Low Key Wit Sec

Tomorrow, he graduates.

I’m experiencing all kinds of weird emotions. I’m so proud of both of us that he doesn’t need me in the fulsome, parental way. I’m so proud of his achievements and who he is in his heart and to the world. He’s a better person than I am, all day long.

But I’m also doing some scary thinking about what this means about me. I’ve had these two full-time jobs for the last 21 years (beginning with when his big brother entered my life) and now, I’m about to convert one of those roles to be a bit more part-time / on-demand / ad hoc, at best.

What should I expect? What things are going to blindside me this summer? How do I prepare myself for this new chapter?

Women: don’t skip your mammograms.

Mine are “always clean” and I’ve taken for granted the fact that I’ve come this far without experiencing what happened this week.

Abnormal mammogram alarms hit your online health portal first. Unfiltered. It’s just an email. You get the raw feed straight from the radiologist reading the images. No bedside manner is involved in this memorandum. Lots of technical language.

So, you begin Googling to understand because you never went to medical school. That is not a good idea.

If you’re an American, you convert centimeters to inches so you can understand what you’re dealing with.

Then you call your referring doctor. You get the scheduler. She tells you that your doctor is out for the day and the nurse is with a patient, but will call tomorrow.

So, it’s tomorrow. You call to ask when to expect the doctor to call in an effort to reduce your stress and allow yourself to actually do something outside of waiting for the hotline. It’s an extra busy day in the doctor’s office, so it won’t be until the afternoon.

Then it’s a nurse who calls and says the doctor wants another mammogram (this one is “diagnostic”) and an ultrasound. But we are running out of time in the day/week so you should hear back with more information Monday.

Oh, try not to worry in the meantime.

You know that moment when it is 4:30 PM the day before a huge deliverable / presentation / milestone where you must succeed and be excellent and prove your worth? Where just until a second ago, you were stressed and convinced you’d be working late and up early tomorrow, still using every available second until “go time”?

And then, out of nowhere you are oddly, deeply calm and confident. You may even be thinking of shopping for a new lipstick or meeting your mom for a fancy coffee. You somehow have snapped into, “I got this” mode, even though YOUR WORK IS NOT DONE!?!?

What is this phenomenon? Is there a name for this (maybe inappropriate) last minute confidence of a serious procrastinator with a list of tasks that need to be accomplished in the next 19 hours?

I cannot decide if this is a good and healthy sign of readiness and time to take a normal person break or if it’s delusional and overconfident and ADHD tricking me into relaxing too soon.

I want to get some smart, informed, and more experienced advice from this group.

Several months ago, a close friend and his adult son with autism had an argument on the phone. I overheard the exchange as my friend was in my home when it happened.

I’ll spare the details, but it was emotionally charged, deeply personal and raw, and felt like the son’s side of the argument was heavily influenced by a third party — my friend’s ex-wife, who has a low opinion of my friend. It did not sound like the son was himself. At moments in the conversation, I was implicated in a handful of the insulting comments the son made. It completely took me off-guard.

This was an emotional rollercoaster for me as I’m not at all accustomed to that kind of quickly escalating conversation between a parent and a child. It seriously disregulated me to be even somewhat of a target like this and the call left me anxious with a tight jaw / stiff body reaction. I could not shake it. I locked down.

Ultimately, the father and son stopped phone and text communications abruptly, blocked one another online, and were in what was either a stand-off or a cooling-off period.

This was the case until this weekend when I was on my way to dinner in the car with my friend and he shared that we would be meeting his son and daughter at the restaurant.

I felt ambushed without an opportunity to decline to go as we were already en route. He assured me that he had spoken to his son and told him not to bring up the argument. This was my friend’s idea of a fresh start — a clean slate of sorts. It was not a clean slate for me. I learned this was how the family had handled this kind of thing before.

I felt my body lock up all over again in the car. I could feel myself turning inside myself and shutting down in some way. I do not hide my feelings well and told my friend I was concerned about this dinner. He told me not to worry, that the topic would not come up at the restaurant.

That reassurance did not change how I felt. It seemed to be beside the point entirely. I was not only reacting on my friend’s behalf, I was reacting on my own behalf. I was surprised by the seemingly overnight resolution of a months-long lockout. I was braced in some kind of deep PTSD — a familiar freeze response I have not felt in a very long time.

At dinner, it was surreal. There were hugs and “I missed you” comments from both men. Both seemed to have gotten over it quickly without residue. The daughter looked relieved. I was clearly the only uncomfortable one and I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I barely spoke. The whole scene felt entirely disingenuous.

The son addressed me directly several times in a spirited, happy tone and I found I could almost not even make eye contact. This was not an aggressive posture on my part. I was somehow frozen in my head. I was experiencing deep confusion in the moment. Nothing made sense. It did not resemble any family dynamic I know. I was absolutely not relaxed.

Today, I learned that my friend’s daughter reported that I was “cold” and “disrespectful.” She recounted that the son had told me, “I really missed you and Dad, Jennifer.” All I said in reply was, “Your dad really missed you, too.” It was all I had.

I think one good thing to come out of this is that I witnessed that I no longer work hard to make everyone else comfortable first. This is a real-life example of me not masking or people pleasing; that’s a huge accomplishment for me.

But now I have no idea what to do next. I don’t feel that I owe anyone an apology for not going along with this, acting like nothing happened. My memory is long. My feelings are valid. My boundary was up.

But, people didn’t like my boundary. Now, I’m the one who looks like I’m making a big deal out of nothing. Meanwhile, no one in my universe would ever expect to insult me and then tell me he missed me and have me be cool with everything. But, I don’t know many autistic adults. So maybe I’m the ass here.

In short, AITA here for holding the son to some standard of decorum and being angry that I was essentially surprised by my friend with this dinner? Do I owe anyone an explanation? Am I being insensitive or overly sensitive?

At one point, he asked me about the difference between vernacular, parlance and lexicon.

At one point, he told me about his most recent (actual) dream. It was cinematic and sounded like it was right out of The Matrix.

At one point, he asked how I chose my college major.

At one point, he showed me Discord directories he and his girlfriend share: fun date ideas, movies they want to watch together, and potential costume ideas if they were to ever be invited to a party where such a thing were required.