Moving on from the mediocrity of our living

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Try having some fruit, that will give you some good vitamins’.

During my burnout period, I went basically into total hibernation mode. My eating was repetitive, easy to make food.

Fruit slowly disappeared from my meals, whilst vegetables also were less visible in my plate. It’s essentially been whatever I can put in the oven that requires minimal effort.

But in this one moment of eating an apple, my body suddenly felt a surge of energy. Rather than relying on a sugar boost from a fizzy drink or falling back on an energy drink, I was getting genuine, healthy nutrition.

It didn’t take long for my body to start craving fruit again. And so, without necessarily trying too hard, I’ve been buying more fruit.

None of this is exactly mind blowing. We all know eating fruit is generally good for us. Yet when I was stuck in a rut of mediocrity, I lost sight of what is genuinely nourishing.

The striking thing about mediocre living is that how easy we can become comfortable with it. Yet once we get a taste for a higher form of living, returning back to mediocrity is no longer be appealing. Suddenly my desire for a more rounded diet is returning, and in the meantime so is my energy and a more rounded lifestyle.

I’m not ‘trying’ to eat healthier. I’m just naturally being pulled towards doing it. I don’t need a bucket list of accountability statements, affirmations or manifestations. I’m in sync with living better, so I just do it. It’s like getting a whole package of benefits without needing to even try.

Understanding and self-compassion is important. My mediocre living was necessary for that moment – it was a period where I was toughing it out. By accepting this, and treating myself with kindness and grace, I don’t feel guilty for living this way.

Guilt-tripping ourselves into change is very rarely successful. It takes far more effort, is far less fun, and can have adverse negative effects. Whenever I guilt myself, It also only serves to add to my unhappiness. The unhappiness can then undermine my original intent. If I’m feeling so low that I want quick comfort food, well I’m going to find it hard to eat healthy the next time. Worse, it’ll just fuel a next cycle of guilt.

As I start socialising with people again, I’m seeing far more instances of people living in a mediocre way. Rushing around, often being stressed, or just being unable to really get a grip of their lives. The issue is never that people don’t have hopes and dreams, it’s that the hopes and dreams are buried under a pile of life admin and stress.

But change is possible, and often easier than you think. Often, the change is not actually about the subject itself. Instead, it’s about how we view and treat ourselves. Shifting our internal feelings does wonders for dealing with the practical elements of our lives.

For example, today I woke up early, and ended up spending an hour or so tidying my room. It’s something I haven’t really done in months. I’ve been kind to myself to allow my room to be messy, instead foccussing on my basic needs of energy and sustenance. But as I have became more content with life, my desire for better also has reawakened.

My want for a clean room drove me to tidy it up. I can already feel the benefits that this gives me. What was nice is that this wasn’t something I had to force myself to do either.

My room is just an analogy for a wider point (which I actually made in an article a year ago). When we create the right conditions for ourselves, change can be remarkably easy. We end up making changes within weeks that we thought would take us years.

If you want better in life, it’s possible. If it’s something you’d like to pursue, drop me a message and I can see if there’s anything I can do to help.

Understanding our own body’s unique preferences

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I’ve just woken up after 12 hours of sleep.

Apparently, my body was much more in rest than I had realised. I’ve had an intermittent cough the last week, been running on less sleep, and have some bodily wounds which are healing too.

I feel better after sleeping so long. My brain’s functioning also feels like it is returning to a heightened performance again – I noticed that I was making errors in the phrasing of sentences, or forgetting words (especially in foreign languages).

Over the last week, I feel like I had a revelation around my body. It might sound quite obvious when I say it out loud, but it has blown my mind all the same.

My body has it’s own personality. It has likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses. It is not a piece of clay which I mould into whatever I feel like.

In a lot of ways, my body matches my own personality. There are certain things it particularly likes (e.g. physical contact, warmth, tenderness, sometimes strong sensations). Meanwhile, for example it lacks confidence around using its strength, and can often feel quite weak.

I’ve spent a long time trying to fight with my body. I’ve wanted to be thinner, and I’ve been frustrated at the times where I feel like I have an insatiable appetite, or that it’s felt too tired to push it into doing more exercise.

