It happened again.
I just learned that November 1st is Autistics Speaking Day. And that's when it happened.
I had been getting increasingly anxious about transitioning from tap class to jazz class for the next month. We knew this was happening, and I'd been anxious to learn a new style. I've only ever been instructed in hip hop, and I'll admit my technique is a bit messy due to my original learning environment, but I don't think I'm too bad considering I learned to dance under a bridge with a bunch of kids from around the city as a teenager, all while hiding this from the people I knew because I didn't want to appear feminine in any way. I hid it for a long time because I still wasn't as good as I feel like I should have been. I've always had pretty unrealistic standards for myself, and that's what set me up for failure this time.
I couldn't visualize the class going well, which should have been a sign for me. I knew that a meltdown was likely. It was all so new, and with my brother's accident, the Pittsburgh incident, and the general stress of work and life hitting me all at once in the days preceding, I was probably at my limit. I went anyway.
The beginning of the class actually went pretty well. We warmed up a bit and stretched, and I'm pretty damn flexible, so it felt good to actually be good at something. But things got complicated quickly. Maybe that wording isn't quite right. The steps were easy enough, but my brain couldn't work to put them together in the moment, which only made me more frustrated and embarrassed. When we got to completely new things, I just couldn't even make my body move to try. I was apparently digging at my head, and I know I went to the corner and stopped making eye contact altogether. Jackson tried to help by telling me to "get water", which usually means I should step outside to collect myself, but I wasn't able to get that, or maybe I refused to. I was afraid that leaving the room would actually make it worse. I knew I needed to stay even if I didn't do anything. I was still taking in the information even if I couldn't move. I was still processing, still trying. There is effort even in stillness, even in chaos. That's one of the things that's been most difficult to explain. You may not see anything happening, but--in these situations--I'm honestly trying as hard as I can. Some of that energy goes into the task at hand, while some of it goes into making sure I don't completely fall apart.
The worst of it came at the end of class, when everyone started talking. There was a loud burst of laughter that startled me. I slammed my hands against the wall without being able to even think about it. I had no time to stop myself. I scared everyone. And then when they left, we fought. We'd made a plan to stay and practice afterwards, but he wanted to go home. Given the state I was in, all I wanted to do was stick to the plan. To finish what needed to be finished and feel like something had gone right. I didn't pay attention to his emotional needs because I was too focused on my own, and I made things worse. Maybe I shouldn't be saying this. But it's important to know that these things happen. We talked it out, and we both learned a few new things. But here's the thing. These situations, however infrequent they become, are absolutely going to happen. I can't change the way my brain works. I can only change how I prepare for situations and how I respond to them. In the moment, it's impossible to make those changes.
In spite of everything that went on, I'm trying to focus on what went right. I did not become entirely disruptive. I may have clawed at my head and stood in the corner, but there was no screaming. There was no banging until the very end, just that one time. More importantly, I'm not deterred from going back, and I am not afraid that it will happen again. It's almost as if I feel that the worst has already happened--that I can never look any worse than that. I have nothing to lose, and I still want to try. I still want to learn. I accept that things will feel awkward at first. I'm ready to try again. To start over. And I don't feel like running away or giving up. In addition, while my mood may have been off that night, I didn't stay in the "meltdown/shutdown state" for long. By this morning, I was mostly fine. This is progress. I know the things I need to work on, but I really have to acknowledge the things that I have been able to improve.
I also need to mention this before I forget. It's been a few days since I've had my lithium due to some issues with the pharmacy. And, other than the incident Thursday, I've felt fine. Not just fine. Better than fine. I have more energy overall, I feel more focused, and I'm generally happier. This happened the last two times we had pharmacy hiccups. I'm worried that the lithium is making things worse, but I'm hesitant to stop. I did stop taking both medications for a few weeks last winter, and that went VERY poorly, but I did so without talking to my doctor. I may mention it this time to get his thoughts. I've accepted that I may need the medication, but given how I've felt, it's worth asking.
My head is still spinning. One post-meltdown side-effect that I'm experiencing is this sort of eerie silence in my mind. It's not complete or ever-present. I can't tell if it's clarity or numbness, or a little of both. It still hasn't detracted from the overall positive feeling I've been experiencing. Needless to say, I've been a bit confused by my own emotions for the past few days. I'm hoping to get more words out as they come. I spend far too little time writing for myself these days. I'm sure I'll have plenty of time after surgery, which is in 67 days. Get ready for all the shirtless pictures. I've got 10 years of them to make up for.
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Top surgery is so soon!!!
ReplyDeleteI am so proud of you, and how much you have grown in your self-awareness and communication. <3
-K