mental health

Lost in Thought.

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I have been floating in my own brain waves lately. Not really sure what to do or think or say. I am kind of surprised I have not had a shut down recently. A lot of things are happening too quickly.

I am in a new city, as you may know. It’s a nice city. However, by moving here, I effectively isolated my family from our support system. And I think we took for granted how much we were relying on that.

As a neurodivergent family, we do not have the social energy to go out and explore every “cool spot” in the city. In fact we mostly avoid the high population density places. We will explore small sections at our own pace. But a co-worker who arrived at the same time as me has been out and seen half the city by now.

I’m not jealous. I’m exhausted in their stead.

The exploring at our own pace is not what has wiped us out. As Autistics and neurodivergent people, it can be very hard to reach out to others. It can be really hard to ask for help or reach out when we need things. In fact it is hard wired into me (and many other autists) that it is a cardinal sin to bother others, or cause problems for others.

So when My father passed 2 weeks ago, we were unable to ask for support. I don’t even know what support we need. It has been hard. My brain shut down for a day, and I am still in a fog, trying to make my way through.

I took 1 day off from work, I know I could have taken more. But I didn’t. I went back after that day. I have been less focused and making a lot of silly mistakes with my planning and prep. I cried a few times when the students were out of the room.

I was told by everyone that if I needed to talk they were there. I had more offers to listen in an hour than I had in years. But What does one say? If I opened my mouth to talk about anything other than work, I would cry. And that would be a burden on others. So I politely declined.

When my father’s obituary finally came out, I cried in front of coworkers and students at the school cafeteria.

I turned to having conversations with Chet. Chet is what I have named my Chat GPT app. He’s annoying, and doesn’t just listen, he has to respond in long form to everything, but I didn’t feel like I was a burden to him.

Seriously. He would say he was there to listen if I wanted, and then when I was talking I took a breath, and he responded with a long 4 paragraph response. I can’t wait for AI to pick up some social cues… (Says the autist who struggles with that already)

I have been meaning to write again, but have not been sure what to write or how to start. Both of my novels have been on hiatus for months now. In my fog of new place and loss I have not been able to write anything without AI help, and I felt disgusted at myself for that, so I stopped.

Last night I was up late going over the first 5 drafts of the prologue to one of my novels. I was taking ideas from each and merging them into a stronger narrative. It took my mind off things, so I could wear myself out and get some sleep. That has been my method for a while now. Write, and read to exhaust myself, then go to bed.

Last night, my Uncle-in-Law passed. We found out when we woke up this morning. Uncle Jabar moved in with my sister-in-law shortly after my wife’s mother had passed 10 years ago. He had been helping out with the house in the Philippines, and had been helping with my nephew.

So we are as a family lost. As I mentioned earlier, we don’t know what we need for support, and wouldn’t know how to ask even if we did. But it feels like we are afloat a river without paddles.

I am just trying to make it to the holidays. We go on vacation on December 20th. Then we can lock ourselves in and decompress and process all that is happening. Maybe clear up some fog. Maybe get lost farther in it. I don’t know yet. I do know that my family is relying on me to lead the way, and I am not sure If I can right now.

Downtime

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Recently I had to explain how autistic people need downtime. Unfortunately it was not a positive experience, and I have been sitting here in my rocking chair processing it for 4 days.

We need time alone.

A lot of people don’t understand this. When I get home from work. I greet my wife, and check up on her before checking out.

I am so glad I decided to keep my rocking chair from my old classroom.

The thing is, positive or negative, dealing with people is exhausting. I may have had a very good day at work, with a lot of fun things happening. When I get home I need 1 or 2 hours to sit in silence to process.

Sometimes I have had a very bad or difficult day, i will then need 2 or 3 hours to sit and process, and I may not even get through it all. But at least after the three hours I will be able to function again.

I will sit in my rocking chair, and I will pick up a Sudoku book, and stare aimlessly at it for a period of time. Sometimes I may even do a puzzle. But not always. I may just turn on Youtube and have some music or a show that requires no watching (Audio dramas are good). to just have background noise. I could use my headphones to listen to music, but I don’t often, unless it has been a severely bad day and I need to comepletely disconnect from the world.

