In search of my flow state

stream flowing through forest with the flowing water in focusI’m in the process of resetting for the new year. Resetting my activities. Resetting my priorities. Resetting my activity levels. I typically do this earlier in the year, when I’m swept up in the New Year’s Resolution blitz.

But this year, I haven’t been feeling it. At all.

It’s not going nearly as well as I’d like. Work is weird. My life is weird. It’s all kind of… weird. I don’t feel like I’m fully inhabiting my own life, and I’ve been so busy with everything, lately, I haven’t had time to stim or reach a flow state for weeks… perhaps since the beginning of the year.

It’s maddening. Probably the worst thing about the way things have gone, for the past months, is the ever-increasing level of interruption in the course of each day. It’s absolutely maddening. As in, it makes me really, really mad. I have to be able to settle into extended periods of thought, in order to be effective, and my current job is preventing that on every level.

Distraction kills, and it’s doing a hack job on my performance at work, not to mention my job, overall.

Well, that’s the job, right? That’s “just how things are” in my current professional corner of the world, and anyone who can’t keep up is left in the dust. Personally, I’d be fine with being left behind. Just cut me a check and let me go. Let’s call it a day and say it was an interesting learning experience, shall we? And let’s all move on to other, better things.

But I don’t have a substantial back-up plan. I’ve been putting out feelers for work, but the kinds of work I’ve been applying for… well, it just hasn’t been a good fit. I got a job offer, a month ago, but I had to turn it down because the conditions were, well, crappy. A longer commute. Into the thick of the worst rush hour traffic in the area. Frenetic pace. Frenzied, from what I was told. In a building where they have chemicals that smell and bright lights that blind. An open work space plan. And not more money than I’m making now.

So… no. Not that.

I put in for some other jobs, and I heard back from what looked like a really good opportunity, but after I responded to them, they didn’t get back to me. I need to ping them again. There’s a good chance they took a look at my resume and realized — Hey, she doesn’t have a degree! — and, like many others, decided I “wasn’t a good fit”.

It’s a little depressing, actually.

But it’s got me thinking… About what is actually the best work for me to do. After being a web developer for 15 years, I gradually shifted into project and program management for the past 8 years or so, because it felt like the software engineering world was closing in on me and I was getting crowded out. I felt like I just couldn’t compete with all the lower cost talent with more updated skills… the people who “fit better” with organizations… or who had degrees. The project/program management space seems to be less amenable to people who literally teach themselves how to do things, than the development space. And while that didn’t hurt my prospects in the past handful of jobs I’ve had, it’s starting to feel like it’s closing in on me even more than development did.

bomb emoji with lit fuse looking down
This is about how my “career” is feeling, about now.

And indeed, the lack of flow is a huge issue. Somehow, I seem to have acquired work that I absolutely hate. Tracking other people’s activities. Communicating to everyone who needs to know about program and project status. Navigating political minefields. Battling for my territory. Making nice with people across the organization. Being interrupted every 20 minutes (or as soon as I get into a flow state). Conference calls. Lots of conference calls. With people who have thick accents and/or are on a poor phone connection. And more interruptions. Travel. Regular business travel, which doubles my workload and completely trashes my routine.

It just feels like a setup. I can do it for so long, then I am completely wiped out. Because nobody sees how much I struggle, and I can’t let on, because that would trash my career prospects like nothing else. And I can’t chance that.

The fact that I’m really good at it, is no consolation. At all.

I mean, seriously, I’m really good at it. I’m a fantastic meeting facilitator, I can communicate extremely well to people who need to know. I know how to work effectively with offshore folks (been doing it since 2002). And I can turn on a dime if the situation calls for it.

But man, oh, man, do I pay for it. In a very big way. Of course, nobody else sees how steep the price is, because they rely on me to keep doing what I’m doing, just the way they are accustomed to seeing me do it.

And seriously, this is no way to live.

I need my flow back. I need to settle into a chunk of code and just work my way through it. I need to cozy up with a tasty algorithm and just do my thang. Seriously, I do.

{pause to take a breath}

Okay, so where does that leave me? Or rather, where does that point me?

Realistically, away from where I am now. And back into the development world. In my former life (before I trained my replacements in 2002 and was then told to go find another job in 2005), I was one of the best of the best at my chosen line of work. Web development. Front-end web development. UI coding. Cross-browser. Cross-platform. Proficient in ‘nix flavors and the command line. Not afraid of anything code-related.

And it suited me. In a very big way. Because I could create things and make stuff work, like nobody else. I could convince browsers to do things they weren’t built to do. I was good. I was one of the best. And I was relieved of my duties by the bean-counters who had no idea what the work entailed. All they knew was that I was “too expensive” and they were convinced I could be replaced.

Hm.

Yeah, as it turns out (having managed a lot of projects involving developers who weren’t even close to as good as I was), I can’t be replaced. My skills are still needed. And my interview and subsequent job offer this past December (for a developer job) tells me that I still have a future in that realm. I tend to get pretty rigid about things and get convinced that since I’ve almost exclusively done project/program management for the past 3.5 years, so I’ve been telling myself that I have to stay in that space. But I don’t. I can shift back to development. I’m the only one who’s blocking myself, at this point.

