As Ru Paul say, "If you can't love yourself..."
Have I told you lately how much fun I've been having on my bike? And not with solo rides, either, which is a switch for me. I love my Sunday Shifting Gears rides, and I love hanging out with my Shifting Gears family. This Sunday is going to be a bit of a rite of passage for me. It's my third AIDS/Life Cycle TRL (Training Ride Leader) training ride. (Whew! A mouthful to be sure!) Once I finish, I can get my paperwork from my mentor and be official.
I was telling my therapist about the century ride a couple weekends ago, and he asked me how I was coping with being socially accessible to people on my ALC training/group rides. Easy, I said. If I'm on a group ride with people who know me as a TRL or know of me as a TRL I am a TRL--whether I ride officially as one or not. Otherwise, I start expecting that I can ride at my own pace or work out my own issues and...thwart people's attempts to connect with me because I need the space. Which means someone I rode with the day before, coaching them along, might suddenly get an unexplainable cold shoulder. And I actually sort of did that to someone. That person's face fell enough for me to catch the change in expression, and after thinking it through (as I have to) I realized I was a complete dick. Don't have one. Don't want one. Don't want to BE one. Solution? Mentally, I have to step into that TRL box and give up my own needs for the duration of group rides. That's okay, believe me, and its good for me to do that once in a while--and what it means is that I force myself, under controlled circumstances, to be accessible to others socially. I'm monitoring the times I put myself out there pretty carefully, and trying hard to listen to any emotional backlash bubbling away under the surface--and that may seem funny to you, but that's how my heart works (it doesn't tell my head what its feeling, I'm kind of heart-deaf--which is like tone deaf, but a lot more annoying in public).
In the end, it seems to be working for me, and the feedback I've had seems pretty positive, so I'd say it's working. I'm struggling with other areas in my life, of course, but I'm so happy on the bike and working on bike things and talking to bike people. In two weeks I'm actually going to help TRL the big annual Shifting Gears ride to Santa Barbara and back. The cool part is, Beth and Leslie have been letting me help get things in order and I'm learning SO much about how to put together a well-supported and organized ride. As far as rides go, this is one of the best ones I have ever taken--and that includes the ALC itself. That says something. I see an autism awareness ride in my future--if I can convince some of these great people to put in with me. :-D
Hey, maybe my family and those closest to me can't deal with who I am now that I've taken off the layers and false fronts of my personality, but I am who I am, and there's a lot I can do to help others find their voices and be proud of who they are. I'm grateful for the emotionally supportive, nurturing learning environment that is the ALC community, but most especially my Shifting Gears family, who are teaching me every day to walk the talk no matter who you are or what your issues or what gifts you might bring to the table. And friends, that is a beautiful, rare and exceedingly precious thing.
I was telling my therapist about the century ride a couple weekends ago, and he asked me how I was coping with being socially accessible to people on my ALC training/group rides. Easy, I said. If I'm on a group ride with people who know me as a TRL or know of me as a TRL I am a TRL--whether I ride officially as one or not. Otherwise, I start expecting that I can ride at my own pace or work out my own issues and...thwart people's attempts to connect with me because I need the space. Which means someone I rode with the day before, coaching them along, might suddenly get an unexplainable cold shoulder. And I actually sort of did that to someone. That person's face fell enough for me to catch the change in expression, and after thinking it through (as I have to) I realized I was a complete dick. Don't have one. Don't want one. Don't want to BE one. Solution? Mentally, I have to step into that TRL box and give up my own needs for the duration of group rides. That's okay, believe me, and its good for me to do that once in a while--and what it means is that I force myself, under controlled circumstances, to be accessible to others socially. I'm monitoring the times I put myself out there pretty carefully, and trying hard to listen to any emotional backlash bubbling away under the surface--and that may seem funny to you, but that's how my heart works (it doesn't tell my head what its feeling, I'm kind of heart-deaf--which is like tone deaf, but a lot more annoying in public).
In the end, it seems to be working for me, and the feedback I've had seems pretty positive, so I'd say it's working. I'm struggling with other areas in my life, of course, but I'm so happy on the bike and working on bike things and talking to bike people. In two weeks I'm actually going to help TRL the big annual Shifting Gears ride to Santa Barbara and back. The cool part is, Beth and Leslie have been letting me help get things in order and I'm learning SO much about how to put together a well-supported and organized ride. As far as rides go, this is one of the best ones I have ever taken--and that includes the ALC itself. That says something. I see an autism awareness ride in my future--if I can convince some of these great people to put in with me. :-D
Hey, maybe my family and those closest to me can't deal with who I am now that I've taken off the layers and false fronts of my personality, but I am who I am, and there's a lot I can do to help others find their voices and be proud of who they are. I'm grateful for the emotionally supportive, nurturing learning environment that is the ALC community, but most especially my Shifting Gears family, who are teaching me every day to walk the talk no matter who you are or what your issues or what gifts you might bring to the table. And friends, that is a beautiful, rare and exceedingly precious thing.