How I Really Feel About Turning 27

Hi everyone! It's been a while.

Turning 27 I had a lot of mixed feelings, especially with the state of the world atm, so I thought I'd write a little bit about it here to try and process how I feel. I had no idea it would trigger me.

Heading into the last phase of 2020, we are at the conclusion of another filler year, new for everyone else but for me the 3rd after dropping out of college because of mental illness and floating(embracing the uncertainty of minimally structured adult life without school), one that I didn't know was going to be one or was hoping I guess wouldn't be judging from my current progress of social development. 

I'd spent the past 2 years doing all I can to learn about myself and my mental illnesses, what exactly they are, what they entail, how they work and influence my thoughts, behaviors, and actions since I was a child, and now after 3 I know quite a fair amount. All without being officially diagnosed, which I believe is a privilege, expensive and not worth it to be misdiagnosed multiple times, common for females/people like me who spent their whole lives feeling like they were different and didn't figure it out until later on, might get officially diagnosed sometime in the future who knows, but the point is, after 3 years, even knowing quite a fair amount and doing all I can do on a personal level to learn to live with my neurology, sometimes, most times, really, OCPD, it feels like it's not enough. 

There's still so much about myself and life to discover, and even though I know so much and knew that I wouldn't be able to manage everything in such little time, most likely it will take the rest of my life, or a good chunk, learning to live with disability, all I can do I guess is just try my best to learn to live with it, now knowing.

Since I'm one of the only Colored Female Adult Autistics I've met in person, I want to be honest about the state of my life, in the hopes that my story will resonate with someone in a similar situation, help, and continue to make progress towards feeling peaceful about it, even amidst relentless OCPD perfectionism about being unable to be normal. I never was.

And that's fine, but life would be a hell of a lot easier if I wasn't writing this with an untreated sinus infection from the beginning of the year and struggling with executive function to keep my brains, which have felt like they've been slowly turning to mush in this pandemic, sharper. (One of my last goals to accomplish this year before we add a number.)

So, turning 27. Oh gosh. Mixed feelings^^'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' 

How do I feel about it? Well, at first, I guess a few months before my actual birthday, I was actually feeling pretty good about it. 26 was a struggle, and after working hard at my own pace I was looking forward to leaving it behind and upping a level. I enjoyed being 26, but the idea of 27 felt so much more official, more adult, while being 26, I still felt like somewhat of a kid. (Always been a late bloomer, and I'm okay with that:)' lies!*)

Anywho, it felt good to be a little older, while also keeping my eye out for 30. 

Typing it out however, was a bit of a shock. Crap. I'm 27. That's 3 years away from 30. What have I done with my life exactly? Not very much according to my OCPD. Logically feeling depressed kind of makes sense, but to feel so depressed and triggered staring at the number on my Instagram profile, so much so that I didn't even want to look at or acknowledge it when I logged on is kind of a travesty. (You should celebrate! No, I don't want to, even if we're in a pandemic💔)

I blew out a Polar Pizza with my family, Baskin Robbins version of a mint chocolate chip ice cream cake, had some Thanksgiving leftovers, and blanked out on the wish. I have no idea what I wished for when I turned 26, if anything, but I guess the only thing it made sense to wish for at the time was to be happy. (Not bad, right? Too generic?) And to do the same the next year, and the next year, and the next year...

And I guess that's all I want. The problem is though, that realistically, no idea who I'm channeling right now to get this blogging voice, is that happiness looks different and depends per person, and that is why being a young adult or more official adult is so stressful.

I want to be happy. Inner voice from the nethermost depths of your soul automatically whispers back: how? WELL, I don't really know^^'

But it's my job to find out

Dear Diary, I wasn't able to handle being in a relationship. And that's okay.

My first relationship came into being when I was 23, and ended in a train wreck when I was 24. I won't give too many details away out of respect for the person I was involved with, who I still love and care for very much, but as an undiagnosed high functioning autistic with extreme OCPD who is working her way up to being diagnosed and discovering a heck of a lot about herself, the experience left a huge mark on me.

All my life I've never been able to connect with people. When you factor in the fact that I was the loner obsessive career type who tends to avoid drama at all costs, especially because I knew I probably wouldn't be able to handle the emotional trauma and didn't know why, it boded well for me in the first quarter of my life.

I never liked anybody enough or wanted a relationship. I only knew that emotionally something wasn't quite right and things would only end badly. I've spent most of my life being "off," in a sense, only sticking to emotions I could handle and wouldn't create chaos in my world. Since I was young I numbed myself to survive in a world that was hectic because it was easier, and as I got older and started unraveling my mess, I was able to pull more emotions out and develop them into shoots.

When I started falling for the person I dated at 24, I had a lot of padlocks unfurled at my feet, but I wasn't looking for anybody to save me. When I started liking this person, it came as a complete surprise. I couldn't get away, kind of literally, and for the first time in my life I found myself actually wanting a relationship with somebody, who I may or may not have unrealistically seen as someone special.

I'm not that familiar with love in the autistic sense yet so someone enlighten me or recommend me some literature, but I thought I had nurtured enough emotional shoots to handle things, so I decided to give it a go. I had spent my entire life avoiding such circumstances. Watching other people get bit by the love bug and feeling relieved it didn't happen to me, but I have to admit I did wonder at times when exactly it would.

The fact that it happened at 24 is a little abnormal, but everyone has their own timeframe. For the first time in my life there were hearts in my eyes and I couldn't help but think wow. The relationship officially lasted 1 month. It was sweet, but also horrifyingly stressful. I did not know that being in a relationship would trigger my mental illnesses so much.

The newness of the situations I was in and emotional homework lended itself to be such a burden at times that it was difficult to think straight and I was left in whorls of pain and infatuation. I really liked this person. And by some miracle, they liked me. But it was bad timing.

I was still unpacking myself. And it couldn't be helped. When it was over I experienced heartbreak again, x2, for friend and more, gets easier the second time around, and the emotional distress made some of my symptoms get worse, even brought up a new one which I didn't even know I had, I lightly touched an open book to my forehead while thinking about it and ended up almost banging my fist on my forehead repeatedly, but I survived. I don't regret it.

In that way, my first love story ended. I loved the person, but it wasn't the right time. I hope they are doing well:)