Airlines always direct you to put on your own air mask before helping others with theirs. The reason is simple: You’re no good to anyone if you can’t breathe.

So, this week I won’t be posting my regular blog because I need to put on my mask, breathe and fill my cup. I sure spilled myself out. I experienced an episode of extreme overwhelm this week. My nervous system is shot to pieces, and I need a reset.

I had been doing fairly well. Following my own Survival Guide: I was hitting my daily goals, making health appointments, practicing yoga every day, keeping off social media, meditating, eating during the day, writing, reading actual books and had even started practicing my guitar again.

So how did I end up sitting in a pool of dirty mop water, cry-cursing because my phone rang mid-ponder over the eternal existential question of what to make for dinner, while kicking myself for not having started my blog for the week earlier? How was this not even the worst breakdown I’d had all week?

Maybe I was pushing too hard, moving too fast, forcing an attitude that I wasn’t really feeling. Whatever the cause, I’m putting Rest and Restore at the top of my to-do list.

For me that looks like less vinyasa and more gentle, restorative yoga practices, lots of breathing and some soothing nidra meditations in bed. I may even squeeze in some Skyrim. Also, soup. Lots of soup.

I will finally be seeing a neuro-psychiatrist. I am being tested for Autism Spectrum Disorder. I have Traumatic Brain Injury and CPTSD, both of which cause “acquired” neurodivergence and have similar symptoms. My first neurological findings came just as Covid was getting underway, and the wait to see a neuro-psychiatrist was long. So, it’s time to tease those pieces apart. I can’t address issues that I’m unaware of.

When I went to school there was absolutely zero awareness on the subject of ASD, except for the movie Rainman. And I did well on standardized tests, so I was put in gifted programs.

Kids with behavioral issues, ADHD, dyslexia, the hearing impaired and intellectually disabled were all stuck in the same classroom. Even kids who had divorcing parents and other major traumas were sent to what was essentially a neglectful daycare/prison. Some kids were just expelled.

So the idea that the kid who read their way through most of the elementary school library long before I went to middle school having autism seemed ridiculous. And yet, here I sit in one of my pairs of black, seasonally appropriate yoga pants and a black shirt from my regular rotation of other black shirts that aren’t too tight or too loose, freaking out because three things happened at the same time.

I’m hoping to find some answers, such as “Why do people look at me like I’m from another planet when I speak?” And, “Why have I read Rise and Fall of the Third Reich twenty times out of a need to memorize all the names and dates?” I went to film school, but I sure can rattle off a ton of “fun facts” about some incredibly niche topics. Art inspired by The Black Plague, anyone?

And I get overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by people, by noises, smells, fluorescent lights and places with only one entrance and exit to the extent that my idea of Hell is an Ikea store. I actually ran backwards through an Ikea one time. I made it into the warehouse and hopped off the loading dock. Freedom!!! No more smell of meatballs and the idea of flesh between my teeth!

Kid on that Morrissey subReddit, I owe you a big favor. If the singer I listen to every day for his clever lyrics and unusual vocalizations can be on the spectrum, I suppose I could be as well. No matter, I’m content to finally get to see a neuro-psychiatrist four years after my neurologist recommended it.

Whatever the reason for my current state of overwhelm, I’m taking the rest of this week to chill the erf out and piece my nervous system back together. My only wish is that houses cleaned themselves and dinner came from the Replicators in Star Trek: TNG. I could go for a cup of tea, Earl Grey, hot right about now.

Thank you for reading, my legendary friend. Do you have practices that help restore your balance and fill your cup? Have you learned to live with neurodivergence? Drop me a note in the comments. And I hope to be back next week, refreshed and restored.

Namasté,

J.Lakis

✌🏻❤️‍🩹🤯🖖🏻

If you’re considering suicide, self harm or have a mental health crisis: call or text 988 any time to talk or text with someone from the National Suicide Prevention and Crisis Hotline. Help is always available in English or Spanish. LGBTQ+ youth in crisis? Contact:  The Trevor Project.

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