. And try again.
(I know that I’ve used this avocado pit picture this week, but just the image reminds me of the calm I felt while holding it in my hand)
I probably do need a nap.
I hope your Monday is what you’d like it to be, and that if it’s hard, I’m sending you…what is it that makes you feel good? I’m sending you that.
Heart,
Wake
sending you lots of love, my dear.
Wake, this is beautiful. ❤️
Such an open hearted and honest reflection on your challenges, and how you deal with the Demands of the World.
It is lovely to read this. Thank you for being so caring, both of yourself and others. 🪻🌺