Failing the Acceptance Test

Yeah, I haven’t been blogging. To tell the truth my mental health hasn’t been the best recently. Which makes it hard to be interested in anything much, except trying to work out why, and what to do about it. I resent how introspective that makes me, how self-absorbed, but that seems to be the nature of the beast. Besides, how else do you battle an invisible monster but by throwing a bucket of paint over it? So everything (and everybody) gets shoved off to the side, just to find enough headspace to function at a basic level, and work out what else I can try.

One thing that’s become apparent (and I think it’s worth exploring enough to write it down) is that for all I’ve said about autism acceptance, I haven’t truly accepted my own. And therein lies the problem. Let me explain…

It was a field course for work that finally opened my eyes to the connection between AS and my mental health issues – stretching myself too far to overcome the one plainly and directly resulted in the other. It was a painful sort of Eureka moment. So here was the answer, the reason for my struggles: the strategy of pushing through autism issues and striving to do the same as everyone else, which might have worked OK when I was younger, is simply not working for me anymore. It’s making me ill. I can’t keep doing that to myself.

But. But. But.

You see, now I have a problem.

If I’m correct, the only way to maintain good mental health is going to be acceptance of some very uncomfortable truths. Not truths I want to take on board at all. When you read the below, humour me and try putting yourself in my shoes. How would you feel if you were forced to…?

  • Accept that, however late you came to the realisation of your AS, and however great the differences you see between yourself and others with the same diagnosis, however ‘normal’ you consider yourself, there was no mistake. Let’s face it, you would never have sought a diagnosis if AS hadn’t been causing you a whole heap of trouble. It’s impossible to ignore something that has fucked up affected your life so comprehensively.
  • Accept that, while AS might not get worse over time, your ability to deal with it (work around it, compensate for it, and generally pretend it does not exist) has been heading downhill for years. Will probably continue on this trajectory. Pleasant thought, right? In trying to live your life the way you want, regardless of your AS, you’ve bargained away your mental health – and it’s not worth it.
  • Accept your limitations. Which is so much easier said than done when your limitations seem so elastic, and you remember stretching them in the past. This means deliberately not doing things you want to do, know how to do, have successfully done in the past, because there’s going to be a backlash. It means accepting you have a disability. Because however much you want to get out there and live your life entirely on your own terms, you know what’s going to happen when you try and it’s not worth it.
  • Accept that you’re going to have to get smarter about managing the condition. This means planning ahead and forecasting which situations might be difficult. It means accepting the need to tell people enough to get their help in overcoming hurdles, or taking them down. Because (have you accepted it yet?) you have a disability. The alternative is to avoid difficult activities entirely, and be seen as lazy, irresponsible, antisocial, self-absorbed, incapable, unreliable.
  • Accept that other people are not going to understand (however much you try to explain). It’s impossible for them to comprehend how something so basic and obvious (for them) can be so confusing or overwhelming or traumatic (for you). And when you push beyond your limits and they want to know why you’re ill, you’ll have to keep on calling it depression, or an anxiety disorder, or a stress disorder, or whatever seems to fit in the moment. Officially, autistic burn-out does not exist.

I never know quite how my posts come across, but if you’re getting an angry vibe from this, you’re spot on. Being forced to face up to the above points is seriously pissing me off; it’s not something I ever thought I’d have to do, and I resent being pushed to this point. In modern parlance, it sucks big time.

So yes, I’m all for autism acceptance in general, and I’d surely accept the condition well enough in others. It’s just when things get personal that I fail the acceptance test.

 

Wilful Daughter and Irresponsible Boyfriend

Brought home this today:

Kyah

I’m told she’s a cross between an English sheepdog and a Southern Chinese Shar Pei, which is weirdly appropriate.

“Tendency to be stubborn and wilful, might not get on well with other dogs.”

Oh boy. Like I needed another one…

An Outback Interlude

Lucky me got to visit some outback towns this week, while I was out doing fieldwork.

In hindsight, I wish I’d thought to get a few more photos, but at the time I was occupied with work and logistics and stuff. So a few of these are mine but most are scrounged off the internet.

