I Bought Washi Tape (a story about my neurodivergence)

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Last night, I finished my last roll of washi tape.

This was a problem, because for the past ten days I have been obsessively making bookmarks out of old cereal boxes, kombucha boxes and my abstract drawings, and the washi tape is an essential material.

I was kicking myself because on Saturday we went on a family trip to Officeworks and I didn’t stock up then. I guess I didn’t realise I was running low, or how fast I was getting through them as I started making 10 plus bookmarks a day at that point. I can only handle going to Officeworks about once a month, and even then it’s better if my partner drives me. It’s so loud and bright in there and there is so much good stuff to buy.

When the last roll ran to cardboard, I knew buying more was a huge priority. I have never been a smoker, but I can imagine this is the kind of urgency smokers feel when they need to buy cigarettes. Is this an inappropriate analogy? I am not addicted to making bookmarks, surely. And yet the thought of not being able to make bookmarks for an undefined period of time (until I can stock up on washi tape) filled me with a deep anxiety.

Last night, I was writing a to-do list for today while putting my son to bed (not the best form of multitasking, I know). “Come and have mummy cuddles!” he kept asking me.

“I just have to finish this to-do list.” I said.

“Why do you have to write a to-do list every day?” he asked.

“So I don’t get distracted.”

I was solo parenting for the morning, so my day was already jam-packed. My plan was to do morning routine, do school drop-off, go to the supermarket and buy washi tape, then go to the Post Office and post a zine I sold plus my electoral ballot, then ride home and start work at 10am.

All of those items were on the to-do list, including riding home. The posting stuff was really important. The ballots were due by end of post Friday but I had to post them as early as possible because who knows what could happen to the rest of the week? And when am I going to be near a post office again? (This afternoon, when I take my son to music class. But what if I forget to pack the envelopes?)

(There used to be a post box a 6 minute walk from my house but last time I tried to post something there, it had disappeared and the nature strip where it used to be had been torn up. Like one of those shops in fantasy novels that sometimes exist and sometimes don’t.)

Time has a habit of disappearing inexplicably so sometimes I have to complete tasks way before deadline.

Drop-off was thankfully drama-free, then I unlocked my bike and rode straight to the Post Office, two minutes’ ride from the school. Once I got there I realised I had forgotten to go to the supermarket, but it was too late, I couldn’t go back, and anyway, what if I went to the supermarket and they didn’t have washi tape after all? I checked on their website ahead of time which indicated they stock washi tape, but one time my partner checked their website to see if they stock my favourite pre-made veggie soup and they said they did but when he went to buy it, it wasn’t on the shelf. So how can I trust them? I can’t go home without washi tape.

I went into the Post Office but they didn’t have washi tape. I posted the letters in the post box out the front. I tried the IGA across the road. They didn’t have washi tape.

I sat down on the park bench and looked at the community noticeboard outside the IGA while I ate my breakfast (croissant from the Vietnamese bakery I bought during morning routine while I was there stocking up on white bread because we had run out and I needed it for my son’s sandwich, but then he decided he wanted wraps instead of sandwiches after all) and my coffee, that I had made at home and brought in my partner’s reusable coffee cup, because he couldn’t find it this morning when he left for work at 5:30am and borrowed mine.

It sure was a topsy turvy day, drinking out of his blue reusable cup instead of my dark red one.

I sighed. I guess I could go to Officeworks. The one near my old house is closer to me now than the one near my new house. I pulled up google maps. 750m away. Can I do it? Well, I kind of have to. I can’t make my partner do it. He won’t be home until after 4, and I can’t go the whole day without making bookmarks.

This is nuts! Why is it such an emergency to buy washi tape? And given that it apparently is an emergency to buy washi tape, why is it such a drama to just buy washi tape on the way home from school drop-off?

