Unmasked by Motherhood
Introducing the Autist behind the Artist
Press Play to Listen as you Read “Unmasked by Motherhood” by Sophia Elizabeth
The Mother Crow newsletter and podcast was born in October of 2022 as the poetry of my past unraveled in retrospect like a muse used to express myself anew as a mother of two. It was a successful creative outlet for about eight months until the social pressures of the project silenced me with anxiety, and everything I had in the works fizzled away with shame. Months went by, and then a year, without anything to show for Mother Crow, despite that ever-present need to express myself still scratching at my soul. I thought I had finally understood the mechanisms behind my fragile mental health and unique style of art, but then my son was diagnosed with Autism at the beginning of this year, and the most significant piece of my psychological puzzle barreled into place. The poetry of my past morphed yet again into a new shape- its truest shape- drenched in autistic expression.
My poetry reeks of neurodivergence; my art shoves it in your face; when I perform spoken word, it gets released from its cage. With this neuro-affirming realization, EVERY SINGLE MEMORY OF MINE FINALLY MAKES SENSE! The who, why, and what the actual fuck has been going on with me finally makes sense.
Figuring out “what is wrong with me” is something I’ve desperately sought to know since I was a young child... To understand what is happening inside my head and all over my body before, during, and after every social interaction. To understand why I anxiously anticipate and prepare for each day as though it’s an exam I’m trying far too hard to pass. To understand why I obsessively ruminate on how much I fail. Why I dissociate into others' lives, faces, feelings, mannerisms, accents, and opinions to mirror them and survive their perception of me. Why I clench and gnaw and contort and freeze. Why sometimes I CANNOT eat. Why sometimes I CANNOT sleep. Why sometimes I forget to breathe. Why sometimes I let too much of myself out, and then incessantly apologize for being me. Why my skin crawls and crowded spaces spin. Why I’m always so scared and embarrassed and worried I’ll infringe. Why it hurts to shave my body hair, but the hair on my head drives me insane! Why overlapping noises confuse me and bright lights stab me. Why one-on-one interactions are usually doable (and can be enjoyable) but group settings, group texts, group calls, group zooms and chatrooms are my nervous system’s worst enemy. Why I’m most comfortable with people younger or older than me while my peers seem to speak a trendy, foreign language I scramble to compute. Why I’m a gifted learner but also struggle with discerning left from right, reading clocks, and sarcasm. Why I overshare and confess every single detail. Why I’m such a homebody, and at times, a total recluse. Why so many of my relationships have fallen apart, and why I often fall prey to abuse. Why I’m an excellent employee and an over-achiever to an unsustainable degree before my body breaks or I meltdown and abruptly have to leave. Why "doing my best" can translate to accidentally hurting myself because I will literally push myself past my limits to do so. Why listening to others with my ears facing them is so much easier than listening with my eyes. Why the way I look at people is always on my mind. Am I doing it right? Am I doing it right?! Can they see what’s actually happening on the inside? Why I always feel so unlikable and annoying and out of place. Why I feel the need to contain myself in order to protect the energy of a space. Why I cut people off in conversation because my brain has already predicted what they’re going to say, and the more nervous I become, the faster the information pours in. Why I excel at math and see patterns in people’s behavior. Why I can close my eyes and see the answers on a test without studying them. Why I rapidly sift through files in my mind until I find every possible solution to problems that arise. Why this can result in long periods of sleep deprivation (such as these past few months trying to decide where my autistic son should go to school.) Why I can’t let anything go. Why I regularly experience vertigo. Why I bump into everything. Why I fractured my spine playing tag in 5th grade. Why I depersonalize and float through space as though slow motion and lightspeed are one in the same. Why I’m always so nauseous, so dizzy, so anxious, and so tense. Why I’m also so excitable, so gullible, interested, and intense. Why therapy triggers self-hate but hot yoga is a gift. Why screwing up small talk or putting my yoga mat in the "wrong place" can ruin the first half of my class... or week. Why I make-up words, repeat phrases incorrectly, and rely on memorized scripts. Why writing feels like a rhythmic puzzle I can piece together with words balancing like numbers in an equation. Why emails and text messages feel like make-or-break assignments that need to be reviewed countless times before turning them in. Why talking on the phone is always a chore, even with people I absolutely adore. Why lying and breaking rules hurts my brain. Why I gather information, analyze data, take notes, and make lists as a form of recreation. Why I hate tongue kissing, partner dancing, and walking arm-in-arm. Why asexuality feels like my default. Why I often lose sight of my gender. Why I can’t write fiction. Why watching new movies stresses me out. Why my diction is formal, edited, and rehearsed. Why I’ve done SO MANY THINGS I never wanted to do because I felt socially obligated to. Why I’m always in so much pain. Why I see so much of myself in my sharp, sensitive, hyperverbal autistic son. Why it feels like my life has only just begun... Now that I know I’m autistic.
