I’m fifty-five years old.
Waits and thinks.
Yes, that’s right. I tend to add a year to my age on January 1st every year so by the time I make it to my actual birthday, I’m confused as to hold old I am. I think it’s because it’s an Asian thing? I’m not sure, but I’m sticking to it as my reason for doing it. I don’t care about my actual age because it’s always seem so random to me to celebrate one day for being a year older.
I mean, I get it on the basic level of it’s the day you were born, so yay for you! And then the next year on the same day, you add a year to that number. In reality, though, we’re aging every day. It’s not like aging is put on hold for 364 days and then you suddenly get a year older on one day. Oh, by the way, here’s my post from yesterday.
I know I’m thinking too literally about it, but that’s how my brain works. I am very literal in most ways and then I’ll be theoretical in some random sudden circumstance. I am terrible with people who are deadpan jokers beacuse I can’t read their tone properly. This is ten times worse over text/email because I can’t get any verbal/visual cues as to how I should react.
Here is how I react to any comment.
Other person (OP): Comments on something happening in their life.
Neurotypical person: Immediately responds.
Me: (Thinks for several long seconds: Is this good news or bad news? Checks face and body posture of other person. If I can make a best guess): That’s terrible/terrific! (And hope that I actually made the right choice.
If I cannot guess, then I’ll delicately ask a question that might point me in the right direction.
This is how I process all conversations, but specifically those with big news in them. Like when my bestie told me she was pregnant. Her tone was neutralish–so I wasn’t sure what to think. Also, I could tell that she was pregnant before she revealed it to me (I have/had that useless gift), so I knew it was coming. I just didn’t know exactly how she felt about it. She looked more excited than downcast about it so I cautiously offered my congratulations. To my relief, she immediately accepted them.
Related somewhat: I hate pranks. I really hate them, I mean. There are very few pranks that I find funny and there are very few that I would just tolerate. I read about them on Ask A Manager from time to time, and there’s a big divide between pro-prank and anti-prank. I have to say that those who are pro-prank emphasize it has to be consentional and that the person being pranked has to be enthusiastically consenting and not just begrudgingly (or unwillingly) participating.
However, I am on the side of no pranks ever. Wait. There are a few I can tolerate. One is putting googly eyes on everything in the office. I’m trying to think of another. Can’t really. I will say the ones like putting tape on someone’s mouse (so they can’t move it) would irritate the fuck out of me. And that’s cited as one of the harmless pranks. Anyone fucks with my computer accessories will feel my wrath.
Yes, I know I’m on the very low end of tolerance for pranks, but here’s why. Besides the fact that I can’t always tell when someone is joking, I always feel like someone is making fun ofd me/laughing at me if they pull a prank on me. I know that for many people, it’s a sign of love/teasing/that you’re in the inner circle, but it doesn’t feel that way to me.
I think this is actually sums up being neurodivergent for me. Others may have the best of intentions, but it still feels shitty to me. Really shitty. And it hurts so much.
When I’m in pain, I do one of two things. I either withdraw to the point of not being there any more. Emotionally, I mean. I leave my body as best as I can and just endure whatever is happening. I used to dissociate quite regularly, and I didn’t even know it was happening for the longest time.
That’s another thing that Taiji has given me, by the way. It has grounded me in my body. I used to view my body as a disgusting sack of meat that I had to lug around. I put up with it because it was the container for my brain. But it wasn’t me. No, it was not. I did not want it to be a part of me, and it took Taiji to bring me back to my body. Before that, I did not feel physical pain. And I enjoyed making myself feel physical pain, honestly. It meant I could just feel something, anything, and it took my mind off the numbness in my heart and soul.
I’ve told this story several times, but when my Taiji teacher was teaching us chin na (joint lock) techniques, I had to be paired with her because I could not feel pain. Obviously, that is very dangerous when doing techniques that are meant to elicit pain. Fortunately, though, they are not meant to do lasting damage. It’s more a way to get your opponent’s attention before putting the real hit on them. Did I say that out loud?
The other way I deal with pain is by exploding. This is more emotional pain than physical pain, by the way. But my fuse is shorter these days, and I don’t want to blame it on my stroke–but I’m going to blame it on my stroke. That does not mean it’s not on me to control it, though. My stroke is a reason, but not an excuse.
I’ve always struggled with my temper, but now it sometimes scares me. There was one time I was having an argument with my mother. It took me off-guard because we were having a normal discussion about certain things this president was doing, and then it went to a hundred. There was a moment when I clearly remember thinking, “I’m going to push this over the cliff.”
My face was getting red, and I could feel the steam rising. I clenched my hands and breathed smoothly slowly. I clenched my teeth so I would not say the really ugly words trembling on my lips. I literally had to talk myself down in my head, but I succeeded (barely). I did have to tell my mother point-blank that she needed to stop pushing it.
I went off on another tangent as is my wont. Oh well.