When I Listen To My Mother Talk About Me As A Child, I Feel Such An Overwhelming Confusion And Disconnect.

it:s an explanation of why i like shinobu from chihayafuru & the peripheral people / moving-object that pop up sometimes 

Wanderer above the Sea of Fog, Caspar David Friedrich, 1818

Serial Experiments Lain (1998) Episode 8

Surrendering to Despair

I’m trying to figure out if I might be autistic but it’s hard, in part because while I was always bossy growing up and I always dominated conversations I was interested in, when I was about 21 I found out that some people literally asked my best friend if I was “intending to be an asshole” and that was really crushing to me so I took a course in not being an asshole basically, and learned that you’re supposed to ask questions and whatnot… and now I don’t know what’s stuff I’ve learned and what’s natural to me, in conversation.

Taking a course like that kind of seems like an autistic way to go about it though?

I have things that fit into all the criteria, but I’m not sure they’re significant enough for autism. Maybe I’m just domineering and fussy with food and prefer my current things to new things? I don’t like eye contact and I don’t like to be touched, but none of it seems to get to the extent that anyone would ever diagnose me - especially as a woman.

Sorry to dump, I just needed to share/ask for another perspective ❤️

The social difficulties is very common with autistics. And, always, it's the why you did those things that matter.

An autistic child, as an example, will dominate a conversation because they don't understand that conversation is supposed to be a back and forth... They think what they're excited about is exciting to all those involved and therefore are having a conversation. Because conversation is just talking, right? And now, these people get to learn all that you know!

There is also an element of difficulty concentrating on a conversation. An autistic, on average, can follow a conversation for about 5 minutes before they will start to struggle (or so my therapist told me and it's definitely true for me). Not necessarily because we find the conversation boring, but because social interaction isn't innate for us, so we're using twice as much energy to process what's being said to us.

Other neurodivergences, such as ADHD, can also struggle with conversation, but usually due to hyperactivity (getting excited by what's being said, getting stuck in something that was said and needing to talk about it, talking fast and/or loudly etc).

So, to a neurotypical, they don't see that we're "having a conversation" with them... They see someone not letting them talk. Even though we're enjoying ourselves and showing love and friendship. NTs don't see that.

And then to struggle to concentrate when they finally do get to talk? What asshole behaviour... except it's not. It's just how our brains work. We're not wanting to struggle.

Most kids are forced to mask this either by scripting, mirroring, or reading books. I learnt by scripting, and it's fucking exhausting.

So how can you tell if this is something you learnt naturally or masking?

Are you constantly checking yourself during conversations?

Are you hyper aware of how much time to speak, cutting yourself off if your alloted time is up?

Do you ask standardized questions to start the flow of conversation?

Do you force yourself to avoid special interest topics or have to force yourself to stop talking, even if the other person shows interest, out of fear you're hijacking the conversation?

Are you unable to actually tell if someone is interested in what you're saying, so you assume they're bored so as not to insult them? You fear breaking whatever conversation rules you have been taught?

The above are very very common with autistic masking and scripting.

Autistic women aren't as rare as you think

Did you know that women are a lot less likely to be diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder? And no, this isn't necessarily because autism in women is just a lot less common. It's because autism in women usually presents itself very differently than autism in men. Autistic women often get misdiagnosed with anxiety disorders and/or Borderline Personality Disorder. And to be fair, anxiety disorders, BPD and ASD all have quite a lot of similarities.

The damage of being diagnosed with ASD later in life is bigger than you might think. I know this too well. For as long as I can remember, I have felt different in comparison to my peers. I could never put my finger on it, but something about me felt different. Not even just different, no, I felt wrong. There had to be something wrong with me.

I remember a conversation I once had with my mum, although I doubt she remembers this. I think I was about 9 or 10 years old. She had just picked me up from school and we were sitting in the car, when I said to her "I'm special, aren't I?" My mum of course responded by saying how special I was because of how kind and funny and smart I was, because my mum has always been my biggest fan. And I remember I quickly stopped her and said "no not like that, I'm weird."