I’ve been begging professionals to help me uncover this highly-masked mystery since I was nine years old. I’ve been told that I’m clinically self-loathing and pathologically empathic. I’ve been diagnosed with ultradian Bipolar Disorder, Panic Disorder, Insomnia, Anxiety, OCD, Excoriation Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, and cPTSD. The only misdiagnosis was Bipolar Disorder; the rest is the comorbid result of me drowning on the spectrum.
I'm a notorious toe walker; I've paced all day into too many nights. I have a super sniffer; I can smell everyone's insides. I have panic attacks that last for weeks with my heart constantly racing and my stomach repeatedly dropping. I use to cut myself to prove that I was human; I relentlessly pick at my skin because it helps me process all the thoughts that flood in. Suicidal ideation sucks, but I've never actually wanted to die. I just wanted so badly for my real life to begin. I'm extremely self-aware; I am perpetually on the brink of it all caving in.
Living in this state of constant burn out leads to meltdowns (which happen at least once per season) in which I "lose my mind" and completely malfunction. I run away and hide and scream and cry. I rock back and forth, and I groan repetitiously. I hit myself in the head; I throw myself into walls; I furiously flap my hands in a desperate attempt to stamp out the wildfire raging throughout my body. I DON’T ALLOW PEOPLE TO SEE THIS. They’re back where I left them or sound asleep or sitting in the audience waiting for me to return from my intermission to continue performing exactly how I want them to see me- a smiling goofball, an attentive caretaker, a creative intellectual, a quirky artist- all of which I am... It’s just far more complicated than simply being me around everyone else. I am terrified of being perceived.
When I feel accepted or excited or free to be, my echolalia sings forth and I jump up and down into my truest of selves- an intensely expressive, loud, silly, inspired, curious, logical, passionate, kind, and hyperactive personality. But I've spent too much of my life restraining myself, contorting myself, holding myself back in order to make my existence more palatable for others. I am "high-functioning" enough for society's standards, but I've never actually functioned for myself.
My special interests are child development, human behavior, personality disorders, etymology, skincare, and now, because of my son’s diagnosis and the four month, research-induced insomnia it inspired, I am extremely interested in autism. My son’s special interests are "prehistoric and modern day aquatic and semi-aquatic animals," and I’ve been so enthralled learning about life in the ocean alongside him. He beams with a sense of belonging when we crawl together like trilobites on the sea floor. My inner child craves the same kind of space to be safe to be me in too. But I feel chemically composed of shame, and I live traumatized in my day-to-day.
I've never felt this kind of confidence when I say, my son's mental health is my utmost priority. Him learning to function for himself- not for others- takes precedence over academia or fitting in. I will not be shoving his extra sharp, deeply feeling, square corners through some neurotypical hole so that everyone else can feel more comfortable around him. Therefore, I will be homeschooling him, stimming with him, and wholly accepting of him. And trust me when I say, nothing and no one can take away this understanding of me, him, and how to best move forward for us.
I started Mother Crow so that I could express myself and upcycle my pain into purpose, but I quickly hit a depressing wall when I couldn't maintain people's perception of me while also remaining true to myself. I couldn't share myself or my experiences in a way that was palatable, acceptable, appreciated, and enjoyed by all, so I succumbed to stage fright and completely froze in my efforts.
But that was when I thought I was failing at being a human. Now that I know my nervous system is wired differently (and that my son could either learn to mask his true self with a side of debilitating anxiety or feel free to be himself and unlock his true potential) my goal isn't to try and fit in anymore. My goal is to be me... Because that will be my legacy. To actually be...
~ Mother Crow
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