Finding HopeA Holiday Bubble
Posted on July 11, 2018
From the age of about two years old, I’ve been going to a little town in Norfolk almost every year on holiday. While I was in school, we – me, my parents, and our dog – would go during the October half term but in recent years, we’ve been going in the early summer, before the schools break up. We stay in a caravan less than a ten-minute walk from a stunning sandy beach and I absolutely love it.
Some people find it strange that we always go back to the same place but as far as I can tell, there are two basic types of holidays: going to explore and going to relax. Both have their pros and cons. This is definitely a relaxation holiday. It’s familiar and calm and beautiful. It’s a bubble away from reality where I can just be, in a way I can’t at home. And, of course, familiarity and Autism go together like fish and chips. We also ate a lot of fish and chips…
I’ve been back from Norfolk a few days and I just really wanted to write about it. After having had so much change with the house move, the changing of medications, and the decision to keep my cat’s kittens, it was really nice to be somewhere so familiar and safe. And as much as I love the cats, I really enjoyed having some dedicated dog time with Lucky. Because he’s now so arthritic, we have to be careful to not over walk him (his enthusiasm far exceeds his physical ability so he’s not much help there) but we manage a couple of trips to the beach, which he loved. He can’t really run anymore but there was a fair amount of skipping, one sure-fire way to know he’s enjoying himself. It’s very cute.
The beaches in Norfolk are just beautiful. The closest beach, the one we jokingly call ‘our beach,’ is particularly close to my heart. Every year, I step onto that beach and everything just clicks into place. It’s subtle but I suddenly feel like my head’s a little clearer, like I can breathe more easily. Something inside me settles. It’s like I leave a little piece of myself there, that I miss all year round, and then, when I get back, it’s an overwhelming relief. I’ve spent some glorious evenings on that beach.
It was ridiculously hot all week so I spent a lot of time inside with all the windows and doors open. I’m really not good with heat. It’s something I’ve heard from quite a few other people with Autism; I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a link, given the hypersensitivity that often comes as part of being autistic. Anyway. It gave me the opportunity to do a lot of writing and catch up a bit with my diary (if you’ve read this post, you’ll know that my writing can be quite compulsive). That felt really good. I also rewatched some of my favourite films and played chess. The latter is something I haven’t had the concentration to do for months so that felt like a victory in itself, much more exciting than actually winning at chess.
Being there doesn’t eradicate my anxiety entirely but it does a pretty good job of dampening it. Sometimes anxiety feels like this constant vibration that I can’t stop, can’t take a break from. But in Norfolk I can. I still get anxious about specific things but that relentless vibration momentarily ceases. And that’s such a relief.
Tips For Travelling as an Autistic Person
Posted on July 7, 2018
Travelling is hard work for everybody. It’s exhausting and stressful and frustrating. But add in sensory issues or anxiety or whatever it is you struggle with and it can be a traumatic experience. Since we are now in the summer holidays and prime travelling time, I thought I’d put together some things that I found helpful to do as an autistic person who struggles with anxiety. I would like to point out (again) that there is a maddening lack of resources (and even simple testimony) for or from the point of view of autistic people. I spent hours searching for something but there was next to nothing; all the advice was for parents of young autistic children. Of course that information is important but it’s very demoralising to an autistic adult – essentially being compared to a child – especially one who was diagnosed late and has had to work so hard, often unaided, to manage their difficulties.
PLAN AHEAD – I know, this is my advice for everything, but it really does help. Struggling with unexpected change is a common trait in Autism and while planning can’t prevent all of those changes, it can make a huge difference. It can also give you a confidence boost, knowing that your actions have prevented a certain amount of anxiety.
SPEAK TO A TRAVEL AGENT – Being able to hand some of the responsibility off to someone else can be really helpful, especially if you have limited energy. You have to prioritise the tasks and if there are people who can help, that is a valuable resource. These people are also more likely to know the ins and outs of booking flights and accommodations etc and will therefore be more equipped to help you get what you need and want to get the most out of your trip.
CHOOSE YOUR ACCOMMODATION CAREFULLY – Having somewhere where you can have time out and recharge is so important when travelling. We all have different sensory needs and different things we can tolerate so choosing a place to stay is really important. For example, staying with other people (people I don’t know) causes me a lot of anxiety so when we look through Airbnb, we look at places that allow us to be the sole inhabitants. It won’t be the same for everyone but if you can identify what you need, you can hopefully find somewhere to stay that can be a restful place rather than a stressful one.
WRITE A LIST OF EVERYTHING YOU’LL NEED AND HAVE SOMEONE CHECK IT – Having a list makes packing so much easier and having someone check it for you just reduces the chances of making a stupid mistake like forgetting your pyjamas. Because that really isn’t something you need to deal with when you arrive wherever you’re going. Also make sure that you’ve got any medications or medical equipment that you need because those can be particularly difficult to get hold of, especially if you’re in another country.
PACK AN EMERGENCY KIT IN YOUR CARRY ON BAGGAGE – On the off chance that your bags get lost along the way, pack a change of clothes, some medication, etc in your carry on bag so that you can at least get up the next day and work out a solution.