Day one: Winton (population 954).

Winton’s dual claims to fame are that it’s the birthplace of the song “Waltzing Mathilda” and it hosts a quarry full of fossilised footprints, known as the dinosaur stampede. There’s a dinosaur museum, too.

aaod-web

Not that I had time to go see any of this, but still, it’s interesting to know. Apparently in the early Cretaceous, about 100-95 million years ago, Winton was on the eastern edge of the vast inland Eromanga sea, home to countless dinosaurs and plesiosaurs. Enormous quantities of sediments were deposited in this sea, forming sandstone and mudstone to depths of up to 400m. In extent, it’s basically what is now the huge underground aquifer of the Great Artesian Basin.

great-artesian-basin So I got to see the end result of all that sedimentation as we drove west out of Winton on the Kennedy Developmental Road. First there were mesas, where a former plateau has eroded away except for remnant sandstone caps. The things that look like grass tussocks are actually spinifex, which has green spikes in place of leaves.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Day Two:

And then, on the long drive to Boulia, there was a landscape that actually kind of freaked me out. Where there was once sea is now three hundred kilometres of nothingness, the flat horizon wavering with mirages and the lower sky reddened with a band of dust. In places there were swathes of scrubby trees, but these were prickly acacia, a declared weed. Here’s a shot from the car window, looking at a distant plateau:

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Further on we were back into mesa country, like these at Cawnpore lookout:

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

And then the town of Boulia. Based on its prominence on the map and the fact of it being a regional centre with its own Council, it was… well, all I can say is that it was a bit smaller than I expected (population 440). You could stand in the street and see to either end of the town. And when I went to the store for supplies, the mandarins were $13.50 a kilo. But, hey, it has 3-D pedestrian crossings:

9809334-3x2-940x627

That photo’s off the internet, when I was there they were in need of a new coat of paint, and had lost that 3D effect.

Apparently, Boulia is also famous for its camel races, but, yeah, I didn’t see any camels, either. Had a weird dream about them, though (which I put down to an excess of sun and a schooner of beer. What can I say, we were staying in the pub).

Boulia-camel-races

Day Three:

My only concern, about an hour into the drive north out of Boulia, was an urgent one: in a landscape of unending flat scrubby plains, where the heck is one supposed to go to the toilet? Luckily, I was saved by a little place called Dajarra (population 150), which has not just one but two blocks of public toilets! The roadhouse (below) also provided a very decent egg and bacon toastie (with three slices of bacon, onions and BBQ sauce). M-mm.

dajarra-roadhouse-61d094a9-16b4-4933-ab70-0ea7a5e812f1

Heading to Mount Isa we got into a different geology. Here we’re in metamorphic rocks, which were older sediments that have been subject to immense pressures and thrust upwards. In the roadside slopes there were all kinds of rock, from ironstone gravels to sparkling pyrite-bearing schists and dykes of pegmatite and quartz. I grabbed a few samples:

IMG_0043

Day Four: Mount Isa (population 18,678)

Mount Isa is basically a mine with a town attached to the side. The Mount Isa inlier hosts the largest deposits of lead, zinc and silver in the continent, formed 1,650 million years ago from percolation of hot, metal-rich brines through sea-floor sediments. They also mine copper at the Enterprise mine, which is the deepest and hottest in Australia with a shaft extending to 1,900m below ground. On the drive into town we passed steel towers that are air vents for the underground workings. You can just about see the Mt Isa silver mine in the background of my photo:

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I can’t say I’m too fond of Mount Isa, to be honest, though I only stayed the one night. I had time to kill in the morning before flying out, but the riverside footpath shown on the tourist map didn’t seem to exist any more.  There was an acrid tinge to the air, probably from all the sulphur dioxide given off by the workings, and there were posters up with messages about “living safely with lead”.

