permission fucking granted
Burning the bridges of outdated thinking...
It is so easy to become complacent in discomfort. Especially when you have spent most of your life not feeling like you fit in, check the boxes, adhere to societies idea of what is normal and what you "should" be. Although still young in its evolution and understanding, neurodiversity in all of its many forms has a place at societies table and one of the ways to support its growth and understanding is for those born into that section of the pool who are willing, to shed light on what it both looks like and feels like for us and offer interested neurotypicals and fellow neurodiverse, not as comfortable sharing, an opportunity for insight to know they are not alone. My strength lies in my 52- year journey so far to try & share the struggles of finding answers and the vulnerability of giving myself permission to let go of the shame I have been strangled by most of my life. If anyone can benefit from hearing my stories either humorous, painful and often both, then it is worth it. How it benefits them is not for me to dictate or create an expectation around. I know for me, I know truth and authenticity when I read, hear and certainly speak it, as it gives me a sense of calm.
Overly sensitive autistic artist and wanna be writer who dabbles in psychology/philosophy/politics and looking for ways to cure cancer & boredom with humor and/or obscure ways of mixing peanut butter and chocolate, whilst keeping her sarcasm at the human condition to a tolerable amount as to not push her husband over the edge.
I started The Reluctant Optimist with the goal of giving my brain a safe place to let the crazy out to play. Life is hard enough and currently drowning in absurdity, so, I figure a pressure valve is warranted. I find the older I get I am certainly not for everyone (Thank God!) and despite years of trying to squeeze myself into some box that was palatable for others I realize has been a wasted exercise that led me to drink too much to numb it out, whilst continually berating myself for not being normal. Well, fuck that. I am a 52-year-old recently diagnosed autistic, artist, purveyor of mischief, kindhearted smart ass who delights in colorful whimsy and fantastical creations and ideas.
Despite what I allowed myself to believe most of my life, I am in fact not the sole weirdo out there, banished to a life of being misunderstood and problematic for keeping the status quo...there are others, and I look forward to connecting and sharing ideas, building each other up and taking over the world.
OK, maybe not taking over the world. I shall leave that to our cats.
But! Perhaps by throwing my unarmored self out into the fray, others will stumble upon this and feel that tingle of familiarity. That pulse just below the surface of their sanity, calling out like a beacon, you are not alone.
Again, I am not for everyone so let me lay out the disclaimer(s) now:
I will swear a fair amount.
Some things I say will be ridiculous.
I hope to help others to laugh and cry at the absurdities of being human.
Unless you are harming small children or animals, I will not judge you.
If you voted for Trump, kindly get the fuck off my page as I no longer have any patience for any remaining cult members following that dumpster fire.
I am assuming the header here of "paragraph" was a suggestion as clearly, I have gone over that.
If you are still reading, welcome! You clearly have too much time on your hands and make questionable choices - my people.