I am also confused

Dear readers/humans/earthlings,

A close friend recently confided that they felt concerned and confused about what is going on with me. Honestly, same. Here is an open letter that I needed to write and release.

For the past 6 months or so, I have been in a challenging state of living. I recently had to resign from my position as a full-time teacher after desperately working to overcome my obstacles. To meet the challenges of daily life, I collected data about my life, my mood, my fatigue, my physical pain and condition. I practice grounding, meditation, yoga, connection, and alone time – hella coping tools to exist every day. I’ve had to say no things I really wanted to do. I’ve had to cancel things that are important to me. I’ve had to use sick days at work – all of them. I study diligently to self-regulate when I feel overwhelmed, which is often. Below is an excerpt from the letter my therapist wrote on my behalf to support breaking my contract with the school district, which they quickly approved. I hate breaking commitments. While I know some nebulous truth about the fact that my body simply cannot handle showing up at times, I felt dumbfounded, sad, and concerned for myself when I read these words on paper from someone who knows me well.

During our sessions, Mr. Heyford has shared significant challenges that have impacted his ability to maintain positive mental health and perform job duties effectively. 

Mr. Heyford reports that the condition of his mental health necessitates a period of focused self-care, including resignation from full-time employment to prioritize their well- being. This decision is central to support their recovery and stability.

I have many diagnoses that surely contribute to my state of being: Chronic Fatigue, ADHD, Autism, an Eating Disorder, Depression, Anxiety, and Complex PTSD. I recently drew a venn diagram with so many circles it was shaped like a flower. I have always had a sneaking feeling that there is something else. About 4 years ago, I was hospitalized in the Emergency Room because of an extremely low pulse; it was often in the 40s. The medical staff ran dozens of tests, asked questions about my entire life, and recommended I follow up with a cardiologist. I ended up moving across state lines without health insurance, and choosing to forget about this. Later on, I received regular primary care, and we followed up on the issue. I had many outstanding levels showing up on my bloodwork, and we decided to monitor them for a period of time before deciding whether a Cardiologist was necessary. Eventually, my levels normalized. 

I have since visited the ER two more times, mostly for an erratic pulse that was jumping all around. Sometimes incredibly high. I am wondering as I write this whether I should seek specialty care after all. 

My ADHD diagnosis is relatively recent (about 2 years), and I am also on the Autism Spectrum, despite not having a formal diagnosis. I have been learning how to discover, accept, and care for the particular needs I have to function. These needs can change and shift over time. 

Following recent treatment for an Eating Disorder, I am much more connected to my body, which hurts and helps. For a long time, I was especially dissociated from my abdominal area, chest, and generally the entire middle of my body. In high school, I suffered from seizures and migraines, and I learned to ignore that sharp, chronic pain every day that I could. 

Leading up to my medical transition, which includes HRT and a gender-affirming top surgery, I used to experience severe gender dysphoria without having the language for it. I compensated with alcohol and marijuana to self-medicate throughout my 20s. I simply could not be present for life. I overworked, masked in public, and suffered silently, only being honest with myself in brief moments of privacy before disappearing into the oblivion of substance abuse. I am also a Trauma survivor. It makes sense that I didn’t have access to feeling in my body. It makes sense that I have been compartmentalizing physical and emotional pain. I learned not to feel before I even could.

Another important landmark happened in the late summer. I was in a romantic relationship, and in a few vulnerable moments, my girlfriend witnessed me having more than one breakdown. Call it an Autistic Meltdown. Call it a PTSD response. I’m not sure how to label it. But it made things more real for me. I have never in my life had someone witness me in that condition. I have mastered the art of performance and kept my pain hidden and private. When I feel incredibly overwhelmed, I use the hell out of my coping skills, and eventually I go to bed. It was scary to feel seen, to be openly disturbed, to be witnessed at what feels like my worst, and to see the look of horror and confusion on her face. She didn’t understand, and I didn’t understand. I wasn’t able to verbally communicate what was happening. My face was frozen, and I tried my best to advocate for myself, to receive some kind of care, and not to run away. 

After this particular experience, I realized that Autism is more of an obstacle in my life than I have ever admitted. It is a serious, ever-present challenge. The sensory stimulation of life on earth is too much to bear. My Autism is also a gift. Earth can be beautiful. I can experience moments of heightened joy and elation. I have a new affirmation, that my neurodivergence is a super power. My brain is a computer, and I am enamored by my capacity to process information and observe the world around me. I can see now that people and self-care are two of my special interests. I am obsessed with studying humans and learning how to take care of myself. 

Throughout my entire life, I have navigated waves of energy shifts and depression and periods of time where I could not function. Sometimes days, weeks, months – months especially. I am on a dedicated mission to do everything I can to avoid these dips And yet, they happen. Life happens. I am learning how to recognize when I am on the edge. I am trying not to get so close. It is a new practice. It takes acute awareness of my body, my habits, even my feelings - which are nearly impossible to put to words and do not often occur in real time. My feelings typically hit me a few days or weeks or months or years after first navigating my mental processing. My most severe feelings are usually the result of interactions with people or global catastrophes. Injustice in general is something I cannot stand. It actively hurts me. And it is ever-present.

This is a start to my story. And only a part of my story. This is a brief explanation of something that I have spent SO MUCH TIME and energy trying to solve. It may be vague. It may be confusing. I hate that. I want to have answers. I want to be understood. I want to be clear and correct and to synthesize my data effectively. For now, my pain continues to be somewhat of a mystery, and I have to be okay with that until more is revealed. I am exhausted. I also love life. 

Today, I choose to live a full life, and I am grateful for people who make me feel safe. For artistic and creative expression. For access to clean air and clean water and housing and nourishment. I am grateful for my breath. I am grateful for music. I am grateful to be a person who is learning to feel my feelings. I will continue to stop and go, to leap and fall, and to keep breathing for every moment that I am here. I want to be here for me, and I want to be here with humanity, even though I often feel very separated. One of my favorite sign offs is this: What a trip.

Thanks for reading. 

Love, 

Parker

December 7, 2024 11:11am (literally)