But then I was flying home in a 34-seater SAAB, on the “milk run”, with stops at 3 towns on the way. This little place is Julia Creek, known for it’s “Dirt n Dust Festival” and triathlon:

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

On the 20 minute hops between towns, the plane didn’t get up to normal flying height, which meant we got bounced around by a tailwind and updrafts. A short break on the tarmac at Richmond and then up for more turbulence on the way to Hughenden. Everyone was clutching their stomachs and trying not to groan.

Overall it was an eye-opening trip, but I was pretty glad to see the (relatively) greener landscapes of home. Hope you enjoyed sharing my outback interlude.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

 

Pictorial Interlude

Hey.

I know it’s been a while. That was me puzzling over whether to keep going with a “writer’s blog” during a prolonged period of not actually writing.

Finally figured I might as well keep blogging my thoughts on things, even if I go way off the original topic. In fact, topics will probably jump around all over the place, because I guess that’s what my mind does.

Right now, I feel like showing you some of the prints and posters and stuff I have in my bedroom, and what they mean to me. Hope you enjoy.

I got two more posters yesterday, so I’ve got a few blue-tacked up there now. (And if you’re wondering why I still stick up posters like an adolescent instead of buying ‘grown-up’ art, all I can say is I just impulse buy what I see, and I don’t visit art galleries nearly as often as I walk through shopping centres).

This one is not a poster, it’s a print and I can’t remember where it came from, though the name might be a clue – “Islet in the Terraced Rice Fields of Bali”:

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Sorry about the reflections on the photo, I tried holding up a dark jacket behind me to block them out, but without success. I don’t have curtains in my room (it’s a sleep cycle thing). Anyway, I love looking at this one because of the patterns of the contours. It connects with my love of nature and natural patterns, and also my abiding interest in landform and maps. Doubly whammy!

For similar reasons, I have a poster of Hokusai’s “The Great Wave”:

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

With this one, the interest is more in the artist’s unique rendering of the natural patterns, with the wave-foam appearing like hundreds of grasping fingers. This artwork has been quoted as an illustration of the fractal nature of the world, with its wavelets on top of waves. How can you not love that?

Here’s the other new one I got, I don’t know who the artist was for this, but it’s published by Reindersposters with the title “Where’s the bike gone?”:

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

This is another double whammy one, for me. Partly it’s a pattern and colour thing, that just attracts my eye and encourages me to get lost in the details. Looking at it, I get a feeling like a meditation within the boundaries between the real and the artistic, the solid and the abstract. PLUS it’s got a bicycle in. So I like bicycles, OK?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Couldn’t resist a Lord of the Rings poster, could I?

I’m told this one is quite horrible, and I can see what people mean. There are a few dead orcs lying around, and the artist has a weird take on eyes.

But I like seeing a pre-movie interpretation of the characters. It reminds me of why I love reading books so much – every story can be interpreted a hundred different ways. The Lord of the Rings tale that lives in my head is unique to me, it’s mine alone, the tale to rule them all, my precious.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

 

The artwork’s a bit crude in this one, but I appreciate the sentiment. I am, you see, a deeply happy person.

Which probably surprises you, because I know I come across as negative, and it’s true I always consider the downsides, the risks more than the rewards. And I do struggle with the overwhelming complexity of the world, and with people and their expectations.

But I do take enormous joy from the world and I do, essentially, like people. This is a reminder that it might be worth expressing that, now and then.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

This little artwork I picked in Bali years ago I never framed so it’s now a bit worse for wear (yes, it is curled, and yes, that is dust on the bottom).

I’ve kept it because I like it, and I’m not even sure why. Might be a pattern thing again.

Or maybe it’s just for the memories. Pushing the little hired jeep up the slope from the beach. Buying enormous green mangoes from a stall beside the road. Hiking up a volcano and eating a breakfast of ginger tea and eggs cooked in a steam vent. Watching the dancers in Ubud. Good times.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

 

And here’s my dreamcatcher ->

As usual, I am years behind the trends, buying my first dreamcatcher just when they’ve become totally passe. But that’s me, I live a decade or two behind the times.

I just think this one is incredibly beautiful. Don’t you?

Thanks for joining me on a tour of my bedroom, see you later!