The Start of WING
From the age of 17 through the age of 46, if someone asked me how I was, I would inevitably say that I was tired. Chronic exhaustion stayed with me no matter what changes I made in my life. And I tried to make lots of changes. I thought a lot about rest, balance, and what I needed to do in order to get to a point in my life where I could rest enough to no longer be tired.
In my 20’s, I visited the zoo in Naples, Florida, and while observing a pond full of various native Floridian animals, saw a fish in the mouth of what looked like a snake rising from the water. Turns out it was actually the mouth of an Anhinga bird. While we watched, it hopped on the fence, beat the fish to break all of its bones, tossed the fish into the air, caught it in its mouth, and swallowed it down its long throat. It then stretched out its wings to let them dry.
I was fascinated. The Anhinga is an excellent swimmer, but its feathers aren’t waterproof. After catching its food it must rest and dry its wings before it can fly. I felt an instant connection and desire to internalize this lesson. After working hard, I must rest! I tried to remember this as I finished Social Work school, received my clinical license, and set out in private practice as a Psychotherapist – work hard, and then rest. And yet I was still so tired all the time.
In the months leading up to my 46th birthday, I started on a new journey of self-knowledge. Through my work with young people, professionally and with my own children, I’d come to learn more about Autism – what it is and what it isn’t - and in doing so, I began to recognize myself and realize that I am Autistic. I realized that my sensory system takes in a whole lot more information than a “typical” sensory system, that I am constantly processing more information than others, and that living in a culture that expects people to have a different kind of nervous system takes a lot of energy out of me. As I learned about Autism, and about myself, I made significant shifts in my life - in the ways I use my energy and recognize and respect my needs. To my surprise and joy, I am not constantly exhausted anymore.
This journey has been one of reintroduction to myself. As if the history of my life and experiences slotted into place, and, rather than me being a bit off or wrong all the time, I realized that I was just operating in a different way than others and than I was expected to. Having this knowledge has allowed me to live more authentically and use less energy on a daily basis.
One of the things that felt like it was taken to a new depth was my appreciation of the Anhinga. Previously, I’d felt that if I worked hard enough, I would get to the point where rest would be natural and things would feel balanced. I realized that I was never quite getting to the point where I could really and truly rest – any rest I was taking was a brief break before returning to the hard work of reaching for this unattainable magical place of “balance”. Instead, I needed to truly understand that without rest I would not be able to fly. The Anhinga takes a break after EVERY trip into the water. This slight shift of understanding, this deeper internalization of the message, was powerful. Yet it still meant I was working really hard; there was still an underlying assumption that the rest must be earned. I could only rest once I had worked hard enough.
And then I met the Flightless Cormorant. Cormorants are very similar to Anhingas; they have different beak shapes and fishing styles, but they both spread out their wings to dry them after being in the water. Flightless Cormorants live in the Galapagos and, as their name suggests, do not fly. They are amazing swimmers – flying through the water to find fish to eat. And then they climb out of the water and hop along the rocks to find a place to spread their wings just like their cousins.
Seeing these birds created in me another shift in understanding of myself, my needs, my goals. I realized that my understanding of the Anhingas and the importance of rest for them was flawed. They weren’t resting because they had worked hard. They were resting because they had to rest in order to meet the expectation that they fly. In the areas where they live (like Naples, Florida), to not be able to fly from predators meant death. So, they did what they were good at and loved – swam and fished – and then they had to rest in order to meet those external expectations.
The Cormorants that live in the Galapagos figured out a better way. They found a place to live that met their needs and their strengths. If they are meant for swimming, but their feathers aren’t made to fly when wet, they had a place where they didn’t need to fly but where the swimming was plentiful. They still stretch out their little wings to dry – not because they have earned it, but because it’s enjoyable.
I can be a flightless Cormorant. I don’t need to work hard in order to rest. It doesn’t mean I won’t work hard, but I can work hard in the areas that feel intuitive to me, not those that are just about meeting neurotypical expectations. And I can rest and enjoy myself just because, not because I’ve earned it or have been found worthy. My home, workplace and community can be my own personal Galapagos – an environment that allows me to shine as I am, and sees me as amazing just because I am. I can hold the images of this amazing bird shooting past me through the water, hopping on rocks to join its friends, and holding out its wings to bask in the sunlight as reminders that each of us is amazing just because, and finding the right environment to shine is an important goal.
But even this isn’t enough. Because what will truly make my environment work for me is community with others who will support the ways I need to exist in the world, as I support theirs. I love the work I do in individual therapy with clients to help them know and understand themselves, but then I send them out into a culture and into systems that are unsupportive. And so WING was born - an organization to help create that community for me, for my family, for the people I work with, and so many more. To create a space that centers the Autistic nervous system, that creates connections such that if one person is out of spoons they have others who they can rely on, and that has the collective power to make community-based changes in our area. WING hopes to be a community that allows its members to thrive, the way the Galapagos allows the Flightless Cormorant to live its best life.