Yet, my recent experiences when I’ve gotten cuts and wounds has made me remark at how resilient my body is. I very rarely get red marks, and I also heal from cuts very easily. I can take a good amount of pain, and my body stays pretty relaxed during things like surgery. My skin is broadly healthy, and I generally like my physical appearance too.

The main difficulties I’ve had with my body has been around trying to fit it into a mould that I don’t think it’s suited to. I’ve wanted to be thinner and more nimble. And whilst this is not impossible, my practical experience of a larger, South Asian autistic being has made this tricky.

For example, going to yoga classes has generally done more to make me feel like there’s something wrong with my body rather than accepting it. Ironically. body acceptance is what yoga is meant to be about, before it became co-opted by the 5 trillion dollar wellness industry which is designed for white women rather than me. A lot of yoga now uses ‘spirituality’ to hide the real goal, which is actually to show off in sexy yoga leggings. Just ask someone from India what they think about the fact that teachers say ‘Namaste’ at the end of the classes.

Over the last five years, I’ve spent a lot of time practising yoga. It’d be a lie to say it hasn’t helped at all, yet certainly not as much progress as it ‘should’ have given considering all that is said about it. I miss my teachers from London, where I felt there was a more legitimate connection to the deeper meaning from within. In Brussels, or at least at the studio I’ve gone to, it’s felt shallower, and more close to a fitness class. I feel like the odd one out in a sea of white women, despite the fact that the origins of the practice is actually far closer to my ancestry.

More recently, I’ve been taking more dance classes. Now that I’ve overcome my absolute panic at the idea of dancing, I find it quite fun. I’m not quite the type for hyper-energetic spins and dances (maybe in the future), but I enjoy the slower, sensual movements. It fits well and I don’t really feel like I’m having to do something grueling, or difficult.

It also means that I don’t have to feel ‘behind’ with my body. A lot of fitness based classes means that my weight makes it much harder. Balancing myself or lifting myself up is tricky, despite the fact that I’m somewhat muscular. It’s rather logical – weighing more means more effort is required to hold myself up.

Some people are more naturally suited to certain exercises. If I was a skinnier, petite woman or a lean muscular man I would find a lot of modern yoga classes easier. But I’m not either of those, so it’s not particularly helpful to hold myself up to those standards.

I’m learning that my body can function in two ways – being very static, or being very much on the move. It can be quite dramatic in the difference between the two. I don’t seem to have much of a ‘moderate’ mode, so it can be quite all or nothing.

I’ve realised that I’ve learnt to essentially ignore the signals of my gut health throughout my life. Unsurprisingly, my relationship with my body up to this point hasn’t been great.

My brother told me about how genetically, us South Asians are born to basically constantly eat rice. We do not get full on it, making dieting in the modern world tricky.

But rather than cursing my genetics, I can look at what my body is saying with this. If I fuel myself correctly, I can essentially operate as a labourer would have done in the past. Rather than overly trying to restrict my eating, I might just be better off working with it, and being more active.

Perhaps my current hypothesis is pseudo-scientific, but I think it’s worth a try anyway. Either way, I’ll learn much more about my body this way, which can only serve to help.

The biggest revelation I’ve had is looking to treat my body not as something I ‘own’, but instead like a human partner which has it’s own thoughts, feelings and preferences.

I’m now looking to build a better relationship. This one will feel much more like a partnership.

Re-evaluating the games we play in our lives

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I’m not very good at being ‘normal’. I tried it.

In fact, I tried very hard. But the more I tried, the more I ended up seeming like a paid-actor hired into a sample group. I didn’t really fit in, so I learnt what I should say. But then, my rehearsed, polished answers were a little too good to be trusted.

In my mind, I’ve been following what I’ve been told to do. Speak with clarity. Be careful with emotion (but use it as a leader). Structure difficult conversations correctly. Research the best way to approach the project. Improve in skills required for the task. Yet I still find that I’ve had a lot of disconnect with the people around me.

