Drawing The Line: Artist Red Siri0
No one beats themselves up the way a neurodivergent person can—usually for perceived character flaws that are really just responses to living in a neurotypical world. We are purveyors of punishments so creatively twisted that they would make a dungeon master blush.
Though I work diligently at being kind to myself, I am often no different. I know that “try harder” is not the answer to any question, no matter how much my internalized ableism wants it to be the answer to every question. However, I had a moment a few weeks ago that gave me a different way to frame those times where I’m usually rushing to get out the whips and chains.
I’m calling this reframe: emotional physics.
Here’s how it started: I was working on an arts grant application. I know this application is a longshot—they were asking for proofs of success in my career that I may not have for another ten years. With each request for a reference or educational history I don’t have, I gritted my teeth and just kept typing.
The me of just a very few years ago would not have even started this application, but the me of today was strangely undaunted. As I worked on the first draft of my cover letter, I was filled with the certainty that this was not beyond my reach and that I wasn’t wasting my time to try. It was like one of those cartoons where golden epiphany light emanates from the character’s chest, even as the final battle scene rages around them. I worked for two hours in this expansive glow of confidence.
The next morning was Saturday, and as I scrolled Instagram in bed the thought drifted in: “You are delusional to think they’re going to give you money when there are so many more talented artists out there.”
Usually, the story after a thought like this goes embarrassment, maybe a little sadness nap, followed by carbs in my pajamas instead of all the other actually life-giving things I had planned for the day (no shade to carbs in pajamas though—when it’s not a punishment, carbs in pajamas is almost my favorite sport).
Instead, I put down my phone, stared at the ceiling, and really felt it for a few minutes. It was a little embarrassing to be so confident with so few proof points. I felt guilty for the time this application was taking away from my art and even a little sad at how long it would probably take me to reach the level of professional success they would consider worthy of their money.
Feeling my feelings in the moment is not always an experience that’s available to me, but it’s also not the most interesting part of the story. A new thought rolled in as I lay there: “I bet this is the contraction to yesterday’s expansion.”
Now, I was never the stereotypical autistic with the science mind in school, so don’t hate me for not knowing the scientific physics, but I first learned about the emotional principle of expand and contract through conscious dance.
In simple terms, just like a rubber band, no human expands infinitely. We stretch and snap back by design, not because we’ve failed. In the same way, every personal or spiritual expansion comes with a contraction. I had spent the night before REALLY believing and trusting my intuitive knowing—I was bound to feel some doubt this morning. For the neurodivergents reading this, it is akin to the feeling of going into recovery mode after too much socializing.
The profound nature of this realization and how long I’d been working toward it really floored me. I got up to make breakfast, not feeling at all punish-y for being insecure. In fact, the dark cloud of a few minutes ago had passed completely. For the first time in conscious memory, I saw an emotional state as a somewhat predictable outcome instead of a mistake that I somehow mysteriously caused.
As with all new toys, I’ve been staring at this paradigm shift in rapt fixation. Is there always a contraction, even after a small expansion? How long after the expansion can the contraction be? What is the shape of me and my beliefs after a cycle of expand and contract?
I don’t have answers for you, but I will say it’s helping me give myself 10% more grace than I have in the past. As I sat down to breakfast that morning I thought, “If they have to give the money to someone, why not me?”
Follow Chelsea on Instagram for more insights and art: @newstoriescallingart.