Plus, I can do my own “thang” in the process. Build tools. For mobile. Just build things that show people what I do — like Temple Grandin recommends. I’ve actually got a pretty impressive portfolio, and it’s not even complete. I need to get focused on completing it, and lift myself up out of this increasingly wretched state I’ve been in, for the past year and a half, when it first started to dawn on me that this was probably not the best job choice for me.

There’s a lot I can do about my situation, right now. I can build my own apps. I can build my own websites. I can do a lot that shows how I work. And I can put the finishing touches on some projects I started over the past years but lost the energy to do them – because I was too wiped out from my day job to keep up with it all.

So, there is hope.

But for now, it’s time to go move some snow. We got a bunch of it overnight, and I need to shovel it before the temperatures start to rise. Heavy snow is no fun.

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So, What’s #Menopause and What’s #Autism?

spectrum spiralThat was the operative question for me about 10 years ago. Or rather, it should have been the operative question, but I was so overwhelmed with my life and my body’s changes, that I couldn’t think clearly about being Autistic.

I actually couldn’t think clearly about being Autistic for years prior to that, because, well, being Autistic and not having a definitive diagnosis (self-DXed or otherwise), and not having any sort of support or community to turn to, there was little to no opportunity/chance for me to cogently suss it all out in my head.

Things were just a big ol’ mess, and that was that.

My job situation was tenuous, and I was moving from position to position, from company to company, without anyone really realizing what was going on. In hindsight, I can tell you:

I was moving from job to job, because I couldn’t track what was going on around me. I was overwhelmed from the changes in my monthly cycle, which were also accompanied by dramatic changes in my hormonal levels and behavior and thinking process(es), and I was in constant dread of being found out — that someone would figure out that I was a screw-up who didn’t know what was going on, and they’d just get rid of me. I had to keep some semblance of “control” in my professional life, so that meant moving around a fair amount.

I mean, it was rough. And the thing that made it the roughest, was not having adequate cluefulness about Autism and how it affected me. I am 100% convinced that I could have managed my situation, if I’d had adequate knowledge about Autism, as well as menopause.  I am proactive. I’m a planner. I come up with structures and systems that assist me. I build tools, I leverage assistive technologies (even ones that aren’t build with that intention), and I am highly scientific about how I live my life.

So, if I’d had reliable info about A) Autism and B) Menopause, I am 100% certain I could have handled it all extremely well.

And I’m just as convinced that other women can, too.

Of course, all this is … fraught.

One of the hazards of talking frankly about (peri)menopausal Autistic women, is that to the untrained eye, it can make us look extremely debilitated. That’s no good for our careers, for our social lives, for our prospects in the mainstream — where, like it or not, a lot of us need to function. Plus, when people hear about our difficulties and how much menopause really f*cks with us, they can automatically jump to the “oh you poor dear” victim mentality, where we’re supposed to be coddled and care for and given special consideration.

Screw that. Given half a chance, I can really do an exemplary job of living well — and I do. On a regular basis. A lot of us do. So, treating me/us like poor hothouse flowers who need to be sheltered and given special dispensation just works against us.

I’m not saying we don’t need consideration. We do. But don’t turn us into helpless victims, simply because we’re going through what millions upon millions of other women (Autistic and otherwise) have successfully gone through for millennia before us.

We need to talk frankly about it. We need to discuss. I might just be that we can’t do it freely in public. Some well-meaning person may pick up on what we’re talking about and — god forbid — institute some policy around it.

Well, enough of that rant. It’s Monday, and I’m ramping up… I don’t want to get distracted. Okay, where was I?

Ah, yes — figuring out whether the drama in your life is Autism or Menopause…

As I discussed earlier (#Autism and #Menopause… Like we don’t have enough problems already!) , we’ve got a bunch of overlaps between the two situations — one of them permanent, one of them temporary:

hypersensitivity (including achy joints and sensitivity to noise, temperature and pain), muscle aches, foggy thinking, forgetfulness and other executive function challenges, trouble sleeping, difficulty with temperature regulation, seizures, migraines, irritability, depression, anxiety

Additionally, we can have additional health issues, like EDS and fibromyalgia and epilepsy, mental health issues, and injuries that can make our lives that much more… interesting and eventful. And then there’s life. Menopause comes along at a time in our lives when we’ve got increased responsibilities: our professional lives can be packed full of responsibility, our personal lives can be in upheaval, we can have a bunch of dependents to provide for (growing kids and aging parents at the same time), and much of what we handle, we have to handle alone, because other people say we’re so good at it, so that qualifies us to be the subject matter experts and take full control/responsibility for those things.

It seems pretty much like a setup to me.