One of the benefits of now having an official autism diagnosis is seeing why the disconnect takes place. When many people recommend certain actions, they don’t often expect you to do it. The rate of follow-through is so poor that actually doing what is recommended in society can turn out to be quite suspicious. For me, promising something and not following through gives me a deep sense of anxiety and guilt. The feeling can be so painful (even for relatively little things) that I feel like I need to vomit. So I very much avoid not doing what I said I would.

For a long time, I’ve felt like I’ve been playing a game where there was no way real way to win. I could learn the rules, and work on getting very good. But once I became good, I was seen with suspicion because I was a little too good. When the solution then shifted to being more authentic, well I tried that too. Unfortunately, authenticity is only fine if it’s the right kind of authenticity. Many of my traits – concern about unconscious biases, accessibility and a (too) strong sense of justice isn’t what they meant.

When we talk about authenticity of the workplace, what we often mean is that we want the straight, white team leader to be a bit more open about the illness his dog has had. This helps explain why he is in a bad mood and helps us empathise with him.

But what we don’t want is an ethnic minority pointing out moral qualms about the actions we are doing. These are often seen as just being too negative. Again, I tried to ‘work’ on this. I learnt to deliver my views in a carefully constructed manner, following a bunch of different tips and tricks I learnt in my own time. Yet after a while, I saw the hypocrisy. Here I was, someone already less privileged, having to neatly wrap up my feedback in fear of a negative reaction. Meanwhile, I did not see this from others, and I rarely saw such care given to me.

There comes a point where we must question whether the games we are playing are really worth it. My burnout has certainly prompted such thoughts for me. If I am constantly feeling like I am on edge and having to be perfect with what I say or do, is that really a way to live? I’ve seen how this has permeated across my life. I find it harder to be trusting, open and really honest.

I previously wrote about how ultimately, life is based upon the games we play. We can often forget that we ultimately have a choice as to whether we still want to play these games. That means that we can choose to change things if we want. It may not necessarily be easy, particularly when looking at all our other life commitments. And in the short term, it may lead to a difficult situation too – whether financial, emotional or even marital.

Yet I’m yet to see an example where someone changes something they were truly unhappy about and didn’t find it was worth it.

An incredibly rapid autism diagnosis (a mere 7 months!)

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‘Based upon everything we’ve discussed, I believe you clearly fit within the threshold of autism’.

I couldn’t help but smile.

I feel like getting my autism diagnosis is a cause for celebration. I can now actually describe myself as Autistic. I don’t need to caveat as ‘probably autistic’ or question whether I really am or not anymore. What I had basically assumed to be the case 7 months ago turns out to actually be true.

Some people will find my reaction quite surprising. After all, isn’t getting an assessment for a neurological and development disorder actually meant to feel bad?

Autism has explained so much about my life, such as the way I can be extremely sensitive to certain things (emotions, touch, people). Understanding that there is an actual neurological difference is such valuable information, and it has already helped make sense about so many things that have happened in my life.

Yet even if I knew this was probably autism, there was always some element of doubt. Getting a diagnosis means I can have confirmed medical expertise that this isn’t something I’ve made up ‘all in my head’. I haven’t ‘decided’ I am autistic due to being an attention seeker. Nor am I trying to explain away my problems away by finding a fake reason.

Instead, I’m someone who has followed my gut when presented with clear information that I spent hours researching. I’m actually proud of myself that I’ve managed to persevere with this, despite the many hurdles to get assessed (not to mention the stigmas attached).

In this sense, getting an autism diagnosis within seven months is actually very fast. I have friends who are looking for ADHD/Autism assessments but will probably need around a year or two to get one done. Getting an appointment for it is nightmareish, whilst the costs are extremely prohibitive. I’m fortunate that I had the support of my parents, as well as finding a service that was cheaper (~£650) compared to the usual amount of £1000-2000+ in the UK.

On top of actually finding a provider, there was also the difficulty completing the assessments themselves. I had a series of joyous questionnaires to fill in, which ironically are not very autism friendly. The questionnaires are rather binary, and it’s hard to critically judge yourself as well. For example, It was hard to describe myself as a very sensitive person, simply because I only know the experience of my own life. I just assumed that everyone experienced emotions this intensely.

