I completely lost the plot this past Monday.
After just one too many days in a different house, with 10x the amount of people I’m normally around, doing only 5% of what I’m good at, and feeling the walls figuratively closing in, I snapped.
It took me a while to cool off and reflect on where I’d tailspun out of control, devolved into an incorrigible mess, and both shut down and shot back at every living thing around me.
And here I thought I’d become more enlightened this past year, in command of reason, existing in an astral plane above the fray.
You can’t enlighten your way out of autism.
My attitude is my own, and so are my reactions.
I should have better owned how to handle and navigate around them.
We need exit strategies.
There are some situations, setups, surroundings where we just can’t simmer down. Too many people. Not enough rooms. Too loud. Too quiet. Too boring. Too busy.
If I’m not doing something I feel has purpose or progress, I get cagey, irritable, and eventually explosive.
If I can’t sneak away and take some quiet time relatively alone to reset, I shake out into a rage.
It’s as if the small pressures build into an overload, a meltdown.
Yes, a meltdown, even as a grown adult.
The Life Autistic sucks sometimes.
I’m embarrassed by not growing out of it, not yet unlocking a level of conquering that makes me feel like I can be above every fray.
And while I’ve worked hard to adapt, some situations shred away the armor, tear off the mask, and goad my core in spiteful reminder that, yes, I’m still much the same Hunter within.
But that is the life indeed.
While I discover the ways through, the ways forward, I’ve always got to keep read the way out.
Sometimes that’s the only way back in.