Sometimes it’s just not that deep

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We can get stuck in the endless frame of asking ‘why’.

I’m upset – why do I feel this way?

What do I need to change to make things better?

Is there maybe something I’m missing?

These questions can be genuinely valuable. But it’s also helpful to recognise that not everything needs a deep analysis.

Sometimes we wake up tired or sad without any clearly discernible reason.

In our need to understand why, we can often end up spending more mental energy trying to connect the dots of our life than it’s actually worth. We end up feeling more tired, sad and probably stressed after finding a rational answer which only serves to remind us of our woes.

Maybe the reason we’re tired today is just because the sun woke us up earlier through the blinds this morning. It doesn’t always need to be linked to some deep, dark trauma. Chances are that if it is something deep, this will become evident anyway. I find that these realisations tend to come when I’m not searching for them, but instead when I’m open and listening to my emotions.

The theme of this week was inspired by Yung Pueblo, a writer around healing and mental health. I saw a video of him speaking about this topic on Instagram. He spoke of how his wife and himself used to go through the cycle of finding reasons to blame the other when they felt down or upset about something. The video itself was only a short snippet, but it definitely resonated.

I have a tendency to look deep into the meaning of things. It’s certainly helped me uncover a lot about myself, and I do like my inquisitive and curious nature.

But it’s also important for me to recognise when my ‘need’ to understand can be counterproductive. When I try and understand why, my brain often takes over. Going into rational mode can often come at the behest of listening and feeling to what the emotions are really saying.

Yesterday, I felt incredbily anxious. I was walking around on a sunny day in the neighbourhood I’ve lived in for several years. I found myself quickly retreating home after feeling overwhelmed by the outside stimuli. The fact I had this intense burst of anxiety certainly took me by surprise.

It’s hard to rationally say why this happened. I hadn’t done anything particularly anxiety inducing yesterday. Even if I rack my brains, it’s not totally clear where it came from.

So rather than spend too long agonizing about the why, I just chose to not think about it too deeply. I got into a cosy position at home and simply surrendered myself to the feeling.

I find that listening to my emotions is a far better way of regulating my emotional wellbeing than trying to explain them. But it’s also more painful – experiencing anxiety is not fun, and it’s certainly tempting just to try and distract myself from it to reduce the intensity. But I think these feelings come up one way or another, so it’s better to experience them rather than try and avoid them.

Alas, the feeling passed. I woke up today feeling a lot more relaxed. I cannot explain what changed. But then, I also don’t need to. I can be grateful for feeling better today without needing to analyse why.

Opening up to a deeper vulnerability

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I had a moment this week where I felt deep fear.

There was nothing to be scared of externally, and I knew that. But I felt fear all the same.

I am someone who has generally always kept my composure in situations. I rarely lose control. Even in moments of intense emotion, these are often calculated, deliberate actions.

But here I was in a situation where I opened up more deeply than I am used to. I no longer felt in control. It was like standing in a room where the floor suddenly disappeared. I was at a loss on how to manage it all.

It may seem that I am very open with the way that I write and talk about my emotions. Perhaps that is true – I am more open to talking about my feelings than a lot of people. It’s not any sort of deep bravery, but something that is just natural to me.

But I always feel in control of this. I decide what I really want to share, and why. I think the logical part of understanding that sharing emotions usually helps means I learnt that it was an important thing to do.

But the truly scary part for me is letting go of control of how I act and react. When I drop the ability to analyse, I feel truly naked.

I’ve been more socially reclusive recently. This has meant that when I do go out and spend time with people, I have an increased sense of social anxiety. This has made my analytical way of working even more obvious. Even in calm times, I tend to subliminally assess the situation – the mood, response of people, their eye contact. I make a conscious effort to pay deep attention to what they are saying to show that I am present with them.

But with my currently more frazzled mind, these sensitivities have been on overdrive. Small gestures, such as a glance away when speaking (which was most likely nothing) have felt like I have done something wrong. My internal reaction is to hurry up what I’m saying in case I’m boring the other person.

The challenge for me this week has been to get comfortable with however I come across to other people. Letting go of my fears that I might be too boring, obnoxious or intimidating. It’s the only way I can come to a place of calm and comfort mentally.

The process for this is accepting that the fears are valid. People have indeed told me I can be intimidating, and I certainly can sometimes come across as obnoxious. I don’t doubt either that I can be boring when I talk about something that has no interest to the other person either.

