Childhood v Adulthood
In one of the online discussion forums I’m in that is for Autistics and their allies, the question was raised as to what others had found more difficult to navigate as an Autistic, childhood or adulthood.
While I would never disclose the statements of others within private groups, I do feel comfortable in sharing my own thoughts that I’d share within them, and my own response to the question was much more elaborate than I intended it to be when I first put finger to keyboard.
I could easily put the lengthy response to me simply being a wordy fucker (which I am), but having read it several times over since, I realised that I was addressing myself as much as I was others. To some degree, I was also forgiving myself as well as explaining myself.
This year of 2020, with lockdowns and social restrictions having affected so much of the life I’d established beforehand (one that it took me a long time to establish practically) has been hard in many ways, one of them being that in other ways it’s also been easier - something I’ve struggled with personally, given the struggles, grief and losses that have literally plagued so many the world over in this dire year.
For myself, as someone diagnosed/recognised at 47, looking back I realise that things were difficult with each time I had to transition into a new social setting (kinder>primary school>high school>tertiary school>work, etc) but once I'd learned to mimic what was expected, things didn't so much get easier, but I was more able to fake it to make it - the exception to that was my late teens when I discovered both the punk aesthetic and philosophy of not giving a fuck what others thought and life was somewhat easier by being deliberately untethered. I realise now that this was because navigating social expectations as an Autistic is exhausting, and it becomes more elaborate with each successive stage of life and what society demands.
At 19 I was misdiagnosed as Schizophrenic and heavily medicated for a year and a half, which very much nearly ruined me. In the wake of that and having severe anxiety (not that I recognised it as such back then) throughout my early 20's to mid 30's I self medicated by way of booze and found the world dulled and easier to navigate - not that the world would have thought the same of me. The only thing that ever grounded me substantially was my son, who stayed with me on weekends until he came to live with me full time at the age of 13, so up until the year before then I'd been a weekend father but weekday wastrel for close to 15 years - it wasn't practical and was emotionally/physically draining.
The last 13 years have been far more settled, but not without emotional hurdles. If anything, it was having everything "ideally" being what it should be (stable relationship, life, work, etc) and still feeling off-centre that lead me to go on antidepressants (big leap of faith given the misdiagnosis at 19) and I was fortunate enough to find one that works well for me, making a lot more within my life clearer.
My last 7 years have been spent working within childcare as a diploma qualified educator, and it was seeing so many relatable challenges that Autistic children I've worked for and with, and realising I'd faced them myself when younger, that made me suspect I was Autistic. After my nephew was diagnosed/recognised, my parents noted themselves that many of his Autistic traits and preferences were similar to what mine had been.
And here I am.
I'd only just started to fully appreciate, embrace and own the "me" that finally made sense after 47 long years last year in November, when the world and all its rules changed with 2020.
It's a different learning curve now, all over again. Especially after a long period of having been isolated at home with just myself and my son (he's 24 now) because so much of life has been easier, even while also being harder, in regards to sensory issues.
Isolation has very much highlighted benefits such as much less social interaction taking a physical/mental toll, pyjamas every day so not having to worry about what clothing I can tolerate without it causing mental-static to some degree, not having to worry about whether someone's voice is going to feel like nails being hammered into my brain (that last one's only adult voices, not children's - it's something to do with pitch and tone), and so many other things that I've realised were always an emotional and sensory drain after they were put on hold and my world at large fell quiet enough to notice/rediscover such things.
In as much as that bubble of inactivity allowed for change that was comforting, it's also allowed for a great many stressors to return like a cast of "usual suspects" who've played roles at various stages of my 47 years when life was in turmoil and my coping mechanisms were either illusionary or impractical - severe anxiety, OCD (repetitive hand-washing was an issue at one point, so cheers for that one, 2020), mild agoraphobia, even the whisperings of bulimia every time I notice that I've gained weight during isolation.
2020 has changed everything for everyone and, while I do know that I have been far more fortunate than those whose lives have been lost or their loved ones left to mourn them, as an Autistic it's been an ever spinning-coin with heads or tails bringing both positives and negatives.
Life and work are steadily returning to "normal", as far as the new normal is going to be for some time, but I'm finding that easing back into that - something I very much wish to do, having finally found "me" last year - is like having to revisit every period of transition across those 47 years (kinder>primary school>high school>tertiary school>work, etc) all rolled into one but with every one of those "usual suspects" of anxiety, OCD and other issues riding shotgun.
As an adult, however, I recognise these things for what they are far more clearly - especially when framed through the lens of being aware now that I'm Autistic. What were once issues or obstacles that I'd try to stubbornly barrel my way through - leading only to burnout, frustration, anger, depression, and more - are now challenges that I can more easily navigate and work around, and most importantly recognise as battles not worth fighting if it means losing myself.
Long story short, my sincere hope, and one of the reasons why I want to advocate for more acceptance and awareness of how Autism may present for both children and adults, is so that rather than Autistics having to remould ourselves to fit a world that's proven to be flawed in this year of all years, we can instead embrace what makes life easier and the world in turn embraces that we need that and is more willing to remould itself.
The world doesn't come to an end when it yields to change that's nothing more than compassionate, but the people who can't cope in a world that demands otherwise sometimes do.
And it doesn’t need to be that way.