Autistic Minimalist

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The stories behind Devon price’s article caused me to think of why I have trouble writing further on this blog – despite having a lot of material saved.

The organisational part is important – it’s simply not easy to sit down and get on with writing when your brain has serious trouble settling down on one topic.

The thing that was hovering behind it like a wraith was this tendency to make oneself invisible via masking – or not expressing anything “odd”.

Devon talks about being blanked when people can’t engage with some behaviour like stimming or saying something “inappropriate”. This is something that I haven’t always been aware of but have had this feeling of people going blank via awkward silences or shifting off a topic.

I can also remember the thing that comes off as a dismissive laugh when questioning some “obvious” point of human behaviour. Ah, that’s just the way the world works. An ironic statement when a lot of people have a very poor understanding of the way the world actually works – this is more about coping with the world practically based on a neuronormative experience.

Whatever does lead to becoming quiet and unremarkable has been undermining my courage to simply put things out for a few readers online – not even something I’m expecting to be seen by anyone who won’t understand on some level.

Even this sat in the drafts for weeks when it’s fine as a small thought to share.

Devon price isn’t the first prolific autistic writer I’ve come across, but something about his uncompromising directness cause me to have one of those re-realisations that I’ve fallen into patterns of hiding again – a reminder of how long it can take to dig out of masking behaviours when they keep coming back unconsciously.

I’ve wondered about what are considered “autistic” traits and whether these are really traits of a “condition” or understandable reactions to the experience of growing up different.

For much of my life I’ve ended up extremely reserved and apparently shy or passive. Apparently before I went to school I was more expressive – sang to myself and danced about – but most of my recollection is being so reserved as to be practically mute in some situations, not wanting to draw any attention.

In retrospect this looks like a reaction to being placed in an overwhelming environment, teased by other children, bullying by some teachers given that I had no idea what I did to make them so angry or single me out, ending up with bad friends more than once. Eventually it seems easier to not say anything or get involved with anyone.

Is that me “being autistic” or me being made to feel weird for being a certain way?

Getting poor reactions from others when trying to connect leads to isolation – is being isolated “autistic” or simply a reaction to regular rejection? I think I have been more unlucky than some autistic people because any friends I’ve had have been compromised and tried to be in control of the relationship somehow. It’s no wonder I’d more or less given up by the time I was 13 – at best I had a few kids I could relate to at school but nothing extended beyond school after being burned by and experience with a bad friend previously.

The lack of friends or shyness can be linked to “interpersonal communication difficulties” – but as more effort has been made to de-normalise the “typical” perspective, I think it becomes apparent that autistic people can communicate, and our natural style is foreign to people who interpret it as rude, or subversive, or self centred – when people are giving off indications that they are uncomfortable or seem to try and avoid talking to you more than once it seems like “failure” – in reality the other person can have a lack of patience and just find it irritating if they are put to some extra effort.

When I’ve been fortunate enough to speak with autistic people the “problems” disappear.

It’s frequently reported by autistic adults.

When autistic people develop repetitive behaviours, that can be interpreted as innate. Routines, rituals, needing things the same. Is that in fact a response to high levels of stress? An anchor of control when there doesn’t seem to be anything else within that person’s control. Are they more likely a result of chronic trauma so they seem to be part of the person’s behaviour?

Somewhat like an animal in a zoo with a cage that’s too small? If an autistic person has been put in an effective invisible cage (often a sensory overload induced cage) – is it surprising that repetitive behaviour should emerge?

Considering all of that, I find it easier to see many stereotypical traits are created by other people in an autistic person’s life, and painful environments people congregate in, and institutions that punish being different. The “defects” are created by pressure to fit into an impossible mould.

What’s tragic about this is that so much of the suffering is completely avoidable with some understanding and a bit of patience. So I hope the diagnostic indicators of autism can be eventually be separated from being autistic.

I started this as an Autistic blog – yet the overlap with ADHD traits is making it veer into that area – what Autistic and ADHDer adults say are both resonating.

What occurred to me today is how attention can be easily disrupted with an important passion of mine – music – which ironically I can completely forget about.

