So, where did I leave off? Oh, that’s right, the tornado. It took down a large portion of the tree in our front yard, almost hitting our house. We had to clear it quickly. Neighbors pulled together and we got our car out of the garage to make it to the incredibly important appointment I had scheduled. That’s a recap, however, I do believe I’m leaving something out…
That’s right! The second one, the tornado later that evening that tore through my life. After my own personal tornado, I have spent a year in the rebuilding process. Ok, maybe that is an oversimplification. Shedding a misdiagnosis that had been life-defining for over twenty years of my life took so much more than an 18-page report from a qualified professional. Embracing and recognizing who I was, considering a brand new to me autism diagnosis, was not as easy as you may think. There was an enormous amount of processing to be done! I knew very little about autism. A quick google search turned up a lot of resources… for children. I was 31 years out of childhood. Alas, what was I to do.
With not a lot of readily available and applicable guidance available, I formed a strategy and a plan for hence forward. I decided I would just continue doing what I had been doing. I had managed to make it this far thus far. I decided to do nothing and “act normal”. Normal for me at least. Had this strategy ever worked for me in the past? NO. However, there’s always a first time. This would prove not to be it though. Unfortunately, it became very apparent that I wasn’t handling life in the best manner. Considering a pivotal event that was in the works, which may have saved my life, I was forced to reckon with the new diagnosis on its terms, not mine. *Spoiler Alert – course correction ahead!
Many of us have been given the advice to just push through when things get tough. Just keep plowing through our problems. So that is what I did, all the while becoming more run down and reaching insurmountable levels of mental exhaustion. I kept pushing and pushing until I hit an impenetrable wall. I crumbled. Crash and BURNED. I could not speak more than a word or two. I was inconsolably sobbing, and I had a sudden, hard-to-fight urge to just keep slamming my head into the wall. I am not being figurative. An actual urge to hit my head nonstop against a wall. Later I would find out this is a “stim”, not a great one, but I digress. I managed not to succumb – leaving the wall and my noggin intact. But I had no idea what was happening to me. It was familiar though. It had happened more frequently in my early twenties, and it led to trouble.
My husband took me to the local emergency room. There I was placed under a psych hold for evaluation as I was worried I would “harm myself”. For those of you who have not had the pleasure of this type of experience, let me give you a snapshot. They take ALL your clothes. You get a hospital gown. That’s it. And they will not allow you to hang on to your phone. There you sit in a room on a hospital bed. There you wait. Under observation. Till they send someone to evaluate you.
I had gotten there on a Friday evening. I was destined to hang out there till the next morning. At about 3 AM, something miraculous set in. I had been laying there. It was dark and it was quiet. SUDDENLY, it seemed that all the cylinders that made up my brain – they all started up again. I could speak clearly in sentences. I could THINK! I had no clue what had brought about this “sudden” recovery.
Bright and early that Saturday morning, a gentleman walked in the room to evaluate me and propose next steps. My husband wisely decided to lead with my recent autism diagnosis. And the evaluator immediately identified what had happened. It was very much a “eureka” moment for all those involved. I had a meltdown, an autistic meltdown. But as I had done little research on autism and just assumed I could keep doing what I had been doing for years, pushing myself as hard as a could through life, I was now incredibly burned out. There I sat in the observation room of the local ER in a burnout-driven, autistic meltdown. However, the learning didn’t stop there. What was said next was a game changer.
I had made no secret of the fact that I had accrued quite a few years of sobriety. A key to that had centered around acceptance. That was the first point he made. Where was my acceptance regarding the autism diagnosis? He was correct. I had arguably acknowledged it. I had in no way, shape or form acted towards acceptance of it yet. I was sent home that morning with the knowledge that things were going to have to change. I needed to educate myself as to this new diagnosis, and willingly pick up new tools to adjust to how I was handling life.
That very morning, I made a conscience decision to start taking steps down the path of acceptance. January 1st was only a few weeks away, so I decided to take my commitment to this new path a little further. I declared 2024 the year of ACCEPTANCE. My intention had been set.
Over the past year, I put writing on hiatus. I needed to figure stuff out and work to get myself out of the persistent autistic burnout that I had been battling for probably the bulk of my adult life. I wasn’t sure where to resume this blog. To be honest, the diagnosis led to a leveling of Lara. But if that’s what it took to force me into acceptance, I’ll consider it a huge blessing.
Now, I’m sure you are all waiting to learn the fate of the maligned front yard tree! Like a hackneyed phoenix rising from ashes, new growth has formed, and the tree is currently in a state of THRIVING! Both the tree and I survived a twister prone 2023 – Yay!
I recently had someone point out that she and I are survivors. I will acknowledge that. However, for me, it is important to turn my challenges into hope. God has delivered. I have been very open about my struggles with this newfound diagnosis. I do that in hope of elevating the empathy of others. I have now crossed paths with several new friends, who too have struggled over the years and have only recently found out that they, too, are autistic. I am not alone, and I am building a community around myself of supportive friends, who accept me for who I am and have been learning with me in hopes of supporting me. And I’m making new friends who are now finding they are not alone – we get each other. It is in all the support from my friends, new and old, that I am finding an incredible amount of hope. They help me on my path to acceptance. With acceptance, I can move forward with hope.