The electricity of every living thing

In review

I was drawn to this book having read and very much enjoyed Wintering.  I was a little bit fascinated by Katherine and the glimpses of her life and interested to track back to an earlier iteration of herself. Like Wintering, the pace is slow and the reader ambles alongside May as she reflects on her inner landscape—frustration, confusion, and the dawning clarity that she may be autistic.

There are no dramatic twists or cliff hangers here, just the profound difficultly of learning to accept oneself as best one can. May’s writing is beautifully evocative, capturing both her experience of the landscape on the coastal path and her pervasive low mood – that unsettling feeling of things somehow wrong in an undefinable way that is hard to pin down.  Her travels on foot, become a metaphor for her psychological journey of coming to terms with her suspected Autism and we listen in, whilst she reverse interprets her experiences, through the lens of that possible diagnosis.

Each chapter pairs a segment of her physical journey with memories, insights, and emotional revelations. We walk with her from the lightbulb moment (sparked by a podcast) through the tentative process of seeking diagnosis, the vulnerability of ‘coming out’ to loved ones, and her grappling with the question of whether she’d rather have a ‘disorder’ or simply be misunderstood.

Her honesty around motherhood is particularly brave. She names what many cannot: the gap between cultural ideals and lived experience, the sharp edges of maternal ambivalence, and how being a mother challenges one’s role-self. One passage I found particularly affecting was her description of her ‘whiteout” when struggling with getting her son in a buggy, a total meltdown which leaves her afterwards struggling to recall what happened.  I found it moving not just for its rawness, but because it conveys how difficult it is to make ourselves and the depth of our experience understood, even to those you love us and know us best.

The book powerfully explores the tension between traits that may be markers of neurodivergence and those that may be universal to the human condition, such as the feeling of being ‘different’, alone and misunderstood.

Part memoir, part travelogue, the narrative style reflects the fragmented, looping way self-understanding actually unfolds.

Another theme in the book which stood out to me is Self-Acceptance. As May walks, she gains not only increased insight but makes space for a different way of relating to herself, that feels more compassionate, less judgemental and more accepting.  It’s potent reminder of how much changes when we stop being angry at ourselves for being who we are. Even if we can’t yet celebrate certain parts, accepting them—however disappointing they may feel—creates space. That simple act of self-acceptance opens up a more forgiving, expansive way of relating to ourselves.

Questions and reflections

Throughout the book, May describes experiences of being out of kilter with others and of realising she is different.  One particular painful experience where she describes realising she perceived herself quite differently to her classmates.

• What are your recollections of feeling ‘different’ or ‘other’ as a child?
• How has this impacted on you in adulthood?

One of the books theme’s is coming to terms with the changing identity of motherhood.

• If you are a parent, how has your identity changed as a result?
• If you do not have or do not want children, how does that impact on how you see yourself?
• In both instances, how are you effected by others reactions to your changing status/choice?

In the book, May compares walking to meditation in its ability to quieten her mind.

• How do you experience your inner world and what do you do to find peace?

There are passages in the book when Katherine reflects on her previous understanding of herself and what she told herself about her ability to socialise, her enjoyment of parties etc, that she now realises was false.

• What “stories” do you tell yourself to account for things that don’t feel quite right in your life?

If these experiences resonate with you and you’d like a space to reflect on them, either one-to-one in therapy or in a therapeutic book group, please get in touch.