Slowing Down

(3 minute read)

Every year since I can remember, I have had the same New Year’s resolution: Be more patient. I am famously (in my own mind!) the least patient person I know. I have to hold myself back from barging in front of people as I go through my day. Hurry up!

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize that a lot of my desperation to hurry through my day is related to my disabilities. I think subconsciously, I’ve felt like I need to go quickly so that I can outrun the exhaustion. Outrun the sensory overload. Outrun the inevitable breakdown, and finish as much as I can before I become catatonic, laying on my bed.

I saw a LinkedIn post that said something to the effect of: “The bigger your ambition, the slower you should go.” It surprised me a little bit, because I usually only hear about hustle and drive on LinkedIn. I thought about re-upping my old resolution to be more patient, then I nixed that. I’m allowed to feel the pressure to get stuff done, and I’m not gonna tell myself to be patient. Honestly, telling someone to be patient can feel a bit like a microagression, especially when they’re struggling with something in the present. Especially when they’re struggling with executive dysfunction, when they’re a single parent dealing with sensory overload and trauma, reckoning with their ongoing financial obligations. It’s a heavy burden, and I can’t “live-laugh-love” my way out of it.

What I will tell myself is that it is okay to take time. As you may know, I have been experiencing some career transitions recently. I don’t know exactly where I’m going, or what I want to be when I grow up. I’ve learned that I can hold that thought gently, without trying to push it away.

I can also hold it without necessarily trying to do anything about it. I’m doing the big work to help myself be as healthy as possible. I have a whole team of experts that I seek out to guide me. I have a therapist, a physiotherapist, and a GP, all of whom I’m in close touch with. I’ve had some health scares recently (and am still in the middle of one– womp womp), and I’m doing everything I can to treat my body and mind with care.

I can take this part of my journey one day at a time. I can also recognize that it’s best to let the dust settle slowly. I have been giving myself emotional whiplash from how fast I’ve been moving these past few years. I don’t blame myself for that; a lot of it was the minor event of 2020. Remember that? Plus my marriage ended, of course. And my kids are entering puberty. And my autism diagnosis. Just a few small things– you know how it goes.

Realizing the extent of my masking, and the extent to which I have self-identified with my own masked self, has allowed me to understand my fatigue. This shit’s expensive, man. No wonder I’m exhausted and impatient.

The chaos in my mind feels overwhelming sometimes. My mind feels like what the Internet looks like in Wreck-It Ralph 2, with thoughts whizzing by faster than I can grab them. Hopeful thoughts swirl in with fearful thoughts, while my consciousness flies through a cesspool of half-formed feelings and ideas.

I’m trying to allow myself to make space for uncertainty, all while allowing for enjoyment in the moment. I’m allowing it, not forcing it, which means I’m also allowing for icky stuff and bad times. I’m also in my “try everything” era, just like the song. I’ve explained to my students the concept of “throwing spaghetti against the wall to see what sticks.” I feel like that’s what I’m doing. Something’s gonna stick at some point. And I know it’ll be something awesome.