Meyltje

olena , 19 days ago to actuallyautistic

Just was ‘diagnosed’ with anxiety today after talking to a psychiatrist for five minutes (I’m using quotes because it seems a bit too preliminary to me to diagnose whoever with whatever after about 5 minutes of general talk).
Came asking for #ADHD and #autism evaluation. Was totally ignored on that regard) Of course, didn’t have courage to ask again.

Was it so obvious? Was I just a walking stereotype: middle-aged woman from a war-thorn country living alone who voluntarily came to a psychiatrist(doesn’t matter what else she has, she can’t NOT be anxious)?
Or is it just a general experience of most of #AuDHD female-passing folks: to be seen as anxious, to have most of their symptoms attributed to #anxiety (not like I was asked about any symptoms, but maybe have demonstrated some?)?

@actuallyautistic

pathfinder , 1 month ago to actuallyautistic

@actuallyautistic

Much to my shock I realised that I could be autistic when I was 53, roughly 7 years ago. And it was a shock, even though I suspect a very small, well hidden and very much ignored part of me, might have suspected. No one told me about it, or suggested that it might be the case. I did not see myself in relatives, the way so many of us do. I just happened to come across an autism test online and for no particular reason, took it.

It was that, that started me on my path to realising and finally accepting the truth that I was autistic. But, looking back, I sometimes find it hard to understand how I didn't know earlier. So much of my life now, just screams autism at me. But even ignoring the horribly ableist and medieval view I had of what autism was, the main reason why I didn't was probably because I could mask, both from myself and others, so well.

It was, I realise now, a life lived in denial. A denial of how much things bothered me, how much effort I had to put into things. Even a denial of the things I knew I couldn't do. Because this is the thing about appearing to mask so well, for so long. It is, in a sense, a lie. I couldn't mask well, if at all. Not all the time. Not in all situations or circumstances. There were things I just couldn't cope with, or even begin to deal with. But the trick was, that I either knew about them, or learnt the hard way about them and then I could manage my life to avoid them. Because they were things I could live without, without affecting how I appeared to be coping. Things that didn't affect the way I lived, even if they did affect my sense of worth. Because, how broken did you have to be, not to be able to go to crowded events, like a sports match, or a concert? Or to be able to deal with the socialising of a large gathering, or a family event, without having to hide in the kitchen, or forever outside, or break down in a toilet?

It was all part of how I masked myself from myself. The internal masking, as I like to call it. If I couldn't cope, then I was broken. If I couldn't stand something, then I was too picky, or sensitive, or I simply needed to learn to ignore it. And somehow I did learn. I learnt how to cope with noise and smell and visual overwhelm. I learnt to not let things bother me. To a point at least. There was always a step too far, when I couldn't, or didn't have the energy any more to maintain it. And this did take energy, a lot of it. Something I've only realising now that I don't have the energy to spare to even try it. Or the ability to, in many respects now that I know what I was trying so desperately to hide from.

Because when the truth is known, it's far harder to deny it. It's far harder to live the life where appearing to cope, is as good as coping. Where blaming yourself, is easier than seeing others faults. Where ignoring the pain, makes the pain go away. It's hard to see the mask as a benefit and always a good thing, rather than the shield and tool it always was.

#Autism
#ActuallyAutistic

pathfinder , 2 months ago to actuallyautistic

@actuallyautistic

I have often said, and largely it's true, that I'm fairly open about being autistic. There are a number of reasons for this, but mostly it's because I feel that it's important to be as open as I can be. That by doing so I am hopefully opening people's eyes to the fact that autistic's can be anyone, the bloke they stand next to in the pub, the one they work with, the person they've known for so many years. That we can be any age and anyone.

But, to put this in some context. I live in a smallish town and have done so all my life. For various reasons I am quite well known. I am also male, and single and old enough and secure enough in my life not to give a damn any more. So the risks for me being this open aren't the same as they would be for others. A fact and privilege I am very aware of. I have also masked in a way that, I think, is possibly different from others. I found a way to be essentially myself. To highlight the aspects of myself that were acceptable and submerge the elements that weren't. In other words, I didn't really try and hide the weird, only the true depth of it. So the leap from "it's Kevin" to "it's Kevin and he's autistic" doesn't appear to have been that great for a lot of people.

