Recently, while reading posts in one of the Adult Autism Facebook Groups that I enjoy participating in, I came across one that resonated with me so much that I asked the writer if I could share it with all of you, and he was gracious enough to agree. I’ll start off with that post, and then follow up with a few thoughts of my own that I’ve come to with the help of my amazing therapist. (So, to be clear, I’m not so arrogant as to think these profound insights are mine. The credit is due to my therapist, with a few embellishments from me, and also due to the man I’m about to introduce you to.)
So, this first section was written by Daniel Titus, who described himself to me as “a privileged , middle aged white guy complaining about my struggle. But I stand by it.” You have to admire him for his honesty, there. So, without further ado:
Something hit me today and I’m still kind of feeling it.
I’ve been going deep on my ancestry lately — like really deep, tracing my family back to the German Coast of Louisiana in the 1720s. And something clicked that I wasn’t expecting.
My ancestors boarded a ship with 249 people. 40 arrived. Then a hurricane. Then a massacre. Then generations of people surviving the 30 Years War before any of that — a conflict that killed roughly a third of the German-speaking population. For decades, the people in my direct line were living inside one unsurvivable situation after another.
And here’s what got me:
The traits that got selected for in those conditions — hypervigilance, rapid pattern recognition, thinking in webs instead of lines, intensity, the ability to hold chaos without shutting down, finding unconventional solutions when conventional ones don’t exist — those aren’t disorders. Those are what survival looked like. The people who DIDN’T have those traits didn’t make it. I’m here because of those traits. My specific brain is a direct biological response to centuries of extreme pressure.
And then the world changed. And suddenly those same traits were a problem. A disorder. Something to be treated.
And the treatment? Masking. Learn to perform normalcy. Sand down everything that makes you different until you can pass. And if you do it well enough, that’s called success. That’s called living your best life.
Every authentic thing about me — the gifts, the connections I make, the way I see things — I spent decades burying all of it just to function in rooms that were never built for me.
The success I had while masking was real in some ways. But it was hollow. It was performing a person I wasn’t, and it cost everything.
I didn’t ask to be this way. I’m a completely natural byproduct of what my ancestors went through. My nervous system isn’t broken. It’s calibrated for a world of extreme pressure — a world that no longer exists at that intensity, so it idles rough in a cubicle or a classroom.
We didn’t lose something that needs to be fixed. We inherited something that needs the right context.
Late diagnosis gave me the map. But understanding WHERE this comes from — that gave me something different. It gave me back my origin. I’m not a glitch. I’m a result.
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Okay, it’s me again. And I just have to say, isn’t that the most f**king fascinating theory you’ve come across in your entire life? It makes so much sense to me, on so many levels. I can’t even begin to tell you. And I’m really grateful to Daniel Titus for writing it, because it has added a very important piece to a puzzle I’ve been mulling over myself.
I spent most of my adult life in therapy trying to figure out what was wrong with me, because I certainly got that message, loud and clear, from much of society, and I still do. Every one of those therapists misdiagnosed me, and even though I tried really hard to “fix” what they thought was broken while under their care, of course it didn’t work, and that always left me feeling worse about myself.
Once I finally figured out what was going on and actually managed to get an official diagnosis, I insisted on finding a therapist who understood autism. I absolutely refused to settle for anything less, and resisting the pressure I received from everyone around me to thrust myself back into the old therapy mill of misdiagnoses and emotional abuse rather than do “nothing” and not “change” into their idea of what “fixed” was supposed to look like in their opinion… well, it nearly cost me everything I valued in life.
And it’s horrifying how few therapists for adults have any familiarity with autism at all and don’t then take the easy way out and insist on a destructive course of strict CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy). While there are bits and pieces of CBT which have value, many of us on the spectrum view pure CBT as a training course for how to act “normal”, which only sets us up for failure. Finally, though, I was lucky to find a good therapist who understands that, and understands autism, too, and I know that working with him has made all the difference.
One of the things that he suggested to me is this: Society views autism as some sort of deficit or disability. But what if it isn’t? What if it’s actually an advantage or an ability that society just hasn’t caught up with yet? What if people on certain parts of the autism spectrum are actually on the leading edge of the evolutionary wave?
In my experience, one of the most amazing things about discovering that you are on the autism spectrum late in life is that all of a sudden, like a bolt of lightning, you discover that the messages you’ve been getting from society your entire life have been completely wrong. You’re not a freak. You’re not broken. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just differently wired. You just don’t fit into the type of society that society has built and expects you to conform to. You don’t fit into their social norm, but who told them they get to make those rules?
What a paradigm shift! (And what a pity that it comes along after it does so much damage to your self-esteem. But, hey, better late than never, right?)
Yes, you communicate differently. You sense things differently. Things bother you that seem trivial to them. You notice patterns that they completely overlook. Your body language and dietary needs differ. You are interested in things that they find silly or boring, and they are interested in things that you find silly or boring. In essence, it’s as if you’ve been dropped on a completely different planet than your own and have been expected to cope with no guidelines whatsoever. You’re given no interpreter, and there are definitely no Earthlings as a Second Society classes available. So yeah, it stands to reason that you have struggled to seem like one of them.
But here’s a thought: What if you’re actually excellent at being who you are supposed to be, and in fact, far superior at a lot of things that they do not appreciate and probably don’t even comprehend? (Sometimes, when I’m subtly edged out of whatever clique happens to be forming at that moment (and why am I never given that memo?), I amuse myself by thinking, “Silly Earthlings…”)
It’s such a waste that neurotypicals are spending so much time ostracizing and bullying people like us for things like not getting their jokes and not understanding their sarcasm and being socially awkward and not making eye contact and not wanting to be touched, instead of trying to understand and accommodate us and learning that, in fact, we do have unique strengths that can become valuable contributions if we’re only taken seriously and treated with dignity and given the same respect and accommodation for our needs as everyone else gets as a matter of course.
In fact, we are an untapped resource that’s going to waste because we aren’t allowed to work the way we need to work, in quiet rooms, perhaps, with dim lights, and communicating only in writing, for example, or on one project at a time… and that is, frankly, pathetic.
And now that the world is changing so quickly, and getting back to a place where there’s a desperate need for people who have unique skills, as Daniel Titus described, like “hypervigilance, rapid pattern recognition, thinking in webs instead of lines, intensity, the ability to hold chaos without shutting down, finding unconventional solutions when conventional ones don’t exist,” society might wish to reconsider how they treat those of us on the spectrum.
Although, having said all that, I should point out that, as with all humans, no two autistic people are alike. I’ve got to say that if you’re looking for someone who can hold chaos without shutting down, I am definitely not your girl. But yeah, all the other skills listed above I have in abundance, but when I attempt to trot those skills out, they’re often dismissed.
So, two final messages. To Daniel Titus: Thank you for providing a missing puzzle piece that’s making me believe that perhaps I have a right to feel like I might be an Earthling, albeit a very unique one, after all. And to all the neurotypicals out there: Many of us are ready, willing and able. All you have to do is expand your idea of what an acceptable society should look like and broaden the accepted accommodations everyone deserves within that society. Allow our skills to compliment yours, and we’re all much more likely to get out of this geopolitical, economic, and environmental mess that we seem to be creating. And even if I’m wrong, what have you got to lose by trying?
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