I Can't Be The Only One That Thinks Blogs Are Kinda Wierd, Right???

Black and white image of a person with curly hair looking up, their hand on a surface.

I feel like I'm the sort of person who grapples with one step forward and two steps back.

I'm doing well on my writing lately. I've been trying out some productivity hacks and I think they're working. My social life is doing okay. I have a decent routine going. I'm in a good headspace.

And then we brought up food in conversation.

Anyone that knows me knows food and by extension cooking cause me severe discomfort. I've got a lot of unresolved trauma around food linked to sensory aversions. Highly likely a mild case of ARFID, though I've never pursued it professionally. I have done better; I like olives and red peppers, lately I've enjoyed roasted cabbage and I tried coleslaw recently and didn't hate it. But then I realise I can't cook, or that during lunches I more often than not eat a slice of meat in between un-buttered bread and then claim I hate lunches. I waste a lot of money on store-brought foods and snacks and know I'm terrible with impulse buying. I want to learn to cook but I've had panic attacks in the past when I get overstimulated and stressed and when I'm hungry I can't think straight and nine times out of ten I just end up buying takeout that makes me feel worse.

Sorry...I meant it when I say unresolved feelings.

I think a lot of this is to do with my autism. I've described it to some people I know as never fully qualifying as an adjusted person. Being able to do certain things very well and others just always noticing that I'm lagging behind. It takes more steps and energy and even though I know I should be able to do these things without issue, internally there's a sense of limited bandwidth.

The autistic community call it spoon theory. Coined by Christine Miserandino in relation to Chronic Illness, it's the idea that every day we all have a certain amount of spoons. The spoons is energy. We do something, it takes away one spoon. We loose spoons until the end of the day when we can rest and, in theory, reset them. But for disabled and neurodivergent people the same interaction ends up being so full of intricacies and broken down into every individual sensation and action that we end up using lots of spoons for seemingly simple tasks.

I definitely ascribe to spoon theory in relation to my own autistic experience. I most often than not apply it to washing my hair. I have wavy-curly hair. It was a passing special interest that helped me learn my hair type and how to care for it, but washing it is EXHAUSTING! So a lot of the times I end up neglecting it until I know it's too greasy and it needs doing (today, in fact, I know I need to dedicate roughly 2 hours to doing this).

In short, at this stage of my life I grapple with the sense that I am not a master. I have weaknesses and things I don't know and I don't pretend to act like I'm an expert. I'm not. I might do certain things well but I feel like as a human I'm not complete yet. Content, sure. Maybe in the future I'll start to feel more full. Maybe I won't, and I'll just bluster along until I figure something out.

I don't necessarily view it as a problem though, because I know that my not-knowing is temporary. It's the pursuit of knowledge and practice and the awareness to say 'I don't know and I would like to start knowing' that means that these states are temporary. Take my hair- while I'm not perfect at washing it I'm better than I used to be. Take food- I may not be an expert home cook but I am at least trying new things.

I need to remind myself that the little steps count. Even if the big steps feel insurmountable. Everyone takes those little steps of self improvement, I just happened to take them a little later than those around me. That's not a bad thing, because the people I know are probably also taking their own little steps in life even if we're at different steps on the staircase.

I'll get there, to where I want to be. It'll just take time and I'm in no rush.

This has been a very long way to state that blogs are kind of wierd, aren't they?

At least for me they are, which is probably why I've felt so hesitant to start this one up. I've always felt a pressure that blogs are meant to be a space where you are an expert. Where you know a lot about a particular thing and you write about it confident that you know exactly what you're talking about.

I don't know a lot of things. I've read a good handful of books but considering the sheer range of material out there I wouldn't call myself an expert in reading. I might be able to convey what I enjoyed about a work or how I'd have done another work differently if I didn't like some of the choices made, but I'm not the authoritative voice everything writing. I know things about my own writing, too, but I'm not an expert in the writing craft.

But is anyone? I think we're all just making this up.

Writing for the sake of it, not out of any notion that we are perfect at it. Just doing it because why not? There's no rules. What rules exist can be broken as long as you can make it convincing. And what's a convincing story? A good story to one reader is the worst thing in existence to another.

That's why I've felt nervous about starting a blog, because I hate the notion that because I've started a blog I'm therefore an expert and need total conviction in everything I do and perfect knowledge to back it up.

I don't.

But maybe in fumbling around, I'll find something that works?