And when you add Autism to the mix, oh yeah — that’s even better. Because we’re already hypersensitive as Autistic women (or men who are have menopausal women in their lives). We’re already achey and sleep-deprived and anxious and everything else listed above (and more). But then life comes along and tosses the menopausal firecracker into our well-ordered lives, and kaflooey! Instant drama.

I’m not one to dwell on constant problems. If I were, I would have ended my life long ago (it’s true). I’m all for solutions — and the one solution I found is really the most basic one of all: education and proactive management of my situation. Using tools. Writing things down. Keeping close tabs on the ways that my life is screwy (and yes, it is in many ways) and doing something to unscrew it. Focusing on the places where things fall apart for me, and coming up with ways to keep them together, in spite of forces beyond my control.

I’ve gotten lectures from other people about how I shouldn’t use a “disability model” when I think about being Autistic. I should focus on differences and reframe my limitations as just variations in the human theme. Philosophically, I totally agree. But logistically, that just doesn’t work for me. I really do have problems associated with Autism, and to tell the truth, the very thing that saves my a** in all of it, is “getting ahead of it” and coming up with ways to address or augment my issues — because I durned well know I’m gonna have those issues… or I already have them, and they’re making my life extremely difficult.

I’ve got to get read for work, now, but I’m going to share some of my most helpful tips, tricks, and techniques on this blog. Seriously, people, menopause happens to so all of us — both directly and indirectly. And it’s especially impactful for Autistic folks. Forewarned is forearmed, so we need to gird ourselves and get properly equipped to deal with it.

That means… information. Facts. Scientific research. Just knowing what’s going on with us, and what we can expect. Without that knowledge, we’re sunk.

And we also need tools.

So, I’ll leave you for now and come back around later when I’ve got more to share. I’m ambivalent about this Monday. No, scratch that, I really don’t want to “do” this Monday. At all. I have a long list of pain in the ass people I have to deal with… But I’m delaying the inevitable. Off I go… wading into the fray.

More to come later. Much more.

It’s easier if people aren’t nice to me

Man Thinking, Looking Out Over Foggy Harbor - Photo by Phoebe Dill on Unsplash
Photo by Phoebe Dill on Unsplash

This is going to sound strange, but it’s actually easier for me, when people aren’t nice to me.

When they don’t say and do nice things for me, befriending me, and so forth.

I find it confusing. And the reciprocity thing makes my head feel like it’s spinning.

And I’m going to get it wrong.

Either I’ll get too close, too fast, or I’ll keep my distance when I’m not supposed to.

They’ll expect me to hug them. And that’s no good. I’m a terrible hugger, objectively speaking. I don’t know how to get the right pressure, and I always seem to dig my chin into the other person’s shoulder, which is a weirdly intimate thing to do, when I think about it.

They will say things and expect me to respond in kind. But my brain doesn’t work at their same speed, so I’ll end up saying something stupid or coarse or reflexive that’s unconsciously meant to push them away.

It’s better, if people aren’t nice to me.

That’s not to say I don’t like people. I do! I really enjoy their company, and I like to spend time chatting about things that interest us. Even the dreaded small-talk is fun for me, at times. Banter. Witty banter. Laughs. Ha-ha-ha. 😀

But other than superficial fun times, I prefer that people are objective and a little cold towards me. Matter-of-fact. Because facts really matter a lot to me, and it’s more important for me to handle things in the correct manner, than it is for me to “exchange energies” with potentially needy others.

I don’t mind the chill. I prefer it, in fact.

Just don’t be rude.

Rudeness I cannot countenance. Standoffishness, yes. But rudeness, no.

And that’s what I have to say about that tonight.

#Autism and #Menopause… Like we don’t have enough problems already!

railroad track leading into the distanceOver at Auptima Press, we’re talking about Autistic women and menopause

While research about aging and autism is lacking, what we do know is that during perimenopause women on the spectrum can see an increase in:

  • hypersensitivity (including achy joints and sensitivity to noise, temperature and pain)
  • muscle aches
  • foggy thinking, forgetfulness and other executive function challenges
  • trouble sleeping
  • difficulty with temperature regulation
  • seizures
  • migraines
  • decreased libido and vaginal dryness
  • weight gain
  • food cravings or pica (craving inedible items such as chalk, paper or dirt)
  • nausea during menstruation
  • cramping
  • irregular periods
  • irritability
  • depression
  • anxiety
  • thinning hair in some areas, and thicker hair growth in others

Great! (Sarcasm) Just what we need. We already have a bunch of these issues with Autism, to start with — hypersensitivity (including achy joints and sensitivity to noise, temperature and pain), muscle aches, foggy thinking, forgetfulness and other executive function challenges, trouble sleeping, difficulty with temperature regulation, seizures, migraines, irritability, depression, anxiety — and then “Mother Nature” throws us another curve ball that can make everything spike even more.

Actually, the fact that there’s some overlap might work in our favor. If, that is, we’ve developed coping strategies to deal with these things. When you’ve already been dealing with hypersensitivity, muscle aches, foggy thinking, forgetfulness, irritability, depression, and anxiety, you have some tools you can use when menopause amps up the experience.

