Neuro-Earnest Confessions

Brutal, beautiful truths from brutal, beautiful brains about living in our brutal, beautiful world

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  • Boundaries

    Boundaries

    Sometimes boundaries hurt. Sometimes boundaries feel like sealing yourself from opportunities, or burning the bridge to reconciliation, or cutting off the chance of true happiness. But there is a quiet peace in keeping your boundaries. A noble peace. One where you no longer have to apologize for existing, and can breathe so deeply your lungs burst with a relentless joy and freedom. Skin is a boundary, one which keeps our vital organs in place and protects us from the savage germs seeking to destroy us at any given moment. A roof is a boundary, one which shelters from the harsh elements and gives us space to stay dry and shaded. When boundaries are erected and maintained, they give structure to our lives, meaning to the madness, and hold us accountable for the way we let others treat us. There is deep pain, but even deeper liberty in saying no and choosing yourself. There is anger when we reminisce on all the moments we let other people demolish our boundaries, and satisfaction in the reflection of rebuilding those boundaries.

    Boundaries don’t mean loving people less; on the contrary. When someone else helps you build or rebuild a boundary, they are showing you they love you, they see you, and they want you to prioritize you the way they do. When someone violates a boundary accidentally, it gives you a chance to assert yourself in a way that teaches them something new about you; relish that opportunity to share your life and viewpoints with someone who may love you, or is learning to navigate the world with a little more care. When someone violates a boundary purposefully, they are teaching you an important lesson on the true nature of their character; embrace the pain of that strange blessing as you hold steadfast and surprise yourself with your own strength and courage to hold true. Boundaries hurt, boundaries are hard, boundaries can downright suck sometimes; but boundaries are essential to your existence. The hardest boundaries are the ones we make for ourselves, but they make all the world of difference. Holding boundaries gives you the strength to navigate this world.

    It’s time to bound yourself; to life, to love, and to the reality of the human experience.

  • I will not…

    I will not abandon myself to fit your narrative moving forward. I will not neglect the child that spent too many nights alone in bed, thinking they were an unwanted mistake that was better off dead. I will not act the perfect role for your unrealistic standards and ideas of who I should be. I will not let you continue disrespect me by insulting my interests and actions, poorly disguising your disgust and disdain for my life as ‘teasing’ and ‘loving mockery.’ I will not diminish or silence myself for holding boundaries and holding you accountable for your mistreatment of me. I will not shrink my thoughts or bite my tongue for your comfort. I will not live in the terror of your opinions and approval, for now I know better that acceptance by you means rejecting my own values in this world. I will not entertain your selfishness, your narcissism, your desire to be more important than other people. I will not mourn the person you are, but rather the person you were supposed to be; the person that I needed. I will not endure hardship at your hands. I will not audition for you anymore, because the role you offer is one no longer suited to my dreams and goals for this life. I will not miss you, but rather the idea of you. I will not back down, I will not bend backwards, and I will not suppress my needs anymore.

    I will not let you define me anymore

  • Endlessly Giving

    Endlessly Giving

    I refuse to be a wellspring of eternal sustenance, quenching the thirsts of others without ever giving a second thought to my own need for replenishment. I will not let my energies drain, pouring into cups that won’t pour back into me. There is no place in my world for relationships that do not support my growth or challenge me to do better; there is no place for vampires that seek to only rob me of the life force I’ve worked so hard to nurture and cultivate. I cannot, will not, allow this thievery to be facilitated on my watch.

    I used to believe my only worth was in how I could be of service to others, and to an extent I still value and cherish that believe. There is something positive, noble even, to be said of devoting oneself to the causes of justice, love, and championship of others in our world; especially for those less fortunate, and those for whom we share a personal bond. But as the saying goes, you cannot pour from an empty cup, and I built my life pouring from a cup that had long since run out of water. Life is either something you take charge of, or let it take charge of you. I let my jobs run me ragged; sacrificing health, sleep, self-respect, and time and affection from friends and family for the name of KPIs and productivity margins. I let myself be backed into difficult corners where I had to choose between being unethical and being unemployed. I burnt both ends of the candle, only to hear complaints from others as to why the room was still dark. I let myself believe that systemic failures were my personal responsibility to fix, because upper management told me so.

