It takes a lot of energy to hide

The shocking ease after naming my autism

I’m pulling a fascinating thread right now that I want to tell you about.

Since my autism diagnosis, I’ve been sketching out how I would tell you. I have pages and pages of notes. Articles and links. Memes and reflections. My entire structure of self was deconstructing for the past year so yes, it made sense that my brain ran around collecting stories and explanations. I assumed I’d want to tell you all about autism so you could see a glimpse into the beauty and challenge of living a neurodiverse life. And I’m guessing that’s still coming ahead.

But I was in no way prepared for what’s happening on the other side of this life update.

I have no desire to educate (yet). Advocate. Explain. (Justify). (Convince). (Defend).

The only nudge I’ve noticed is to express one simple life-changing truth in several spaces — “I am autistic.”

I thought telling you all the things is what would help me heal.
Turns out my body just needed to hear me tell the truth.

I thought the movement forward would heal.
Turns out rooting deep in love is the first step.

I thought ensuring you understood all the nuance of being a late-diagnosed autistic woman would help me heal.
Turns out telling you is just icing on the cake.

My whole self got to bear witness to unapologetically being me.

This might be the best gift of all.

As I pull this thread of publicly identifying as autistic, another truth is unraveling that makes sense but is still wild to feel in my body. I am shocked at how much subconscious energy it took to mask my autism.

This past weekend, I got to travel to Alaska to facilitate a retreat and then preach at my home church. Travel weekends are usually pretty tough for me. It’s a lot of sensory input, new people dynamics, and change in routine. It takes me days to recover after I get home.

But something was different this time.

I sat down among sixteen women and shared part of my story before we moved into the rest of the weekend’s space. My body felt the permission to bring my whole self because there was no reason to hide anymore. I moved when I needed to move. I rested when I needed to rest. All the micro moments I hyper-vigilantly navigate to ensure no one notices that I’m trying to keep up seemed to dissolve.

*Exhale*

My body was so happy to not be hiding anymore.

My nervous system was regulated almost the entire weekend and that is a miracle for a travel weekend.

So the lesson from this part of this unraveling thread?

Maybe healing is less about all the effort and force and plans.
And more about the deep acceptance of what is.

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

Our bodies are listening. They know when we speak what is most true. They know when we’re hiding. Like the little 5-year-old inside each of us, they just want to come out and play.

Here’s to the courage it takes to trust them.

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