Hello, World!

I'm a 20-something professional who can't always speak.

Until earlier this year, that was a hidden weakness that could shatter me into pieces. I couldn't say things like "No, I'm not in the mood," or "Use a condom."

Then I discovered Autistic blogs and discussions online where other people who can't always mouthspeak talked about using alternate means of communication--often as simple as whipping out a smartphone or carrying a laptop around to talk.

The simple grace of their example is the freedom of my soul. I want to shout it from the rooftops, but I'm a selective mute so I'll blog about it instead.

Selective mutism, though a diagnosable condition on its own, is pretty clearly one manifestation of larger patterns of being in the world. I won't say that it's a symptom of an anxiety disorder because (1) I think that's only one lens that captures only part of the phenomenon, at least for me, and (2) I don't think having different communication needs/strengths is actually a problem--rather, the problem arises when those around the person don't respect those needs or allow them different ways.

So, what are my larger patterns?

I'm a 20-something professional who can't always move. When this was frequent and severely limiting me, in late high school and college, I heard the words "conversion disorder" as well as "depression with catatonic and vegetative symptoms." Since conversion disorder's in the anxiety category, that's more accurate in some sense, but again I think that's also only part of the phenomenon. I think my brain just can't always handle as much activity and emotion and sensory stimuli as I put it through, and uses some degree of catatonia as a way of giving me space to recover.

I had unbearable anxiety most of the time I was in school, usually paired with depression. No, really, my mother says I was a happy child until my personality completely changed, she thinks around the time I started school. Graduating from college into a stable job was the best thing that ever happened to my mental health. My anxiety was both academic and social, intensified by severely inadequate emotional support at home and inheritance by gene and example. Various symptoms of anxiety left their own long-lasting wounds, and I struggled for so many years.

I may or may not be on the autistic spectrum, but I'm definitely neurodivergent and indebted to the activism of my neurokin.

I am currently passing as both mentally and physically able, which can be almost the same thing as being nondisabled, but the gap there's significant. At the very least, I know that I am balanced precariously on the border between "functioning" by society's requirements and being unable to meet those norms that happen to entitle people to things like housing, food, and human dignity, so disability rights struggles are my own.

More? Well, you'll have to read this blog.