I got up early today and have been reading a lot. And I've suddenly started crying.
I started crying for no reason. For no reason other than:
Reading an article on Medium entitled, “Your brain is constantly looking for rules.” — why autism is exhausting and diagnosis matters
I don't know why that made me cry. I start to cry again every time I read that sentence.
Perhaps it's because it rings so true and cuts to the heart of what's been "wrong" with me for over fifty years. It's always been one of my many "quirks" - the need to figure things out, the need to understand the rules which govern this world and somehow conform myself to them, the need for consistency. It's been driving me mad.
Do I "feel seen," perhaps for the first time ever? I don't know. I just know that I keep bursting into tears.
It just happened again - I can't read the title of that article without bursting into tears. It's opened some kind of floodgate of deep frustration, some kind of reservoir of unspoken and neither fully understood, nor even fully felt, pain.
My wife has long lauded my agonizing efforts to understand people's behavior and the issues affecting our world today as well as my painstaking work towards moral consistency. But now, that trait feels more like a pathological and impossible need.
I started crying for no reason. For no reason other than:
Reading an article on Medium entitled, “Your brain is constantly looking for rules.” — why autism is exhausting and diagnosis matters
I don't know why that made me cry. I start to cry again every time I read that sentence.
Perhaps it's because it rings so true and cuts to the heart of what's been "wrong" with me for over fifty years. It's always been one of my many "quirks" - the need to figure things out, the need to understand the rules which govern this world and somehow conform myself to them, the need for consistency. It's been driving me mad.
Do I "feel seen," perhaps for the first time ever? I don't know. I just know that I keep bursting into tears.
It just happened again - I can't read the title of that article without bursting into tears. It's opened some kind of floodgate of deep frustration, some kind of reservoir of unspoken and neither fully understood, nor even fully felt, pain.
My wife has long lauded my agonizing efforts to understand people's behavior and the issues affecting our world today as well as my painstaking work towards moral consistency. But now, that trait feels more like a pathological and impossible need.
