Awesome Disabled

So I had a massive burst of anger recently, which is unusual for me. Usually I’m too busy working hard and living my awesome life, but sometimes needs must.

It was surprising, but it ended up feeling pretty good. Anger tells us we are allowed to take up space, and that how we were treated wasn’t okay. Then, as quickly as it came, it disappeared. Anger is an emotion that makes you feel huge, so what happens when you shrink back down to size?

For me, it came when I was at the gym. I had written the anger blog post in a tizzy after waking up from that wacky sleep. Then I headed to the gym– I am building my running stamina, and had been away from my training for a week because of our trip. I was itching to get back to it.

The first wave of feelings hit me while I was sprinting on the treadmill. It was a breathless wave of intense sadness, and my eyes stung with tears. I felt like falling to the ground and curling into a ball. But of course I couldn’t, because I was sprinting on the treadmill, and that would cause an injury. So I continued my sprint. I do HIIT training, so my sprint was soon over, and I began my “rest period” of walking. I thought of stopping my workout and having a lil sobbing breakdown, but that would be weird at the Y. So I just kept walking.

Luckily, my tears blended in with the sweat from my face, and I could walk and cry at the same time. If anger is a feeling that makes you feel huge, sadness makes you feel teeny. You feel small and insignificant, and in a lot of pain. Of course, sadness is just as necessary as anger, even though it feels much worse. I tell my students that feelings all have the same job, and I ask them what that job is? They usually try a couple of guesses, but it’s clear that they don’t understand. I explain that all feelings are meant to protect us. They all want to help, even though they may not feel good to experience.

Sadness allows us to feel weak and helpless, comforted by a caring universe. At least, that’s how it makes sense to me. So I cried and walked and sprinted, and let the feelings come and go. I don’t know why I didn’t expect this, but maybe blame it on the autism, I guess? They say anger is sadness’s bodyguard, so it makes sense that sadness is hiding underneath the anger.

After a few minutes, the sadness subsided and I was left with myself and my music, and the treadmill. The anger comes, then the sadness, then just me.

It feels like this is one of those things that help me feel more comfortable in my skin. Kind of like how the Velveteen Rabbit becomes “real” through being worn down and loved and abandoned and rediscovered. It helps me feel more real to know that I am fully part of the world, with all its glorious messiness.

All of these thoughts flitted through me as I walked and sprinted and cried. I felt like the bright, messy universe was within me, including all its terrors and joys and sorrows. I guess this is the only way to be– the other option is to close yourself off, and I can’t tolerate that. So this is the way it’s gotta be: a small me in a big universe. I have a place here.