On the other hand, it can be incredibly disorienting, because — if you’re like me — you have  your supports in place, you have your tips and tricks in place, and you come to rely on them to be, well, reliable.

But then, suddenly, they aren’t. And everything can get plunged into chaos — or at least, it feels that way.  All the old expected results that you’ve come to rely on, as a result of doing things a certain way, are no longer predictable. And that’s about the worst thing you can do to an Autistic person — take away the predictability that they’ve invested countless hours in developing.

Same thing holds true for husbands/partners of Autistic women going through menopause — after so many years of acclimating and finding a balance, suddenly — wham! — everything gets up-ended, and the woman you knew and loved has morphed into something/someone … unexpected.

For anyone, it’s a challenging turn of events, but for Autistic folks and/or their partners, it’s a whole other flavor of woo-hoo.

woo . effing . hoo .

So, I’m gonna take my woo-hoo self off to bed. I had to work today (Saturday) when I should have been resting / reading / sleeping / hiking in the woods. I resent that. But at least I’m through menopause.

On my worst days, I give thanks for that.

Stay safe, everyone. It’s a jungle out there (and in here).

It’s a Process…

woman with painted faceThe Meh-nopausal action continues… And while it might not seem all that exciting, just you wait… 😉

Over at Auptima Press, we’re talking about the whole process, especially starting with perimenopause (peri- means before… menopause means the ending of menses, the monthly hormonal and tissue recycling that so many of us know and — cough, cough — {don’t} love).

Perimenopause is the natural transition that your body goes through before reaching “official” menopause (which is defined as 12 consecutive months without having a menstrual period). During this process, your hormones begin to fluctuate, and these changes can play a major role in how you function and feel.

So, take note, all you women and men who are affected by women’s cycling… oh, wait, that would be all of us. Perimenopause is a natural transition, meaning it’s what happens as part of the natural course of women’s lives. Certainly, there are many women who have different experiences — some have hysterectomies, some may have been born with a different configuration of organs, some may have medical conditions which cause the change(s) to happen in a variety of ways that stray from the path laid out by OB-Gyn textbooks. But by and large, perimenopause is the rule, rather than the exception for women who live long enough for it to happen.

When I was growing up, precious little was openly discussed about menopause. It was “the change”… something to be whispered about in women-only circles. And the whole perimenopause thing wasn’t talked about at all. In fact, the word “menopause” (and all permutations thereof) was cringeworthy… shrouded in confusion and misinformation and the conviction that it was the last stage before mental and physical decline. Once menopause showed up, your life as a woman was over — according to how I was raised. Once you couldn’t have any more children, your usefulness as a woman was severely diminished, and you stopped being interesting to the rest of the world.

That should tell you a lot about the world I was raised in. And thank heavens things have changed, since then. I mean, just getting the word “perimenopause” out there is a step in the right direction, IMHO. It increases the occurence of “menopause” in popular vocabulary, and it also widens our understanding of the process — because that’s what it is. A process.

And gentlemen, that includes you, too. When I was a kid, men just rolled their eyes and made themselves scarce till “the Change” was over. But you can’t do that anymore. Women are much more integrated into society and the workplace than before, and there’s a lot more distribution of labor on both sides of the gender divide. So, when women cycle around to a state of hormonal WooHoo!-ness, the guys get drawn into it, as well.

Rest assured, as it’s a process, it has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Sadly — especially for Autistic folks — it’s incredibly difficult to predict with 100% accuracy. One day you’re fine… the next, you’re not. One moment, everything’s cool… the next, you’re mulling over whether to flirt with a 25-to-life felony against your fellow humans. (Note: I know it’s tricky to mention Autism and violent crime in the same paragraph, but talk confidentially to any post-menopausal woman on or off the Spectrum, and you’ll find that our ideation can indeed go to some scary places — which is why it’s so lucky that this happens when we’re old enough to keep ourselves in check and realize that Thoughts Are Not Things.)

But I’ve digressed. This whole female “Change of Life” business is a process. Our hormones fluctuate. There’s no avoiding it. Our moods, behaviors, thinking, bodies… they get churned up on a sort of spin cycle, and it can be quite the roller coaster ride, for as long as it lasts.

So, if you’re headed in that direction, brace yourself. And get educated. Because the combination of (peri)menopause and Autism can be a potent combination that spells distress and anguish for many of us. I know it did for me. But understanding what’s happening (which I didn’t, because nobody explained it to me clearly) can help immensely — if only by dispelling the distress that comes from getting blindsided by your body’s natural changes. And for you guys out there, it can also be comforting to know that the abrupt and jarring changes to women’s demeanor are part of a larger pattern that’s been happening for aeons.

And yet, we’ve survived.

Yep, we’ve survived. Millions of women have gone through this before us. We’re not the first, and we certainly won’t be the last.

So, take heart. If you’re (peri)menopausal, you’re in good company.