    I let toxic people drain my happiness without preserving my own sanity. I let people whose only connection to me was blood, dictate my happiness and determine my worth regardless of action or inaction. I suffered under the crushing weight of false expectations, drilled into me at an early age and supported by the rusted scaffolding of my deteriorated mental state, with an occasional remodeling courtesy of harsh comments and judgmental reproach. I let disdain and despair wallow unabated in the darkest crevices of my psyche, flowing until my mind flooded with doubt and hatred. In a way, my cup was being refilled; not with waters of peace and love, but with rancid ichor of rancor and discord. In good conscience, I could not share that poison with the world, although to be fair it did indeed sometimes leak. But to the best of my abilities, I built a dam; damning myself to isolation and self-pity in a bitter, desperate move to protect others from my festering, putrid mindscape.

    Eventually, the well does run dry. The wax melts. The leaves fall. And the life I was trying to build that whole time began to unravel; first slowly, then all at once. It took months to rebuild, and I’m still in the process, but I can finally see a light at the end of the tunnel. I had to put aside some dreams for now, and actively jump into a vigorous, rigorous routine of self-care. Sometimes it looks like taking it easy, and sometimes it looks like harsh discipline; the latter only achieved through a purposeful and dedicated accountability plan that forces me to swallow my pride and rely on the generous help of others. But in this, there is grace; I have begun to learn to trust other people again. I am not alone in this world, and there are people who do truly love and care about me. And most humans may not think twice about you, might not overtly love or care about you, yes. But most humans are also not actively hateful or plotting your downfall; it’s okay to accept help from a stranger if they have the tools, the capacity, and the desire to be a shoulder you can lean on; if only for one day or one reason.

    All this is to say, give it a chance. Learn to say no to what drains you, and learn to say yes to what fills you, even if it does involve some hard work. You won’t achieve everything at once; Rome was not built in a day; and recovery, like redemption, is not a single act but rather a process that takes a lifetime. Only when you stop giving your gifts endlessly and start receiving gifts from other people, will you finally be able to live in the world in the way you want and deserve to do.

    Earnestly yours,
    R

  • Starting Over

    I haven’t touched this blog in months, and not without good reason. Life has taken many twists and turns, some good and some bad, some big and small, but too numerous to condense into a single post. As such is the way that life often happens, juggling too many balls ultimately leads to dropping some, and this blog was one of the balls I dropped along the way. I hope in earnest to start posting semi regularly again, but I will not hold myself to any artificial timelines; only a purpose of expressing my thoughts and needs, my hopes and desires, my fears and follies at a pace that is reasonable yet sustainable. I appreciate the patience from anyone whom stumbles upon this, and know that I see you and thought about you every day during my extended absence. I will update future posts with more details about the changes in my life, but I do hope this is the first of many posts to come in the next few weeks as I rediscover this lost passion for writing and journaling existence through my lens. Have a wonderful day, and always, earnestly yours

    R

  • Embracing Rest

    Embracing Rest

    Today was the first productive day I’ve had in weeks. I finally deleted the 900+ unread emails in my inbox. I responded back to some text messages from friends and family. I reached out to the wedding planner and venue regarding payment plans. I reauthorized my insurance credentials for my private practice. All in all, it was mostly just clicks of buttons and reading screens. But I’m trying to remove ‘just’ from my vocabulary in this context of minimizing achievement. I’m trying to accept that any and all action is a step in the right direction. I’m learning to live with the fact that my body needed to sleep for 16+ hours for several days in a row. That I couldn’t keep up with my old job, even on a part-time schedule. That I’ve been burning both ends of the candle since New Years, and at some point, my body and mind were inevitably going to give out.

