FIVE WEEKS AGO after an epic autistic meltdown that then a colleague disparagingly reduced to “venting”, I took an unplanned and unceremonious sabbatical from the nonprofit I helped form back in 2014 as part of “rescuing” a herd of fourteen urban goats from being split up into their original pairings and sold off.
Continue reading I Used To Be An Urban Goatherd, But Now I Am Nothing
…Doesn’t Mean You Won’t Still Feel Like A Failure And A Fuckup
I do not know the degree to which I can come back. In the meantime I’ve kept the books updated and filed/paid our annual state and federal filings. It’s clear to me that I feel like I’ve burned out on any vocation or avocation I’ve ever done that required working close-quarters with other people over a period of time. Or, burned out on that part of it, anyway. In retrospect (decades not just months), I do wonder to what degree any work that involves close interpersonal coordination was putting way more pressure on me than I understood, and that post-diagnosis I should have been managing the balances better, whatever that might have entailed. But between navigating social comms, performance distress, literal neurological trouble getting off whatever track I’m on, and meltdowns I have no internal control over under high-pressure circumstances, every day close involvement clearly isn’t sustainable.
And that’s how, today on Slack, after an unplanned two-and-a-half week sabbatical from my own nonprofit, soon to reach its fifth anniversary, I announced that it’s probably over for me.