An Ode to Future Joy
Dear bouncy brains,
I want to share something real with you. Something raw and unedited from a moment when I was in the middle of a trauma response.
I’ve been practicing something lately. When I’m overwhelmed, when my nervous system is screaming, when the noise gets too loud, I dump everything. Every thought. Every fear. Every contradiction. I eject it from my mind and body. It gives me control through action. It helps me self-regulate. And it helps future me understand how these moments unfold over time. It is a way to document my self-growth. A time capsule of a moment and how I survived through it. Life moves too fast - it is easy to forget, to dismiss, or even blatantly reject any self-growth (especially if you are goal- and outcome-oriented like me).
This particular moment came during a situation where I needed to advocate for my needs in a system that didn’t feel safe. Where expressing boundaries felt dangerous. Where my autistic brain was processing harm in real time while also trying to survive it.
What emerged surprised me. I wrote something I’ve read more than ten times now. Something that moved me to tears. Something that reminded me why I’m grateful to be autistic.
Here’s what I wrote:
it's difficult to love myself.
13 y/o me is at the table. she is terrified for her life. she feels unsafe. unprotected.
the me now? she is burnt out trying to console her. trying to pass my classes. drowning. things being added to her plate every. single. day.
childhood me, 13 y/o me, teenage me, 23 y/o me in my PhD program, all would have succumbed to the pressure, realise too late that i have a voice. rights. that it doesn't have to be this way.
the me now? i cannot and will not tolerate this behaviour after recognising the patterns.
this internal war inside - how could i have recognised it immediately? there were many variables here at play - autism, alexithymia, having an eager/passionate/strong work ethic, trust in people/systems that fail me, feeling a sense of purpose in my work, being unemployed for 9 months and feeling community someplace, loneliness, burnout, previous trauma, self-doubt, fear.
i did the best i could with the me that showed up.
i cannot be upset with her. i cannot resent her for shutting down. i am not, have rarely, and will not evade personal responsibility for my actions or inactions. this is not my personality. my values. i believe in reality, lived experience, fairness, justice, and treating others with respect.there are always things i wish i had done better or could have done more. there is always MORE. right? but i showed up. maybe not as a 100% ready-to-self-advocate self. that's unrealistic.
it is okay that i showed up in the way i did. i am learning. i am ever-changing. i am growing. i will not always be this person. i will not always be put in spaces of harm. i will reflect and learn and be better able to identify the signs, question them without self-doubt, trust in myself to advocate for what are justified rights and needs. realise that needs are justified. recognise my needs are justified and these justifications do not rely on external approval.
i will find this within myself.
some day. yet. in the future. next time.
but it is okay that it isn't perfect or handled 100% well.i showed up my best. that is truly all that matters. this is the takeaway. i can't expect to receive patience from others, only patience with myself. i know who i am. i know my strengths. i certainly know my weaknesses, it's always under scrutiny and constant surveillance and hyper-analysis.
but i am strong. i am resilient. i have nothing to hide. i want to hide nothing.
today and tomorrow and in the future, i will continue to stand up for myself, however way that shows up.i love myself. i love the childhood me, the 13 y/o me, the parentified me, the self-loathing me, the ethical me, the powerless me, the empowered me, the cautious and conscientious me, the impulsive and reactive me. it is all me.
another me at the roundtable is future Joy.
future Joy has been there since i was small. i remember her at 11 y/o, where all i wanted to do was die. i thought everyday of suicide until i sought therapy at 18 through my university. i continued battling myself over my life until i was 25, therapy throughout.
future Joy was there, she didn't say much. she didn't say anything. in fact, she showed me something. she got up from the table, pulled out a projector, and showed me what life could and will look like.
she showed me a life where i am resilient. where i am self-sufficient. at peace internally and externally. set boundaries with my family and work and others. a transparent and healthy communicator. a passionate, caring, and fundamentally, deeply, achingly ethical person who tries to do good. she is living with her cats, reading so many books. even writing her own. drinking matcha on her sun-drenched porch, overlooking a forest with a snowy mountain cap peeking over the tips of the pine trees. it is sunset. her nervous system is calm. her environment is calm. she finds purpose in her work, it provides the space to live a quiet, unchaotic, comfortable life. one not influenced by distraction of others, comparison, the lack of things, materialism/luxury. just pure, unadulterated, sheer contentment.
this movie saved my life. future Joy saved me.
each day, i feel closer to her. i feel her consoling me now and younger me through this hard time. she has such a tough job but never complains. only shows the movie.
remember, Joy. remember. you know what you want. remember. the noise is too loud right now. let yourself feel the impacts of this noise, it is a part of life after all and you cannot escape it.
but remember. after. remember.
Phew. You feel that, too?
I wrote this while I was shaking uncontrollably. While I was terrified. While my brain was ruminating in ways I cannot stop, the way autistic brains sometimes do when processing threat and trauma. And then something happened. I realized I am grateful I’m autistic. That I see in pictures. And patterns. And notice micro-details.
What a gift. A beautiful part of me.
My autism gave me the capacity to see future Joy SO clearly that I can see the snow on the mountain cap through the pine trees without even closing my eyes. To feel the temperature of the matcha. To know the exact quality of the quiet I’m moving toward. My visual thinking let me experience internal parts as real, present, visible. Not as a metaphor I constructed but as how my mind actually works.
I’m not surviving despite being autistic. My autism is part of how I’ve survived. Part of how I found the forest then and how I’m sitting in it now.
I share this rather (lengthy) post because I know there are other autistic people who struggle with expressing needs. Who have learned through persistent traumatic and harmful experiences that advocating for yourself brings punishment or rejection. Who shut down when they need to speak up most. Who feel like they’re failing at something everyone else seems to do easily. You’re not failing. Your nervous system is protecting you to survive. And your autistic ways of processing? The ones that feel like deficits in these moments? They’re also the ones that will help you find your way back to yourself.
I’m in my 20s. I caught this early. And I’m grateful I didn’t wake up at 43 or 55 or 72 and realize I let noise dictate my life. I’m grateful for all the work I’ve put into years of therapy and self-reflection to be the person I am today.
Life is arduous. But I’m so grateful to be me through it all.
I hope sharing this helps you feel less alone. I hope it helps you see your autistic mind not as something broken that needs fixing but as something that holds profound capacity for survival and finding peace even in the middle of chaos.
The forest is real.
I’m sitting in the forest now. Engulfed by it. And I am at peace.
You can find yours too.
Remember that the noise is temporary but the forest is real.
Come as you are, take what you need. I’ll be here.