    I’ve accepted that I’ve been doing a lot; too much, even. Trying to launch a private practice speech therapy business, and all the joy that comes with getting credentialed with insurance, and building a website, and making social media pages, and advertising. Presenting my voice acting panel at conventions. Making time for social obligations like going out to shows and friends’ birthdays and my DnD groups. Helping family; whether it’s giving rides to and from the airport, hosting people overnight for funerals, and booking flights for others’ travel plans. Planning my upcoming wedding and coordinating everything with vendors and the venue, building an ever-changing guest list, and wrangling the bridal party. Helping my father-in-law with video editing on his work project. Trying to maintain a diet and exercise routine. I knew the new year was going to bring a lot of challenges, and I was feeling stuck at my former job, so when a new management company took over, I switched from full-time to per diem/PRN status so I could take some days off and work less, with the intention of accommodating my other responsibilities.

    That quickly did not happen.

    I have a hard time with boundaries, and an even worse time with control. I feel the need to say yes to every favor asked of me, and the need to micromanage every detail of a project I’m involved in. Call it ‘detail-oriented’ or something. Combine this with my executive dysfunction, and it is a recipe for looming disaster. Suddenly, I’ve bit off more than I can chew. The first sign things were not going to go well was the communication from my old job; the boundaries I established were quickly bulldozed as they repeatedly asked if I could come in every other day, then every day. What became a few treatments here and there became travel between 3 buildings with 8+ hours of treatments and evaluations, Monday thru Friday. I told myself I needed the money, which, to be fair, I did and still do. But I could feel my energy sapping, my focus on my other projects fall to the wayside. I stopped following up with insurance credentialing. I let ads run without responding to inquiries. I stopped posting to social media after my initial rush of motivation drained out.

    Then came the sleepiness. I upped my caffeine intake from 1 cup of coffee a day to 2. Then 3. Then a whole pot. Then Alani energy drinks on top of that. Yet I still yawned all day, crashed out early, and couldn’t drag myself out of bed willingly in the morning. The brain fog grew worse, and I noticed my eyes were shutting even behind the wheel of my car. Any focus outside of my immediate job was lost; I couldn’t watch my favorite shows or play my favorite games anymore. Any attention to wedding planning, or my in-law’s video editing project, or social media, or my private practice was eviscerated. I was skipping the gym and skipping meals, yet somehow I stopped losing weight and even went back up a few pounds. You would think an extra 4 kilos in 4 weeks would be a wake-up call, but at that point I wasn’t awake; rather, just going through the motions of life in a heady, drunk-like daze. Speaking of drunk, the only thing that could get me to sleep was a nightcap of rum and Coke, triple shot. Otherwise I’d lay awake all night, staring at the ceiling in a fitful, restless stupor.

    The penultimate straw was the overdrafts on my bank account. I’m pretty savvy about autopay features for my bills, but between my dwindling savings and unchecked expenses on ads, along with a rate hike on my car insurance and some unexpected requests for help from others, I started cowering in fear of the notifications about my empty account and overdraft items. In total, over $200 in 6 separate instances over several weeks. Not the worst thing in the world, no; but not good by any measure either. I felt shame. Shame that I couldn’t manage my money. Shame that I couldn’t manage my responsibilities. Shame that I couldn’t manage my life.

    Later that day, the dishes piling up and the mountain of dirty clothes both toppled over, shattering some plates and the last of my sanity. I felt myself clocking out of reality. I smelled myself and realized it had been two weeks since I bathed. Then that night, I got an email from my boss; the new company never processed or received my updated clearance paperwork, so I wasn’t allowed to come in until that was done. She wanted to make sure I was getting it done the next day. I never responded.

    I stopped responding to everyone.

