Once again, I’ve come around to the issue of how to be true to myself.
For most of my life, I’ve made a practice of emulating other people in order to know how to navigate. I’ve been so single-mindedly focused on getting it “right” that when things go “wrong,” I feel like I’ve messed up. But, in truth, I don’t mess up any more than anyone else on the planet. So why does it feel that way?
The feeling derives from an old, false belief that something is amiss inside me. Of course, when I’m thinking clearly, I know that nothing is amiss at all. I’m autistic. That’s neither good nor bad. It just is.
But I still feel divided, in a couple of ways.
1) I am firmly grasping myself by the hand and bringing myself out into the open, while at the same time, my old conditioning is kicking in and saying, “You’re doing WHAT? Hide that person!”
Now that I’ve peeled off the masks, I can see how my life experience has taken its toll on my self-esteem. All the times that I’ve been bullied, rejected, laughed at, or shunned have made their mark. And yet, miraculously, I can see that there is nothing wrong with me. When people have been cruel, it was all about them and their blindness. That’s all. So I hear the old conditioning that tells me to hide, and I say, “Well, I’ve taken your advice for half a century, and thanks for trying to help, but it’s time for you to retire.”
2) Who exactly am I, anyway? Exactly where is the line between being my wonderful, loving autistic self and pretending to be someone I’m not? Where is the line between holding onto my power and letting it slip away?
After all, I have social skills and I feel fine using them. The problem arises when I use them and pay absolutely no attention to the voice of my neurology ringing me up and saying:
Hello? Yes, I know you have social skills, but I’m getting tired…Yes, yes…of course…I know being at the store is fun…Yes, I know, but it’s been a couple of hours, and I really need to go home.
If I tune into my neurology and give it the respect it deserves, I’ll know when I’m in danger of crossing over from enjoying myself to driving myself. The problem is, how much is too much? Do I leave at the first warning sign of overload, or do I push myself a little further? I’m not sure. The answer to these questions is still a work in progress.
I feel as though I have a foot in each world—the ASD world and the neuro-typical world. I’ve got neurological wiring that makes me autistic, and I have autistic friends I’ve made online, but I also have relationships with people who are neuro-typical, and I value those relationships. I have to be able to navigate between the two. Doing only one or the other is out of the question. But how?
I’m not sure. I certainly can’t keep going with the image of having a foot in each world. It makes me feel like I’m nowhere. But I’ve been meditating on another image, an image of threading myself through the outside world while being aware of what’s going on inside me. Sometimes, that inner self will be communicating with other autistic people, which generally feels easy to me. And sometimes, that inner self will be communicating with neuro-typical people. At times, I find it very easy to talk with neuro-typical folks, and sometimes, I find it immensely difficult. It all depends upon the person, the nature of the environment, and the state of my sensory system at any given time.
What’s most difficult is the knowledge that I have to be prepared for other people’s fears and misconceptions. If “coming out” didn’t mean running up against everything from complete acceptance to out-and-out ignorance, it wouldn’t be so difficult. The one thing I badly need to avoid is talking to people endlessly, hoping that if I throw enough words at them, they’ll understand. I don’t have that kind of energy anymore.
As far as I can see, if I want to throw a little light on the subject of autism, I have two options: I can write, and I can be true to myself. I think I’ve got the writing part down. Now I can get on with the task of being true to who I am.
© 2009 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg
To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.
William Shakespeare (Polonius to Laertes, in Hamlet).
Just do and say and be what comes naturally without having to mediate it through a filter of “How will this be seen” If that is at all possible. And within reason of course (not hitting!) lol
OH, Kate. if only it were that easy!
I think, Rachel, when you come to the point your neurology is banging you on the head telling you it’s time to go home, evaluate what the rest of your day and what tomorrow’s schedules are. If you can afford the time to recover from the inevitable melt down from too much, stimulation, then stay. If you’ve a full plate and can’t spare the recovery time, then listen to the voice say, “It’s time to go home.”
You can have it all, but not all at once.
i used to be better at listening to my brain when i was in my 20′s. i didn’t care as much about advancing at work, and figured people who wanted to be my friend would need to deal with the real me. silly me, i had terrible jobs and few friends. problem was, when i hit 30, and started to pretend to be a supervisor/manager, and got ‘really social’, there was not an appreciable difference in job satisfaction or friend levels.
i do miss certain things about being younger, but graaaadual self-acceptance is a bonus of aging, and of a diagnosis.
and to ditto Lizzie, if only it were that easy! unless you are fortunate to not have to deal with human beings, ever, in the smallest way, we all need to find coping mech’s, and cannot always be ourselves. there are merits to social lubricants, to a point.
When I was teaching stress management, the trick always was to become as aware as possible of the “early warning” signals that the body always sends our way. Then, the challenge was to both recognize and accept the “stress” signals, and then click into the “management” mode. There is always a way to manage the stress, even though sometimes it requires a “change of venue.” The body always sends out these early stress signals, and they’re different for everyone. Once the signals are recognized, it may be possible, by employing “early intervention” techniques, to reduce the impact of the stress — even though the external stressor remains the same. So, with experience, it may be possible, for example, to stay at the store a bit longer by employing the management techniques sooner. But this takes both awareness and practice, and the willingness to go home sooner one day in order to hopefully stay longer the next!