@NPR Here we go again... "treating autism". NPR, can't you do better? Or we're going back to treating homosexuality and transgender as well? š¤¬ #actuallyautistic@actuallyautistic
Do you find that novelty can help you do something new that otherwise you wouldnāt do due to its challenging nature?
I.e. sensory and social overload is averted, at least while something is classed as ānovelā, because the buzz that comes from doing something novel keeps you going.
I ask because Iām wondering if the thrill of novelty where I simply love exploring and experiencing new things is what is helping me keep going in life. Without it, most of these new situations (and older similar ones) would simply not appeal to me at all due to the way they challenge me on an autistic level. I would probably end up in burn out. And even the novel situations take a huge amount out of me, but at least I feel happy/ier about it?
Later this year I have my ADHD assessment and I want to see if this resonates with others that identify as both autistic and ADHD. Alternatively, it could just be that I like novel things but if so, that really goes against my autistic tendencies - I function best day-to-day when in familiar, predictable situations. The opposite of novel! So itās very strange to crave the opposite, even when it costs so much.
Hope this makes sense, but please do ask me clarifying questions if not. š
But itās difficult, tiring, expensive, and my non-existent executive function relies on it while it burns my autistic circuits out.
Itās like that cartoon trope with the devil and angel on the shoulders, one craving stability, sameness and security while the other, the one that actually does the steering seeks novelty constantly.
I think Iām well and truly effed, as the only way I can actually do anything is also the surefire recipe for burnout.
Tweet shared to the FB group Feral Neurodivergent Raging Meme Posting and now here with you. Iāve been down and this was the first thing that made me laugh today. I hope it makes you laugh too. #actuallyautistic#autism#autistic
Hiya! I know I've been somewhat incognito since joining here, but now I'm launching a project that will show more of who I am.
It's a podcast I started with my daughter about being a #neurodivergent parent with a #neurotypical child. We talk about how the world was when I was raising her a million years ago and the things I wish I'd known then that I know now as a newly self-discovered #ActuallyAutistic person.
If anyone wants to give it a listen, I'd love to know what you think! There are four episodes so far. We are just getting started.
I once wrote about how it was not unrealistic, to think that there was no such thing as an un-traumatised autistic. About how so many of us have known bullying and persecution simply for being different. Not even always for what we may have said or done, but often for simply standing out; in all the ways that we didn't even know we were. How just simply being, was so often an excuse to be attacked or punished. That our very existence, even as hard as we tried to mask, whether we knew that was what we were doing or not, was the cause of so much pain.
All the scars we carry from misreading situations. Or from believing in something, or someone, and being burnt as a consequence. All the times we've tried to stand up for ourselves, or as often as not for others, and been dismissed and ridiculed. All the misjudgements and disbelieve and times when our intent and purpose have been seen in the ways that were never, ever, meant. The sheer inability for others to see us as we are, or to judge us accordingly. But, always to seem to want to see the worst and to base everything else on that.
But the more I learn and understand about being autistic. The more I realise that so much of my trauma and the scars that were left, came not just from this overt pain, but from the covert well-meaning of others as well. From my parents and relatives, from friends and teachers. From all the advice and instruction I have received over the years that was meant to shape me in the right way. As a child, to teach me how to grow up, how to behave and act. What was expected and what wasn't. And then, as an adult, how I was supposed to be and how a successful life, with me in it, was supposed to look. All the rules I was supposed to learn, all the codes I was supposed to follow. How to act, how to speak, what to feel, when to feel it. What I was supposed to do and how I was supposed to be.
Not in any unusual way. Not in any way that you weren't supposed to raise a child, well a normal child anyway. That's what makes this so covert. If you were trying to do this to a child knowing that they were autistic, then it's overt abuse. It is ABA, it is infantilising and punishing a child for always failing to become something, that they had no more chance of becoming than a cat has of becoming a dog. But for those of us who didn't know we were autistic. It was simply the constant hammering of the world trying, without even realising it, to fit a round peg into a square hole and all the pain and disappointment that came from their failure to come even close.
For me, what made this worse, was that it wasn't as if I didn't know that I was different, not in my heart, but that I thought that I shouldn't be. That I should be able to learn what I was being taught, that I should be able to follow the guidance. That I wasn't any different really from anyone else and so if I failed to act in the right way, or react the way I should, for that matter, then it was my fault. All the patient sighs and familiar looks, simply became just another reinforcement of my failure. Even being told off for the simplest things, became a reminder that something that I should have been able to do, was beyond me and always for the only reason that ever made any sense; that I was broken, that it was my fault somehow.
Is it any wonder that so much of my life has been about trying to justify myself in the light of this, of trying to become that "good dog". Of judging myself against an impossible standard. A constant lurching from one bad to choice to another, and always because I thought they were the right ones. And for each new failure and inability to even come close, another scar, another reminder of what I wasn't. Further proof that my self-esteem was right to be so low. Of how I was such a failure and a bad person. That I was never going to be a proper son or brother or friend. Because I couldn't even be what I was supposed to be, let alone what I should become.
Looking back, I can't help thinking about how much of my life I spent living this way; of trying not to repeat the sins of my past. Of not repeating the actions or behaviour that led to those past failures and trauma. Of, in fact, all the effort I put in to not being myself. Because that, I realise now, was what I was trying to do. I was that round peg and trying to hammer myself into the square hole. Because everything I had learnt had taught me to think that this was how I had to be. That this was how you grew. And in so many ways, I can't help feeling angry about this. About the wasted years, about the scars I carry that were never my fault. About the way I was brought up, even though none of it was ever meant, but only ever well-meant.
@glen@pathfinder@Tooden@actuallyautistic Yeah, welcome to the club! Membership benefits include being able to use our awesome #ActuallyAutistic hashtag and having a good explanation for why society seems so strange and painful for you.
It looks like you got the deluxe "AuDHD" package, which entitles you to relate to 90% of other autistics' traits and 90% of other ADHD people's traits, but not the same 90%.