    For 5 days straight I rotted in bed. My partner knew something was up, but I kept deflecting the conversation as “I’m sick,” or “Just a headache.” Sometimes I’d be able to binge-watch YouTube videos, but the rest of the time was a restless sleep. I felt so guilty, so ashamed, yet so tired. I didn’t want to do anything anymore. That was when the infamous algorithm took a hint and recommended something I didn’t want to see but needed to hear; a video on how to handle burnout. Not just any burnout, but autistic burnout. The kind of burnout that leaves someone crippled for months, maybe years. Where not just employment, but all activities of daily living become burdensome to the point of disabling. Where the only cure is unmitigated, unapologetic, unashamed, unabashed rest.

    I immediately went down a rabbit hole of similar videos on the topic, and that evening I had a heart-to-heart with my partner. I couldn’t keep juggling everything anymore. I knew I had been burning out to some degree since around October, when I knew I wanted to quit my job, but I never gave myself the opportunity to actually rest. I jumped right into trying to build a new business while still giving my old job full-time work, and sacrificing every weekend for 10 weeks straight to commit to other people. I couldn’t do it anymore. Even the fun stuff was draining. Luckily, he was understanding. Most people have been. I’ve done a hard quit with my old job; told them I cannot commit anything to them anymore. They’re not happy, but they understand, and learning to disappoint people with my ‘no’ is a valuable skill I’ve lived without for far too long. My in-law’s project has been put to the back burner, and he’s been very understanding. I’m prioritizing my rest, and my business. I’ve reached out to the insurance companies to begin the credentialing process again, since most of my applications have since expired. I’ve spent the better part of two weeks just sleeping, taking care of myself, and letting others handle things. My partner has taken over the wedding planning for now. The chores are slowly being done again. I feel the fog slowly lifting. I’ve even started feeling my creativity come back, writing on here and other pages to help motivate and discipline myself. The weight is slowly coming off again as I put simple walks back into my daily routine. I’ve blocked out the upcoming weekend for doing absolutely nothing.

    I think this has been a transformational experience in more ways than one. At the height of this burnout and the start of this recovery, I turned 30. My partner and his sister planned a weekend getaway and I didn’t lift a finger. There were some hiccups, but we survived and had a good time. I need to learn to let others handle things for me. I need to learn to ask for more help. And I need to learn to say ‘no’ far more often than I currently do. I’ve had to embrace the idea that I can’t do it all, not everything, not everywhere, not all at once. At least not on my own. I also need to accept that if I don’t give myself a break, my body will breakdown for me. Cliche, I know, but it is true. The body does keep the score, and mine was screaming from the penalty box, or whatever sports metaphor works here. Our modern world demands too much of us and provides too little in return, and when you’re neurodivergent, even more so. I have to work with my brain, not against it; what is optimal for me is probably lazy by society’s standards, but if society is in the wrong then I don’t want to be right. I reject hustle culture and productivity, because these arbitrary measures of capitalism will literally kill me if left unchecked. I encourage you all to do the same.

  • Reflection on Burnout (Video)

    Hi everyone, decided to try something different and make a video about my personal feelings and experiences. Let me know your honest feedback and insights, I’d love to get some discussions started either on here or anywhere. Enjoy! – R

  • Exhaustion

    Exhaustion

    Sleep. Sleep. More sleep.

    All I can do these days in my free moments is sleep. My mind races in a million directions as I juggle responsibilities new and old; starting a business, caring for family, making content, running a household. Yet all I can do in my moments of spare breath is sleep.

    I want to enjoy the days. I want to pick up lost hobbies. I want to dedicate more time to my crafts. But I feel so drained, so exhausted; even the smallest tasks take a million spoons, and I usually wake up with only 7-12 to give. I trudge through, surprising even myself, but I feel the candle melting and the end is in sight.

    I need to change something before I burn out. I can’t afford to burn out. Not now, not ever.

    It’s not fair when our world is designed to push one to the limit, that even healthy and ‘normal’ people are made to suffer to the brink. Those with minds like yours and mine can feel the walls closing in, the air cutting off. In these moments, my mind wants nothing more but to retreat; to hide in a place that is safe, secure. Dark and isolated. Soothing and peaceful, where the senses are blocked and only the words of dreams reach me.