#AutisticWomen and #Menopause – it’s about more than “reproductive health”

grain seed closeupIf there’s one thing that frays my last nerve, it’s talking about women’s health solely in terms of reproduction. Not all of us choose to have kids, and even the ones who do, are more than the sum of their offspring. Classifying our hormonal and female-specific well-being under “reproduction”, to my mind, reduces us to vessels for the emergence of the future human race.

Which is overly simplistic in ways that short-change both women and the healthcare providers who view us through that lens.

Sigh.

I mean, don’t get me wrong – I’m not kinderfeindlich, with an aversion to kids. But talking and thinking about women as only child-bearers and child-rearers is a huge problem — from the very moment we enter into the world in our female bodies. As babies we’re treated differently, as little girls, we’re handled a certain way, as prepubescents, we’re seen as not-yet-human creatures which have just a few years to go before our bodies start serving a “useful” purpose. Throw Autism into the “mix”, and you’ve got yourself a recipe for… a very interesting life.

And then into puberty, young adulthood, “childbearing (aaauuuuggghhhhh!) years”, and on to perimenopause, menopause, and post-menopause (which I am fondly referring to as “Meh-nopause”, since the hormones which cause me to give a shit about everyone and everything outside of me have bottomed out and left me with a more than welcome sense of not really giving a f*ck about all the stuff that got me torqued up, all those years ago. Again, add Autism, and there’s your cocktail for major disruption, inside and out.

Logistically, it can be one hot mess. And conceptually, even moreso. While reproductive classification might be fine for non-autistic folks (who seem to have a general predelection for coupling — sorry for overgeneralizing, but you probably know what I mean), I think casting us as mainly reproductive agents really has serious drawbacks for Autistic women and girls. Why? Because we tend to have a whole lot more going on with us, than non-autistic females. We’ve got all these sensory issues, not to mention a whole slew of passionate areas of driven specialized focus (the fascinations formerly known as “special interests”), and a whole lot of us don’t even relate to the whole “boy thing”, the “mating games”, and so forth, as we grow up. We may be fascinated by dolls and boys, but we may not. And even if we are, that fascination can be drowned out at any moment by a sensory onslaught.

Plus, there’s the social disconnect thing. When you’re not that adept at social interaction, you can find yourself pretty much out of the whole standard-issue selection-pairing-mating reproductive loop. You don’t necessarily get socialized the way non-autistic girls and young women do, learning the rules for interacting with the opposite sex. On top of that, since the mainstream healthcare system is so geared towards “treating” us and our health along stereotypical lines, which assume a certain developmental trajectory, there’s a massive conceptual disconnect between “reproductive health” and Autistic women’s health. We may be way ahead of the curve, or we may be behind. But rarely are we treated just as who we are, how we are, because… we are.

At least, that’s my perception of it.

The other issue I have with the whole “reproductive health” focus on women, is that our monthly cycles serve a variety of purposes, not just conception, but they’re typically treated as just another way to get pregnant. Our monthly cycles affect how we heal, how we think, how we function, how extreme our sensory issues are, how we experience every aspect of our lives. But does the mainstream healthcare establishment get that? Nope. They’re so locked on the target of making sure women are able to have healthy children (which is certainly a good and needed goal), that the rest of our complex makeup gets lost in the process.

This frustrates me to no end. Not only because it treats the most significant aspects of me like side-issues (I’ve chosen to not have children, because those other parts of my life are so all-consuming, it wouldn’t be fair to anyone, to bring kids into the equation)… but also because it misleads and dismisses countless other Autistic women and girls who may have a wide variety of issues and a whole bunch of concerns which are directly related to their female physiology, but are just lumped into the conceptual holding bin of “reproductive health”.

Make no mistake — our monthly cycles are good for a lot of things. The hormonal changes we go through both give us access to different ways of knowing and seeing and sensing, and also heighten and lessen our experiences of live. And for Autistic women, this is highly, highly impactful.

For example: Back when I was still having a monthly cycle, I would have the most intense sensory experiences pretty much every month, many times leading to meltdowns. For about a week before my cycle started (and my cycles were like clockwork – 32 days apart, every single month), my  hormone levels would drop, get suppressed, and really drag me down into a pit of despair. When I think about all the times I wanted to just die… when I wished I’d never been born… when I just wanted the pain to stop… If I hadn’t been keenly aware of how fickle I am — and how I was likely to change my mind within a few days — I definitely would have committed suicide. But I knew from watching myself, that those feelings passed. And in a few days, I wouldn’t feel anything like that. I’d be pretty darned glad I didn’t end my life.

Those crashes were brutal. They took a lot out of me, and the meltdowns set me back in so many ways. They eroded my relationship with my partner, they kicked the crap out of me emotionally and physically. Meltdowns on top of hormone blockage… not much fun.

But there was another side to it all that you probably won’t read about in a gynecological textbook — the incredible flashes of insight that only came after all the suppressed hormones rushed back in. Some of those “crashes” also led to some of the most brilliant connections of ideas I’d been working on in the weeks and months prior. Some of the insights were truly transformational and laid the groundwork for a philosophy and approach to life that has literally super-powered my life in important ways.