I recently got re-diagnosed with autism as part of a process I went through to apply for NDIS funding. The whole process was a strange experience of unmasking myself. I slowly realised that life is actually harder for me because of my disabilities. It’s like my disabilities are so invisible even I couldn’t see them. All I could do was get angry at myself for not being able to keep up with my imaginary idea of what a 36-year-old part-time working mother of a schooled ‘should’ be able to do.

Come on Emm. You can do it. I looked at the map again. I am barely literate at reading maps. I never know where north is and I have to concentrate so hard to translate the depiction of the area into my mental understanding of my surroundings. This area is so familiar to me: I have been down all these roads before. But even if I am really familiar with an area, I cannot navigate myself from point A to point B if I have never done that specific route before. And I have never been from the post office in this suburb to the Officeworks in that suburb.

I knew I was sacrificing spoons to do this mission, which would mean I would work fewer hours today, and my partner would get frustrated with me again.

I plugged in the directions and fixed my phone to the quadlock for the five-minute bike ride through territory that was simultaneously familiar and foreign. I approached a playground reserve I have taken my son to several times and saw that a bike path went through it. I veered into the reserve, thinking it might be a shortcut and if not, it would be pleasant.

And pleasant it was. I soaked up the view of the green grass on the oval and the peaceful playground restfully waiting for the morning tea preschooler rush. The wind gently ruffled the hair on my arms. It didn’t turn out to be a shortcut but it was worth it.

I almost crossed the road unnecessarily but then I remembered where the Officeworks is.

Taking my bike to this Officeworks is always a nightmare because there is no good place to lock it, especially with the trailer. I made sure to keep the footpath clear in case any people with low mobility needed to use it.

Officeworks was a sensory assault as always. I couldn't find the washi tape so I bought glue sticks. Once I found the washi tape I obsessed over price and getting the best value for money, and which account to use to pay for it.

Then followed the nightmare of trying to navigate home. I know how to get to my old house. I know how to get to the library. I know how to get to my kid’s school. But I don’t know how to get home. I don’t even know what direction home is in. I pulled up google maps and it suggested I get onto the highway. Are you kidding me? I checked I entered “bike”. Yep. Have they finished building the bike path on the highway? I shook my head: it doesn’t matter, I’m not trying it even if google maps is right and they have. Finally I worked out which way I need to go. I can follow the route I use to get home from the library.

As I was pulling out into the car park and onto the footpath in my bike, I started writing this story in my head. It was already bursting out of me.

Most people don’t think I am autistic when they meet me. They see me in environments where I am comfortable, where I can manage my needs for short periods of time. They don’t see me on the verge of melting down over washi tape. I feel the need to tell these stories so people who don’t understand can start to know what it’s like, and people who have similar struggles can laugh knowingly and not feel so alone.

I had to have so many people who DO see my struggles encourage me to apply for the NDIS, sometimes borderline forcefully, because I’m so used to living like this that it’s almost like I don’t even realise I’m struggling. I have no idea how NDIS support would have helped me on a day like today but as one of my encouragers put it to me, I might as well try.

I found myself on a familiar road again. Then I went past the road I should have turned down to go the route I go home from my kid’s school. Oh no! I could have been more efficient! Please calm down, my wise self speaks up. You have probably added like 2 minutes to your trip. It’s fine, you don’t need to beat yourself up over it. (Today my wise self was voice-acted by a close friend who is a doula).

Oh, right. I snapped out of the self-flagellation. I got overcome with enjoyment for bike-riding again. And I made it home without further incident or angst.

Then I immediately sat down at my desk, swept all the clutter I stored there last night onto the study couch, and started writing this.

It is now 10:45am. I have no idea how much work I am going to be able to get done today.

But at least I know I will be able to make bookmarks.

Epilogue:

I wrote this piece a couple of weeks ago and now I have an update: I seem to have suddenly gone off making bookmarks! It has gone from being an urgent need to an activity I could take or leave – even a mild irritation because I have collected all these bookmark-making cardboard and other materials and I need to find a storage solution for it! This turn of events is also entirely in line with being autistic/ADHD.