Simplicity, serenity, solitude

It's been one of those weeks where you think you have things under control and then, suddenly, it dawns on you that, while you were busy grabbing one side of the cream cake, most of the cream just spilled out the other side, out of sight, dropping all down the front of your shirt.

I no longer fret over such things. In the past two years I've added a whole new dimension to my life to replace one that I've lost. No... not lost. Supplanted. I didn't like it or want it, so I planted something else that's now blossomed and replaced what I found unacceptable, which simply withered and died of deliberate neglect. I gave it no further energy or attention and it dwindled until it was no more.

As an Aspie, solitude is nothing new to me. The difference in these past two years has been that I understand and recognise the reality of my life and condition, and accept that I'm different, in so many ways, from other people. I still feel compelled to work longer than necessary. I still find myself in the centre of disorganised jumbles. But I just take it in my stride, break my routine and fix it. If I need a nap, or a break, I take them. I stop and play with Angus, my dog, or take him for a walk. Or make my bed. Or wash the dishes or the floor. I no longer feel guilty about interrupting the important things on which I happen to be focused so intensely. I take time for myself, my family and friends.

I often quote a Brazilian proverb that I've come to appreciate for its profound wisdom:

"In the end, things work out. If they haven't worked out yet, you just haven't reached the end yet."

There are a couple of other sayings that I try to abide by these days, too. These are Japanese:

"Fix the problem, not the blame."

"There are no mistakes, only lessons to be learned."

What I've discovered is that I've gradually simplified my life to where I want it to be, without being aware of it. That simplicity has also brought with it unexpected serenity. I'm at peace. Especially, I'm at peace with myself, finally.

In less than a week I'll turn 59. My last birthday in my fifties. Amazing. When I was 20, I was convinced I would never live to see 30. A legacy, I suspect, of my tumultuous childhood, when every day seemed destined to be my last, so I tried to fit as much into it as I could. This continued into my teens and twenties, thirties and forties. I devoured life, yet found little lasting satisfaction. A bit like eating fairy floss (cotton candy). Sweet, initially, but with no lasting subtance and a bitter-sweet aftertaste.

I was driven by a need to be always working toward something, always living in the future. So I missed the present in the process. I was conscious of it happening, but felt incapable of doing anything to alter it. Like being trapped on a runaway train, watching life happening around me without being particularly connected to it, and a mounting sense of dread about how it will all end.

Not any more.

Now I do almost everything for others. I make time for people. I spend hours every day writing to friends, helping, sharing, suggesting, teaching, listening, or saying nothing... even talking with people on the phone who would have irritated me to the point of exasperation in the past. Now I'm able to put myself in their position and understand their view of the world and, sometimes, offer suggestions or views of my own -- but without the need to have them accept as I would have in the past.

I've become patient.

I'm happy with the changes that have taken place. I like the person I've become. I'm rarely stressed or frustrated and, on the very infrequent occasions when I am, I now stand still and let it flow over and past me until it no longer exists.

With this has come a willingness and ability to negotiate. I surprise myself, regularly, with my considerable skill at negotiating win-win solutions. It's even reached the point where others ask me to act for them in this way -- the exact opposite of where I was just a few short years ago, when I didn't dare attempt to negotiate for myself, because the unbearable uncertainty would often drive me to disastrously destructive behaviour, just to remove the uncertainty.

If you knew me before I moved to my present home, you've probably been pleasantly surprised by these changes (if you've had a chance to notice them). They seem to be lasting, hopefully ingrained.

I'm now at a point where I feel confident that I can undertake some other needed changes, all of which will take time -- possibly years -- to implement properly. But they'll make a huge difference, and they're worth the time and effort.

I have a feeling that 2005 could turn out to be an eventful year for me. It'll be interesting to see what transpires. It's going to involve more travelling than I've done in a long time, and meeting with many more people, including large groups. It's also going to involve much more patience, learning, teaching and negotiating. It should be a fascinating test of the changes already in evidence.

Wish me luck! :)