There was also the fact that the assessment needed the perspective of my mother. Logistically, this added the complication that my mum doesn’t speak English incredibly well. It also meant having a fun-filled deep-dive of my childhood behaviours between a psychologist, myself and my mother.

More fundamentally though, there are many things that she doesn’t remember anyway. Asian parenting styles were not ones that have deep levels of observation for childhood quirks compared to a more modern, western style. I was worried that this would mean that the assessment would fall in on itself due to a lack of sufficient ‘evidence’.

The irony of all of this is that I have an increasing amount of autistic people in my life, and based upon my behaviours, many of them could probably tell within twenty minutes.

I wasn’t sure that I would get a professional who has a modern understanding of Autism. I actually had a neuropsychologist tell me a few weeks ago that I could not be autistic because I was able to make jokes, and liked too much variety in my life. I was essentially too ‘functional’ to be Autistic. It was rather depressing that this is still a prevalent view in 2024.

Fortunately, my autism assessor runs a clinic in London. He told me how he comes across many ‘highly functioning’ people who are actually neurodivergent and/or autistic themselves. The myth of autistic people only being ‘low functioning’ is fading, albeit slowly.

I see getting this autism assessment as more about understanding the differences in my way of being. I certainly do not think it is a disorder. Yet, following a lot of consideration, I would still describe autism as a disability. I don’t believe that there is anything wrong with me, but because the system is so ill-equipped for my existence, it’s about seeing that I am going to be perennially disadvantaged.

The search for an answer that has unexpectedly dominated my 2024 has now come to an end.

I know that having the diagnosis doesn’t really change anything in of itself. But it does now let me close this chapter, and move on with my life.

Burnout, or a mutiny of the soul?

Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

 

‘What you might call a burnout, I would call a mutiny of the soul’.

A curious phrase. I had never thought about it that way.

It was what that John Patrick Morgan said to me this week on a phone call as he was doing his gardening. It’s the second time I’ve had a conversation with him directly, and the first since my conversation last year with him nearly exactly 12 months ago.

My recent months of introspection have been far more scientific medical than spiritual. Whilst the last few years was far more about exploring the existential, 2024 has been a lot more about trying to rationalise and diagnose.

This has been necessary. Going to see doctors and consulting medical expertise is a critical part of modern society. And for a good reason too – our healthcare has vastly improved due to our better understanding of how we function as human beings.

Yet, there was a reason I turned to spiritual teachings in the first place. There are limits to the scientific – the rational can only explain so much.

Treating burnout and mental health is an unclear, often messy game. What works for one person does not work for another. For some, the answer would have been to do more exercise. For others, take more rest was what is needed.

Nothing epitomises this russian roullette more than antidepressants. It feels like taking a gambling swig of chemicals, hoping they might help. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not anti-antidepressants: they serve a purpose and can seriously help people. But I can’t help but think that experimenting with chemicals when you are already in a difficult moment is risky. Ideally, we would have a better measure of what helps us when we are healthy. At least then if we have unhelpful side effects, we can better deal with them.

I’ve been extremely tired. It’s hard to do anything when in such a state. I could see this as a mental burnout, or I could reframe this more spiritually. Perhaps what I am really managing is a mutiny where my own self would prefer to lay down arms rather than continue with what I am doing.

Rest is important, yet if it was the only solution I would have recovered long ago. Instead, there is a clear lack of willingness to do the things I was previously doing. My soul is refusing to cooperate – it does not want to return to my previous existence.

This weekend, I ended up going dancing a few times. I knew I would enjoy this, yet I was worried because I felt exhausted, despite a week of rest. Weirdly, after doing something I actually enjoyed, suddenly my body felt more energetic and sprightly. This was despite lacking a few hours of sleep!

Rationally, this doesn’t make much sense. Doing more physical activity when tired should make one even more tired. Yet in practice it actually kicked my body back into gear. It’s almost as if my spiritual self is far more happy when I do things I enjoy. Who would have thought?

