The Things We Gave Up On

The Things We Gave Up On

 

I was reminded by several things this in the past day—a conversation with a friend, a Taylor Tomlinson post (if you aren’t following her, why aren’t you???), and thoughts of my own life and how it has spiraled, especially lately—we all have goals that we gave up on. We had dreams of becoming firefighters and the President and astronauts which then became tempered into artists and politicians and librarians and then… what did we settle with? What have we settled with in the past 24 hours? What did we stop dreaming of five, ten years ago? What kid paintings did we either toss in the trash or repress in a closet saying “I can’t let anyone see that side of me” anymore?

If anything, it reminds me of two of the times I unmasked in childhood and later in youth. Without realizing it, in kindergarten, most introverted children like me are shy. But during the Christmas play, the teachers said to just “let loose, and give it your all!” I figured, what’s the worst that could happen? So I became a little dancing queen and let loose and gave it my all. I unmasked and actually had a good time. And EVERYBODY noticed. I was a standout as far as the dancing went. I didn’t mean to. I just… danced my heart out.

In youth group a ton of years later, we had a dance off, and I’m horrible at unchoreographed dance. Gee, an autistic person bad at unchoreographed dancing. Who would have thought?! But I figured I had learned enough choreographed moves that I could “throw something together.” I decided to unmask and let it flow. It turned into me rolling into a ball and spinning pretty violently until my glasses flew off, and that was about it. No great show of grace or showmanship. No cool dance moves. Just… a mess. I think everyone was shocked, including me. And I was so ashamed I just grabbed my glasses and hid the rest of the night.

Wow. I feel so heavy writing that. The gears are stuck not knowing how to process it. The only other time my glasses flew off in that exact manner was the car accident. I guess my mind melded the two and somehow put “when you show your true self, bad things happen.” I’ve been living under that lie for so long. I’ve repressed myself, not just my “true autistic self” but my living, breathing self, mostly trying to make people happy to deserve my place in the world. But I, my true self, needs to breathe before it is dead, and this is its final gasps for air that I’ve been feeling. I’ve felt so crushed by expectations and stress and lights and sounds and everything around me that I need to know what’s me. What is me? Who am I? I don’t know yet.

Do you know who you are?

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