hi. i'm nick. i'm in my mid twenties. my pronouns are he/they. i like music, fighting games, audio technology in general, and i'm very politically left. i am also autistic. and sometimes i hate that. now i'm going to talk about that, but if this is your first exposure to me as a person or even just the first time you're engaging with this blog, this may not be the post for you. i’m about to come across as very jaded and bitter to some people, and i promise you that's not my default state of being.
a litany of content warnings before we continue. ableism and negative conversations around autism. i do think what i'm about to get into is really important, but if you're not in a headspace to deal with any of that, no offense if you call it quits. i won't think less of you..
i also want to take a quick moment to say that, i am not here to expressly spread negativity, nor am i here to challenge anyone who has accepted any neurodivergence or disabilities. this is not intended to threaten or otherwise take away your sense of peace. and for the 1% who inevitably who'll think so, no, i'm not a eugenics advocate. lastly, please don't read this as a call to action to try and help me. quite frankly, this is my journey to go on alone at the minute, and i understand how empathetic people on the spectrum can be, but this isn't something you should feel the need to do for me. i don’t consider that fair.
to everyone else, sorry for the 3 (three!!!) paragraphs of content warnings / disclaimers. autistic people tend to get really fixated on justice, but also defensive against perceived injustices. eh. this gets messy, it’s not quite up to my standards.
when i was 13 and freshly into the hell that was highschool, i made acquaintance with someone who very clearly was not like everyone else in the classroom we both shared. they seemed, for lack of a better term, odd to my 13 year old self. i found him hard to read consistently. spoke with an interesting tendency of trailing sentences upwards. obsessed to a fault with adult swim and ‘niche’ movies and music. loved to go into long winding diatribes about these interests. would become deeply self-deprecating on occasion without much warning. he was a really nice guy, we got along pretty okay, but something definitely stood out like a sore thumb.
i remember coming to my mum about it, not intentionally if i had to guess, probably an inevitability of the question ‘how’re you getting on in school?’ which was asked ad nauseam in the household. i told her about this person. she paused.
“does he get really into the things he likes?”
“yep”
“is his face always blushing? is he hard to read?”
“yes and very much”
“does he get upset easily”
“yeah he had a pretty bad reaction today”
“oh. he has autism, you have it too”
yep. no shit.
so, apparently between one of the many medical procedures and appointments i had growing up due to being disabled, i had a few visits from an occupational therapist and a childhood psychologist, who all gave varying accounts of my me talk state, ranging from having signs of adhd, autism, damps (a comorbidity between autism and cerebral palsy) and being a perfectly typical child. this purportedly culminated in being assessed by one of my former kindergarten teachers who described me as “knocking on the door of asperger's”. up until this point, my mum had seen no reason to tell me. unceremonious way to find out such a thing, one must admit.
now at the time, autism was not something that was accepted into straight society the way it is now. this was 2014. “autism” was bandied about as an insult used to completely write another human being in such esteemed locales as the playground, 4chan, youtube comments and other reputable venues. interchangeable with the r slur. dehumanising. such a prospect quite honestly terrified me, as someone who at the time was fighting tooth and nail to stay under the radar.
i told nobody about it for a few years. i, like my mother, wanted to believe that i could pass as neurotypical. i wasn’t that bad, surely. it didn’t help that most of my exposure to other autistic people were those further along the spectrum than myself (although, i consider it more of a radar chart, more on that later). i eventually started calling myself autistic semi-ironically. a way to deflect criticism of some of my behaviours that landed a bit poorly as a socially awkward teenager. by the time i left highschool, i had accepted i had autism, but not fully. like, i knew i had it, i saw how it affected me sometimes, but i didn’t think it would be a major barrier for any one field. if you picked my brain at the time, i would (and often still do) say that i’m autistic enough that it showed sometimes, but neurotypical enough that my brain was aware of when i was being autistic. it felt more like an involuntary filtering of a neurotypical brain through autistic habits. maybe not unlike someone with tourette syndrome having a coherent sentence, but struggling to communicate it through ticks that they have no control over.
i drifted in this state until 2020ish. instagram reels was brought kicking and screaming into the world. i quickly started getting recommended reels from autistic influencers very vocal about their struggles. memes about being overstimulated. autistic concepts and vocabulary. infographics. candids of sensory episodes. met other autistic people on a similar wavelength, like going from seeing square waves to sines. it was only then i started to understand more of myself and look back on the many parts of my life that were invariably affected by being autistic. some negatively, others just a consequence of being different; not inherently bad. i love my queer autistic adhd creative media connoisseur friends!!!! fuck yeah!!!!
i started to understand autism not as a left-to-right spectrum, but as a radar chart, pictured below.
no, but seriously.
i hope i didn’t word anything insensitively.
as much as this newfound community empowered me to understand myself to an extent, i started to see some of the cracks of the conversation as i entered the workforce propper. after i graduated and a year of my life dedicated to romance, lsd, heartbreak, more lsd, quitting an incredibly toxic ‘job’, social outings and generally putting off the responsibilities of life, i started to work in the events industry. you'd think that with my degree, i would thrive in such an environment. spoiler: i absolutely did not.
