I’m a Curmudgeon (And now I know why!!)

#TransparentTuesday

Hi friend,

When I was a teenager, I was incredibly irritable about… well, kind of everything.

I had a very long list of things I hated, and I would go on these long tirades condemning the ridiculous rules and expectations that society imposed upon us.

Some of the things I set myself against in protest back then still make sense to me to some degree, because even though I’m (thankfully) much less curmudgeonly about life nowadays, there was some kernel of truth to my fervent views. 

For example, a few of my hotter takes were that:

• We shouldn’t have formal events or dress codes, because it’s pretentious and draconian to insist that people have to dress up in weirdly gendered and uncomfortable clothes in order to participate.

• We shouldn’t celebrate national holidays, especially the ones whose histories are problematic, and that the expectation of giving gifts on holidays shouldn’t exist, because we should simply give gifts to people we care about when the mood strikes us, or when we come up with an idea that will make them happy.

• Weddings shouldn’t be a thing, because marriage is an oppressive construct rooted in male ownership over women… and also because the billion dollar wedding industry takes advantage of the fact that society teaches women that getting married is the most important thing she’ll ever do in her life, and that she only gets one day in her whole life where it’s ok to take up space and be centered and celebrated. 

See what I mean about the kernel of truth? 

My life is undoubtedly way better off now for having made a certain amount of peace with a lot of society’s rules, but I can still look back and understand why younger me was so annoyed about everything, since a lot of my criticisms about society came from an intuitive sense of justice.

Some of my anger came from the internal friction I felt between what society expected of me, and what felt authentic— for example, I was pissed off that women were “supposed to” look feminine, obsess over their weight, be sweet and demure, love weddings, and long to be mothers. 

These gripes were personal, of course, and were rooted in both my core values and my sense of myself as a person. (And it’s certainly not a coincidence that I went on to build an entire body of work around how to cast off societal expectations and live authentically!)

That said, not all of my cantankerous takes withstood the aging process, and many of the things that used to get me all hot and bothered now seem pointless or confusing.

Some of my grievances waned because I came to see them as benign and innocuous, like wearing shoes, or needing to say “please” and “thank you.” Some faded because I came to actually find joy or pleasure in them, like practicing good hygiene, or having a beautifully decorated or clean home. And some I’ve let go just because I just don’t have the energy to resist everything anymore, like the prevalence of certain “chivalrous” behaviors, or the fact that we have to work to make money in order to live. 

Don’t get me wrong though, it’s not like I totally “outgrew” the ability to get irrationality mad at stuff that doesn’t matter. I can, and do, get mad about pointless stuff all the time. 

Recently however, I’ve been realizing that every single pointless thing that irritates me shares one thing in common: a sense that someone is attempting to violate my autonomy or invade my personal self-determination in some way.

For example, when the cashier tells me to have a nice day, an irritable little voice pops up in my head to grumble “don’t tell me what kind of day to have!” Same goes for every time someone tells me things like “enjoy every moment,” “calm down,” or “have a safe flight,” and god forbid someone try to encourage me by saying something like “you’ve got this!” or “you can do it!”

I don’t say the irritable thing out loud or anything, but it’s always there, and apparently always ready to protect me from the ever-present threat of other people’s expectations, suggestions, well-wishes, and good-natured pleasantries. 

How dare you tell me how to feel, or infringe on my right to be as safe (or unsafe) as feels right for me? It’s nobody else’s business what kind of day I have, and I’m perfectly capable of figuring out what I can and can’t accomplish without anyone else weighing in. 

For the record, I am fully aware of how ridiculous this sounds, and if you’re bristling at my rudeness while you read these thoughts dear read, I agree with you. In general, I keep these thoughts to myself because they arrive simultaneously with an awareness of the other person’s good intentions. 

Put another way, I’m not judging the other person in these scenarios, or thinking that they’ve done anything wrong. It’s just a kneejerk reaction that arises from deep within me, at the slightest perception that my own sovereignty or self-governance is being challenged. 

This part of my mind is as old as I am, and has been utterly untouched by decades of therapy, healing, and personal growth work. So when I recently learned about an autistic profile called “Pathological Demand Avoidance,” I was immediately intrigued. 

(So intrigued, in fact, that I’ve decided to make it the topic for this month’s $5 Patreon Community Zoom Call– join us Monday Sept 1st at 1pm ET to learn more!)

In short, Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA) is an autism-related profile often described as a pervasive drive for autonomy, and characterized by an extreme need to maintain control and resist external demands or expectations. 

There is still so much more to learn and discover—both for me personally and in the field of neurodiversity and mental health—but if I’m being completely honest, learning about PDA has completely flipped my world upside down in the best possible way. 

Because we can’t truly accept something we don’t understand, or have a name for, and I am beyond excited at the possibility of introducing both into an area I’ve been wondering about for nearly 40 years.

Curious to learn more about PDA, autism, or the link between neurodivergence and highly sensitive people (HSP)? Come join me on Patreon!

• At the $5 level you can join our community zoom call on Sept 1st about PDA.

• At the $25 level, you’ll get the final bonus module from my self-study course for HSP called Highly Sensitive & Thriving (publishing in September!), in which I interview an expert on what she calls the “HSP-to-autism pipeline” in her private practice as a therapist.

Cheers to continually learning, growing, evolving, and accepting ourselves!

Big hug,

Jessi