Choosing Me

Growing up in the 1980’s and 1990’s, knowledge of neurodivergencies was next to nothing. Anything we knew about ADHD or autism was the most basic, stereotyped and misinformed qualities. It wasn’t until my 30’s when I felt I had a better understanding of it, which is sad to say considering I went through two degrees of high education in learning to be a teacher. But even still, all I learned was mostly the most obvious signs that someone might have ADHD or autism. And certainly these descriptions and qualities never felt representative of my brand of unusual. 

So imagine my surprise when I started taking diagnostic tests and realizing how much I related to the questions asked. It started with my firstborn asking these questions aloud to me kind of as a joke, and I was blown away. I remember I kept saying to them, “But that’s normal, isn’t it??” I couldn’t believe that I had made it to age 40 without knowing this about myself. I took all the diagnostic tests I could find, assuming eventually I’d find the error. I even took some tests more than once months apart to make sure I wasn’t just having an off day. 

Every single test came back with the result of: “highly likely autistic” Every. Single. One. 

To be officially diagnosed as an adult is very difficult. Not only because you need to seek out a professional trained in identifying and evaluating adults since most are trained (and tests are created) for children, but not all health insurances will cover the testing, which means potentially thousands of dollars out of pocket. I’m perfectly fine never having a psychiatrist hand me my “autism diploma”. I’ve made it this far with this brain; I think I’ll be good to go from here with my greater awareness. 

This greater awareness, while being overwhelming at first, has allowed me to see myself for the first time in four decades as normal. Not normal in the sense that I’m like everyone else, but normal in that all of these things I thought were uniquely wrong or weird about me aren’t unique or wrong or weird after all! It’s given me the opening to explore some feelings I’ve held onto for a very long time and to see myself with deeper compassion. 

For my entire life, I have struggled with human relationships. Sure, I’ve had friends–some I’ve had for decades–but it was never easy for me to make them or keep them. I always felt like I was playing Simon Says and sometimes getting it right, but oftentimes not. Always looking around at what others were doing, needing to learn and adapt, but never feeling completely at home in myself around other people. Knowing I was different, but couldn’t figure out why or how to fix it. 

Two very obvious (at least now) examples stick out to me. I have always felt things deeply, and that includes my friendships, even if it’s not always obvious to others. And there were times that the people I considered my best friends would get new friends that I didn’t know and didn’t hang out with. Most other people wouldn’t bat an eye at that. But my mind immediately started thinking I was being replaced. Clearly I wasn’t good enough. I did something and now they’ve decided someone else is better. Because in the back of my mind, I always knew that I was faking it to some extent. That I was playing a role, and if they found another friend, it was because I hadn’t played it well enough. Of course those friendships didn’t end just because they gained another friend. And I too, obviously, had more than the one friend myself, so why I felt so scared of being abandoned is still beyond me. 

Of course I have had friendships that ended in adulthood, many of which ended because of change in life circumstances–college ended, switched jobs, etc. And even still some of those friendship ends haunt me in a way. I still wonder what went wrong. The logical part of me says nothing other than those obvious changes in jobs, life events, etc.; but, the part of me that will always struggle socially worries about what I did wrong and why I wasn’t good enough to keep around. 

With these big social feelings came my selective mutism. Mind you, I had no idea that’s what it was in my childhood when it was most obvious, but I know now. In distress–most often when I was out of routine and sleeping at a friend’s house–I would go mute and nothing and no one could get me to talk. I couldn’t explain what I was feeling inside. Shit, I didn’t understand it myself. I had chosen to sleepover my friend’s house. So why was I all of a sudden panicking? As much as I wanted to explain, I just couldn’t. And the more this happened, the worse I felt about it to the point where I just learned to be silent about just about anything that upset me. I could always sense that my feelings were found unusual, and I wanted to be anything but unusual. And the thought of trying to explain this was too much. 

Even now, when I’m overwhelmingly upset about something, I shut down. And when I wish I could tell someone some hard truths about why I’m upset, I don’t because if I come across as blowing things out of proportion, I’ll feel even worse. So I just assume I misread our relationship, which does make me feel shitty, but at least I can make this assumption without the other person reiterating that and making me feel like a spectacle. There are several people whom I thought I was friends with (at least casually) from my previous yoga studio who I barely spoke to after I left. And honestly, it’s incredibly embarrassing to realize how wrong I was about my importance to them. 

And it’s this that has me reconsidering how much energy and effort I’ve put in to make others happy. How many times I’ve done things not for my greatest good, but because I felt they were expected of me and I didn’t want to let others down. Opening my studio was a very eye-opening experience because many of the people who said they’d come support me never did. I genuinely believed I was making something for them. A place where they could continue to feel supported by classes they loved outside of an environment that was false. Of course I too wanted to be in an environment that was positive and authentic, but I could have just walked away from that studio and took some space from the changes that were happening. But I created a space for these people who I believed needed it. And come to find out, they didn’t. They didn’t need me after all. 

Is that heartbreaking? Yes, in a lot of ways it is. Did I ever approach them about it? No, because even I know that’s not something that is socially acceptable. Like, what would I do, ask, “Hey, why didn’t you ever come to my studio? I thought we were friends”? Ugh, no thank you. My skin crawls just thinking of how awkward that would be. 

