What was left out from the above definition is that for some this condition becomes permanent because trauma early on went unprocessed. With age some aspects are greatly relieved, while others become more challenging .
The rattle of others around me shakes me to my core,. With spring’s awakening the solace of nature is needed, but there’s no time for that. I arranged for my women’s group to meet the same weekend as my birthday, which also means a celebration with son Shane, and grand-kids. At my insistence both were at my house. Of course that is too much, will I never learn? Or more true, will I ever accept my limitations?
My harsh voice says, “Leave it to me to make happy events into a problem.”
The gentler more accurate voice says, My life, my body, my easily overstimulated being cannot handle things like others do. It is medical condition, not a reflection on you. Yet feelings of inadequacy, and being different take hold.
A well of sad defeat rises as my eyes mist. You must accept your limits and needs. But how does one do that when trained to stay mute about them because it pleases others not to hear? That challenge is accompanied by the driving, continual desire to do what others so seemingly easily do.
Spring itself has caused upheaval in my ability to sleep, as all the seasons do. Tiredness mucks up all else disconnecting me sharply from my body. Today, recovery from a system overloaded and overwhelmed. No pushing, just being; puttering around the house, a slow walk to the water after the rains, meditation, and perhaps more laps later. Quiet the critic who says do more.