Having said this, though, it is still not easy. Dropping the mask is hard when you're not sure what is actually mask and what isn't. The internal masking, the ways I learnt to hide so much from myself, is perhaps the easiest, if not the most painless. But the external mask still has so many elements and not all of them are easy to forgo, or even possibly be part of a forged mask any more anyway. Maintain a way of being and doing something for over 5 decades and really where's the difference between you and it?

Much has been said though, about the effort of maintaining a mask over a long period of time. The effects it can have on us. The way the drain of it is more and more likely to lead to burnout. The way that restricting our natural movements and behaviour is harmful, especially in the long run and to our mental health. And I certainly don't argue with any of this. I can feel that strain, the cost of it for me. I also can't help thinking about how much of my aches and pains, the injuries I carry, the growing infirmities, aren't just age related, but caused by how much I've stifled and restrained my body from moving naturally over the decades and the cost of that.

But, as much as this is motivating and helping me to learn to unmask, there is, of course, the other side of the coin. I didn't learn to mask on a whim, it wasn't for laughs and giggles. I was the outlier, the strange, voiceless kid, who came within a hair's breadth of being institutionalised. I was the one who had to learn how to fit in and above all be safe. For that is what masking allowed me to do, at least as much as it could. And this, for those of us who are older, is perhaps one of the major problems with trying to unmask. It's very possible that one of the very reasons that allowed us to live so long without realising we were autistic, was that our masks worked too well. Not just in hiding us, but in allowing us to fit in, in so many ways, if not obviously in all.

And certainly for me there is a deep functionality in the way that I mask. It allows me to behave and to communicate with others in ways that they are comfortable with and understand. Not so much with set scripts, but more a menu of available options, of both body language and speech, that have proved to be viable and effective. It has allowed me to exist in their world and even though I'm essentially a foreigner to it, in ways that don't make that so obvious. But start dropping the mask and that illusion is quickly shattered and then it becomes a lottery how people react. Confusion, rejection, aggression, hate and dismissal. All of these I have experienced and even trying to explain that I am autistic, rarely makes matters better. In fact, it's more likely to make them double down on the necessity for me to do it their way.

For that is what mostly happens. Try not to speak and they insist that I do so. Be too weird in my movements and the most random of strangers will suddenly be up in my face over it. Try to be myself and have to watch the reactions and atmosphere change. Because the simple fact is that most people don't like having to do any of the work or put in any of the effort required to bridge divides, especially if they know, or suspect, that you are more than able to make it so that they don't have to. It will always be up to us, for so many of them. I'm not saying that this makes them bad people, although some of them are, just human and with perhaps too much on their plates already. Extra effort is sometimes hard to justify or find for a lot of people

But all of this simply makes unmasking even more difficult for me. It's hard and not always practical to forgo the functionality of it. And also the safety of it, the reasons why I began to do it so long ago. That difference is still so often a target for so many people, not something to be understood, but attacked and taken advantage off and age doesn't make any difference to that. Even as an older white male, I have to take that into account. The fact that unmasking simply isn't always safe, in so many places and ways.

So will I ever manage it? Will I ever reach the point of being truly open and maskless? The way I want to be. Given my age and how much of it is ingrained and, by now, a part of me. How much safer and easier it can simply make my life, I have to admit that I'm not sure. Let's just say that it's still a work in progress and a hope as much as a dream.

#Autism
#ActuallyAutistic

nddev , 4 months ago to actuallyautistic

We had dinner with some friends this evening -- five of us in total. After discussing it with Helen earlier in the week, I came out to them as autistic.

I got an interesting set of reactions. Angela (a former headteacher, who I thought knew more about autism) said: "but you're so social." So I said a few words about masking and learning to spend time in company. Lesley replied: "you should have known him when he was young. He was really quite odd." (No, it's fine, we have that kind of relationship.)

I told Angela I thought she'd known for years, and she said she'd suspected it, but only because of my unusual walk. So, if you really want to pass as NT, you need not only to avoid ticcing and stimming, and make eye contact, and say the right things at the right speed, and pull the right faces, but also to get your walk right. Who knew teachers specialised in gait analysis?

So that's it. I'm committed. I'm #ActuallyAutistic now. 🙂

@actuallyautistic