This might be related to age and feeling increasingly weary – but I’ve heard ADHD adults say they can’t actually concentrate on a film anymore for example. I immediately think of my behaviour when I watch a film on my own. Typically I’ll pause to follow some other thought – look up why the actor I’m looking at is familiar because the thought won’t quiet down despite trying to tell myself that right now that isn’t important – or sometimes I can’t sit still – or go and get a drink. Or perhaps I’ll pause and come back and decide something else is more interesting.

With TV or film I’m less disappointed that I don’t seem to hold concentration as I can be happy enough watching the first half of something up to the point I’ve figured out what will probably happen in the conclusion – I have got my enjoyment.

I just realised however, while trying to listen to some unfamiliar music, the impulse to switch my attention half way through a 5 minute song.

This tends to happen a lot if I get on a sudden exploratory urge through the vast streaming libraries available online – sampling songs to add to listen later – then forgetting I’ve added them for months.

This time I wanted to actually listen and was enjoying the flow of the song, but my mind was still asking me if I wanted to look up some information or remember to listen to some other artist I’d been reminded of while listening to a memoir audio book – and so on.

Are ADHD traits getting more obvious as I get older? This is someone who has kept their mind on classical symphonies that last from 30 minutes to an hour. Maybe this was because I started doing this on CD when I couldn’t look up ten other recordings of the same Symphony – fewer distractions may have helped. Maybe it’s because when you’re a Neurodiverse person trying to Adult reasonably well and finding that harder to manage as age increases – and burnout becomes more regular.

Regardless of whether it’s getting harder to fix my attention or not, I need to find some way of finding the focus again – it could be as simple as finding something to fidget with and remembering that helps – and because attention is a problem – putting the putty or some other thing right in front of where I will listen to music.

The focus is there – because I know I can be completely locked into playing a game on the computer and forget to blink. I can also forget I enjoy gaming for weeks and become despondent. The same happens with music.

The interest disruption is a real difficulty because it’s possible to forget what provides some of the biggest dopamine hits and end up in what I imagine must be some “dopamine desert” where nothing is providing satisfaction and the mood starts to look like depression.

Carrying on a little from the last post, relating to why posts don’t get published – where there are a large number of drafts in between sporadic posting.

Attention or focus has been a tricky thing as long as I can remember. I don’t lack an ability to focus – directing the focus is slippery, like trying to catch a salmon with my hands.

Focus can consume when there’s strong interest – but where there is no interest motivation evaporates.

For example writing a blog post may have a fascinating idea in the middle – but sitting down to hash out sentences might suddenly become very dull and that is where distraction emerges, like the woodlouse near my feet that I wanted to watch as I’m sitting in the garden.

Getting a blog post out isn’t only about an attempt to express something – it’s hampered by ideas that it’s supposed to be like an article in a newspaper.

I ask myself why I’m potentially worried someone might think my thoughts are a disorganised jumble on a personal blog – even if it’s not polished someone can come by and derive something from it.

Is this about attention and focus or me just wanting the satisfaction of having rambled and pressed “publish”.

Perhaps the actual point is habits over goals and systems – a habit of writing something manageable and “letting it go” rather than thinking I need a system to enable me to get anything done.

Now I’ve realised I was going to write about keeping things visible – and because I wasn’t looking at the mind map I’ve started using again I forgot that was the point.

The drafts and blog posts are not visible at a glance because the WordPress app needs me to go in and scroll through lists.

If you can get something on a canvas on one screen it can be more obvious what is calling for attention – the task that is coloured purple with a weird font and a fluorescent border.

This colour and quirkiness is stimulating to the distracted brain – perhaps the colours can mean more than the words.

Who knows if this post is “finished”, but I can’t spend more time on it and would rather have the satisfaction of publishing.

Circular title about me not being able to write a post, and it seemed a good way to write something short. When I do come back to see when I last wrote something, it’s usually deflating to realise I haven’t published anything for months.

At the time of writing this, it’s actually over a year.

When it comes to my experience of Burnout I forgot that I’d already written a detailed summary of what happens in Ambition, Burnout and Frustration and I nearly started writing something similar again before remembering to look at what I’d already written.

This doesn’t mean I haven’t written anything, as there is a substantial pile of drafts – but some of these were quite challenging topics that aren’t easy to finish. The one on burnout was pretty long, and the longer a post gets and the more it tries to say, the more unlikely it will get published.

