Autistic Birthdays…

Birthdays can be tricky things for we autistics. In broad brush generalisation terms (every autistic is different!) we like pattern and consistency. So one day following a similar pattern to those around it is helpful, and exceptions and special days can be stressful. Christmas, for example, can be a bit of a trial. There are different sights, sounds, activities, people, settings, times and rhythms for doing things – and any one of those changes could take an autistic person out of their (limited) comfort zone.
Don’t get me wrong – it’s very nice to get presents and attention and feel loved – of course it is. But the pressure to respond “correctly” and handle complex social situations can be quite intense. There are so many conventions to remember and handle – such having to invite people you don’t like to your party, or thank people for gifts that you don’t really want. It’s basic good manners, but it’s also extra reminders of how the world doesn’t make sense to your autistic brain and how you constantly have to “perform” the role of not being autistic in order to fit in.

Working can be talking

Pottering about chatting to people doesn’t feel like proper “work” work, even if it takes some effort. My autistic brain is absolutely determined that sitting at my desk churning out written work is proper work or – at a pinch – attending meetings. Casual chats aren’t immediately productive so they can’t be work, can they? Well yes, they certainly can. And that makes them important and a sensible use of time.

Shall I compare…?

How do you know you’re enjoying yourself? What if you’re doing what everyone else thinks is fun but hating it? Or you’re doing something you love but everyone else thinks you’re a total sad act? If you’re not particularly psychologically robust – which might be because you’ve spent most of your life undiagnosed autistic – then you might struggle not to make comparisons between what the world considers “right” and what you actually do. Which leads on nicely to the fear of failure and not being a “proper” person that can come so easily to an autistic. I’ve wrote about this yesterday in relation to birthdays – do you do what society thinks you should or make your own life easy but fear what you’re missing? Or do you lament not what you’re missing but the fact that you don’t actually miss it?

Birthdays…

Birthdays can be tricky things for we autistics. In broad brush generalisation terms (every autistic is different!) we like pattern and consistency. So one day following a similar pattern to those around it is helpful, and exceptions and special days can be stressful. Christmas, for example, can be a bit of a trial. There are different sights, sounds, activities, people, settings, times and rhythms for doing things – and any one of those changes could take an autistic person out of their (limited) comfort zone.
Don’t get me wrong – it’s very nice to get presents and attention and feel loved – of course it is. But the pressure to respond “correctly” and handle complex social situations can be quite intense. There are so many conventions to remember and handle – such having to invite people you don’t like to your party, or thank people for gifts that you don’t really want. It’s basic good manners, but it’s also extra reminders of how the world doesn’t make sense to your autistic brain and how you constantly have to “perform” the role of not being autistic in order to fit in.

Leading is listening

Wandering around talking to people doesn’t feel like proper “work” work, even though it takes some effort and can be really productive. My autistic brain is absolutely determined that sitting at my desk churning out written work is proper work or – at a pinch – attending meetings. It’s a real struggle for my autistic brain to regard talking to people as work, partly because it doesn’t feel like a concrete thing done, and partly because it’s not what comes naturally to me. But I rationalise it to myself that there are some days – possibly a lot of days – when it really is my job just to talk to people, but most of all, to listen. Who knows what I might find out?

Working can be talking

Pottering about chatting to people doesn’t feel like proper “work” work, even if it takes some effort. My autistic brain is absolutely determined that sitting at my desk churning out written work is proper work or – at a pinch – attending meetings. Casual chats aren’t immediately productive so they can’t be work, can they? Well yes, they certainly can. And that makes them important and a sensible use of time.

Talking to people IS work

I overthink things and agonise about whether I’m doing enough work or the right kind of work. I also feel intimidated about my autistic brain not really being set up for networking. But putting those two together I’ve come to a realisation that might seem obvious but it was news to me: talking to people is my job. Or at least a lot of it. My autistic brain feels that “work” is “stuff done” such as papers written, emails sent, presentations delivered etc. But actually a large part of work is building up relationships with people in order to have trust to draw on when needed, and in order to find out about things that might be connected to my work. Particularly for me as a leader, making myself approachable and (potentially) having ten consecutive conversations about ten Christmas jumpers/holiday plans/whatever might be the most useful thing I do today.