Service mode off
I found a video describing “service mode”, a mental state of shutdown because other people are present. In service mode, my own needs and wants are secondary to whatever other people need; it’s a state of distraction where concentrating on my own projects becomes impossible. The author called service mode a common problem of autistic people; I’m certain it’s not limited to autism. I had to watch the video several times, because my brain kept stopping to think about how service mode applies in my life.
I'm a late-diagnosed (self-diagnosed, at this point) autistic mother of seven children, one with an official autism diagnosis from childhood and several with ADHD or ADD or whatever the current acronyms are, diagnosed or self-diagnosed or autism-adjacent. My adult children have said they're pretty sure we're all on the spectrum, our whole immediate family. I was blessed with an enormously helpful and supportive husband, and I had awesome parents, both likely on the spectrum or near it. I took on most of my children’s care while my husband worked. I relied heavily on the skills I learned from my parents: always keep learning, be humble and grateful, laugh often, be strict on what needs to be strict and flexible on everything else. I've been in service mode a lot; for many years it was constant. It doubled in the last 10 years, a sort of pulling another person out of quicksand while one of my legs was sinking. Grief and trauma have both played a part; an attitude of gratitude and a sense of humor have been life-saving, literally.
Now my youngest child has graduated from homeschool and all but one of my children have moved out of my house. I feel... unemployed... In a way I want service mode back. I still experience it negatively when I'm in the middle of something and my son wants to monologue about what he's doing, but that's happening less often. I have to decide for myself what to do with my time, in a way I haven't had to do since I was a small child in summer. That constant vigilance meant I stayed up until after everyone else had gone to bed, including my husband, so I could have quiet alone time and relax; now I have quiet time but difficulty relaxing during daylight hours. I still feel the need to be constantly productive, mentally “on”, until late at night, when I can let my hair down, so to speak. This is a weird experience, because now I want people, and don't want to live with people.
Some people don’t want to walk through their own living rooms, where their roommates are, because it triggers service mode; there will be demands, even just self-imposed politeness. I felt that in college. Some of my roommates were awesome; others were hostile. I remember feeling under siege once when there was loud obnoxious rock music blasting in the living room of the apartment for a very long time; when I finally came out of my room, there was no one else in the apartment at all. The music had been left on very loud, intentionally. I love having control of my own environment now, and do not want to go to a workplace where I might deal with that kind of behavior. At home I can control the sound, the temperature, the lighting, what I'm wearing, where I'm sitting or standing, what I'm working on, who comes into my home and when. I can take naps when I want.
I didn't mind children's noise as long as they were cheerful; I didn't mind their dirt or clutter or smells, as long as I could clean it up or move them or teach them how to take care of their stuff. It was useful and fulfilling work. Now I'm tired, and do not want to take on more children, at least not in my home and not for long periods of time. I'm writing blog posts and assembling them into a book. At first I interrupted myself, because I'm so used to being interrupted. This has lessened, thankfully. I can concentrate much longer than when my children were newly adults. Now I notice when I switch to service mode; it’s almost a conscious change, a tug on the bridle of my mind. It’s not a bad thing, useful, but I love getting that bridle off.
