(Finally) dedicated to pacing

I am now forced to humbly admit that most of my prior attempts at pacing, over all the many years of constantly dabbling with it, weren’t really pacing at all because I simply wouldn’t stick at it and would then fall back into old habits as quickly as blink. I always had my excuses at the ready as to why this one thing I “had” to push through was outside the jurisdiction of my need to pace or couldn’t be avoided (a dread of disappointing or letting others down being one of the most consistent excuses) when, really, the whole of life has to become one giant, continuous exercise in pacing to make this whole thing work sufficiently enough to avoid the constant boom-bust cycle of flare-ups and chronic fatigue that potentially get harder to recover from each time.

Being a passenger is not an energy-neutral activity and other hard lessons of pacing

There are a few activities, and these will vary from person to person, that are not as energy-neutral as they look for someone that is neurodivergent. Coming to realise which activities these are, in your daily life, can be a game-changer when learning how to pace in order to gain a more consistently stable footing in your health.

Stabilising the autonomic nervous system as a first crucial step

There is no separating the nervous system from the various different aspects of how the body has started to misfire over the years, cumulating in whatever burnout or crash led you to where you now are, however much other provoking factors (such as a virus or accident) might have taken the brunt of the blame because, after all, what makes one person respond to those things differently, more devastating and lastingly, than the next person if its not the nervous system? Post Exertional Malaise is a classic manifestation of this whilst tracking its triggers can teach us such a lot about our personal state of misfiring health.

Why “groups” don’t work for me and other AuDHD friendship foibles

Exploring the challenges of making friendships as a neurodivergent woman, perhaps late-diagnosed, following years of trials and tribulations trying so hard to find meaningful connections before you "realised" and navigating some of the things that patently don't work for our preferences (for instance isn't "group friendship" an oxymoron?), also learning how and when to safely drop all those masks.

Hyper: when your body doesn’t behave in predictable ways

Curly tubes, slow motility, mystery pain, treatment outcomes that don't "take" for very long, delayed and paradoxical responses and an ongoing tricky relationship with gravity...exploring some of the quirks of living with a hypermobile body.

Internalised ableism meets autistic burnout

Neurotypical expectations tend to come at all of us from every imaginable angle when we are autistic but, when we also internalise them and bounce them back at ourselves from the inside, the effect can be toxic because there is literally no getting away from that ableist voice now; its there night and day. Until I am prepared to notice that the voice saying these things is not mine and stand up to it, and to anyone else having unrealistic expectations of me given my autistic take on certain situations that bother me more than they can imagine, I risk repeatedly throwing myself back into a burnout status because I will never allow myself to fully recover. Every time anything that looks like a “normal” or so called “reasonable” expectation comes my way, I will simply roll over and surrender to whatever is expected of me, abandoning my desperate need to stop doing these things or putting myself in the way of highly stimulating and demanding situations and exposures in the name of trying not to rock the boat or stand out as different.

Sensory burnout…and learning how to curate your particular version of autistic joy as a way out of it

Autistic joy comes in some unusual packages but I think we all get to know what our personal ones are when we pay attention so it's just a case of owning up to them and curating them into our days, even more so when we particularly need them. When we burn out, it becomes even more important that we draw on our arsenal of sensory stims and other tools to help reboot our nervous system, which will take as long as it takes...our bodies won't accept any shortcuts or short rations, perhaps even more so as we get older. Giving permission to ourselves to indulge in these things is where true autistic self-care starts and our best autistic life takes shape, no matter how "old" we are when we first realise this.

Assessing the true price of the deep dive

If you are extremely prone to taking deep dives, the time comes for asking: What is the true price of doing this in terms of its impact on self-care; is it all worth it? What do I gain from this latest obsession? Is my self-care repeatedly suffering, coming second-best to my latest fixation? Have I succeeded in traumatising myself in the name of a few inches of increased knowledge? What did I lose, in terms of blissful ignorance or humanising innocence, when I opened up that latest can of worms? Should I continue or just drop it now, like a hot potato, to reclaim my peace of mind? Can I break this trend of pushing myself too hard, too relentlessly, without first assessing the value of what I am doing or whether my nervous system would rather be doing something else or even has the reserves to cope? Can I allow that it’s not always a waste of time to be less driven or intense? Can I guide my inbuilt intensity into more benign practices that generate joy and not so much discontent, fear and trauma? Can I actually learn to steer this neurodivergent vehicle of mine instead of running it off the rails?

Choosing to become much more grounded in physical reality

Spirituality can be ungrounding to some autistic individuals; a controversial topic that I have intended to write about, from personal experience, for quite some time and which I have seen under discussion in some other quarters lately. Exploring the impact of a hyperfocused approach to spirituality on health, especially when, on top of inbuilt deficits in interoception, this potentially leads a person to become desperately unbalance and ungrounded in their physical body, leading to increased fragility and vulnerability.

Oxalates in review: one year into a lower oxalate diet

A year into a lower oxalate diet, what successes can I report? As it turns out, quite a few when I compare my far-less sensitive life now with the year before I made these changes, not to mention the biggest shift in symptoms and general health stability for years. Read on for a run down of all the improvements that I'm now appreciating in the rear view mirror.