BRING YOUR OWN FOOD – You’d need to check with your airline but there are certain foods that you can take in your suitcase that won’t cause you any problems while travelling. That means that, at the very least, you’ll have something to eat when you get to your destination. But in my case, it gave me a staple food that I knew I could eat in case I couldn’t find anything I could tolerate. It took away some of the anxiety, for which I was grateful.
PREPARE SPECIFICALLY FOR THE FLIGHT – Apparently, we’re flying in this hypothetical. Many people have fears associated with flying and while I don’t have any magic words of wisdom there, there are a couple of tricks to make it slightly less difficult, especially if you have sensory issues. Take sweets to suck on and relieve the pressure in your ears. Wearing a mask over your face can help if you’re worried about bad reactions to everyone’s germs in one confined space, as well as chemicals from perfumes etc. I’ve also found that a playlist of familiar music helps with the constant noise of flying. And wearing comfortable clothes: you’re most likely gonna look awful when you get there anyway so why bother with anything more than a T-shirt and leggings.
BUILD IN TIME OUT AND DON’T FEEL GUILTY FOR IT – Easier said than done, I know but burning yourself out in the first couple of days doesn’t make for a good trip. So try to take breaks between things and listen to your body: if you need to rest, rest. It will make the whole trip more enjoyable and worthwhile if you do.
As of now, I think that’s all I’ve got. But if you guys have any tips that you’ve found helpful, please let me know!
When You Don’t Want To Feel Better
Posted on June 30, 2018
I have now been clinically depressed for thirteen months. I’ve been living with depression a lot longer than that but, in May of last year, everything spiralled and I was diagnosed with clinical depression for the second time. So I know my depression pretty well now and there are a few differences between those two states. One is the presence of hope: while living with depression, it’s a constant battle between my depression and the hope that things will change and get better. But sometimes that hope just disappears and the depression takes over. That’s when things start to get really bad. Another difference is the ability to cope; when my depression is particularly bad, I feel completely overwhelmed on a daily basis and devastated on a weekly one. I feel like one more impact and I’ll never recover.
I’ve been in what feels like the lowest place I’ve ever been for the past month. I wish I could describe it but I don’t know if I can; I don’t know if there are words that accurately capture that feeling. It’s like that feeling after you’ve had blood taken, after they’ve pulled the needle out, and your arm hurts in a way you’ve never really felt before but it’s everywhere. It’s like you’re drowning inside your own body. It’s like having a black hole in your chest that’s sucking everything in, leaving you aching and empty. It’s like all of those things and none of them at the same time.
But recently there’s been a slight shift. It’s so slight that saying ‘I feel better,’ feels like a gross over exaggeration and fills me with anxiety. But it is there and that’s really frightening to me. I’ve spent weeks feeling like I’m suffocating, like I can’t possibly survive feeling like this for another minute, but now that that’s not the case, I’m honestly terrified. As miserable as the depression is, ‘better’ is unknown. And scary. As much as I wanted to feel anything else, being depressed is somehow safe and… comforting is the wrong word, but hopefully you know what I mean. It’s clear. I know where the edges are, how it feels. In some ways, being depressed is easier because it’s familiar. I know it sounds weird but it’s like nothing can hurt me because everything hurts already. So, if I step out of that, it opens me up to really feeling hurt again and that is really, really scary.
But what if I’m not ready? Being depressed takes up so much space within me. What if I’m not ready to process everything that I’d have to if that space wasn’t being monopolised by the depression, if it was being filled with more life than I’ve had up until now? That’s overwhelming. I feel so raw and so fragile. What if I’m not strong enough? What if something happens and suddenly I’m crashing down even lower than before? I’m not sure I could survive that. I feel like a fractured windowpane that will shatter if it takes one more hit.
I feel like a little like I’m being dragged into ‘better’ regardless of how I actually feel. I do feel better physically: the brain fog has receded significantly, I don’t feel so numb, to the world and my own emotions, and so on. I’ve even had flashes of future plans, like going to the gym and learning how to bake something new; I haven’t had thoughts like that in a long time. But despite all of that, I don’t feel better mentally so it’s confusing and overwhelming and stressful. I know that that kind of change takes time, conscious processing, and most likely therapy, but that’s hard to remember when I’m feeling so overwhelmed by anxiety.
And part of that anxiety is this suffocating feeling that something bad is about to happen. This is something I’ve struggled with for years (it’s on my list to write about) and although I know it’s completely irrational, it doesn’t feel that way when I’m in it. It feels completely logical. A good thing happened and so a bad thing must happen to balance it out. I dared to want more than I already had and so the universe must punish me for it. When I write it out, I can see how ridiculous it is but it’s how I FEEL. It’s like the instinct that you’re in danger: it’s that strong. You can’t just ignore it. I want to write more about this in the future because it’s important and complicated and distressing.
This is all really overwhelming and scary. And it’s really confusing to suddenly feel like I don’t want to get into a better space after desperately wanting it for so long. It’s really weird when your physical emotions and your mental emotions don’t match, if that makes any sense. I don’t really feel like I understand it so I end up feeling like I don’t want to tell other people because they might assume that it’s as simple as feeling better and therefore expect more from me, more than I’m capable or feel capable of giving. This is a learning curve and I seem to be moving through it very quickly but also very slowly. It’s a mess. I’m a mess. Thank you for sticking with me through this very ramble-y description of it.
Finding Hope 