Those ups and downs correlated closely with the hormonal fluctuations of my monthly cycle, and now that I look back, had I actually realized this — and realized just how much it would affect me — I would have handled myself and managed my life very differently.

It wasn’t until I was well into the perimenopausal process that I got a clue about managing my life to match my hormonal ups and downs, but by that time, things were so irregular and even more extreme, that it cancelled out a lot of the benefit I could have gotten from being more proactive about managing my life.

And I’m sure I’m not alone.

I mean, it just burns me up, when I think about how many Autistic women and girls are struggling with not only gender issues, but also the healthcare system that sees them only as delivery agents for the next generation. Again, no judgment towards mothers. Absolutely, positively not. We need you. Where would we be without you? Nowhere. But when it comes to our hormonal health, reproduction is just one of many considerations. And the repercussions of our fluctuations and our cycles affects far more than our ability to conceive and bear children.

All this being said, I’d love it if we could deepen the discussion of Autistic women (and girls) and our health as women and girls. I want to stop using the word “reproductive” as the main point in the discussion and find other ways to talk about the cycles that make us. My hope is also that researchers and healthcare providers will “get hip” to this discussion and widen their thinking about how Autistic women and girls experience lives from with the cycling bodies we have.

Oh, and also, over at Auptima Press, we’ve got more info and resources on women experiencing the (peri)menopausal process. Check out our article Perimenopause? The Transition Stage Before Menopause, to see where we’re going with this. It’s really the start of a whole conversation we need to have within our own Autistic community — and frankly, it could be helpful for Autistic men who are wondering what menopause did with their wives/partners, and when will they return them to their once-stable state (and yes, I can joke about this, because I’ve been through it myself, as well as stuck with my partner while she was going through menopause 10 years before me – believe me, I wondered what had become of her, and if she was ever going to return).

This whole topic has been near and dear to my heart for many years, especially over the past 10 years of going through the menopausal and coming out on the other side in much better shape than when I went in. I’ve learned a whole lot about the process, what’s happening, what to expect. And now with my more intent focus on Autism, I’m putting all the pieces together to understand — and share — how women’s cycles impact (and are impacted by) Autism.

Because, I swear to gawd, the two factors are so central to our being and experience, that you cannot consider one without the other. Literally… doing so, shortchanges the whole inquiry and renders null and void any one-dimensional pronouncements about what makes us the way we are, and what makes us experience the things we do.

It’s important.

And for the sake of our health, safety, and sanity, we need to start connecting these dots. Too many of us have suffered for no good reason.

And that needs to change. So, I’m going to change it. 🙂

Sharing from ‘Autism’: A new era for autism research, and for our journal

No more puzzle piece used on the cover of the journal 'Autism'

Big news – The journal Autism will no longer be using the puzzle piece on their cover.

Plus, they’re shifting their approach to research:

… Precisely because it is a common endeavour, autism research requires the participation of that broad community on fair terms. It is not right that one group holds all of the influence and power. If any group, or collection of groups is unattended or their opinions discounted, then they are being treated unfairly and in a way that does damage to autism research itself. The core ethos of this journal must include ensuring that everyone who participates in autism research has their views taken into account.

This, in my view, is huge.

And it’s a welcome change. I encourage you to read the whole announcement. It’s not long, but it’s chock-full of encouraging signs.

Read it by clicking here.

Because this #postmenopausal #ActuallyAutistic #woman knows better

sun shining through tree branches
If there’s one thing this trip is teaching me, it’s that I know better than I’ve been giving myself credit for. I know more. I am more capable. I am better equipped. I am better prepared. I haven’t been expecting much of myself, but I realize now that I can expect much, much more than I’ve been allowing for.

And it occurs to me that, once again, alexithymia is getting the better of me. It’s just too bizarre, how it happens… and how convinced I am that I am beyond hope, beyond hopeless… absolutely positive that I can’t deal with sh*t… when all that’s really going on, is that I have no internal sense of confidence, no internal sense of capability, no internal sense of mastery. It’s just not there. Like all the times I have no internal sense of being happy, sad, upset, mourning, elated, frustrated… pick an emotion of your choice. So, so many times, I just can’t feel it.

At all.

And that throws me off. Very much so.

But what does this have to do with menopause? Ha! Everything.

Because the lower hormonal levels in my system seem to heighten my lack of feeling for… stuff. It’s harder for me to detect what I’m feeling, these days, than when I was 10 years younger and I was feeling every damn’ thing so intensely. Going through menopause both dialed up my experience of physical and emotional sensations — way up — to where they kind of spiked… only to be followed by a veritable trough of emotion in the years after…. an extended experience of meh-ness that dulled and confused my emotional detection even more.

And ironically, even when I’m in a really good place — a place of mastery, a place of expertise — I can’t sense it, so it doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel genuine. And that messes with my head. ‘Cause obvious things like knowing what you’re talking about is supposed to give you a palpable feeling of rightness… right?