for those who aren't aware, working as a sound technician is usually put into one of two categories, in-house and contracting. if you're in-house, you're employed by the venue itself on an ongoing basis, like being on retainer. if you're a contractor, you usually are hired just for that gig. furthermore, most large event companies have a mix of both of these environments. one company might manage certain hotel brands, a casino or a general function space in this capacity, while also picking up x amount of contracts to keep the blood flowing. what this typically means is every day is different. between the different venues, different configurations for the same venue based on client needs, and endless amounts of gear to achieve the variety of outcomes events entail.
and though many posts entered my feed about being autistic, there wasn’t a single mention of ‘my brain is not suited for a kind of work, i cannot do it. i really wanted to, but i have limitations. no mention of limitations. no mention of having to give up certain dreams. no mention of autism, actually kinda fucking sucking some of the time. at least not in a way that made me feel seen. but bro, it’s all good, this post says all my friends are autistic as fuck. haha. why aren’t you laughing twin?
this goes back to a previous blog post i made pointing out that the predominant conversations around autism tend to be ones that avoid any hard questions or feelings. a lot of talk about stimmy toys, being overstimulated at parties, social awkwardness, and every once in a while, the lack of diagnosis within the medical community, particularly against women. all of these are worth talking about, and i understand conversations tend to skew towards the most relatable and palatable of topics. i guess my critique is more that, even amongst the autistic community, there seems to be a lack of willingness to talk about the struggles of being autistic in fear of sounding like autism speaks or anyone else who calls neurodivergence a sickness or some sort of crippling affliction. we accept and celebrate autism, as long as it's palatable, relatable, marketable even. we neglect to talk about autism in a way that forces us to reconcile with some pretty brutal truths, with ourselves even. and this is only talking about low support needs. high support needs? fucking forget it. sure, may of these individuals struggle to communicate themselves in a way straight society understands, but when was the last time you saw someone in that rough category be highlighted in a way that wasn't inevitably washed down with how ‘special’ they were instead of candidly acknowledging their value as a human life and the many wonderful things they are, while also not shying away from the day to day difficulties. i'm not saying we should make autism out to be some fuckin leprosy, i just think acknowledging these things could have more solidarity and open up conversations around what it's like to be autistic.
let me be blunt
autism isn’t inherently crippling. autism does not make you value less. it doesn’t make you stupid. but god damn it. god fucking damn it. jesus christ. it can be a roadblock. it can, in fact, be debilitating. it can completely alter your life and what you are capable of. and i’m fucking tired of hearing that it doesn’t, that you can still be absolutely anything. to drown out the grief one feels for themselves with the infinity rainbow symbol and a favourite stim. that any impedance can be navigated with the right support from your boss, your friends, your sso.
AND I FUCKING GET IT. I KNOW, OKAY?
it’s hard. it’s ugly, it’s disheartening.it feels evocative of people who call autism a scourge on the earth. it makes you sound self-hating, and brings on a wave of sympathy from other autistic people or neurotypical allies. and there’s a place for that. but maybe, just maybe, once every now and then, what you want isn't for someone to say you have a superpower, that you are special, to look at all the other things you’ve done, to tell you it’s actually not that bad to be autistic. maybe, you just want to hear for once in your fucking life:
“it’s hard, i know. and i’m sorry. and i am here for you. not to tell you you’re wrong for feeling that way. but to tell you, that you are still worthy of love. and no, that doesn’t mean it can’t be deeply upsetting, but that it isn’t your fault. i hear you, i am here for you.”
i've lost friendships because of my autism, or at least the byproducts. i had to leave multiple jobs in a really cool space because my brain couldn't handle it. i've spent years trying to make music seriously only for my adhd to kick in and now i'm bedrotting. i’ve felt a disconnect from most of the people in my daily life because our brains are on different wavelengths. i've had to grieve the version of myself i thought i could achieve multiple times. i spent my childhood feeling completely alienated and i didn’t know why. i’ve struggled to keep on-top of chores, work, hobbies, friends, and now that i'm better i'm constantly terrified of regressing and burning out. but that's okay? because i get obsessed with music, tekken and pinterest? yeah. worthy fucking trade.
