Making room for a sea change

I recently worked on a presentation that compared the differing experience of stress for neurotypical people and for those of us with Asperger’s.  I always enjoy researching such things to see what new studies and strategies have emerged.  On this occasion, I learned about Vagal Nerve Stimulation and several other interesting approaches to reducing and managing stress.  I even used some of the techniques I learned about on my subsequent holiday, to help me manage the stress of travelling.

It wasn’t until after my return from this very relaxing break that realise I had experienced something I had never experienced before:  A truly relaxing, refreshing holiday.  I had visited the destination before, stayed in similar hotels and done similar excursions, so what was different this time?  Having ruminated on this for a week or two, I realised that my attitude towards the travel and the holiday had indeed been the factor that had changed.

I usually build up an enormous level of anxiety prior to travelling abroad – worrying about schedules, what to pack, paperwork etc.  Would there be hold ups at the airports, bad weather or turbulence?  Would the hotel be okay?  Would the weather be too hot, food awful or too expensive? Would I be disappointed?  You name it; I’d worry about it. It would take a couple of days to get over it, before beginning to worry about the journey back...

Whereas before, I had felt real pressure to enjoy the holiday; to do, and see as much as possible - this time, I had planned nothing, chosen a hotel further away from the draw of tourist attractions with nice grounds and several pools.  I had even booked the fast track options used my sunflower lanyard to see us through the airport more smoothly, and sought out the quiet areas.  I did not read on the plane – choosing instead to wear an eye-mask and listen to classical music for the duration. I did not crush my husband’s hand on take-off or scowl at unruly children. I even spoke to the cabin staff and a fellow passenger… Unheard of.

But attitude alone could not account for this success, could it?  Was pre-planning and a few breathing exercises what I had been missing all these years? I didn’t think so.  Something else had happened that had made this new attitude possible, allowing me to access and use these strategies to better effect. I took me a while, but I finally understood:  This is what can happen you when you have the capacity.  

In the presentation I had been working on, was a graph showing the increased ‘baseline’ of stress that people with Asperger’s have to contend with.  This baseline stress is much higher than that of neurotypical people, as it comprises all the additional anxiety and stress that is generated by simply managing the everyday with autism:  Sensory sensitivity, social interaction, misunderstandings, stigma, and all that additional cognitive load that comes with thinking, and experiencing differently.  We try to control our world so that we can insulate ourselves from the unexpected, but we cannot always anticipate enough to ensure this.  As a consequence, we often fly very close to the point of overwhelm.  It is as exhausting as it is difficult to maintain, and we fail sometimes, plunging into meltdown or shutdown. Imagine a nearly full glass of water, close to overflowing every time a few more drops are added. I have realised that I have more space in my glass.

Clearly, something fundamental has happened to my baseline stress level, to give me greater capacity to cope, and thereby, enjoy. Suddenly I am happier, more social, more adventurous and more productive.  So, to what do I owe this sea-change?  I am not sure, but I suspect it has something to do with my job and the people I work with:  I feel valued, and more importantly – valuable.  I have the autonomy and the validation I have always craved but never received, despite my hard work and commitment to previous roles.  My current role brings fascinating subjects to explore and challenging new skills to learn. It is important work.  My skills, strengths and experience are sought out and I am recognised for my efforts and talents. I have never worked harder, had more responsibility, or been more committed.  I should be exhausted but I am energised.  I should be overwhelmed, but I am focussed and determined. I should be failing but I am succeeding. It is a profound change, and one I will not willingly relinquish.

Happiness is a big empty pool...

 

 

A change of perspective

If you had asked me a year and a half ago about what I would be doing now, I wouldn't have much to say that was positive.  I am pessimistic by nature or, more accurately, I was pessimistic.  This is not unusual in people with neurodivergent conditions.  It is a consequence of being unable to effect change in our lives.  Of course we try:  We make huge efforts to improve our life, our environment, and our own understanding and that of the people around us, but it is not always successful (to say the least).  Being pessimistic then, is a survival strategy:  It helps me manage my disappointment at my failures. But I no longer need it.