This isn’t a consistent thing either. If I force myself to do things like any old physical actiity that I do not want to, I won’t feel particularly energised by them. My idea of fun is dancing, but running a marathon is not. There’s a subtle but important difference between feeling short term lethargy and a spiritual rejection to doing an activity I genuinely do not want to do.

So what does this all mean in practice? Well, I think I need to get far more honest and radical with my life. There’s no going back to ‘the way things were’, and pretending that I can is only prolonging my own suffering.

Being in tune with our spiritual self power allows us to let go. We follow the path life has in store for us, rather than trying to fight it.

As Pierre Teilhard de Chardin said,

We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.

Understanding our unexplained tiredness and anxiety

Photo by Thong Vo on Unsplash

Photo by Thong Vo on Unsplash

I’ve felt a bit humbled this week. For all the returns of energy and activity over the last few months, over the last few days, I’ve felt really tired. I effectively cancelled any and all social plans.

On top of that, I’ve also had regular bouts of anxiety. It’s hard to place where exactly it’s coming from. I spoke to a doctor who tried to pin point what I’ve been worrying about. Nothing’s especially been on my mind, at least consciously anyway.

I could certainly find reasons if I look for them. And no doubt, they’ve played a part: health concerns in my family, fatigue from numerous tests and visits to the doctors, stresses and worries around politics (particularly the situation in Bangladesh).

Perhaps it’s also to do with the fact that September is now upon us. Usually I come back feeling refreshed after the summer lull, with a feeling of ‘back to school’. This year, my seasonal cues are missing, and I feel more lost and confused rather than energised.

At the same time, I can’t help but feel that sometimes we can fall into the trap of needing to explain everything. Maybe I’m not really meant to know exactly ‘why’ I’m feeling this way. One of the less fun things about burnout is that it’s an accumulation of fatigue over a period of time. What could also be the case is that certain things are being released from months ago, and it happens to be hitting me right now.

My current state also got me thinking about a question a coach once asked me. ‘What are you tolerating in your life right now?’. I’ve become very used to juggling so many different things, including simply accepting certain situations and draining emotions. Even now, where I feel anxiety, I really tend to downplay it. The people around me are usually quite surprised when I mention I’m having strong anxiety pangs, because I seem to be acting pretty normally.

Perhaps I’ve picked up the British ‘stiff upper lip’ – Keep Calm and Carry On. I hate the idea of cancelling plans, so I rarely do. (Or perhaps my neurodivergent brain hates changes in plans so tends to follow through to things I commit to, even when it’s not the best idea.)

Just because I can put up with a situation, doesn’t mean I need to be. I think the fact that I can function with levels of fatigue and drained emotional energy has led to this building up to the point it has become insurmountable. Eventually my body has been the one to tell me to stop.

The solution to all this isn’t really clear. Yet it also doesn’t need to be right now. The important thing right now is to rest, and let myself experience whatever I need to. If I try and fast track or skip this step, I’m doomed to repeat the cycle again.

The cleansing process isn’t always fun, but it is necessary.

Foregoing the guilt of not always ‘giving’

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I’ve known for a long time that I have a hard time receiving things. I’m not talking about literal presents, but receiving help, support or even words of encouragement. It’s only until recently that I really learnt to appreciate compliments people give me – in the past I would simply bat these off or deflect them. In all honesty I didn’t really understand the point of them.

I thought that my nature was simply to be nice and giving. Since I was fortunate enough to have my life together, I didn’t feel like I needed to receive things from people.

The more I examined this story, the more it started to unravel.

This wasn’t simply me not needing to receive compliments, gifts or help. It was that I had an actual discomfort to when people did these things for me. I felt very self-conscious when someone would do something nice. People singing happy birthday to me makes me cringe, whilst I would always worry about receiving presents in case I had to fake liking what had been given to me.

If I did genuinely appreciate it, I would always make a mental note to repay that person back somehow, but in a way that trumped what they did for me. I thought this was a way of repaying gifts nicely, but really it was just my own type of one-upmanship. By always doing more for someone else, I could guarantee that I didn’t owe anybody anything, and thereby protect myself from needing other people. There’s some level of comfort in taking the moral high ground of being the person that ‘always gives’.

