Warning: Tough stuff ahead. Good, processing stuff, but still tough.
Life is easiest for me when it’s compartmentalized. I have this, my autism blog. I have an eating disorder recovery blog, which is set to private, and I rarely use, although I should. And in my mind, wrestling with my latest diagnosis warrants a third blog… but… just, hold up, here. That’s not how life works.
In conversation with Leigh last night, it came up that my recent… issues.. points to a specific diagnosis. It’s rather a scary diagnosis, because people who are labeled with these disorders are typically more or less shunned. They are viewed as so difficult, so impossible, that any kind of close relationship with them isn’t worth it.
Even if I’m only saying it for my own good, I’m going to say it: I am worth it.
I have a lot to offer… I’m bubbly and engaging when I want to be. I’m extremely creative and artistic. I’m intelligent and interesting.. when I want to be, again. I’m loyal, very honest, and so loving. I can be a really top notch friend.
… usually. Suffice to say that when things are bad, they get bad. When my switch gets flipped, I can tear my entire world apart, piece by piece, in 90 minutes flat. When the dust settles, I look around, wrecking ball still in hand, horrified; who made this mess?
Oh, my word. It was me.
This is part of what led to The Email from my church friends the other night. My reaction to said email was yet another reign of fury. Dust, now settled, has left me utterly broken. I stand in the midst of the rubble… peeking around a corner, I ask, so quietly, is anyone still with me?
They are. They’re still here. I don’t understand why. That is simply superhuman grace.
Having hit absolute rock bottom, having torn my world apart brick by brick, I am now searching for the means by which I can begin to rebuild.
I am going through a workbook of a specific type of therapy that has helped people like me. I’ve used it before and have found it very useful. I am focusing on this work with my outpatient therapist, and she’s applied me to a partial program that uses it, one I’ve done successfully before. All good steps.
I’m expanding my horizons, even beyond my comfort zone. I’m looking for a volunteer opportunity here. I’m writing again. I’m involving myself more in my art and less in my need for constant communication.
I’m being honest with myself. Yes, I have this diagnosis. But it is one that I can overcome, one that, in time, I can even lose. I am nothing if not determined, even incredibly stubborn, and I will apply my laser beam focus to rebuilding what I have destroyed. I’m also being honest with those around my, my family, my friends, my counselor. Hiding from the issues doesn’t get anyone anywhere.
This post is a first attempt to streamline my compartmentalized life. I no longer want to view myself as a person with autism, a person with mental health issues, a person with physical disabilities, and so forth… so, let’s just back up. But I’m quite certain that God doesn’t call me anything other than Lydia, so that’s what I’ll call myself.
If you were to ask me how I’m doing, I’m not even sure that’s a question I could outright answer. In what sense? Because the answer to “how has your food intake been today?” and “how has your mood been today?” and “how has your pain been today?” may be three entirely contradictory things.
How am… I? How am I, not how are my issues?
I… am finding freedom.