Tuesday, 29 January 2013
It is terrifying to wake up to carpool to work. It is early morning. It is cold. I know my schedule, I have a plan, and this gives me security as I walk to meet my colleague’s car.
But then, there’s another friend in the car, and this friend is having an emotional crisis. And it’s not my crisis and I don’t understand what she is feeling or how I can fix it, so I sit silently, rocking in the back seat of the car, sipping my tea and stimming.
Suddenly, my day is unpredictable. My day is chaotic. Every thing I touch seems to break. I no longer remember social rules; I regress to a younger version of myself and avoid eye-contact, deny people the opportunity to engage in conversation, and refuse to speak unless it is of something that I am interested in.
I had an Autism Day today. I met a trigger at 6 in the morning in a navy blue Nissan and now, 17 hours later, I find myself curled up on my desk chair, unable to think, kicking my feet uncontrollably into the bottom of the table. My knees are bruised now.
It is embarrassing when I encounter my own weaknesses. I suppose that’s what I’m getting at here.