The unhealthiness of this approach becomes apparent when I find myself feeling unappreciated. I would go the extra mile for people (without them asking me to do so) and then expect to be heaped with praise. When this didn’t happen, I would feel upset. There’s been a level of subtle manipulation in my behaviour.

Unlearning this behaviour has been accepting that It’s okay if for some people they actually do more for me than I do for them. Sometimes people want to help without wanting anything in return. This has its own fundamental beauty. My hypocrisy has been that I’ve wanted to help people without reward, but felt very uncomfortable if someone did that for me. I lacked the humility to accept help, which subtly reinforced my sense of superiority to others.

One of the greatest things we can do for someone who offers something is to accept it. Receiving a gift (whether physical or not) can be a really heartwarming experience, at least if we let it be so.

Sometimes we get so caught up in the I-owe-you’s, that we miss the point of acts of service. Someone wants to do something as an act of care or support. This is fundamentally a nice thing. If we don’t let them do it, it can actually be quite hurtful to them.

I adore giving attention to animals. I love it when they accept my strokes or gifts of affection. But as a very sensitive individual, I also get hurt when they turn away. (especially cats. They are sooo pretty and charming, but also they can be malevolent beings 🙁 )

So if you’re someone who likes to always be the one that is constantly giving, this may be a good time to reflect what the root cause of that behaviour really is. Are you being a super benevolent person, or are you actually craving affection of others and/or protecting yourself from ever relying on someone?

Play with this idea. Let me know what you find.

Following the breadcrumbs to understand my brain

My view in the park whilst writing this article!

Yesterday I went to Liege to do an IQ test with a psychologist. The idea was actually to check whether I had an attention deficit disorder, but part of it was also seeing the overlap between that and whether I am a ‘High Potential Individual’

Apparently, in France/Belgium, they speak a lot more about this idea of being ‘high potential’. Essentially, it’s having an IQ above 130. And according to the test, I fit into this bracket.

What’s been a bit weird about this is that the concept of being ‘gifted’ barely exists in anglophone literature. I’m not really sure what to make of it to be honest. One argument I’ve heard is that it’s a way to ‘soften the blow’ of calling someone neurodivergent by essentially telling them they’re smart.

At the very least, it’s pretty clear that I have a neurodivergent disposition. The way I think and speak is rather atypical. What is also quite clear is that this isn’t some level of attention deficit. I did a two hour test without needing a break, and in reality most of my life has included long, focussed work, and I’ve not really had an issue.

My lack of attention is usually due to being understimulated, or essentially bored. This is opposed to a more general difficulty with paying attention to things, which is where it comes closer to a disorder and often diagnosed as ADHD (innattentive, rather than hyperactive).

These definitions are based upon the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-V). The way that neurodivergence has been classified has not been without criticism. A lot of it is based upon a history of pathologising – autism and ADHD are classified as disorders / disabilities. What also doesn’t help is that the definitions of these ‘conditions’ are rather broad which can make people question how legitimate they are.

From my perspective, neurodivergence definitely exists. Some of these traits can fall into ways that can be debilitating. However, a lot of the issues around neurodivergence come from the way we treat people who are different in society. Stims and abnormal behaviour is often seen as ‘bad’, and kids are taught to stop doing them, leading to them masking these things.

My psychologist was convinced that I was not Autistic (even if this was not the purpose of the test.) My IQ averages were too high, and I didn’t demonstrate difficulties that would be typical of an autistic person.

Yet I can’t help but reflect the issues with the way the data has been built. One of the main influences for me was reading Autism Unmasked. The point of the book was to speak to people who don’t fall into the normal stereotypical behaviour of autistic people.

The book highlights how Autism diagnosed is based upon typical traits for white, middle-class boys. Women, ethnic minorities and genderqueer people are left very much underdiagnosed in this space as this shows up in different ways.

I find myself in a bit of a crossroads here. On the one hand, I can claim I am actually ‘gifted’, and because I haven’t had obvious signs thus far, I can say I’m not autistic.