What I am increasingly seeing is that these opinions are not necessarily a reflection on me. My quirky behaviours are just that – quirks. Some people will like them, some people will not. And when I come from good intentions, I can absolve myself of the upset and harm I might cause to others in the process of being me.

There are many things we can be scared of in life. But I find that the deepest fear is during introspection.

Being genuinely honest about ourselves is one of the most frightening experiences we can have in our spiritual existence.

The art of learning nothing

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Every day may be an opportunity to learn something new. But we can afford ourselves a break sometimes.

I’ve been tuning out my brain from needing to learn or do too much. Earlier in the month I spent a lot of time reading about Autism, ADHD and the like. Right now, I’m doing very little.

Sometimes our brains need time to properly digest the information we take in. I don’t doubt that my recent bouts of fatigue come from the amount of information I’m still processing about myself. I think my brain is working subconsciously on overdrive, reviewing past moments through this new lens.

I think the least helpful thing I could do right now is cram my brain with more information. Whilst it can be tempting to want to find out more, it’s probably not healthy. My tendency to go into what I now know as a ‘hyperfixation’ can lead me to obsession. Since learning a bit more about Autism, I ended up reading a 300 page book on it within two to three days.

These hyperfixations can be very helpful to get a lot done in a very short amount of time. But it’s also recognising that it’s not an optimal state to always be in – I need downtime between intense periods else I will eventually break down.

So this means accepting that certain periods will be far less about doing or learning. Yet this is easier said than done – there’s a stigma around slowing down, symbolised through overwork and lack of breaks.

The idea that certain periods I will be far less capable is actually quite a scary one. Yet the reality is that we all face these dips and resurgences, even if we don’t feel like we can be totally honest about it. But being honest about them also means that we can ride the peaks and troughs far more successfully. If we’re always trying to be at top performance we’re doomed to crash and burn.

The constant need to learn more can be a real risk. There is always another course, book or workshop with more information. Whilst learning more is not bad in of itself, it can become a distraction from genuinely digesting the information and finding ways to use it in our lives. I fell into this somewhat last year – whilst I do not regret doing the amount of courses I did, towards the end I I was no longer getting much from them because I was so saturated.

So for now I’m not reading anything, learning anything, or really doing anything to develop myself in particular. The only skills I’m improving is my trick combos on Tony Hawks Pro Skater and my bug killing on Helldivers 2 (for democracy).

In a world where there is constant pressure to learn and improve, it’s important to sometimes have a break.

Finding peace in the space of solitude

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It’s taken a few months, but I’m finally getting used to not having any plans for the day.

At the beginning of the week, it felt quite empty. I had a few social activities but also a lot of space. Honestly, it was pretty intimidating to comprehend what to do with all that time.

I’m a planner at heart, so to not have anything set in stone is disorienting. When I saw a completely empty agenda, I felt the lurch of panic at the uneasiness of nothing to do.

This week has been about learning to be at ease without having a plan.

It’s perhaps evident if you’ve been reading these articles that I’ve been off work for a while. I’m taking time to rest and recuperate, though that is an ongoing work in progress.

I’ve been scheduling certain social activities to ensure that I get out of the house. I can easily turn very reclusive if I’m not careful. But in the midst of this, I found myself almost desperately wanting things to do. Getting outside is good, but filling my calendar with social activities for the sake of it defeats the point in getting rest.

So this week I’ve been spending a lot of time in my room just lounging around. I let my mind wonder and the time pass by. I don’t get a whole lot ‘useful’ done – scrolling social media and playing phone games is not quite the gold star standard of capitalistic productivity.

But actually, it’s been pretty nice. There is a freedom in being able to relax at home alone. It’s easy, and simple. I don’t need to plan it, and I don’t need to arrange it with someone else either.

I’ve felt more comfortable with life, as I’m no longer needing to drag my tired body around to social engagements I signed up to out of anxious boredom.

This anxious boredom has been a real bane for me over the last few months. A lack of stimulation has felt a real challenge, but the underlying behaviour is the discomfort around solitude. The more I get comfortable without having anything to do, the more the anxiety recedes.

This has allowed me to be a lot more selective on what I actually am choosing to do. Whereas in the past I would throw myself at pretty much any social interaction I could go to because ‘why not?’, I’m now far more discerning as to what I actually want to do.

Part of this is a forced change, simply because I currently have far lower energy than before. But I also don’t really feel a calling to go back to the older version of me either. Now when I look at it, it feels like I put in a lot of directionless effort.

