Can We Talk For a Minute? ; A Moment of Vulnerability
Hello you. I have missed you so much. I know I say that shit all the time but for real. I do.
I had a whole ass draft of what to say for this entry but I was like fuck it… I am just going to write from my heart and not dress it up. I feel like I always generalize my ghosting by saying “I’ve been busy”.
And I have been. But I feel like you deserve my openness and my vulnerability. So baby… we are about to roll into the deep. Okay?! Okay. Bet.
Here goes nothing. And this shit is probably gonna be long so get a snack or something before attempting to read this. LMAO.
I feel like I have strayed away from vulnerability for so long even while trying to show vulnerability. I know that sounds crazy but that’s pretty much what I’ve been doing.
I miss writing.
When I take these ghost trips, I always come back and say that I am going to do better and really have the intention of doing just that.
I miss you.
We have talked about this before, remember? I feel just wide open when I share things. Also, I feel like I’ve concentrated on making it a safe space for you. I sometimes forget that I deserve this safe space also. To be honest it’s a lot easier to give advice or things like that rather than sharing my personal experiences. I wrote about my PTSD experience with my own birth and you held my hand and supported me. I got sooooo much feedback from you. Alot of those things were hard to say and you had my back without any judgment So, I am trusting that this will be the same. I know this is a long ass intro. LMAO. But I am just insanely nervous, okay?!
Bear with me.
During the peak of the pandemic, just like everyone else, I was on Twitter and TikTok hella heavy. I learned about all kinds of shit… these dances, the different types of salts, and that the eyeball has its own immune system. That’s wild, right? So, I wasn't really shocked when I ended up on the mental health part of TikTok. After all, I had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder II in my late teens/early 20s. Although I took a couple of medications that worked well for me to manage it, I have always felt disconnected to it.
One day, during one of my TikTok binges, I ran across a video about how things feel against the skin and how very overwhelming it can be when you can individually feel everything that is currently touching your skin. I was like… hold on cause ME TOO. Sometimes I can come off as irritable. And when I do, 9 times out of 10, it’s a sensory issue. So, that made me realize that maybe there’s more to that video than I knew. I started to question everything after watching a few of her videos. I remember yelling out a few times:
“BITCH ME TOOO!!!!!!!!”
“GIRL YOU THINK YOU ARE ME!!”
“WE ARE THE SAME PERSON BITCH!!”
Well, being the type-A Virgo that I am… I researched. Cause baby, there was not a damn thing that was gonna stop me.
Months passed and I became less and less fixed on it because it was just other shit to do. I worked in healthcare and also a doula still assisting birthing people and families.
My best friend, L, always makes fun of me because I shower in the dark. I absolutely hate showering with lights on. And our conversations would be all over the place because we are us. At the most random times, she would say… “You are so fucking weird” LMAOOOOOOO. We would send TikTok videos to each other all day long (still do) and laugh. One day, she sent me a video with a young lady talking about autism and how Black girls are very hard to diagnose. She, the young lady in the video, was diagnosed at 32. My entire body stiffened. I damn near had a panic attack after putting “black women with autism” in the search bar and watching over 30 videos about autism. We exchanged videos specifically about autism for the next two days and realized how uncanny and relatable it was to me. Every 10 mins, L would send me a video saying “this is you”.
I didn’t respond. She called and gently said, “You should get tested.” We took a break for a couple days from talking about it. I called my psychiatrist and explained my concerns.
He agreed.
Yall that fucking process was so long and tedious. I took the RAADS-R self-report test, Aspie test, and CAT-Q test. I also did several formal tests that my psychiatrist provided.
At 2:30pm on April 22, 2022, I sat in my living room as my psychiatrist and my therapist explained to me that my bipolar disorder was just a symptom of a bigger problem. I was diagnosed with High Functioning Autism Spectrum Disorder.
Me in the camera on Zoom:
Baby, I puked every fucking where. Cause EXCUSE ME?! Along with PTSD and generalized anxiety. They explained what they used to diagnose me as the requirements are listed and outlined in the DSM (a handbook clinicians use to diagnose mental disorders).
I said nothing. I thanked them, closed my laptop, and cried as I processed what has been the missing piece of so much of my life. I am still processing, hell. STILL.
That causes me to isolate when I am having a very hard time. I get depressed at times because I always feel so misunderstood. Always so misunderstood. I am not really good with words which is why I just get on here and talk to you like I am having a conversation. I just wanna be myself. It’s hard being me, though, family. It’s so hard. Especially here lately. But I am determined to getting to know myself and how autism affects me and my journey. That’s going to be my key to healing so many things and relationships. To know who I am with this diagnosis and build around it all while not making it the main character. I miss my confidence.
It is one of the hardest things that I’ve ever tried to accept. I am still trying to make my way to acceptance. Actually, writing this blog is my first step to acceptance. I want to be a better person. I know that this layer of me doesn’t define me, however, it is a very big part of my life. I’ve been afraid that it will affect my business. That my gift will not be respected or trusted if I reveal that part of myself. I am still scared. But truly, I only want to serve people and families that I can be myself with.
I know this shit was long. But I needed to be open and honest with you for you and ultimately for me.
I turned 40 on yesterday. My gift to myself is freedom. This entry was for us, village. I want to release the shackles off me one at a time. This was the first one. I found it really hard to celebrate this milestone this year. I feel ways I can’t even really put in words. Highs and lows. Maybe I thought I would be more excited. Idk, chile. It’s still not too late to celebrate I suppose. I want to shed some of this heaviness off me to completely enjoy this amazing milestone. So, I’m optimistic. But yes, my first gift to me is freedom.
Thank you for reading and being there for me. Thank you to Sam and L for encouraging me to write this.
I love you. I feel better already. Happy Birthday to me. I hope to write here more often and soon.
Love,
Your Doula.