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4 months later
oh. well. this all got a bit serious now hasn't it?
i apologise. it’s been a few months. i'm doing better. i promise. you could aptly describe what you just read as a breakdown, and part of me wanted to remove it from this piece, if for nothing else it bogged down the pacing and had no real point. i try to make my writings flow well, with everything building to a point, or connecting the dots into a web that forms a coherent view on what i want to say. this did neither of those, but, as the great abigail thorn said ‘if all of human knowledge is like a library, then when [we] don't leave our stories, how will anyone learn from them?’. well, this is my story. it has a happy ending, or at least does at time of writing, but like any good story, it's not without conflict, the hero’s low point before reinvigorating himself.
after writing this i took a bit of a break. i ran out of steam. i knew there wasn't much more i could write before it was an incoherent mess of concerning sentiments. maybe i fancied myself as an author in the mid twentieth century, suffering breakdown or writers block from the novel i'm writing. taking a holiday in some foreign destination to relax and inevitably be hit with a bolt of inspiration, perhaps on a beach on crete, a shrine in kyoto or on the brink of dying of thirst a few hundred miles from cairo.
who knows? am i that egotistical? i compared a blog post about autism to writing a great novel? probably. let’s refocus.
okay, what is my point?
the conversations around autism are dominated by placation designed to appeal to the masses, or at least those who are low-support needs. we’ve removed any trace of negativity in our attitude around autism in fear of mimicking those who actually do have regressive, demeaning views on autism. partially because we are hurting, and don’t want to admit to ourselves we struggle. partially because it’s hard to farm engagement with posts that can ask uncomfortable questions. partially because autism has been co-opted by straight society to mean unhinged, obsessive, the r slur or against the grain; bandied about like a conjoining word in conversations. partially because social media isn’t designed to be a wellspring of serious discussion.
and i guess i’m frustrated that a lot of the times i’ve tried to reach out to vent frustration, i’ve always stumbled into either straight doomerfuel chemically engineered to foster self-hatred or jigsaw pieces and rainbow infinities and recommendations to just buy a weighted blanket, eat ‘safe foods’, productivity hacks straight from tiktok. at best, a colourful infographic with corporate flat art that tries to explain my symptoms to me in a mess of invented vocabulary that doesn’t feel relatable. i think we can do better than that. there has to be a world in which we can equal parts validate the autistic experience, recognise the strengths it can gift someone, while also earnestly acknowledging that yes, it can be fucking hard. it is okay to grieve what you thought you were capable of. it doesn’t inherently make you ableist.
i'm not here to give detailed policing on how people want to talk about their autism. if you're happy, if you're thriving, if you've found self-acceptance, that's great. i'm getting there, but only because i've been able to talk to oomfs recently and share in some grief, some deeply vulnerable thoughts, and not be immediately drowned out with hollow reassurance.
i also think the way i’ve seen autism, or more broadly disability as ‘accepted’ in society has been very telling of capitalism’s views on disability. i had a chat with a friend the other day while drafting this blog. i observed that a big push in ‘accepting autism’ has been largely in how autism can be ‘productive’. like how one can still contribute to the workforce while being neurodivergent. i don’t think it’s inherently wrong to have that conversation. in fact, i do think a lot of people could benefit from that. but the fact in how it’s largely been contained to one’s ability to work is emblematic of the way a person’s value is dictated by their profitability under capitalism. i guess in a different sense though, work is such a large part of our culture and identity that it’s natural for people to desire a career in a field of their choosing, or at least fit in socially.
not to be that guy, but i know autistic people who personally struggle with employment. from ‘will never be able to hold a job’ to ‘can work to some extent, but not pemrnently full time’. like. being employed for too long causes their brain to break. not everyone has the capacity to fight in the trenches for the shareholders (sorry whitebois), and that conversation still feels a decade off. i’m not saying that people should just give up. like, if you want to work, or lead a life where employment is part of that, you should absolutely aim for that, and hot take, but society needs more supports for those individuals (fucking obviously). hell, i contrasingly think it's unqeustionably a good thing to try and find mechanisms and strategies to cope with many of the daily challenges you face, which doubles as the challenges a person would face in the workforce, but i still feel this cultural shame is thrust upon people who reach a capacity. not actively choose idleism or give up at the first sign of struggle, but have only so much they can give before their brain goes into self-immolation. i've had moments of that myself, albiet in specifically in particularly difficult work environments. there are full time disability support pension receivers, and there's no shame in that at all.
and yet. even that sentence, as factual and accurate as it is, evokes a sense of insult or implies further negative moral virtues. it shouldn’t, but the values of capitalism have been wired so deeply into the brain the everyman (or everyTRAN lol!!!) that even i had to unlearn a lot of deep rooted neo-liberal drivel when i first came into contact with some of these people years ago. it’s still a process. take note, this topic is an example of something i think is incredibly important about being neurodiverse that i have never seen been brought to attention. i’m not saying this to claim superiority (or even pretend i’m the first person to notice this trend), just some milktoast food for thought that doubles as an example of the conversation i wish we could see more of.
if you resonate with any of this, feel free to reach out. i accept that in order to create the more nuanced culture i’d like to see, i need to be open to those conversations myself.
it’s been a journey, and i shall keep soldiering on. we all will. i know this road to acceptance is still winding off into the distance, lifelong, but i walk on with the wisdom of my past mistakes, and the hope of solidarity when it is needed. i invite you to do the same; never lose hope nor your heart. they will give you the power you need to see this through.
so, to anyone that is autistic or adhd, who feels lament take hold, even for a moment. i won’t tell you that you’re wrong, only that -
“i know what it’s like. it is okay.”
signing off.
a post script about disabilities under capitalism