Yeah I totally agree and thank you for sharing all of that because I relate to all of that. I know it's really hard to step away especially when you're in autistic burnout and you have to produce anyway and you're really hyper aware of the sands in the hourglass, so to speak. It sounds like you're going through it but you're just trying really hard to continue to create and do things that feel inspiring that you feel connected to. Good luck on the book. Keep me posted and I hope you get some rest today as well
The connections piece feels key for me. And at the same time connections fall away as our worlds get smaller when the reckoning comes between the demands of life and what these ND body systems can hold. That’s where I’m at….and I haven’t been able yet to imagine how to gain connection, reduce isolation, only to sadly see it growing.
Except with beyond human supports and allies! I like that about your work Patrick thay you uplift the animals in your life. The imaginal realm is saving me too right now.
As you are undoubtedly all too aware, the data support you about our shortened life spans. ND people tend to have life spans 5-15 years shorter than average (if I'm remembering the studies correctly). A lot of this is the cumulative toll of chronic stress on the body, cardiovascular system, and nervous system. Some of it is unhealthy coping strategies - drinking, smoking, drugs, junk food, etc. Some of it is that many of us are genuinely not good, or avoidant, about the healthy habits that keep people alive longer - exercise, social connection, laughter. (Raising my hand big time on that one.) And some of it is, frankly, that we're many times more likely to take our own lives. Life is just painful when you're ND and carry complex trauma and "all the things." Often, to me, it feels heroic just to get up and face another day, and say "not today, Satan. Not today."
I'm 58, and all too aware of the fact that 60 is stalking me, like a hungry cougar in tall grass. (I suppose I could reduce my stress by envisioning 60 more as a baby deer who thinks I'm its momma.) And like you, I'm producing as if there's no tomorrow, on many fronts. Part of this is sheer panic, just trying to survive as a solopreneur in an economy that is getting harder and harder to survive. Part of this, though, is the sense that I'm running out of time, that the hourglass is just about out of sand and I really don't know if the universe or God or Death or whoever is up there is going to flip it one more time. My grandfather died at 63. (Granted, he was a printer, and handling lead type for 40 years thinned his heart walls. Printers tend to die young.)
I've been seeing, on average, 30 therapy clients a week. I know that's crazy and unsustainable, but with just 3 things - mortgage, health insurance, and car payment - eating up 70% of my net income, I don't feel much choice. I've also been writing like a madman, trying to get my book done after so many years of just puttering about with it. 180 pages in the past 3 weeks alone. Plus getting more writing out on Substack and elsewhere, and trying to grow my business and possibly hire more therapists who do the kind of ND-affirming, trauma-focused therapy that I do. Networking. Getting on podcasts to talk about ND affirming care. Trying to get on more speaking gigs. Offering trainings for employers, schools, parenting coops, medical practices, and so on.
As my grandfather would say, I'm "busier than a one-armed paper hanger." And I'm always, always, exhausted. And I really can't afford to stop.
One of the cruelest things about autistic burnout that we don't mention enough is that often we don't have any choice but to keep going. There's no safety net that would allow us to just pause, and rest. Talking about it like that is a form of, a reflection of, real privilege. Even as a relatively affluent white man, I don't have a safety net. I'm a single parent to three teenage boys and a dog, and I have to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. If I go down, it all goes down. There's really no time to rest, even though I know the stress is literally taking years off my life. And this economy, and the current regime in the US, is only making it harder.
I wish you a long life, Patrick. We need you. And we need you to pace yourself, if you can. Yes, I love all the things you put out into the world. And, even if you stopped everything today and never wrote another word, never led another workshop, never recorded another podcast or YouTube video, you've already changed the world for the better in profound ways. I doubt you have any idea what kind of impact you've already had.
As my dad would say, "You make your family and your country proud." I'm glad I found your voice, a few years ago when I started listening (religiously) to Divergent Conversations. Thank you for all that you do.
It's one thing to know life is short and quite another to feel it in the body. Most of us hold mortality at arm's length until something won't let us. You've been living with it up close for a while now. Your words show you know the difference. Not urgency for urgency's sake, but a real accounting of what you want to have made. The answer to Hamilton's question, in your case, seems to be: because you always knew 💚.