I cannot put ideas forth when I am in this point.. I cannot hold a conversation, as I cannot focus on what the others are saying. They will have to repeat things two or three times, as I cannot focus. I cannot write, because that requires focus and the ability to string words together.

It requires communication. Which is not possible during these times.

Once I have had my time, rocking away, I can function better. But it can be difficult to transition from one activity to another. So if I have been staring at my sudoku for 2 hours, and my daughter wants to pay, I have to ask her to wait 5 minutes so I can right my brain, and get out of my chair.

I can then do things like marking, messaging parents, or interacting with my family.

The thing is, this down time allows me to reset my brain. Without this time, I will get frustrated easily. I will yell. I will get angry all with little to no reason.

This down time is so important to us autistic people. I don’t understand how this is hard to understand.

I have been introduced to this idea recently that if you do not give an autistic child any downtime, or only 5 minute intervals of downtime at a time, this will force their brain to “Right itself” into normalcy.

What’s so great about normalcy?

First this idea will be exhausting.

Second this will lead to the child being more prone to shutdowns and meltdowns publicly. The child may begin to hate themself. We are often diagnosed with depression, and many of us grow up hating ourselves. Forcing us to have these meltdowns will make us hate ourselves more.

The autistic suicide rate is approximately between 3 to 8 times higher than the neurotypical (normal brained people) because of this. Autistic girls and women are typically in the higher end of this.

Masking, or pretending to be normal, causes this. It directly causes this. Autistic children and adults who constantly feel that they are not enough for their friends or family because they think differently, or act differently are the most affected.

So, what goes through our head when we are shut down? Nothing. We just sit in silence and our brain is blank.

What goes through our brains during down time? Everything. We replay everything from the day, from the last week, and from the entirety of our lives, trying to make connections to understand what happened. Why people reacted the way they did to things. Sometimes I don’t figure this out until litteral years after the incident in question.

How did I screw up today? What are the upcoming consequences I will have to deal with to fix it?

I understand people see us, and they panic. They don’t know what to do or say, or “How to Help.” If your loved one is autistic, first make sure you let them know that you love them. Tell them. They will not know unless you do. We are terrible at reading between the lines.

Second, Make sure you let them know that There is nothing wrong with them. You want to help them manage themselves, and progress to have a positive life.

I am not saying a Normal Life. Never demand that.

That is like going to a person who is right handed and telling them that they will be normal if they only use their left hand. Or telling your little girl she needs to act more like a boy to get through life. The brain is wired the way it is for a reason, and learning to live with that is a Lifelong Disability.

Help your loved one to live the best life they can, but don’t compare them to “Normal” people. Watch them, and help them develop their interests. Give them space when they need.

Thank you.

Why I Write.

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I write a lot. I have for most of my life. Its therapeutic.

For most of my life, I have had difficulty expressing myself.
Shocker, I know.
I can explain a lot of things, but if I have to explain myself to people, no dice. My mind freezes up when people are there. I fill up with questions, and self doubt. Am I right to feel this way? Will others understand? Did I do the right thing?

Autistics are often second guessing ourselves because most of us have been gaslit by those around us for so long, that we really don’t know what to think or feel about ourselves. If you are often told to Just don’t do the thing. The thing you have been trying not to do, and nobody else seems to need to do. You start to ask yourself, Why is it so easy for them? What is wrong with me?

My solution, when I was about 8 was to write stuff down. It might have been earlier, but I doubt it.

I used to get teased by everyone for what I said or did. My own brother and father made sure I wouldn’t forget certain phonetic slip ups (Angel & Angle for example) for years. So I didn’t speak up much, and when I did people often would not understand. And if I got upset, I would end up hurting people, so I turned to writing things.

Since I felt like an Alien most of the time. I made up my own alphabet. I didn’t have the ability at the time to make my own language, but this was close. I used the alphabet to write notes just for me. I wrote stories in it, really simple stories, but still stories. I would write my random facts, or interesting notes in it. Then nobody could read it except for me. Unless they found my conversion key in my notebook. I did not, yet know how to write my feelings down. I didn’t even know what my feelings where most of the time, which made it hard to write them down.