On the other hand, when I start examining my behaviour more recently, I can see areas where reading about autism has been the only source of actually understanding what’s happening with me.

For example, the term interoception is the ability to process our body’s information. I had never heard this term before reading about autism. But a life experience I’ve had is not knowing when I am full or not, and this has essentially been a perennial experience. Even since I have been a lot more healthy and vigilant of what I consume, I’ve notice that my ability to intuitively eat has just never worked very well. If I eat ‘clean’ for a few days, I usually end up with a day where I feel insatiably hungry, and no matter how much I eat, I do not feel full.

A lot of what I’ve learnt on how to manage this has actually come from Instagram accounts of people with lived experience in this space. One of the issues with psychology is that it is very prohibitive to entry. Whilst this is understandable to some extent – medical fields need a strong level of training and due diligence – it does mean it is slow to change, and most neurodivergent people I know and who could bring a fresh perspective have very big barriers to entry.

But like a lot of things in modern society, there feels like a long lag between more innovative, diverse ways of thinking compared to what is actually happening in industry. Our tendency to require qualifications and training for pretty much anything, including entry level jobs can actually stifle innovation. The ability to try new things for many people in western society is probably not worth the years of retraining it requires. This is particularly the case when people without qualifications can often actually be more knowledgeable and better than the official experts. Much of what is taught in schools and classes is quickly out

For the moment, I still have a test to come. I’ll see what comes out of the results of that. Nevertheless, I can’t help but think that the amount of time, energy and cost I’ve spent navigating the whole system has been very laborious and tricky.

The long process seems rather at odds with the obvious traits I demonstrate (and share) with the people right in front of me. If I tell those people I’m Autistic, they would not blink an eye.

The tale of the spider in the bathtub

Photo by Erik Mclean on Unsplash

I was back in the UK this week, staying in my parent’s house.

When I went to take a shower, I saw that a spider had taken over the bathtub. There was an impressive amount of webs that had covered the whole area.

I needed the shower, but I saw that it would most definitely kill it. So with a bit of paper I managed to poke at it. It quickly scuttled up the paper, and started running up my arm. In a bit of a panic, I managed to fling my arm out so that it fell onto the bathroom floor. I was quite happy to see that the spider was still moving on the floor, where it sought refuge behind the toilet.

I couldn’t help but reflect that my act of mercy on this poor spider probably felt like a deeply traumatic event for it. I had come along and essentially destroyed its home, along with hurting it from its fall.

This made me think about how life does similar things to us as humans. An inexplicable event occurs, filled with tragedy. Yet in the end, it might actually be a real blessing, we are just unable to see it at the time.

For those that aren’t aware, Bangladesh has gone through rather seismic changes, with the Prime Minister being ousted following protests. The movement originated as a student movement against unfair quotas for government jobs going to descendants of liberation fighters. The quota was disproportionate and essentially meant jobs for the families of those already in power.

The brutal repression against the student movement ended up turning the public against the government. Eventually, this led to a wider movement, with Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina having to flee to India; she also announced that she had resigned as Prime Minister. The state has now shifted into a delicate situation with a clear power vacuum.

I’ve been rather fearful as to what happens next. Bangladeshi history has had bad instances of the past where the army simply took control, with brutal repression following. Power struggles are extremely bloody and damaging, and if things go wrong, the country could descend into chaos. Fortunately, the first signs look somewhat positive. Students successfully called for Nobel prize winner Muhammad Yusuf to come in as a chief adviser. It looks like order is looking to be achieved and new elections to come.

I can’t help but feel naive and misinformed about the degradation of politics in Bangladesh. People have been snatched away, and political opponents heavily repressed. Honestly, it’s pretty upsetting to learn about this all going on. Whilst corruption was evident, I hadn’t realised it had gotten this bad. All I can do now is hope that it settles down and good governance is the ultimate winner.

The week has also had a few other events dotted around. The riots of far-right protesters around the UK has been unsettling. It makes me question a lot around our narrative around multiculturalism, and how far we really have come in society when people can be openly racist. The events made its rounds across Europe, to the point that I even had people in Belgium question whether I should go back to visit my parents because of what they heard.

