Lately, I’ve been deeply pondering questions about the intersections of Autism, difference, anxiety, introversion and perception. I wonder why I feel alien and alone in a crowd, but perfectly accepted and infinite when standing in a forest. There is no real rhyme or reason to how these concepts interrelate. I try to apply logic and habitually come up empty.
Earlier this year, I “came out” of the Autism closet and landed smack dab in the center of the Autism/Advocacy community. I had a sudden surge of feeling together, not apart. The sensation of being part of a community, not an outsider. The urge to unify and work towards the greater good, not just stand by and watch the world tumble by.
But the feeling didn’t last. First, I noticed the tension in my jaw, followed by headaches. Then, I realized I was stimming even in my dreams, but in my dreams I could rock back and forth as much as I wanted without feeling like I had to say to myself, “stop rocking, people are staring”. I felt an overwhelming responsibility to write every day, and felt guilty when I couldn’t participate in flashblog events. I felt like I needed to be aware of and on top of the details of every pressing topic currently being discussed, shared or blogged about in the Autism community at large. I felt intensely motivated to be part of the neurodiversity movement, while at the same time, increasingly conflicted about going against my personal grain of craving serenity, peace, calm and quietude. I’m not a loud person. I don’t like to argue, debate, or discuss in a heated manner. I certainly don’t feel like people who are able to passionately engage are wrong in their approach, I just feel like I’m not one of those people. I’m introverted. Very introverted. And feeling like I was again feeling like a singularity.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt like I didn’t belong in this world, and that I was different. Too different to be within the accepted range of “different”. I’ve felt like an impostor in my own life, just about every day- going as far back as my I can remember. In my lifetime, I’ve thrown myself purposefully, into different activities and groups of people, in constant attempts to find a feeling of togetherness, community, and “sameness”. I don’t know if I really crave this “sameness” or if it is years of being trained by family and society to make me feel like I must achieve a homogenous existence within a defined circle.
I’ve come across several wonderful blog topics in the last few weeks, which have made me feel much more at home in my sense of singularity, and being an outsider, even in my own community. The first topic is one I read about at SeventhVoice, and it discusses the early self-awareness of being different, as one of the hallmarks of Autism in women- “Asperger’s Syndrome’s missing trait” In this post, the author identifies one universal trait, which isn’t part of the usual list of traits- which is part of the experience of just about every Autistic woman. That trait is: “The early personal recognition, awareness or sensation that they feel, think and perceive the world differently to those around them.” This happened very early in life for me, despite not understanding what I was experiencing. I tried to play with other children, but I never felt like I connected. I didn’t relate to other girls, but I didn’t relate to other boys, either. I was biologically a girl, but I didn’t relate to the experience of being a girl. But I wasn’t a boy, either. I was somewhere in between. To a certain extent, I seemed to enjoy the company of boys more, because they were more likely to engage in activities I liked: exploring the forest, climbing trees, catching frogs, getting dirty, and things of that ilk. But at the same time, the boys I played with didn’t use their imagination the way I did, they talked too much, they didn’t want to read books, and they wanted to play together, not apart.
I’ve always felt acutely aware that I was different, even when I was normalizing myself to fit in. I’m not denying that along the way, I occasionally felt brief flashes of acceptance or “sameness” within a group, but it was always fleeting. Those sensations, though- were enough to give me a rush of adrenaline, almost as if they were some sort of teaser to prod me into continuing in my quest. When I came out in February of this year, I went through that same experience, that same rush- only to be met with repeatedly feeling like I had hit a brick wall. Even in my own community I felt alone, singular, separate, apart, outside, and different.
I’ve realized I’m not alone in that sentiment. A few days ago, I read another blog post that resonated with me- “On being different and differently autistic”, from ThirdGlance. In her post, she writes the following passage- which really hit home with me as to how I currently feel about the Autism community I initially felt so at home in: “I’ve had the pleasure of interacting with dozens of other young autistic women. They write compellingly, about important topics. But I’m not like them. I’m not an activist. I don’t feel compelled to write posts spewing rhetoric, to preach about politics and right and wrong. I don’t take offense and pounce when someone uses the wrong word around me (though sometimes I will take someone aside after and talk to them). My existence and worth isn’t defined from one crisis to another, trying to find a “them” to go up against. I’m not saying that my “peer group” is doing anything wrong. I simply don’t have that sort of disposition to be a part of them, and therefore, I’m different from them. “
BOOM. All that, and more. I’m not like them, and that’s really okay. I have an incredible amount of respect for them, but I just don’t have the spoons to do what they do, every day, so passionately, so well, so fluently. It’s not part of my constitution, no matter how much I tried to be involved, and to be a part of their group. I was forcing myself to be something I’m not able to be at this time and point in my life- if ever at all. it was causing me a good deal of tension, and a great deal of stress.
At some point I had to admit to myself that I needed to let go of the guilt I felt over not being able to write every day, and participate in every event. I needed to let go of feeling badly that I’d never be able to participate in a protest, or a disability rights or Autism conference. I needed to forgive myself for not being able to write about pressing topics at the drop of a dime, because I’m just not able to write under that kind of pressure. I needed to allow myself to realize that pushing myself to be something I’m not cut out to be isn’t moving the neurodiversity movement forward, but moving me backward. Affecting progress I have made in managing stress, meltdowns, and executive function. Making me feel confused or sad when I thought I was supposed to be feeling accepted and worthwhile within my own community.
The solid truth is, that I’m an introvert, through and through- and nothing is going to change that. Every time I’ve taken the Meyers Briggs Personality Inventory- whether it was the official version or one of the more recent online incarnations, I’ve tested to be an introvert with a capital I- on the farthest end of being an introvert that one can possibly be. (I’m an INFJ, if you’re interested).
I’m not an outgoing person. I’m quiet, and I like to feel comfortable, at ease, and at peace. I find my energy and strength from the forces within myself. Reaching outward, interfacing and communicating with other people drains and exhausts me. Activism is about as far outside of my comfort zone as I can get. I think that the Autism community activists are possibly of a more extroverted personality type than I am. They might be more comfortable with public speaking, or presenting at a conference. Interacting with other people might not be as draining for them. Autism in and of itself lends plenty of complication to my social interactions. Throw a large dose of introversion into that mix? And you’ve got me.
As I move forward into 2015, and my one year anniversary of being publicly out about being Autistic, I find myself at a crossroads in which I need to choose a direction which best suits my disposition, my personality, and my daily spoon allotment. I regret that the direction I need to go in involves letting being a passionately outspoken Autism self-advocate and activist taking a back seat, but I know that given my situation and the stress and conflict I’ve felt over the last ten months- that this is the healthiest decision I could make. I plan to keep on writing and sharing my experiences about my late diagnosis, life on the spectrum, having a neurodiverse family, and my journey in general– but I no longer feel the need to try to force myself to be someone that I’m decidedly not. I feel that this will open me up to more opportunities to work on this blog, which is where I feel the most comfortable. I also look forward to finding new blogs to add to my reader, and trying to interact with at least one blog via commenting or reblogging, on a daily basis.
Filed under: "coming out" autistic, an epiphany of sorts..., Autism Advocacy, Autistic childhood, comforting things, female autism, goals, my journey is this, neurodiversity, self acceptance, things I'm working on, wanting to fit in
