Spring is Breaking Forth

On childhood and being out of step with the violence of American society

Welcome to Healing is My Special Interest, the newsletter at the intersection of late diagnosed neurodivergence and healing from high control religions. Today’s essay is about the ways that children do and do not process the violence of the societies they are born into — lately I have been feeling more and more isolated from the media and the noise and the violence of our police state here in the US. I ended up reflecting on being a mother to sensitive children, my own childhood, connecting to nature, and more. Due to the personal nature of the essay, most of it is behind a paywall. If you are unable to afford a subscription but would like to be able to read this piece, please email me at strongwilledproject at gmail.com. For everyone else, I appreciate your support more than you know — and thanks for making it possible for me to give our free paid subscriptions.

can’t stop won’t stop taking pictures of trees in the spring

I had a really weird and honestly kind of shitty spring break.

Family of origin stuff hit the fan. Storms happened and beach trips were cancelled. There were sick friends and family members and taking care of each other's kids during a rainy week with no school . . . I definitely felt like a mom in Oregon during an authoritarian take over of my country, let me tell you.

I’ve been chafing at the constraints of reality lately. I have been wanting to zone out, disassociate. I had a stiff drink but all it did was give me a headache. I microdosed THC but all it did was make me sleepy. I tried to be distracted by mindless media but the truth of our situation keeps breaking in. I was anxious all week until the depression finally kicked in. Slowing me down, making me want to hide even more so than I normally do.

I’ve been the caregiver to my beautiful, incredible, smart autistic teenager for many years now. They often get depressed by the society they were born into — which makes a lot of sense to me. They are grieved by how our society treats women, queer people, Black and Indigenous people, immigrants and refugees, the poor, and the planet. They wonder how any of us will survive if we keep going on how we are, and they have since they were in 4th grade and figured out what the school shooting drills were actually about.

Much of my time is spent creating a home where we can rest and be peaceful and recover from the cruelties of the world. It is a full time job raising a sensitive smart autistic child whose mental health suffers due to the people in power and the propaganda they perpetuate.

This spring break I was reminded all over again that I am parenting my child through these unprecedented times while also re-parenting myself. Understanding, finally, that I was also a depressed and anxious teen who felt incredibly out of step with the values of American society. But the difference between my child and me is that nobody noticed my fear, anxiety, or depression as a child or a teen. In my home, I had no needs and no mental health issues. I couldn’t — there wasn’t space for me in a home that revolved around the mental health needs of my parent, nor could I have any needs that weren’t magically healed by praying to Jesus. If I was depressed and anxious by the ways our world worked, it meant I wasn’t trusting God enough. It meant I didn’t believe in the cult that my parents were a part of. It meant I was a traitor to everything they believed, and so I couldn’t be sad.

I couldn’t be depressed.

I couldn’t be anxious.

And so: nobody thought I was.