Just over a year ago, I changed my job.  A number of things happened that were catalysts:  I gave in to a friend's insistence.  I realised things were never going to improve in my (then) job.  And, I had a conversation with my husband which didn't go as expected.

The part where I gave in to a friend's insistence involved the latest in a series of communications about 'coming to work for us'.  I had been ignoring similar comments for years, knowing for whom he worked, and realising that it was impossible for me to consider.  This last communication came with a link to a job advert.  I looked at the advert and recognised it as a job I could do.  I have never associated my confidence in my ability to imagine doing a job with ego or ignorance.  I have enough skill, creativity, curiosity, patience and motivation to learn most office-based jobs and enough determination and resilience to keep them, the only limitations are time and the and the opportunity/resources to learn. None of these account for my penchant for being underemployed. 

I had always assumed my difficulty with progressing my career was down to misunderstanding about my autism, or my inability to utilise the social aspects of office politics in my favour, however I know now that there is another important factor.

The barrier that had prevented me from seeking such a job before this point had been location (another town), and an assumed requirement for considerable experience in this new sector, but when I read the job description, it was clear to see these barriers had been removed.  So why was I still so reluctant?

I was, at the time, a year into my fourth job in schools or colleges, and 12 years into my sortie into the education sector.  Never one to make assumptions or to jump to premature conclusions, I wanted to check thoroughly that education was truly unsuitable for autistic people before moving on - or so I told myself.  My previous role really had shown me that such organisations in this country were too stretched to think in the long term, or make accommodation for people like me, who thought differently.  It was my own reluctance to admit defeat (how could the very home of learning be so exclusive and unwilling to affect change?) that kept me going back again and again.  It certainly wasn't the money or job satisfaction. No, it was time for a change.  My son was nearing A levels and no longer needed the company of parents during holidays.  There were no more hurdles in my way.

So why couldn't I apply for this job?  The opportunity to learn and grow was wonderful.... I could work from home, be a part of amazing projects or national importance and work with some of the brightest minds in the country. There was fear, certainly - I had been working in education for 12 years, and I was 55 years old. (It would be crushingly embarrassing in the interview to be asked about why I had stayed in education so long, wouldn't it?)  I put off my decision.  My friend nudged me occasionally and suggested talking on the phone to a company representative to allay my fears.  I began to feel more and more exposed as more and more barriers were removed.  I needed a second opinion.

The conversation with my husband is one I will never forget.  I told him about the role, the company, the pay and all the other positives.  The more potential issues he brought up, the more easily I could debunk them.  When he still seemed unconvinced, I realised there might be another reason.  I asked him if he thought I could do the job.  After a short pause, he said 'no'. He confirmed all the doubts that resided in my mind:  I've been in education too long, I'm not experienced in this sector, I'm too old, not bright enough...

I thought I would be angry at his lack of support.  In the past, I would have been terribly upset.  I would have felt awful - having my worst fears confirmed, but secretly relieved that I no longer had responsibility for the outcome:  I would be off the hook.  I realised there and then that this was an opinion - nothing more - born of insecurity.  I did not need to accept it.  I am grateful that he did give me this opinion, because it forced me to make a decision for myself.  I smiled at him and explained he didn't have to worry, and then I completed the application.  If I succeeded, it would be despite everything.  It is the first time in my life that I felt truly 'empowered'.

When I asked about the interview format I was told what would happen.  I questioned this and asked if there was an alternative.  They asked me for a suggestion, which I provided.  After a fairly long process, taking several months, I was offered the post.  Now, after 13 months, I know it was the right decision.  6 months in, a colleague let it slip that I had been the stand-out candidate. I am remarkably happy. I am forging ahead in my role, I have received several accolades and a healthy bonus.  I have the opportunity to advocate for my neurodivergent colleagues, and am choosing my own career path.  Most importantly, I know this is all me.

Red Arrows flying high, despite being a man down (RIAT '23)