I am feverishly writing to you while voluntarily locked in the sun room.
Why?
Hubby is getting ready for Christmas by vacuuming every possible cobweb on ceiling corners to dust bunnies behind furniture. And the carpet too.
My back is tensing in on itself. I am rocking. I unplugged the phone because one more thing in my ears, my brain really, would hurt me–or so it feels.
Ah, the prep for Christmas.
Ringing Salvation Army bells. Stressing out in packed stores. People stressing out generally with Christmas plans.
If I were a child, I experience that too. Just because I have autism, I can “sense” that something is wrong just by the extreme change in activity. Yes, parents will be dripping with stressed sweat that falls on the children, but the change of the rest-of-the-year routine rocks my world.
What do we cook? Do do we get for who? Who is coming to town and staying with us? Isn’t Auntie allergic to the feather pillows in the guest room? We’ll have to run to Target to get some non-allergenic pillows. Do they carry them?
Meanwhile I sit and rock through all the questions and plans. I want to be in my corner and left alone! My breathing is shallow. I am clenching my teeth, which in turn has triggered a headache. I feel immobilized with the fight or flight response.
If I were a kid again, I would scream or worse.
