I recently decided to take a bit more control of my life. Did I sell up and move to the coast? No. Did I quit my job and start writing my first novel? No. Did I sell most of my belongings and buy a boat? No. (They are planned further down the line, I assure you!)
No, my first step along the road to 'including myself' was to change the day I celebrate my birthday. My actual birthday occurs virtually on top of Christmas, and has always been more of an obligation than a celebration: Almost guaranteed expensive prices, poor choice of cards, rejected invitations, terrible TV, cancelled bookings and dreadful weather. I have, traditionally always done my best to ignore it and actively encourage anyone I know to do the same. I decided to announce the change via Facebook (many of my friends and family have begun to use Facebook over the various Lockdowns, and the handy notifications they would receive when I changed the date of my birth to May 23rd (a perfect choice for weather, availability and general demeanour) they would all get reminders. It worked very well, and I find myself looking forward to enjoying an extended Christmas celebration, unadulterated by the inevitably doomed Birthday planning. A real win-win.
I mention this, purely because it is a clear and unique example of doing something for myself, successfully. In my new job (nearly a year here already), I have come to an awful realisation which may throw me back into the maelstrom of seeking employment once again. For the strangest of reasons: Kindness.
I work in a school with a group of incredibly caring and kind people, all undoubtedly, highly empathetic. I am an Aspie, highly logical and, although empathetic in my own way, a world away from their experience. The job is comprises lots of admin tasks carried out in quite the most hectic and disordered environment I have ever experienced. Together with the added pressure of constant interactions with staff, health professionals, pupils and parents, it's one of the most challenging I have ever found myself attempting. And I am failing.
I am utterly exhausted by it every day. I am told: 'That's the job'. And it is. I underestimated hugely, the amount of interaction I would have to manage when I applied for the job, (but it wasn't explicitly stated in the job description) and there was so much to learn, so quickly, it's only now, after a year, that I can reflect and realise this is not for me. I know this must be a familiar realisation for many of us, on the spectrum. It is always going to be a minefield; employment, that is. Those of us on the Autistic Spectrum who are capable enough to 'pass' for 'normal' (whatever that is) fall into an impossible trap: We enjoy little of the understanding and compassion rightfully given to on those who are in visible distress and extreme difficulty. We have all the same disadvantages - difficulties in forming relationships, making ourselves understood and procuring the help we need to manage in our working environment. Indeed, the less we appear to struggle, the less likely we are to attain any of these things. Our apparent ability to cope and to manage make us vulnerable. This seems to be particularly true of women on the spectrum, (especially late diagnosed) who have become skilled social mimics. These skills never become intuitive, however, so the energy required to maintain them is enormous.
I find myself in a situation I never thought possible, and it is probably testament to my own skills at appearing to 'fit in' ('camouflaging' as autistic research has now coined it), together with my conviction that I would be better off in an environment with lots of kind people. The final straw in my case is the care and concern shown to me, now that I have started to crumble. I can take no comfort in it. I don't know why, exactly - perhaps it is a consequence of many years of cumulative trauma from continuous misunderstandings and social rejection, (there is interesting new research on PTSD in ASD) or is it is merely another level of interaction I am unable to reciprocate, because it is genuine, heartfelt and continuous? I want so much for them to see that their care and concern are helping me, but it isn't, and I blame myself for that. The irony of this is not lost on me, I can assure you...
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