Once upon a time, only a few short months ago, I was a rockstar.

That’s right.

A rockstar.

I exercised.

I ate right.

I took my supplements.

I cooked meals from scratch, whipped up amazing homeschool unit studies lickety split, all the while volunteering in my community, being a great friend, staying present and engaged with my children.

Sometimes, even I was amazed at how I kept all of the balls in the air.  I must have had some magical powers.

Then one day I derailed.  I was thrown totally off course. I was running a race, keeping up the pace and suddenly the wind was knocked out of me.

I had seen myself, the other half of my very soul, walking around outside of my body.

My heart was elsewhere.

I was more alone and less alone than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

It was both the very best and very worst thing that has ever happened to me.

And yet the stars were aligning elsewhere in my life.

Theater opportunities, a chance to teach an art class, girl friends who cared.

None of it mattered.

I stopped seeing anything else except the thing.  The derailment.

The thing that gave me all of the purpose in the world while simultaneously taking any and all purpose away from me.

I had tunnel vision.

I no longer ate, I no longer slept, I no longer exercised, and I certainly wasn’t doing a very good job of being present for any of the people in my home and circle of friends.

I became worthless.

When my husband married me, we didn’t know I had asperger’s.  We didn’t know that I’d be this way.  This extremely sensitive and creative and loving and kind spirit who also couldn’t ever actually mature past her teen years.  Who had poor judgment and even poorer boundaries.  Who loved so hard that it would eventually do her in.  We just didn’t know.

I hate trapping him.

I hate making him miserable and frustrated and alone.

I hate being derailed.

I’m forever changed.

All I want is to be able to go back to being who I was before.  This supermom who appeared to have her act together, more or less.  This girl in a woman’s body who just wanted someone to see her, actually see her, and say, “I get it, I live it, and I love you even more for it.”

Connection is so powerful.  Especially when you aren’t used to having it. Especially when you’ve spent 37 years wandering this earth, feeling like an alien, and finally finding home.

There is no way to recover from that.

I am alone.

And I always will be.


3 thoughts on “Derailed

  1. My wife was in her late 30s when she discovered she has Asperger’s. It’s brought us closer together and I think has allowed her to connect with the world in ways she never could have imagined. You may begin to see this world through slightly more exacting Aspie eyes but I don’t think you’ll be alone. 🙂

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