I want to say that some of my writings might seem dark. I understand this perception. There might be an element of hopelessness. In these writings, I express what is incredibly important on this journey. Releasing via words has been vital. Three months ago, I received an autistic diagnosis. This process of writing my feelings and revelations has given birth to a new kind of healing. 

Another important aspect for me in the first days after diagnosis was reading other neurodivergent blogs. I also read social media posts and listened to podcasts. It was at first the only thing that calmed my fresh new anxiety. The idea that what I was experiencing was normal. That I was not alone, and maybe for the first time was right where I belonged. For a woman who was highly masked and received a late diagnosis, my whole life changed with an autism diagnosis. That experience helped me find a sliver of hope. 

*I capitalize the word when I am speaking of the Divine Love that provides for us, and I choose not to capitalize when I am using hope as a feeling of positive expectation.

My intention in sharing my experiences is not to highlight the negative sides of a diagnosis. I definitely do not intend to show the negative sides of being diagnosed autistic. But simply to show my experience so that I can release it into the ether. Maybe I might help somebody else understand that it’s OK to feel what you’re feeling. No matter what it is that you may be experiencing. To be sure, to exist as a human these days can be challenging.

In addiction recovery I needed to learn about hopelessness and how close it is in relation to Hope. If you know me in real life, you know I carry a message of Hope always. This is true in my recovery circles as well. I regularly sound much more positive than I do in the writings that relate to my late diagnosis. But that is only because it is what I’m going through right now. It is honest this space, and it is authentic.

The true revelations I feel to my core are a result of not knowing I was autistic my whole life. That I must now decipher between the masks and who I actually am. These are also the great mysteries. I suddenly know my true nature more than I ever have. However, I am not sure what parts will persist as these veils continue to fall. I have come to understand that two beliefs can be true at the same time. I can be full of gratitude and grief all at once.

I know the pain I am experiencing won’t last forever. I also desperately need to document the roller coaster of emotions so that I can process what is happening. These open-ended love letters of pain and processing that I send out. Thank you for receiving them. Or not. The beauty is, it doesn’t matter. I am not writing for any other reason but to keep healing.

The truth is the diagnosis involves everything. It has meant everything. My whole life has started to make more sense. There are absolutely beautiful parts of my life that I am so grateful for. I will never unblend my life experience from my autism. Similarly, I will always be an alcoholic. I know these truths now. Acceptance of who I am is bittersweet yet nourishing.

I look on with wonder towards the future. There is hope that my emotions will continue to evolve as I continue to understand myself. Maybe my grief will change shape and dimension as it has previously in life. Sadness give way to freedom. Emptiness might become full again. What will life look like to live as a sober recovered alcoholic, and autistic individual? This life is indeed a wild ride.

When reflecting on the idea of Hope, I must remember its origin. It was borne from a state of pure hopelessness during my active addiction. Then it got worse. I got really desperate, so desperate that I was drinking to die. There was no way out of that I was certain. Or so I thought. I balanced on a knifes edge of giving up or coming into recovery. I have seen many on this edge. At any moment, it can go either way. Many of us do not make it in, out of that darkness.

It was in the absolute depths of addiction enslavement that I did truly surrender for the first time. I became open to accepting the help available. This was my first turn towards the Light during a very dark time in my life. On the outside it would have appeared that I was accepting human help. But truly it was surrender to the Divine Love that sustains me today. Even in the most perplexing of emotional depths, I am no longer alone.

So the hopelessness I felt was actually the beginning of a new life. I was in the crucible of transformation. Who knew that drinking yourself to death, that brand of hopelessness, could be so beautiful? But beautiful only because I made the change.

In rehab, I shared one evening where I had come from. I talked about the state I was in just a few weeks prior. A woman I will never forget had tears well up. At the time, I did not understand her. She looked at me with deep love, gratitude and faith. She told me that I was “finally hopeless.” For an alcoholic, that state is the closest you can get to reaching out for help. It is done with the absolute fervor of desperation. I thought for sure she was crazy. But in fact, it was my first lesson in hopelessness. I learned it is only a whisper’s distance away from real hope.

I am not foolish enough to think that spiritual growth comes in pretty packages of ‘enlightenment’. Perfect social media reels of Love & Light. The path is grueling at times. Growth is painful. Learning about ourselves is challenging. We explore our deepest identifications with who we think we are. It’s like looking into the depths of one’s soul. We hope not to fall into the abyss. Those misconceptions of who we were often get smashed. We are left raw, vulnerable, without protective armor. This is where the transformation happens. I am unaffraid of the darkness as I have walked through it many times. If I stay on the path of devotion, I will come out changed. I know I can remain aligned to spiritual values.

I desperately needed the idea of hope during the first several years of recovery. I needed it to keep getting better. I needed to keep enacting change. The point I was at was unsustainable and unacceptable. So, the idea of hope meant something new and different, better than where I sat at that moment. Hope means an anticipated change away from your current station. A change from where you currently are. And that was certainly necessary for quite some time. 

“Ye tang che means totally tired out. We might say “totally fed up.” It describes an experience of complete hopelessness, of completely giving up hope. This is an important point. This is the beginning of the beginning. Without giving up hope – that there’s somewhere better to be, that there’s someone better to be – we will never relax with where we are or who we are”

Pema Chödrön

Overtime, my faith and spiritual connection evolved. As I grew, it was no longer useful to want to be something else or be somewhere else. To be a different person. Around that time, I reread the book by Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart. I was re-introduced to the idea that we should abandon all hope of a better future. This is the only life that we have right here, right now. The invitation is to be present with it. Endlessly wanting to be somewhere else, living in someone else’s skin with someone else’s mind. The obsession to live some other life ruins the life we are actually gifted.

The spiritual path is about living the life that we were born into this go around. Maybe at some stage even finding gratitude for the lessons. The beauty even in the difficulties. Eventually this became my framework. That every challenge was a blessing meant for my growth and development. If only I choose to accept the lessons as they come, and they always come right on time.

As I have evolved and grown, I have found the balance between the energy of Hope that I find lovely. I have also embraced the idea of abandoning all hope of a different life. The devotional practices teach me how to be in the present moment and find my way through, never around circumstances. Presence through mindfulness. Presence through meditation. Honoring the people I spend time with my being fully with them. Seeking out opportunities to be of service to others. Replacing fear with Faith. Faith that I will find myself in exactly the places I need to be, if I remain open. With little expectation of what will come of it. When I take these actions, I am always pleasantly surprised. The results come not from hoping, but from believing.

Words fail to express the sustainable and deep love I now have in my heart. I have been given the gift of a second life or maybe even a third. From an unwell, sick and deadly life of addiction I have been reborn into a life of wonder. It’s not always easy living with autism nor as an alcoholic in recovery. It is daily work. But it is magnificent.

I have had challenges my entire life. But I get to observe my life now in absolute awe of a path unfolding. I get to witness growth and understanding of oneself and of others I share this path with. And yet, I have so much to learn. In the end I continue to be humbled in a most beautiful way. For this and all that is yet to come, I give thanks.