Yeah I totally agree and thank you for sharing all of that because I relate to all of that. I know it's really hard to step away especially when you're in autistic burnout and you have to produce anyway and you're really hyper aware of the sands in the hourglass, so to speak. It sounds like you're going through it but you're just trying really hard to continue to create and do things that feel inspiring that you feel connected to. Good luck on the book. Keep me posted and I hope you get some rest today as well
The connections piece feels key for me. And at the same time connections fall away as our worlds get smaller when the reckoning comes between the demands of life and what these ND body systems can hold. That’s where I’m at….and I haven’t been able yet to imagine how to gain connection, reduce isolation, only to sadly see it growing.
Except with beyond human supports and allies! I like that about your work Patrick thay you uplift the animals in your life. The imaginal realm is saving me too right now.
Hamilton is, indeed, a masterpiece.
As you are undoubtedly all too aware, the data support you about our shortened life spans. ND people tend to have life spans 5-15 years shorter than average (if I'm remembering the studies correctly). A lot of this is the cumulative toll of chronic stress on the body, cardiovascular system, and nervous system. Some of it is unhealthy coping strategies - drinking, smoking, drugs, junk food, etc. Some of it is that many of us are genuinely not good, or avoidant, about the healthy habits that keep people alive longer - exercise, social connection, laughter. (Raising my hand big time on that one.) And some of it is, frankly, that we're many times more likely to take our own lives. Life is just painful when you're ND and carry complex trauma and "all the things." Often, to me, it feels heroic just to get up and face another day, and say "not today, Satan. Not today."
I'm 58, and all too aware of the fact that 60 is stalking me, like a hungry cougar in tall grass. (I suppose I could reduce my stress by envisioning 60 more as a baby deer who thinks I'm its momma.) And like you, I'm producing as if there's no tomorrow, on many fronts. Part of this is sheer panic, just trying to survive as a solopreneur in an economy that is getting harder and harder to survive. Part of this, though, is the sense that I'm running out of time, that the hourglass is just about out of sand and I really don't know if the universe or God or Death or whoever is up there is going to flip it one more time. My grandfather died at 63. (Granted, he was a printer, and handling lead type for 40 years thinned his heart walls. Printers tend to die young.)
I've been seeing, on average, 30 therapy clients a week. I know that's crazy and unsustainable, but with just 3 things - mortgage, health insurance, and car payment - eating up 70% of my net income, I don't feel much choice. I've also been writing like a madman, trying to get my book done after so many years of just puttering about with it. 180 pages in the past 3 weeks alone. Plus getting more writing out on Substack and elsewhere, and trying to grow my business and possibly hire more therapists who do the kind of ND-affirming, trauma-focused therapy that I do. Networking. Getting on podcasts to talk about ND affirming care. Trying to get on more speaking gigs. Offering trainings for employers, schools, parenting coops, medical practices, and so on.
As my grandfather would say, I'm "busier than a one-armed paper hanger." And I'm always, always, exhausted. And I really can't afford to stop.
One of the cruelest things about autistic burnout that we don't mention enough is that often we don't have any choice but to keep going. There's no safety net that would allow us to just pause, and rest. Talking about it like that is a form of, a reflection of, real privilege. Even as a relatively affluent white man, I don't have a safety net. I'm a single parent to three teenage boys and a dog, and I have to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. If I go down, it all goes down. There's really no time to rest, even though I know the stress is literally taking years off my life. And this economy, and the current regime in the US, is only making it harder.
I wish you a long life, Patrick. We need you. And we need you to pace yourself, if you can. Yes, I love all the things you put out into the world. And, even if you stopped everything today and never wrote another word, never led another workshop, never recorded another podcast or YouTube video, you've already changed the world for the better in profound ways. I doubt you have any idea what kind of impact you've already had.
As my dad would say, "You make your family and your country proud." I'm glad I found your voice, a few years ago when I started listening (religiously) to Divergent Conversations. Thank you for all that you do.
Now, go take a nap. :) It's Sunday.
It's one thing to know life is short and quite another to feel it in the body. Most of us hold mortality at arm's length until something won't let us. You've been living with it up close for a while now. Your words show you know the difference. Not urgency for urgency's sake, but a real accounting of what you want to have made. The answer to Hamilton's question, in your case, seems to be: because you always knew 💚.
Thank you
Can fully relate, we just have today
Thank you. Yeah I completely agree. ❤️