Alas and alack, it doesn’t work that way with me. And that messes with my head.

So, I have to fall back on logic. And remind myself factually of the details of my expertise — that I’ve been doing what I do for decades. That I’ve paid my dues. That I’m a trusted subject matter expert. That I have good “street cred” with the right people at work. And so on.

I have to rely on logic. Because my meh-nopausal system can’t be bothered to work up the energy to sense all those things and sort through them.

Fortunately, I have logic. It’s logically impossible that I would do as much as I’ve done in my life, and still have no clue about anything. Even though it feels that way — or at least, very much like a void — even though I can’t detect any sensation of expertise… I know objectively it must be there. And I also have friends and colleagues who can (and do) offer feedback that I cue in on and then process. They’re much nicer to me, than I am to myself, so I take their word for it, when they tell me I’m smart, or they tell me how much they value my opinion.

So, I override my sense of doom and unremitting failure, and just get on with my life. I really wish it weren’t this way, but is… so there we are.

An actual spoon – how awesome is that!

cup of tea with a spoon
It’s been a long day. I got to sleep about 1:45 a.m., then I had to get up at 6:00 to iron my clothes and get ready to meet my boss and other colleague down in the hotel lobby at 7:00. We grabbed some quick breakfast, then headed out around 7:20. Got to the office by 7:40, found where we needed to be, and then spent the next 9 hours in meetings.

Ugh. Well, at least I go my second wind around 2 p.m., which was about 6 hours too late. But at least I hit my proverbial stride. And now I’m having a nice cup of hot water with honey while I blog my way back to sanity.

The hotel I’m staying in is one of those residence type places, where the rooms have a kitchenette and a sitting area, desk, and full bath. It’s pretty nice. The hotel is relatively new — less than a year old — so it hasn’t had time to get all broken down (yet). And they have actual silverware — or rather, silver-colored metal tableware — and real dishes, glasses, mugs, and a real sink and a 2-burner cooktop for a more civilized experience. Plus, there are a bunch of nice restaurants across the way within walking distance, so I don’t have to drive.

I think they know I’m a bit fried from the past 24 hours. So, why drive, right?

Well, anyway, it’s good to get settled here. I’d still rather be at home, but this’ll do for the time being. At least it’s in the 60s, versus the 30s, which is nice. And people are being decent, too (for the time being), which is good.

Lord, I’m tired. But I’ve got to go off to dinner in a little bit, where I’ll hob-nob with my colleagues and find out the background “dirt” on what’s going on. Those guys are such little gossips, but it really comes in handy, at times.

As for sensory overload, I’ve been in a state of it all day. And I’m a little numb from it all. It’s bound to be that way tonight, too, because my boss loves going out to eat in loud, busy restaurants. He’s one of those hypo-sensitive Aspies, for sure. He’s so autistic at times, it’s hilarious in that way where I recognize a member of my tribe and it just make me laugh with quirky familiarity. Of course, we never discuss the whole “Autism thing”, because… why?

Long story short, I’m starting to have fun. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, but for today, it was a good day.

My partner is making peace with me traveling out here a handful of times each year, and she’s just glad that I’m not job-hopping like I used to constantly do. I’m staying put, and that makes her happy.

But What does this have to do with menopause?  Ha! Everything. Because unlike years gone by when I would freak out and stay freaked out, my hormonal profile no longer compels me to lose my shit over everything and shatter. Once I get past the initial drama of anxiety, I settle in, rely on my past experience, and do what I need to do. It gets done. And because I’ve been practicing so long, it gets done right.

So, here I am, watching the sun sink in the west, as another day draws to a close. I’ll go have some dinner, then walk home, take a long, hot shower, and go early to bed.

Sounds like a plan.

Story of my life… today, anyway

Mexican rice and beans boiling in a pot on the stove

I started this pot of “Mexican style” rice and beans from a packet. When the contents poured into the pan, it was all white powder and rice grains. Not a sign of color anywhere (which worried me a little). But when it cooked up, the colors all came out.

That’s kind of how my life is, these days. Things start out looking one way, then when they get “cooking”, they turn out looking – feeling – very different from when i started.

I’m going on another business trip till Thursday. I fly out in less than 8 hours, and I’m trying to get my act together before I go. That includes cooking food for my partner for the next four days. She’s got really limited mobility, and she can’t stand for long in the kitchen, and we don’t have a microwave (hate those things) which means she needs nutritious food she can put together quickly while I’m away.

I do just about all the cooking in our household, so it’s always like this, when I go away. And that happens more often than I’d like — every 2-3 months, or so. And I’ve got even more travel coming up this spring/summer, with probable trips to Las Vegas and San Francisco in May and June. Long story short, the days leading up to my travels are pretty busy — especially the morning of, when I have to pull everything together.

It gets a little easier, each time I do it. But it has yet to feel like second nature.

Oh shit – I forgot the laundry in the dryer! Better check on that now.

{folding clothes}

OK, I’m back.

So, what does this have to do with menopause?

