Can enough small histories help me make better decisions about what, and how, to prune the growths in my life that don't make me happy? Am I reasonably certain that I can tell a growth that's bad from a growth that's good?
Things I have to make a decision about include choir, church (the parish), Church (as a component in relationship to God), social needs (how social am I, really, and how, when?), and writing (does blogging count, and what makes blogging different from diarizing?)
Choir
It's a joy to sing with others in the faith, and the combination of voice lessons and weekly rehearsals gave me a destination, something to work at, and a chance to pray twice--as the adage goes. Christmas and Easter music moves me to tears. Sometimes I feel like the Grim Weeper at church, tears running down my face.
Previously, I wrote, in Deathcake at the Uxbridge Cafe, about choir as contemplative practice over sacred music:
As a repetitive activity, it provides a rhythm in my week. I don't lose days. It also breaks up some of my emotional funks.
I like being in the midst of people and lights without necessarily having to engage.
Choir is ruined for me if I'm repeatedly getting distracted. And--like other activities--I'm annoyed-to-angry when other people don't take it as seriously as I do.
And here is where I have to contemplate an even more uncomfortable question. Is he right when he says that participating overmuch on a board can actually aggravate symptoms? I know he is; I have caught myself thinking, It's OK for me to feel this way; it's aspie and refused to hide it. There was a time, for instance, when I would have suffered, really suffered, in silence.
I'm not that damaged any more. My experience of things matters. I don't have to overcompensate, either.
Question 4 is the hinge.
Things I have to make a decision about include choir, church (the parish), Church (as a component in relationship to God), social needs (how social am I, really, and how, when?), and writing (does blogging count, and what makes blogging different from diarizing?)
Choir
It's a joy to sing with others in the faith, and the combination of voice lessons and weekly rehearsals gave me a destination, something to work at, and a chance to pray twice--as the adage goes. Christmas and Easter music moves me to tears. Sometimes I feel like the Grim Weeper at church, tears running down my face.
Previously, I wrote, in Deathcake at the Uxbridge Cafe, about choir as contemplative practice over sacred music:
Perhaps my form of meditation is actually the all-absorbing active contemplation during voice coaching. There is no other place to be than present when my coach is whooping at me like a manic crane to force me into the octave I claim I can't reach.
As a repetitive activity, it provides a rhythm in my week. I don't lose days. It also breaks up some of my emotional funks.
I like being in the midst of people and lights without necessarily having to engage.
Choir is ruined for me if I'm repeatedly getting distracted. And--like other activities--I'm annoyed-to-angry when other people don't take it as seriously as I do.
- Do I think history will repeat itself if I return? Probably not. Family dynamics won't change, but they won't engage me.
- Do I think I will be comfortable returning? I think I could get past the discomfort, as long as I don't talk to anyone about it. I return for me: to sing. Not to socialize. That hasn't changed. If it's not better after about six weeks, then I can quit for good.
- Do I think I will be comfortable having voice lessons? Only if I stop demonizing the voice coach--which I've been doing because she saw a meltdown when she wanted to discuss choir politics. Which one of us do I not forgive? Her? Myself?
- Do I have to take choir so seriously that I can't participate in it at all, given that I don't want to buy voice lessons and audition for community choir?
- Does choir distract me from writing?
- Will they even let me back? Do I want to risk rejection, again? "No room for you, you embarrassed a First Family of the church?" Do I need to keep so much control that I don't take that risk?
And here is where I have to contemplate an even more uncomfortable question. Is he right when he says that participating overmuch on a board can actually aggravate symptoms? I know he is; I have caught myself thinking, It's OK for me to feel this way; it's aspie and refused to hide it. There was a time, for instance, when I would have suffered, really suffered, in silence.
I'm not that damaged any more. My experience of things matters. I don't have to overcompensate, either.
Question 4 is the hinge.
