The Double-Edged Sword
By Michael Kelman Portney
I’ve been told I’m a double-edged sword. A compliment? A warning? A little bit of both? I’ve come to embrace it, because, honestly, there’s no better way to describe me. Sharp, precise, and absolutely not something you’d want to mishandle. The thing about being a double-edged sword is that while one edge is slicing through obstacles, the other is precariously close to slicing through…well, me.
Here’s the deal: I don’t do anything halfway. Precision and intensity are my defining traits. When I dive into something, I dive. Surface skimming? Not in my vocabulary. If life were a video game, I’m the guy trying to unlock all the secret levels and Easter eggs before even attempting to finish the main quest. There’s no such thing as casual interest—I either care deeply, or I don’t care at all. And when I care, things get intense. I didn’t choose to be Icarus flying too close to the sun—I was born a moth.
Autism is a major part of this. My brain grabs onto a problem and doesn’t let go. It’s a gift, no doubt, but it’s also exhausting—for me and sometimes for everyone around me. Imagine being in a constant high-speed chase with your own thoughts. It’s exhilarating and terrifying, often at the same time. My focus can cut through layers of bullshit, but if I’m not careful, it can also cut too deep, too fast.
Take a random obsession, like handwriting analysis (yes, it’s a thing). Most people look at a signature and see scribbles. I see muscle memory, personality traits, and—if we’re being honest—something that probably doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things but will keep me up at night anyway. Double-edged sword: the edge that slices through the superficial and the edge that gets stuck in the weeds.
And then there’s my intensity. People either love it (spoiler alert: they don’t) or feel like they’ve been hit by a tornado of unsolicited passion. I know I can come off strong—it’s part of who I am. But I also know it can be overwhelming. The sword cuts both ways: my intensity can inspire, but it can also intimidate. My precision can solve problems, but it can also feel relentless. I’m aware of it, which helps, but doesn’t necessarily change it.
The real challenge is balance. How do you wield a double-edged sword without cutting yourself? I’m still figuring it out. What I’ve learned so far is that it’s all about knowing when to strike and when to step back. Intensity and precision are powerful tools, but they need direction. Without it, they’re just sharp edges flailing in every direction.
Here’s the funny thing, though: I wouldn’t trade this sword for anything. It’s not always easy being the person who dives in headfirst, who cares too much, who cuts through the noise, and can’t help but tell you truth. But it’s who I am, and it’s what makes me, me. I’m not here to dull my edges to make life easier for anyone. I’ve never done anything in my life the easy way.
So, yeah, I’m a double-edged sword. But wield me correctly, and we’ll cut through anything that stands in our way. Mishandle me, and, well, let’s just say the other edge is pretty damn sharp. I have no choice but to embrace it, and when you understand the sharpness of the sword, you are empowered to drop your beaten, corroded armor.
Michael Kelman Portney will only ever cut to the chase with you at https://www.misinformationsucks.com
