Heaven help me and Creator forgive me (I’m sure they will)… I’ve declined to attend my nephew’s wedding celebration in August. It’s the ultimate familial infraction, because this is the eldest son of my only biological sister… my first nephew… who acts and looks like a poster child for a Tony Attwood book. If there’s any wedding I “should” be attending, it’s his.
But I can’t. I just can’t. The recent 4-day trip to my in-laws laid me out with multiple meltdowns that trashed any semblance of self-esteem and confidence I had. Over a week later, I still haven’t recovered. It’s going to take weeks to get back to my regular self, my super-effective, balanced self. By the time I’m back, this next wedding will come ’round again. And then I’ll be laid out again — because my own extended biological family is even more kinetic and chaotic than my in-laws, and they are highly interactive. It’s just too much. All that sensory seeking drama … no, thank you.
So, I had to decline. Plus, I declined my other nephew’s wedding that’s happening this weekend, and if I’m not going to one’s, I’m not going to the others. It would be playing favorites, and I need to be an equal-opportunity offender.
Offender… whatever. I have to take care of myself and my little family. I just can’t put myself through it. And I’m not putting my partner through it again, either. There’s no way. I think she had an even harder time with my meltdowns, than I did (if that’s possible). And it’s going to take weeks, even months, for her to feel some sense of stability around me again.
I have to keep my priorities straight. So, yeah, I’ll suffer the displeasure and disapproval of my family. I’ll steel my nerves against their slings and arrows and guilt-inducing sighs… and I’ll keep to myself that weekend, as it should be.
I really love my nephew and his soon-to-be-wife. I’d love to be there. I just can’t deal with the melee. I look forward to spending time with them — away from the madding crowd. Far, far away from it.
At least I know I’m not alone. There are plenty of other autistic and highly sensitive people who get overwhelmed by this kind of stuff. And who have to opt out, because it’s just too much. The price is too high. The cost too dear. And the “return on the investment” is minimal.
This passage in Odd Girl Out really spoke to me:
… good feelings can be as overwhelming as the bad.
I can’t name my feelings. I don’t recognize them. Don’t know what they look like. … I like words that sound as they should feel.
… I want to experience life in neutral. Not feeling anything much. For me, the absence of sensation is better than experiencing anything too jarring, too unexpected, too new. I want to move through life with no sudden movements. Sameness is my anchor. I want each day to unfold quietly and predictably.
That pretty much says it all for me. Each word. Each line. I can relate.
Sameness is my anchor, too. And a wedding in August in an intensely humid mid-Atlantic state, surrounded by milling crowds of people… well, that rips up my mooring from the quiet cove where I’ve anchored and sends me adrift in a strong current that leads directly to a waterfall. Who knows where the waterfall will take me? I don’t want to find out.
And so, while everyone else in my family is flying / driving / taking the train in to these events, gathering in loud, tactile, bright throngs of milling relatives (many of whom I don’t recognize immediately, ’cause, well, face-blindness)… I’ll keep to myself, continue to nurse my wounds and get myself back on track. Keep myself away from the precipice of depression and despair. Get on with my life. Fish in my own little cove, while the rest of the world jumps in their inflatable raft and heads down the rapids.
I’ll be here when they get back.
They know where to find me.