Letting my neurodivergences take turns in the driver seat…
I’d been under the impression that getting my official autism diagnosis would bring some relief. To a degree, it did; however, it also brought my “functional” autistic burnout out into the light. It made it feel heavier, more real. Now seeing how my autism, ADHD, and OCD all constantly vie for the driver seat, how this fuels the burnout instead of healing it, I’m pursuing balance.
At least, I’m trying to…
We’re coming up on that time of year again. The celebratory marathon that runs from Thanksgiving through the first week of January, with even more events sprinkled in this year:
We kick things off a little early when Nathan takes a trip to Boston the week before Thanksgiving. Then, Turkey Day, Christmas cookie exchange with my friends and neighbors, Orson turns 5, trip to Pennsylvania for a week with my awesome in-laws, Christmas, New Year’s, Nova turns 4…
All the baking. All the decorating. The parties. Traditions. Box checks.
And depending on who’s in my brain’s driver seat, I have very different feelings about all of these plans this year.
Running on Fumes
It seems that I have to build a completely new picture of myself now. I think that’s the biggest shock since getting diagnosed. Like, I knew something was up. I’ve been on this self-discovery journey for a long effin’ time. Neurodivergence was totally on my short list of suspects for a while.
What I didn’t account for with a diagnosis was the fact that, yes, you’re right, you’re differently wired… Now you have to work to rewire all the damaging over-compensatory programming.
In other words, there’s a reckoning at hand, decades in the making. Forever masking. Dissociating through discomfort. Never-ending shame spirals. It’s left me with little sense of self or identity. Who am I behind the face I put on to try to mesh with others?
I’ve spent so long trying to suppress and stuff down needs. I try so hard to not say anything that could be misconstrued. I worry that my needs or desires will somehow inconvenience or offend those around me. All the while, shaming myself for even having needs or feeling so very tired.
A doctor confirmed what my body’s been screaming for years: I’m burnt out, running on fumes. I’ve gotta rest and recover, and I have to learn to tune in to what I actually need and be okay with it. Easier said than done.
Checking the Gauges
So… The tank is empty. Just need to refuel, right? It’s not quite that straightforward, though. My autism, my attention, and my obsessions all demand something different from me. My autism, ADHD, and OCD all want to be in the driver seat. Everyday, I continue to parse out what “voice” belongs to whom…
My Bullet Journaling serves as a perfect example:
I had to take a break for a couple of months from journaling.
My Supernote BuJo serves my autism well, when practiced correctly. I’m afforded structure, predictability, a grounded routine, and a manageable amount of tasks to complete to keep me moving and my level of productivity balanced.
Sometimes, however, my ADHD would jump into the driver seat for a bit. My sacred bullet journaling practice would fall by the wayside for a couple of days. I’d lose track, I didn’t have quantifiable data points to help me process my day…
And then, my OCD would inevitably reach across to open the driver seat door, kick both my autism and ADHD out on the curb before taking the wheel. It became a self-defeating obsession: Now I have to backtrack and remember to log everything I did the past few days I forgot to journal.
I’d compulsively go back, make my bullet-point lists just to check them off retroactively… Defeating the purpose of making my days more organized and streamlined. What once felt like it afforded me peace and structure twisted into something shame-ridden and compulsory.
So, I took a break. I’m only just now dipping my toes back in to routinely journaling.
Anyway…
I hope my example sheds some helpful perspective, but I’ll try to summarize somewhat.
My autism seeks peace and comfort in calm routine, structure, predictability, low stimulation, and patterns. My ADHD absolutely craves novelty, adventure, new experiences, high stimulation, and routine often ends up feeling suffocating. It keeps things interesting, for sure.
The OCD is absolutely the least helpful one to be in the driver seat, but I understand that it just really doesn’t want anything bad to happen. It helps keep me aware and cautious, it just has a hard time calming TF down once it’s considered all risks and dangers.
And when push comes to shove, OCD can keep me barreling through an obstacle that feels insurmountable.
The open-tab incompletion tension is real, but OCD helps me accomplish a lot. It just usually tends to be done in a less-than-healthy way. With a lot of anxiety sprinkled in for good measure.
Keeping a constant monitor on the gauges is an ongoing battle, too, when I feel like my brain and body are so out of sync much of the time.
Would I notice the flashing lights on the dashboard when I’m heading toward a break down? Would I know how to interpret what the flashing lights even mean?
So, in the mean time, I’m fumbling through the dark, trying to feel what my body is telling me. Trying to determine who is in the driver seat at what time so that I can make some attempt at keeping balance.
Driver Seat Switcheroo
Needless to say, for as much clarity as my diagnoses have brought, there seems to be more work. More challenge. Multi-fold management while I’m simultaneously learning to be more gracious with myself.
Giving my autism a turn in the driver seat, I’m trying to discover what my special interests might be. The ADHD keeps me cycling through them, but I’m starting to find the things that feel like fuel. I’ve also started stripping away the ways I’ve stigmatized my own rest.
My productivity is uneven. Perhaps, in this season, this means that I only write sporadically instead of forcing through autistic burnout. Forgoing compulsory writing because I feel I should.
Instead, I’ll have a catch-up-on-laundry day so that I can have an all-day, guilt-free, comfort binge of Survivor while my kids are at school. My home isn’t that messy in general*, but if I leave shoes in the middle of the hall? It’s not the end of the world.
(*For context: we had our close friends over that told us “you seem like coaster people”. At the time, it felt like a compliment, but I think it was a statement with more subtext than I wanted to hear then.)
So, I’m trying to let go of the little things I can that used to feel so important. The things that take more energy than they should.
Am I doing something out of obsessive compulsion? Will I have persecutory intrusive thoughts if I don’t do something perfectly? Will something catastrophic happen if I don’t check every box? What does it say about my character if the rug corner is flipped up, shoes are left out, or there are a few dishes still in the sink?
Eff that.
OCD, out of the driver seat. Give someone else a turn till we can get you reset. Maybe let the ADHD hop in the driver seat while the OCD helps navigate?
Maybe this week, ADHD says it’s time for a baking binge! Perhaps I’ll consider opening an Etsy shop for a little side-hustle action! A couple days later, I’ve broken out the sewing machine, teaching myself to sew buttons and corresponding buttonholes in an effort at making a kitschy Christmas skirt…
Again, ADHD keeps things interesting. OCD points out my mistakes, but encourages me to try harder. My autism hyper focuses on learning. My ADHD wants to learn 20 different things and monetize them all… Etc… It can devolve into exhausting chaos all too easily.
It’s all troubleshooting in this season, but it’s aS mUcH aBoUt ThE jOuRnEy As It Is ThE dEsTiNaTiOn, right?
I guess that is what this all comes down to right now. As I’m trying to learn to navigate this new roadmap, cycling through which neurodivergent quirks are in the driver seat, the important thing is always forward progress.
Take breaks when I need it. Keep the tank refueled. Monitor maintenance needs and maintain alignment. But, ultimately, keep moving down the road. Vroom-vroom.