Living The Temu Version of My Dreams
I'm a dreamer. I always have been, but after years of hustling my ass off and only receiving the Temu version of those dreams...I have kind of turned into a cynical asshole. The reality is, I think I was a bit naive. I always had this hope that one day I would be able to overcome my anxiety and be able to do the things I wanted to do. I always thought: one day.
One day, I will overcome my anxiety so that I can travel the world.
One day, I will overcome my social anxiety and be my true self around people so I can have the friends I always wanted.
One day, I will overcome my anxiety so that I can do what I love for a living.
One day, I will overcome my anxiety so that I can make a name for myself and make my parents proud.
But now that I am approaching 40, I am realizing that one day is never going to come. I've been in therapy for 20 years, tried numerous medications, including ketamine, TMS, and an IOP program for anxiety/OCD, and the reality is hitting me right in my fucking silicone balls.
There is no one day. This is my fucking life, and unless I want to spend the rest of it absolutely miserable, I need to meet myself where I am at. This is me, whether I like it or not. I can't keep living life devoid of joy, feeling like I am swimming upstream.
My whole life, I have never felt like I was enough. I always felt like I had something to prove. Whatever I set out to do, I put my whole heart and soul into. Sure, this was also partially due to the autism special interest focus, but it was also because I thought I had to earn love. (Thanks, boomer parents.)
Realizing and accepting that I have REAL limitations hasn't been easy. Part of me wants to rebel and push harder as if I were trying to prove my childhood bully wrong (a.ka. my Mom), but this is real, and if I keep trying to prove it wrong, I will only push myself deeper into the depression hole. There are still parts of me that don't want to accept it, but on the other hand, I'm not a fucking machine, and humans have limits. Autistic or not.
I am sure there are plenty of people out there who have tried to prove Simon Cowell wrong when he told them they were an awful singer, but did that actually get them anything besides more embarrassment?
Sometimes limits are not there to prevent you from doing things; they are there to help you realize your strengths so you can put your energy and focus in the right place.
So I may not like to accept that I have limits, but part of me wonders what life could be like if I stopped trying to push myself through everything and let myself float downstream for a bit. Maybe the path to my dreams isn't what I expected, but that doesn't mean that I failed, or that life sucks.
Sometimes the detour is the better route.