It is what it is.
I find myself having to say this so often.
It’s supposed to be a mantra of mindfulness. Of accepting what is, because that’s all there is. Right here, right now.
At the moment I find myself regretting so much, despite how often I try to convince myself that regrets are pointless.
I regret that my busy home and work life mean I have so far met very few other autistic people “in the flesh”. It’s true, I do need physical connections with people. I might be autistic, and an introvert, but I’m still, ultimately, a people person. But I’d like to meet more people like me, now I really know what and who I am.
But it is what it is. There’s very little I can do to change my circumstances right here, right now.
I regret that I didn’t have this knowledge, about what and who I am, earlier in life. What would I have achieved? How would I have felt? Would I have done more? Found things easier?
It is what it is. The way space-time has worked out for me, it could never have been any other way.
I feel anxious about so many uncertainties going on right now. At work, at home, in my country, and in the wider world.
And I regret sometimes that I can’t do more to make things better, for myself or others.
But it is what it is. I am only one human, and one who spreads herself far too thinly as it is.
The thing is, I’m not actually unhappy at the moment. On balance, there so much that’s good. I’m far more comfortable with myself, at ease and at home with myself, and able to love myself, than at any other point in my life. So much is great for me professionally, personally, and privately.
But I’ve had a taste. I see some of the things my neurosiblings do, I see the way they connect with each other, and I wish I could have more of that.
But, as I’ve done before, I’m making unrealistic and unreasonable comparisons with others. It’s a trap I keep falling into. When will I learn that the grass in my garden is green enough?
Things will change. They always do. I’ve already been able to make change happen, and so much of this has been because I’m autistic, but now I know that I’m autistic. Things I would never once have believed possible have happened. And now I believe even more is possible, and more tangibly possible, than ever before.
I don’t have to rush to do it all right here, right now.
But I can make the most of what is right here, right now.
Rhubarb in the back garden. Blossom on the trees. New beech leaves. Rooks strutting through the local park. Dewy grass in the morning. My enjoyment of my job. My family and friends. My husband’s strong shoulders and daft puns. My daughter’s elaborate stories, pictures, and imaginary worlds. The soft curls of my little boy’s hair, and his mischievous grin.
It is what it is. My life is what it is. It’s a good life, and there’s so much more to come.