In the last year the difficulties were compounded by having to move house at a non-ideal time after being served notice, where I handled pretty much everything myself, including looking for somewhere to move to, organising the moving out stuff like cleaning and van hire, having to buy appliances – the list goes on – with the net effect that I was completely out of spoons (energy).

Even though I moved months ago now, it has taken that long to feel like I can settle a bit and regain some ability to engage in my interests – or at least back to the baseline survival loop that still contains mild burnout every few weeks.

I’m not entirely negative however, as I’ve realised it’s highly likely I’m not only Autistic, but I also “have” ADD – maybe a diagnosis might not help much but I’m so easily distracted that is fairly tiring in itself, so I feel it’s disrupting my ability to focus on what I want – even remembering what my interests are in the first place sometimes.

Whether I like ADD as a term or not, it has helped to examine more closely what ADHDers use to be able to do the thing they need or want to do.

I hope I can write a little bit on how I’ve found something that’s working a bit to keep me focused in manageable chunks, but right now I simply want to write something and publish and stop worry about it being profound or perfect (which I could also write a lot about how that stops me from actually publishing things on this blog)

In the UK the government has a timeline for relaxing restrictions up to June, and I hear talk about returning to “normal” like everyone else.

Given that I’ve always found the “normal” noisy, overly busy world draining and unwelcoming, even partial return to “normal” has actually made me feel worse, and note how much the world before lockdown was stressful and overwhelming.

I can use the example of traffic on the roads. During lockdowns the roads were clear and more relaxing to use and it was actually more of a pleasure, except that it wasn’t possible to drive very far. Even partial relaxing of restrictions has unleashed a torrent of additional vehicles, meaning that some of my least favourite roundabouts have become a bit of a nightmare to navigate again.

It’s not just affecting me as I see other drivers are impatient and rushing and it’s like the stress is transmitted from everyone’s cars and vans and looming trucks, all vying to get on to a roundabout to save a few apparently precious seconds, which means being slightly earlier to meet the next queue of cars half a mile down the road.

It’s not clear to me what this extra traffic is for. Is it all just people going to shops again? Just the additional people unnecessarily travelling to offices?

So returning any kind of “normal” is not a relief, it’s emphasising to me how broken “normal” was before.

Walking around the city I live next to I wandered into a fairly large cemetery that has been there since the mid 19th century, but I didn’t realise it was there.

It was early in the morning and it struck me that it’s a good place for an Autistic person to go for some peace, because people typically won’t go there to have loud parties and even bored teenagers might avoid a cemetery.

As I tried to find some of the oldest graves and noted people buried in the 1870s, where the stones were readable due to the use of metallic lettering. The dates give me a sense of time, and I wonder what the surrounding area was like in 1870. For one thing the large “box” stores on one boundary would not have been there, or most of the surrounding suburban estates.

While I was interested in some of the patterns of lichens and weathering, I noticed something about the way in which spouses are mentioned, and here’s one example.

The phrase stood out – “wife of the above”. My feminist sense had been sharpened this week by reading an article about ingrained sexism around touch here – perhaps something to comment on another time, but the main point is that it made me feel somewhat sickened.

Here in front of me was another baked in element of sexism. In death these women have the main distinguishing feature of having been a man’s wife. Perhaps there was a bit to say about Emma’s 13 years after George died. Even modern epitaphs keep describing women as having been a great mother or “nan” and I passed one or two of those.

Another woman called Bithiah had her own gravestone, and even then she had been described as being somebody’s wife on her death in 1911. On another stone a woman named Mary was described as the “Tenderly loved and true hearted wife of” a navy commander – with his name prominently below and it didn’t seem like this is his grave as well. I can’t help thinking how this makes her also a higher status “wife-of-navy-commander”.

Why couldn’t gravestones say something else about these women’s lives? Perhaps they loved to play the piano or grow flowers. Yet here they are – “wife of the above”.

I tend to notice details – this is the first time I’ve composed a post where I share some of things I notice, where I have taken a quick picture of something to note the observation.

I walked around a place called Woolbeding common in the area where I live, just a few miles from home. It is an old heathland area where woodlands were cleared for grazing (at least according to the sign I saw in the car park). For me it looks like thinned out woodland with a carpet of heather and bracken.

I can forget how details reach out to me, and even when I do take photos I can forget to look at them. Preparing some images for this post made me reflect on what I notice and how it can be a sort of “grounding” when the world of people is too much.