What doesn’t have to do with menopause with me, these days? Or for the past 10 years? I’ve been writing here as an Autistic woman, up till this point, and now it’s time to widen the perspective. Because menopause colors everything about me and my place in the world, how I relate to it, how I interpret it, not to mention how others relate to and interpret me. It affects every part of me, on so many levels, I don’t even know where to start.

And these business trips are great examples of that. They screw up the routines that I’ve developed for myself over years and years of trial-and-error, messing with my sleep schedule, my daily pace, my mealtimes and food choices, and doing it all in the context of high-stakes business trips, where the slightest slip-up can mean my reputation is damaged and my chances for advancement are reduced. It’s not just chances for advancement, actually — it’s also my relationships with my colleagues. We operate in a real pressure-cooker environment, where we all need to know we can depend on each other 100% (I won’t say 110%, because there is no such thing), and if someone comes up short, it can undermine the confidence of everyone else and potentially jeopardize the prospects of any number of present and future projects.

That goes for my colleagues at HQ, where I’m visiting, as well as my immediate group members, several of whom are traveling with me, this time. My boss and one of my peers will be flying and driving with me (I’m driving this time, heaven help me). And another peer will be joining us at HQ. I’m the only woman in the group of them, which is fine with me. They’re good guys. They have their personality quirks, but sexual predation isn’t among them, which is fortunate. I’ve traveled with a #MeToo poster-boy of a boss, in the past, and trust me, it’s no fun at all.

The problem with being the only woman in the crowd — and a post-menopausal woman, at that — is that I’m not only un-matched in terms of interests and energy focus, but it’s also incumbent on me — as a trusted colleague and team player — to keep up with activities I really don’t care about and generally try to avoid.

To whit:

  • Staying up late. My boss treats these business trips like mini-vacations away from his controlling wife, and he loves to stay up late, hanging out and doing nothing productive. At all. Not my idea of a great time. I need my sleep. I don’t get as much rest as I should when I travel, to begin with, and staying up late makes everything worse.
  • Drinking. Yeah, no thanks. I haven’t touched the stuff in over 20 years, and my life is better for it. It’s expensive, and it leads to unfortunate choices, which I’d never want to make on business trip. I think my boss has a drinking problem, anyway, and he loves to pressure everyone around him into having a drink. On the bright side, since I’m driving, I don’t have to ride with a tipsy driver — like I have in the past, when he was driving and got behind the wheel after a few drinks. No animals were harmed in that experience, but the lesson is that I’d rather be behind the wheel, myself, than rely on him.
  • Shopping. Again, with the role reversal. The guys I travel with love to shop. Me, not so much. I have a terrible time figuring out what to get people, and half the time, I get it wrong, anyway.
  • Eating out. I hate eating in strange restaurants. I hate eating in most restaurants, period, since the ambient noise throws off my hearing, and I don’t pick up half of what’s said. Also, the variations in light are a problem, and having to be social with other people after a long day is even more exhausting. Since I’ll be driving, this trip, I’m not looking forward to extending my days even longer with meals out with “the crew”, but that’s probably going to happen at least once.

And those are just the tips of three icebergs in the whole field of floating obstacles.

Which isn’t made any easier by my post-menopausal state, which is a whole lot more stable and even-keeled than the drama queens I’m traveling with. They’re younger than I. They haven’t lived in as many different aspects of the world as I have. They think all this is exciting and invigorating, but all I can think is, “Meh”.

Hah! I’m going to start calling it “Meh-nopause”. Because that’s the general effect it’s had on me.

See, when hormones like estrogen and estradiol and progesterone fade away (I have the hormonal profile of a 72-year-old woman – haha), it really shuffles your perspective on things. There’s less biological drive to connect, to get whipped up into a frenzy, to get so personally involved in sh*t that never really mattered, to begin with.

Getting free of those hormonal cycles of all the extreme ups and downs also has made me super fond of equanimity, of sparing my energy for long-term activities, and keeping a level head through it all. So, the proverbial roller coasters of emotion that used to color my life — and in many ways propelled me through the world — don’t appeal to me anymore. Not in the least.

I’m past that. I’m not being all egotistical and look-at-how-evolved-I-am. It’s just how I feel. The kinds of controversial dramas that power endless spats on social media… not to mention the mainstream press… yeah, no thanks. Once upon a time, they were fuel for my engine.

No more.

Meh-nopause… yeah, that pretty much sums it up.

So, that being said, I’ve got to get going and finish up my preparation for this trip. I have another 3 hours before I need to leave. I need to give myself plenty of advance time, so I’m not rushed at the airport — no matter how often I go there, it still confuses me, and the activity and motion and loud noises are an incredible challenge (which I somehow manage to navigate satisfactorily). And I still need to pack my bags. I’m torn between taking a big-ass biographical tome by one of my favorite scientists, or sticking with the audiobooks on my phone. I always put a lot of thought into my choices, ahead of each trip, and oddly, things never seem to align with my intentions.

Well, anyway, I can’t worry about that. Gotta run…

Later, folks.