No, instead, I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve transformed that heartache into a stronger sense of boundaries and communication. I’m working on prioritizing my true desires and needs above others’. There are people I know without a doubt will always be there for me, supporting me, loving me, cheering me on. I know who those people are. I keep them close. And now that I have learned that not all friendships are as they appear to be or how I interpret them to be, it has given me the freedom to focus more on what I truly want. How I need to live my life. What’s best for my well-being. I don’t need to be all things to all people. I can be an acquired taste and be ok with that. I don’t need to be the perpetual fixer or giver. 

It’s a sense of freedom that is equal parts exciting and scary. I have to learn how to be more me. I have to learn to distinguish my thoughts as my own versus what I think others want. And I have to really dedicate myself to expending energy only where it’s best received. But with that comes the promise of a life that feels more real. The possibility of feeling truly appreciated and supported. And the prospect of choosing myself first. If my choices make situations that help others, then great. But no longer will I make myself be what others need if it’s not what I need first. And I’m ready for this.

Kula

I’ve been thinking about relationships a lot lately. Humans are social animals, and thus, relationships with other people are a major part of all of our lives. Some of these relationships are formed from obligation. I’m thinking work or school relationships. Acquaintances for your children’s sake, etc. I’d bet very few people, though, think of forced or obligatory relationships when they think of family.

It’s a given that you’re to love your family, right? You know that old saying, “Blood is thicker than water” that people like to mindlessly spout off when referring to not going against your family like we’re all a bunch of TV mobsters. The reality is that family includes many relationships that you’re either born or married into, and that which you really have no choice over. And why?

Parents tell their children to choose their friends wisely. We tell them to never be with a partner that treats them like they are not important. That if someone is abusive or doesn’t add anything positive to your life, they shouldn’t be in it. But we don’t extend these words of wisdom to familial relationships. Again, why?

The way I see it is that we all only have one life. We all only have this one day–hell, this moment– guaranteed to us. And there are too many of us living day to day unhappy because of any number of circumstances or choices in our lives. Circumstances that truly could be avoided or changed if people felt they had the courage and/or support to do so.

One of those circumstances or choices is the company we keep. I think we should all approach our relationships with others as though we were orphans. If we literally had no known family in the world, who would we choose to have in our lives? Who brings happiness to us rather than strife? Who is worth the inevitable disagreements and misunderstandings that need to be worked through?

I mean this for everyone. It has to go both ways. You may think over your relationships with others and find that some of them don’t bring anything positive to you, and thus, you want to let them go. But also think on the flip side: do YOU bring anything worthwhile to THEM? Do your interests and values match up to theirs? Do you truly have anything in common other than shared pasts? Because if not, you really need to find peace with them letting you go too.

This may all seem intentionally vague–and it is–but I can say that I have personal (and recent) experience with this. My husband and I have been estranged from a large portion of his family since Christmastime. A family I’ve known for over 20 years now. Many of said members were babies or very young children when I met them. So, people I know fairly well. People I’ve been around a lot and remember words and reactions to different events in the family’s history. I’m not interested in dredging up negativity. I already know their opinion of me, and had my time to process through my hurt and loss of what I thought were people who cared about me for me. I’ve let them go because I know it’s best for me.

That being said, something that my husband brought to my attention this weekend set me thinking again. And I realized that while I was focused so much on how they had become relationships that I had in my life because they were family, and family “loves each other no matter what” and “supports each other no matter what” and that’s that. I realize now, that I too was an active participant in that relationship. That my personality and beliefs and practices are as much of a contribution to the relationship (or lack thereof) as theirs. That I certainly wasn’t bringing anything they needed to the relationships. And so they too let me go.

And I have to say, this realization was so incredibly wonderful to me. So liberating. Because it’s left me looking at our estrangement as not something negative, per say, but as mutual understanding that we no longer need each other in our lives. Even though the original incident that led to the break was painful (for me at least; I cant speak for them), it’s changed into something if not positive at least something that’s no longer hurtful. It’s something understandable. And it’s ok.

We should all have to work to bring something valuable to our relationships. None of us should be satisfied with mediocrity or apathy. This world is full of people, and if we simply open ourselves up to the idea that people come and go throughout our lives, we’ll start seeing each of our relationships, however many or few they are, as something worth working for.

Kula is a concept that I’ve recently come to understand, and it resonates deeply with me. The family of your heart. The family you choose. I keep this idea in mind every day when I speak to my children and husband, when I interact with them. Because even though my children may need to be a part of my life right now, they don’t always have to be. If I don’t nurture my relationships with them, come adulthood, they could vanish from my life. So each day I take great care to respect them, love them, and honor them as individuals. I do my best to bring them joy and positivity. I work hard to add to the value of their lives. Because they give so much to me. And I believe that they are worth it.

I invite you all to examine your relationships. To think about how you might be bringing something of value (or not) to each of them, and how each of those other people are adding (or not) to your life. Anyone who wants to be in your life, despite hardships, will fight for you. They will prove to you that they are worth it. And if they don’t, then it’s time for both of you to move peacefully on. Because, truthfully, you’ll both be happier not having to keep up pretenses.

Again, we only have one life. We all owe it to ourselves to do whatever we can to make it as beautiful as we can.