Waiting is So Very Tiring

a musing about time, waiting, my AuDHD and a little about my ME/CFS.

Hello people in the internet,

This is a musing about time, waiting, my AuDHD and a little about my ME/CFS.

---

Quick house keeping note - if you are here for knitted animals, or poetry only you can set up what you receive by clicking on the relevant sections only. This post will go into the ‘ME/CFS & Autism’ section. Deselect that section and you won’t get these posts. Visa versa don’t want this type of post, deselect that section. This link takes you through the process here.

Here is a subscribe button, it helps keep you up to date with my ramblings, click it, go on I dare you! 😁

---

I have an issue with waiting. Waiting takes energy. For others it might seem simple, just get on with it, do something else instead, how does waiting require energy? When I wait I am hyper vigilant. I am on tenterhooks every single second. All sounds, sights, smells etc are over investigated, over analysed, whilst I wait. Waiting takes energy, energy is finite. Time is lost to the process of waiting.

Photo by Heather Zabriskie on Unsplash

An incident comes to mind, a few years ago, a friend said they would be with me for a cup of tea and a natter at 3pm the next day. They made the request to come over, I didn’t invite them. After waiting and cleaning the previous day, by 3:10 on the day I am figuratively pacing the floor. The kettle has already boiled and made tea that is now brewing in the pot under its fox themed cosy. At 3:15 I’ve poured the tea rather than let it spool, unlike my brain which is definitely stewing. By 4pm two large cups of tea have been drunk by me, a headache has developed and I’ve checked my phone fat too many times for messages. The friend is travelling a mere 200 metres (we all live close on the RAF base) to get to my door from theirs, and they’ve been before, so it can’t be car trouble or getting lost. It would be rude to go over there and see what’s going on, I can’t do that, so I continue to wait, anxiously. By 4:30 I’m on a new brew of tea and I give up. I message to say I’m not up to a visit now. And I'm tired and by that I mean so much more, shattered, exhausted, ready to give. The energy I’ve expended waiting, calming myself down from the over vigilance, has depleted the little reserves I had and the headache is harsh. And I’m a bit pissed to be fair. The friend responds, postponing is fine they weren’t feeling up to it either. (It is never rearranged.)

And that’s where my RSD and AuDHD kick in. I feel rejected. Used. Ignored. Insignificant. Why couldn’t my friend have messaged at least a couple of hours before and not let me use up my energy waiting? Why wait for me to cancel when they are 90 mins late? If they weren’t well too why wait to cancel, they must have known beforehand? If they were well are they now making an excuse because they are pissed at me for cancelling? Had they actually forgotten? More energy lost to the situation.

I really struggle with timekeeping. I know a lot of my fellow neurodivergents are time blind and struggle with being on time, I’m the opposite I absolutely hate being late. I’m always early. I build in time to my schedules to make sure I’m on time. I panic at the thought of being late. Literally panic. I’ve taught myself breathing techniques to help me through those moments, as I watch the time of arrival on the sat nav creep into the ‘late zone’, twisting my hands together, creating stress in my muscles, feeling the stretch hoping it will distract me from my panic.

It’s not as bad when I’m home, at least I’m in my safe place. Doesn’t stop me worrying though.

I’ve spent a good 30+ years of my life waiting. That sounds melodramatic doesn’t it, but it is reality. I married an officer in the RAF and very quickly my life was punctuated by waiting times. We waited to know where the next posting would be, and then wait again for the promotion boards, by the time we were a little bit settled we were back to waiting for the next posting. We moved on average every 18 months.

We generally moved in the August or April. Not everyone moves at the same time so friends move in and out all the time and you might get 2 months with them or 18 you just don’t know. So if it was an August move, we moved and I wait to get settled (it averages around 9-12 months for me to feel settled and safe), and then the promotion boards start looking at reports etc in October, and my R would be angsty from that point on until the results in January (waiting), then three months of getting over the board results (waiting for R to be in a decent mood again) Now it’s March/April time and thoughts begin to turn to the next move in a year, there are more reports to strive for, places to consider, he has barely settled into the job and he’s expected to think about moving again. By August we are waiting again, waiting for his annual report to be done, which will influence the promotion board. He often has to chase this, knowing that it doesn’t seem to matter how good he is, how much he is recommended for promotion, how well he does his job, or how many commendations he gets, it won’t happen because he’s not from the right background, not the right class, not the right schools, not the right family, not even the right branch, but we wait anyway. And now we are into October again (and the moody half of the year) and we are waiting for the promotion board and also the next posting (which depends on the board result in January). January arrives and, as expected, there is no promotion and so he is bottom of the list for jobs and we wait again, until finally we are told where to go and we wait to move. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Looking back I’m not sure how I coped. I HATE waiting but seemed to spend most of my adult life doing so. I think in a way it helped knowing the routine, which months were angsty waiting months - October to March, and which months were just normal waiting months. Moving with the RAF is actually fairly easy. R has to take care of all the paperwork, me the mere wifey, isn’t allowed. (A job I happily avoided despite the need to be in control, to do it all). They (R and the RAF) sorted removals (packing up was included), the new house was allocated, hotels booked if needed, each house in the main was incredibly similar to the previous so everything went back in exactly the same places.

And now we are out of the RAF and the waiting has definitely lessened. But I still intensely dislike it. I still despise being late. Or others being late. I dislike waiting for things to happen in the day. Today we are a) expecting an Amazon delivery and b) going out to collect a secondhand Xmas tree so I’m not hoovering up line needles next year for months on end. (Still finding them from last year’s tree.) It’s a waiting game, waiting until it is time to leave, waiting for the delivery and hoping it will be here before we need to leave. Not big waits I admit. But waiting is still waiting.

Apparently, the inability to do much else whilst waiting for something to happen is a very ADHD trait. The needing to be on time is ASD. The annoyance at others not being as meticulous as I is RSD. Sometimes I feel I collect acronyms. ME/CFS, RSD, ADHD, ASD, AuDHD, CKD, ABC123 … 😜 LOL went off on a tangent there.

And on that note, this post is long enough. Have an ear worm.

That’s all folks, til next time.

If you have enjoyed my ramblings I’d love for you to click the ❤️. It pleases the social algorithm, lets others know there’s something interesting here, as well as letting me know you liked it and giving me a little virtual hug. Without virtual hugs I have been know to get sad 😜. Shares are good too and a comment buoys me up even more 😁 A comment of what you liked, what you didn’t etc would be most gratefully appreciated.

3 Red Cabbage Heads is a free and reader supported publication. Subscribe now to support me, you can upgrade to a paid subscription, it doesn’t give you any more access to my words, but a handwritten note and a probably completely useless small, handmade by me, gift are yours (gift UK only) and my eternal gratitude. My words are free.