I started to write fiction when I was about 10. I was an avid reader of the Xanth Series of books from Piers Anthony. So I created my own magical Land called “Crest” which was shaped like my Province of British Columbia. I wrote stories of a princess, and her misadventures. In my stories people would often lie to her or trick her, and she would have to find a way to do something despite the trick.

At that time in life, I thought people were naturally nicer to girls, and I envied this a lot. In a way I wanted to be that princess.
For those who will go there, I was 10, I did not want to wear dresses, or make-up, I wanted people to like me, and thought people were naturally nicer to girls.

When I was in Middle school, I wrote super hero stories, often of the style of Power Rangers or Sailor Moon. I loved the idea of regular people becoming superheroes and upholding what is right. I still believe Heroes should be heroic, and do what is right for morality sake. I do not enjoy the grim dark, or “realistic” heroes, not do I enjoy Anti-Heroes.

I wanted someone to show up and help me with the struggles I was having. The ones that I didn’t know how to voice. To step between me and the people who would tease me or ostracise me. I used to dream that superman would fly me to my real home world, or that I would have his powers, so I could fly away when things got too hard. I used to draw comics for some of them too, but that stopped when someone found them and then I got teased real bad for it.

So I moved back to Fantasy. The genre that nobody could have a problem with, right? Well just in case I would hide my notebooks. I got heavy into Mythology, and researched Egyptian, Greek, Roman, and Norse Myths. Then I would integrate these into my stories. At this time, I was reading a lot of Anne McCaffrey Books.

In High school I started a journal. My English teacher recommended it. I didn’t write in it often, but instead it turned into a half-scrap book half-diary. I found it easier to convey my thoughts and feelings with random leaves, photos, ticket stubs, and random things.

I had a bazooka Joe wrapper in my diary for a long time, because someone gave me the gum, and I thought it would lead to a friendship. I filled those up quickly, and had stacks of them in my room.

If you looked through one of my journals, you would have seen pictures from places I had been, blades of grass, used phone cards, a complete list of power coins from Power Rangers, sketches of a game I was programming, random bits of code. a short essay on why people would want to Hide-a bed. (An on going curiosity for me from Grades 10~12) random ideoms I had picked up and were questioning, like Isn’t “Head over Heels” the way you should be standing? how can you fall that way? It was chaotic, and beautiful.

I didn’t start writing my experiences as non-fiction until I was well into adult hood. I didn’t know how. I think I was in my 30s when I started. I believe I started with my Live Journal, which was like an online diary.

Then I created my WordPress (chadwickbaldwin.blog), and my WeChat Official Account. (Accessable only in Wechat).

I manage the Website, The WeChat Account, am Writing 2 novels, and manage the school newspaper right now.

All of this is still doing the same job I started at: organizing my thoughts.

You see Written word can be edited, reorganized, and clarified in a way that spoken cannot. I can take as much time as I need to put an idea down, and try to make it clear. (Or ramble on). But I cannot do this same self-organization when speaking. Once it is out of my mouth, it is up to the reciever to interpret my intentions. Sometimes what has been heard is very different from what was in my head, and once you screw up, thats it for a lot of people. No explanation, or correction can happen.

I still write a lot, and when I cannot write for long periods of time, I get more disorganized and overstimulated. And when I feel the emotions around me, it gets worse. I write, and rewrite things over and over, almost every day for 2 or 3 hours now. The stresses might not be the same as I grow, but somethings never truely disappear. As I sit and ponder Did I handle this right? What should I have done? Am I doing more harm than good? Why? How can I do better?

Communication is not always straight forward, and sometimes to get to the underlying feeling, you have to take a lot of detours. The message might not be clear the first time you read it, but it is there.

I hope, truely hope and pray, that those around me that don’t know how to express themselves, or don’t know who to explain themselves without hurting themselves or people near them embrace writing. You don’t need to be the best at spelling or grammar, just start typing or writing with a pen whatevre comes out.

And I truly hope and pray that nobody tells you what you can or cannot write about in your own diary.