elephant in the room

The following started as a journal entry, but I feel like sharing it here:

Today is about quantity, not quality. I am going for word count, it’s time to clean the valve of output and get back into the habit of emptying my brain onto the page.

When I’m burnt out it’s difficult. My brain feels like an electrical storm, the most routine task will become impossible because my brain is trying to filter through my overloaded working memory, searching for connections and patterns. I wish I did, but I do not really have a choice in the matter. The best way to recover is time in solitude, something which is not always so easy to achieve, even when you are alone. Meditation helps, to be sure, but often I need other activities first to get to the point where I can even moderately focus.

When burnout gets to this level it feels like my brain has ingested the rest of my nervous system, and somehow I’m also unaware of the fact that I’ve lost most of the inner and outer sensations in my body.

I’ve been getting better at noticing this pattern and I’ve acquired several techniques for accommodating my needs when the situation arises. As a result I’m happy to report that I am again at a point where I am gradually increasing my realm of weekly experiences as I slowly emerge from hibernation.

I remember being a child and learning about how bears hibernate during the winter. I remember being envious, hibernation sounded like some impossible dream. If only I had sufficient fur…

It’s been years since I’ve thought of this, but now that I’m thinking of it I realize that I’ve spent much of my adult life searching for a good hibernation spot.

These days I’m getting better at finding a balance and understanding my limits, though it’s taken a lot of work. This brings me to something else I’ve been thinking a lot about: whether I should even share this type of stuff with the world. The truth is that I’ve been struggling with some very basic things all of my life, because I am good at masking my discomfort. I always performed well academically without support, so my underlying needs have gone unnoticed and untreated, even by me.

I have suspected my condition for over twenty years, but I still haven’t been able to access a diagnosis. The reasons for this are various, ranging from institutional sluggishness to personal incapacity to advocate for my needs. At this point, I’m not really even sure a formal diagnosis is that important, given the resources available online and that I have access to neurodivergent affirming therapy.

Given my situation, self diagnosis is important because, at least in my case the only difference between a life spent caught in a burnout cycle and being able to actually enjoy things once in a while has been my own research and self advocacy.

My self diagnosis comes from a real need, stemming from relentless struggle with aspects of life most people barely notice. It’s the difference between me thriving and me barely getting by in the most real sense of the phrase.

Self diagnosis gave me internal permission to learn about neurodivergence in detail, to find out where I fit, and what people like me do when they feel like I’ve been feeling. This isn’t some kind of fun trend, and trust me if I had a choice I’m not sure I would choose to be this way. But at least the community and the literature have given me a better understanding of myself than I ever could have imagined. It’s been like a missing, crucially important puzzle piece, and I am so glad I didn’t wait for an institutional seal of approval to seek resources that are already available to me.

I also cannot risk understating the importance of talking to a mental health professional who understands the neurodivergent paradigm. I’m at a place where the difference between thriving and floundering is self acceptance. It feels good to talk to someone who understands.

Baby steps. (What about Bob? anybody?)

I’ve been in and out of writer’s block lately, and a lot of it stems from the fact that I’ve felt like I’ve been bottling this stuff up. There are a few other topics (at least) which I’d rather talk about, but first I needed to address the elephant in the room of my neurology, which is the hub at the root of my experience.

Thanks for reading, send me a message if you want to talk about it, I’d love to hear from you.