Can't, Won't, Shouldn't

Jessica Pigeau

 

I am a pedestrian. I walk nearly everywhere – approximately 2-3 hours a day. Today, I walked 50 minutes to work, 20 minutes to the grocery store, and 40 minutes home. Then, when I arrived at my building, I still took the elevator up to my apartment on the third floor.

Close friends of mine know that I do this because asthma and an old leg injury mean that I struggle with stairs and steep inclines in a way that I don’t with flat, urban terrain. It’s not that I can’t climb the three flights of stairs leading to my apartment – I can get up there as well as any typical able-bodied person can. The problem is that when I reach the final landing I will likely be winded, light-headed, and shaky on my legs like a newborn lamb. I will be tired and exhausted in a way that will require me to rest for several minutes before I start breathing normally again. If I do it often enough, I risk hurting my joints or re-injuring my ankle.

For this reason, I am cautious about when and where I choose to take the stairs. I try to maintain physical fitness in other ways that don't impact me as negatively. I walk, I swim, I lift weights. I try to recognize and accommodate a permanent physical issue that impacts my day-to-day mobility, rather than pushing it and hurting myself. When it comes to climbing the stairs to my apartment, it’s not that I can’t, it’s not that I won’t – it’s that I probably shouldn’t.

As an autistic person, I have to be somewhat cautious when it comes to planning what social engagements I want to attend in the upcoming week. I try to space out meetings, dinners, and nights out, and schedule them well away from strenuous and stressful tasks. When I have important speeches or presentations, I tend to organize my entire day around feeling calm and prepared enough to perform. Not all social situations are created equal — I make time for a lot of lunch dates and dinner parties, but I tend to skip out on parties and clubbing, due to the more stressful sensory environment involved.

Stress and anxiety are more than just unpleasant sensations. I frequently experience exhaustion, nausea, and pain as a consequence of excess stress. I am often so tense that I am unable to eat, unable to sleep. My muscles are so tightly wound that my neck hurts and my head pounds. Even with highly effective anxiety medication, the reality is that pushing myself socially and productively does me concrete physical harm. Sometimes, I decide that the additional strain is a reasonable trade, but an activity like a house party often just isn’t worth the three or four days it will take to fully recover. It’s not that I can’t, it’s not that I won’t, it’s that I shouldn’t – and learning when to respect your own limits is just as important as learning when to push them.