Weird. It's something I've been called a lot in my life. Most times, it was told jokingly by my friends and family. Other times I was being called weird by bullies or by teachers who should've never started working with children in the first place. I've always known I was weird. So when my friends called me weird for taking something a bit too literally, I honestly didn't mind. As a child I liked being weird. Being weird meant I was being true to myself. As I got older, I noticed that being weird wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. Before I knew it, people thinking I was weird became a subconscious fear of mine. Being weird meant I was myself, yes. But it also meant I didn't belong. Being weird confirmed that I was different, special. That I was wrong.

I was about 9 years old when autism was first suspected. I was making repetitive movements all day long. The movements looked a lot like stimming, something that a lot of autistics do. I don't really remember the test they did. All I remember was that I really liked my psychologist, Sarah. We were always in a room with lots of toys. I remember that my mum once explained to me what autism was, and why they thought I might be autistic. She said "autistic people don't see the big picture, they see a bunch of small things." As an example, she said that autistic people don't see a house, they see windows, a door, walls, etc. I told her I wasn't autistic, because I always see a house. In hindsight, it is pretty ironic to see how literally I took that explanation. Taking things 'too' literally, another sign of autism.

A few weeks after that, Sarah told me that she didn't know if I was autistic or not. In her words, 50% of me was autistic and 50% of me wasn't. They ended up not diagnosing me, and referred me to a hospital to see if it wasn't actually epilepsy.

No, I don't have epilepsy. We later found out I have something called Stereotypic Movement Disorder. Which I will elaborate on in a later post.

For years to come, that would be the closest I'd ever come to an ASD diagnosis. I was also tested for ADHD a few times as a teenager, but to no avail. As I grew older, the feeling of not belonging grew stronger. I was always wondering why I felt like such an outsider, maybe it was just all in my head? I was diagnosed with generalised and social anxiety when I was 16, which I thought could explain the feeling of being an outsider. But if that feeling was caused by anxiety, why did I have that feeling all my life?

When I was about 19 years old, I started suspecting I might be autistic after all. I asked my mum what the reasoning was of my psychologist all those years ago to not diagnose me. Apparently, I met all the diagnostic criteria. But because I had empathy and a lot of fantasy, I was not diagnosed. Since then, I have been fighting for an official diagnosis. I wanted to see on paper that I was diagnosed with ASD.

This was insanely hard to do. I tried talking about it to my psychologist, who dismissed me by saying I didn't need another diagnosis. Whenever I tried to tell someone about my struggle with getting diagnosed, I'd often hear "but you don't seem autistic". I'd get asked why I thought I could be autistic. I'd give my reasons and as a response I'd hear "well you might be on the autism spectrum but not enough to be considered autistic."

I was begging people to do a diagnostic test. I needed to prove that I was right about this, and how much it would help me. Even if we did the testing and it turned out I wasn't autistic at all, I could at least let that idea go and go on with my life. It was so frustrating that nobody believed me. My mum and my partner were the only people who actually believed I was autistic when I told them my reasoning.

And then, an angel in the form of a psychiatrist turned up. After only a few minutes of telling her about myself, she asked me if I was ever diagnosed with ASD. This resulted in enthusiastic rambling on my part. I told her everything, how I felt out of place, how I was almost diagnosed, about the repetitive movements, etc. She is the one who ended up setting up a diagnostic exam for me. And this year in August, I was finally officially diagnosed with ASD. The psychologist who did the diagnostic test told me this was one of the most obvious cases of autism he had ever seen.

You have no idea how relieved I was to finally, FINALLY be diagnosed. That feeling of being different, being wrong. No, there's nothing wrong with me. I'm autistic, that's it. My psychologist, who kept dismissing my suspicions, later told me she didn't want to see if I was autistic because she thought I was looking down on myself. Never once have I seen being autistic as a bad thing. It's just who I am, that's it.

Now I live through life, knowing that I am autistic. That feeling of being out of place, something I've had all my life, is gone. I cannot even describe how liberating it is to have that burden to be lifted from my shoulders. A part of me is angry though. I have been begging for years for help with this. And time and time again, I was ignored or dismissed. Often just being told it was some type of anxiety. I also wish that my psychologist all those years ago didn't refuse to diagnose me. I met all the diagnostic criteria, that should've been enough. Imagine if I was told I was autistic when I was 9. What that meant for me, why I felt like I was different, that there was nothing wrong with me.

Please, believe women when they say they think they're autistic. You have no idea how much you'd be helping us.