Meanwhile, I’ve been doing several hours of assessments around my neurodivergence. These are several hours of rather tiring questions, jabbing into uncomfortable personal memories on childhood.

I suppose I took it as a compliment that the psychologist described me as an ‘interesting case’. Turns out I am very contradictory in my answers. On the one hand I need routine and repetition. But I also need novelty and colour. I need my peace and quiet, but I also need intense social stimulation.

I’ll have to see what this really means, but it could be a blend of different conditions in play (somewhere between Autism, being a Highly Sensitive Person, having some form of ADHD and/or being ‘intellectually gifted’). What is clear at least is that I fit the profile of a neuroatypical person.

Processing these sorts of events is pretty exhausting. I’ve felt fear, as well as emotionally drained.

But I return to thinking about that spider, running around my parent’s bathroom floor.

The traumatic event it lived through is the reason it lives to see a new, better day.

Resetting the calibration of our internal motivation

Photo by sydney Rae on Unsplash

Motivation is like gold dust. When we have it, complex tasks can feel so simple. But when our motivation runs dry, even the most simple of tasks can feel extraordinarily difficult.

‘Refinding’ motivation is a search many of us go on. There’s an abundance of motivational slogans, inspirational quotes and an industry of positive-vibe speakers to cater to this need.

Unfortunately, most of these external sources of motivation have a rather limited effect. Whilst these things can give a temporary boost, they are no match for genuine, internal motivation to succeed.

Books like Grit by Angela Duckworth highlight as much – someone with an intrinsic motivation is far more likely to accomplish a goal than someone who is doing it for some form of external validation. Doing something for the love of it means we will persevere for far longer than doing something just because we want to become rich or famous.

The funny thing about motivation is how wavering it can be. Some days, it can feel like it we are abundantly motivated. The next day, it can feel like it has completely disappeared.

The key to understanding this is that it’s not the activity that’s changing, it’s us.

The way we think and feel about something shapes our reality. The more time we spend dreading a task, the harder it becomes. We can flip this by committing to actions come rain or shine, as well as focussing on the positives, or pleasure that we get out of something.

This is all stuff that I had learned several years ago. Yet putting it into practice is always the most challenging part. Life also finds new ways to test us at different periods of our life.

My recent period of fatigue has had stretches where I had no desire to do anything at all. I had no motivation to move. I had to push myself just to eat. My body’s response was to slow down, making me just want to stay in bed.

Things have improved since then, yet motivation still can feel scary – asking myself what I want opens up deeper, existential questions about what I’m doing in life.

I went to a festival last weekend. It was a lot of people, and I did have rather strong bouts of anxiety at several points. But it was also really fun. The weather was (mostly) good, and I felt alive after passing a few days on my feet dancing.

Afterwards, I felt a jolt of energy in life. This was despite being far more physically tired (and rather sleep deprived). My therapist described it as a sort of reset to my dopamine controls.

When I reflect on it, creating fun for myself got simplified in my head. Going outside when it’s sunny is something fun and enjoyable.

This is in contrast to my more recent ways of thinking about ‘fun things’. I had inadvertently learnt that fun was meant to be challenging and/or educational – there needed to be a ‘point’ to everything. It’s probably why I found myself in such a humourless state recently.

Doing things for the joy of them can return us to a more innocent, childlike state. In our adult lives of routine and responsibility, we can lose the ability to have fun, like we did as kids. Part of the recipe of wellbeing is reconnecting with this side of ourselves.

For some people, recalibrating is instead doing less. We may be overdosing on our dopamine hits, making us crave the hits we get from it. Knowledge about social media addiction is pretty prevalent now, but most of us have experienced how all-consuming it can get as to whether we get likes or not. Time away can give perspective that perhaps we’re getting too engrossed in that one thing.

I don’t doubt that my life will be a see-saw act between being overly invested in something all the way back to a sense of ennui, or boredom. But finding the sweet spot of general motivation is important. It’s what makes us take care of ourselves and accomplish our goals.

And the best way to do that is to have fun.