    I try to push through. Extra large coffees and increasing medication dosages. Vodka sodas and lifting weights. But I feel my grasp slipping, when I feel so close to achieving something valuable, and I fear if I can’t control my exhaustion, I’ll lose this chance for a better life. It’s a battle of the wills and my sleeping mind wants to win. Maybe it is trying to tell me something, something important. Maybe I should listen.

    Maybe I do need to choose to sleep before my body makes the choice for me.

  • Tricked

    Tricked

    “You stupid fucking idiot. How could you not realize? Why didn’t you see the signs?”

    These are the words that have been on repeat for several days. When I learned a group of people I had put in so much of my trust and confidence for this new phase in my life went ahead and yanked the rug from under me. I feel lost, motionless, a ship adrift with no sails nor motor nor any lifeboat. Lacking all hope and direction, aimless.

    Idiot. Stupid. Fucking r*tard.

    I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. I should give myself grace. But this whole incident has been one brutal reminder. That no matter how hard I may try, no matter how much I mask, no matter how much small talk I make, or situations I rehearse in my head, or education I receive, or posts I read online warning me about scammers and charlatans; I will never be just okay. I will never be like them. I will never be able to read a room and see the red flags for what they are before it is too late. I will give the benefit of the doubt endlessly until it bites me in the ass.

    My anger should be redirected. It should be towards those who would seek to hurt me, hurt those like me. The kind but naive, the brave but foolish, those who believe in the best and fall for their gimmicks, who try and try again to seemingly no avail. But I can’t help but feel a pang of resentment towards myself. I should be smarter, I should know better.

    How could I be so stupid?

    A cursory glance online reveals I’m not the only victim; these people have weaponized psychology to both a science and an art. I’m but one of millions. I’m grateful that the only thing I’ve truly lost is a brief stint of time; there are those far more unfortunate that have lost money, family, and their livelihoods to scum like this. Still, I can’t help but feel that I’ve lost something far more valuable; my self-respect and esteem. I’ve always prided myself on not falling for propaganda; to be above the influence of con artists and frauds, be it politics or faith. I see now, in my desperation to jump start change in my life, that the promise of a shiny new job path to serve as a foundation for my future hopes and dreams has crumbled; all that glitters is not gold.

    I’ve spent the past three weeks healing and taking space for my emotions. Too much has happened besides this incident; I’ve had to grieve in more ways than one. Funerals, job security, applications, precious items lost; my life this past month would be overwhelming for even the most well-organized, put-together neurotypical person. I will move past this, that I am sure. I’ve been through worse and somehow always survived. If anything, it has been a kick in the right direction for another life dream tangentially related but important nonetheless. I am excited to get back into writing; this blog, my stories, and more. But one more night of tears and a hot bath might be needed after I hit ‘post.’

    Earnestly yours,
    R

    For more personal reflections, click here

  • New Job Nerves

    New Job Nerves

    There is something exciting about starting a new job, and also something dreadful. The brain can crave novelty, but the brain can also crave familiarity; it is up to us to feel out which one our brain is craving in any given moment, or which one demands greater attention to satisfy. Tomorrow begins my final day of training on the new job, and I am both eager and nervous about the potential results; will I pass my training exam? Will I need to crawl back to my old job, begging for another chance? Do I actually have what it takes to succeed in this new field? A million questions ricochet around my cranium, a clear and concise answer to be found nowhere. I hope I haven’t made a mistake I will come to dread, and I can’t help but ruminate on the mixed messages my body and mind are sending me. This is what happens when you spend an entire lifetime explicitly told to not trust your gut instinct; to be taught to ignore your natural impulses, suppress your urges, and follow the guidance of those well-meaning or otherwise authorities at the expense of your own intuition and peace.