Source ~ Autism Women's Network

What is Autistic Burnout?

Signs:

Lack of motivation (hard to care about goals when everyday life is overwhelming)

Loss of executive functioning abilities (decision making, organisation etc)

Difficulty with self care

Easier to reach overload or meltdown

Loss of speech, selective mutism

Lethargy, exhaustion

Illness, digestive issues

Memory loss

Inability to maintain masks or use social skills

Overall seeming "more autisic" or stereotypical

May have a period of high energy before collapse

Causes:

Passing as neurotypical/suppressing traits

Doing "too much", too much stress

Ageing: needing more downtime, having less energy

Changes, good or bad (relationships, jobs, living arrangements, belongings, environment, routines...)

Sleep deprivation, poor nutrition, dehydration

Illness

Sensory or emotional overload

Strategies:

Time

Scheduling breaks, managing spoons

Leave of absence

Stimming, sensory diet

Exercise

Massage

Reminders and support

Routines

Better environment/job/etc

Boundaries, saying 'no'

Dropping the mask/facade

Solitude

Absolute quiet

Creative projects, passions, special interests

Paying attention to reactions and your body

Source ~ My Autistic Soul

Autistic Burnout : A Guide

What is Autisic Burnout?

When an autistic person is in burnout, it means that they are experiencing extreme mental, physical, and/or sensory exhaustion.

This exhaustion can stem from a variety of places, especially from masking, and can lead to an even larger variety of symptoms.

It can last a few hours or several years

It can be the result of a slow build-up or it can hit suddenly

The effects of burnout (especially loss of skills) are more likely to be permanent if the burnout has lasted several years

It is more common in adolescents and adults

It is different than neurotypical burnout and regular depression

It affects every area of your life

It requires more time to recover

What Causes Autistic Burnout?

Masking

Too high of expectations

Lack of support

High intensity interactions (concert, party)

Prolonged interaction (school, work)

Sensory overload

Suppressing autistic traits

Operating beyond capacity

Not being able to recover from or cope with stress at the beginning signs

Change

What are the Signs of Autistic Burnout?

Anxiety

Increased shutdowns or meltdowns

Depression

Suicidal ideation

Little to no motivation

Loss of interest

Loss of basic skills

Exhaustion

Increased executive dysfunction

Difficulties with memory, communicating or sleep

Easily triggered/overstimulated

Headaches/migraines

You may seem "more autistic"

Difficulties in making decisions

Low attention span

How to Prevent/Cope with Autistics Burnout

Accommodations (in work, school, and everyday life)

Say no

Find community (on social media or in person)

Take breaks (often)

Let autistic traits breathe

Get rid of expectations

Therapy (especially for prolonged burnout)

Leave, even if it seems rude

Engage in simple self-care

Learn to manage energy

Stim

Ask for help

Rest

Set boundaries

Put yourself first

Identify your triggers

Autistic burnout is largely fueled by having to navigate a world that was not made for us. And so, burnout is nearly inevitable for autistics.

Burnout is exhausting, overwhelming and scary. It is something a lot of is deal with on a daily basis without even realising what it is. It has become our normal way of existing.

Recovering from, preventing, and coping with burnout is not a quick and easy fix. It is a lifetime process of taking care of and being gentle with ourselves. Which is hard, my dudes, not gonna lie.

But we're some tough sons of bitches.

cold

what it’s like to learn that you’re autistic as an adult.

“im a seed

and i’ve been sowed on to sand.

my whole life i’m raised as a crop seed, like my friends and family. so that’s what i believe i am.

but i can see them growing, and im still just a seed.

i just don’t fit in.

i wonder whats was wrong with me.

i start to think maybe i’m a bad seed, not meant to be successful.

When i turned 18 i was pulled into the ocean by the tide.

i’m panicking because i know i can’t survive out here alone. no one prepared me for this.

i get to the bottom of the ocean.

i realize this is reality. there’s nothing i can do about it. this is just adulthood.

i start to sprout.

the only way this is possible is if im actually a sea plant. but there’s no way. my parents would have told me.

but i never was a crop seed.

i’ve always been sea weed.

i start to grow.

and i realize there was never anything wrong with me.

so now i know who i am, and i can live the rest of my life. happily, a sea weed.”