    I talk myself down with both logic and emotion. Logically, I am not tied to this job like a serf to the land in medieval ages; I can quit at any time. There is a learning curve to be expected, my trainer has reiterated multiple times now; I should not expect myself to be perfect or even close to it less than half a month into the work. Emotionally, the more distance I put between me and my old job, the less animosity I feel towards a return; maybe I just needed a break. It is okay to be ambitious and want to perform my best, but also understand that my best will be different day to day. So much of this job might be in my control, but so much is also out of it. I need grit and resilience to make it on top (or out alive) and surviving with my brain in this chaotic world means I’m made of nothing but the aforementioned.

    But frenetic emotions know no logic, and the logic of doom and what-ifs is blind and deaf to any rational mental state. I feel the fear of failure gripping my throat and starving me of oxygen; I feel the anxiety of the unknown drown me in its quicksand; I feel my tumbling through the pit-shaped depression of self-esteem scrape and bounce me every which way until I’m free falling into oblivion. I cling to my past in a desperate bid to save myself, but I know this is futile. Past me saved my life, yes, but also paved the way for future me to thrive onward and leave that wretched misery behind. I owe it to past me to not turn around, lest I risk a regression like Eurydice’s yanking back to the underworld for Orpheus’ lack of trust. I need to trust. Trust the process. Trust myself. Trust that I’ve made the right decision for myself, and trust that I can make more right decisions if this does not turn out the way I hoped. For in this life, there are no true errors or mistakes if a valuable lesson is learned.

    I think my lesson to learn right now is to trust myself regardless of the outcome.

    For more personal reflections, click here

  • Masking

    Masking

    I wear my masks with a twisted sense of pride and shame, upset that I no longer recognize the face beneath. We all wear masks to some extent; it’s how humans survive. But the urge to mask in every place, every day, every moment of waking existence begins to take its toll and distorts reality from what our senses perceive. For if we know not ourselves with a face bare and free, how do we even know which masks to wear, and when?

    I wear a mask at work with coworkers, and another with customers; both are extravagant, flamboyant things with frills and makeup like I’m heading to Venetian Carnevale. I wear a mask with strangers, basic but secure, like an N95 filter. I wear a mask with friends, light and loose and clear, so there’s at least an attempt to see the real me. I protect myself from family with a thick and heavy balaclava, to conceal the truth of my identities and keep me safe from their cold. Yet I never drop the mask entirely, for there is a strange and spiteful comfort of knowing my self, my true self, is protected at all costs. The sensory pain on the bridge of my nose, the tightened straps looping around my ears, the pressure pushing on my face as the mask tightens its grip on my very being; it is my cradle. For as long as I feel this pain, I know I am safe. Protected. I love myself enough to know the world will never love the true me, and so I mask to give myself a fighting chance. The masks hurt. I don’t want to wear them. But the fear of living without them outweighs any freedom gained. The consequences of unmasking are too great, too destructive to even entertain the notion.

    In my dreams, sometimes the mask falls off. Sometimes I rip it off myself, and other times a loved one will gently pull it off my face. How I long for the day where I can feel truly safe and free without the mask, the covering, the deception. For would it not be better for the world to know who I truly am? Is that not what we are told when we are young; to be honest, truthful to others? Or does that sage wisdom stop at the line where honesty to ourselves becomes discomfort for those around us?

    I’ve started unmasking with purpose. Only for small, select moments. Only for a breath. Only with those I truly trust; those who know the extent I mask and with those who have given me the privilege of seeing themselves unmasked, if only for a moment as well. It’s not much, but it makes all the difference. If not to myself, then to those I claim to care, for if they are not entitled to my truth, then who in this world? When I take the mask off, I feel the breeze of life hit my squished, sweaty face and I feel uncomfortable. Exposed. But I also feel the sweat of shame and burden begin to evaporate. My pores open and my muscles release their tension.

    I feel vulnerable, but I feel free. If this is the cost to unmasking, it might be worth it.

    For more personal reflections, click here