I don’t deny that it can be difficult to make this shift. I live in an environment where everyone seems to be doing cool and exciting things all the time. Whilst the ‘Fear of Missing Out’ was a very 2000s term, it’s become painfully obvious how much it’s influenced my life the last year.

But when I’m comfortable being alone, it gives me the freedom to choose solitude as a viable option. I see how much better I feel when I’m clear of what I will and won’t do.

Here’s my invitation to you to rebel against our capitalistic system – it’s okay to take time doing nothing. In fact, it’s pretty vital for our existence.

The art of managing our energy levels

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It’s been a humbling experience to see how little energy I’ve had recently. Basic tasks which I would usually do without thinking have taken a large amount of effort.

Sometimes this is about my mind – logistical tasks like doing washing or cooking food can get overwhelming the more I complicate it in my head. I’m probably as indecisive as I’ve ever been – when I don’t know what I want to eat I can change my mind several times within a few minutes. Even deciding on a Youtube video to put on in the background seems like a difficult endeavour.

The answer is often to get out of the head and do more physical activity. That has helped, though unfortunately I’m still finding it very tiring to do things physically too. Even actions like going to the supermarket can be really tiring. It was quite sobering to see how attending one Toastmasters evening for a few hours left me completely wiped out. This feels very different to a few months ago where I would do a full day of work followed by things on most evenings of the week without issue.

I’ve needed to learn to be very discerning with how I spend my energy. Whereas before I could seemingly conjure life force out of thing air, in my current period of fatigue it’s been pretty tricky.

The positive about this is that by being more energy-conscious, I’m seeing how much I would previously use inefficiently. Retreating into my shell has been good to see where I’m putting in energy in places (pursuits, hobbies, people) that don’t really yield a whole lot of positive results.

It also means that I need to be a lot more intentional about what I choose to do, as well as giving myself more leeway for shortcuts than I would have given myself in the past. In social settings, I’ve allowed myself escape routes (i.e. leaving early), for dinner, I’ve often shifted to meal replacement shakes when too overwhelmed with cooking. I’ve also kept my days relatively free with room for flexibility in case I simply do not have the energy to do things.

When we’re in the constant rush of life, we can get into a habit of expending a lot of wasted energy. This slow-down period for me has shown how much that’s been the case.

Connecting with our intuition on feeling safe

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I never thought of myself as a particularly anxious person. Mainly because the idea of anxiety was something very visible and pronounced. It turns out that I just have become very good at managing my anxiety, rather than it not existing.

But in recent weeks I’ve been noticing how much unattended anxiety I’ve actually had. I don’t think this is something I’ve always had, but it’s certainly built up in the last few months. These haven’t been particularly noticeable (both to other people and myself) because my way of demonstrating anxiety is far less visible. Rather than having a visible panic attack, I tend to retreat inwards and disassociate from my body.

The challenge with examining areas such as anxiety and mental health is that it is very hard to compare and contrast. For a long time, I believed that the amount of thoughts I would have flurrying on in my head. Turns out, it’s probably not – whether it’s to do with me potentially having ADHD, or perhaps my therapist thinking I’m a high potential individual (or both).

It seems fairly obvious now when I examine it, but when we never stop to question things that we just accept as normal, we can miss some crucial information about ourselves.

One of the benefits of actually listening to the anxiety rather than trying to manage it is that I’ve become a lot more cognisant of my intuition around social interactions. Honestly, I can get bored with small talk and chit chat very quickly. This makes group conversations often quite tedious for me in social settings, particularly when people are first getting to know one another, and conversations are surface level. In the past I learnt to be disciplined to follow these sorts of conversations because I thought that was what I was meant to do. I thought everyone had trained themselves to do this as a matter of social etiquette.

What I’m realising now is that I have the option of not engaging too much if I don’t want to. My current mantra is that if something quite basic like a conversation is feeling like a lot of effort than I probably shouldn’t do it. It might feel a little rude sometimes, but I’m better being honest with myself than doing something I don’t enjoy.

It also helps that the spaces I frequent these days are generally very respectful of people shifting in and out at their own pace. In fact, I’ve become a lot more aware of how safe I feel within different spaces more generally. I think I got so good at melding myself to a situation that I somewhat lost my intuitive sense of where I could really let me guard down. It made me feel like a chameleon because of how much I would shift depending on the situation. I sometimes have questioned myself around what my true personality really is because of this.

Being more aware helps with my energy management. There are lots of places where I have been putting in lots of energy when it wasn’t really worth it. People might be a bit more closed, or have very different interests to connect upon. This meant that I felt like I was putting lots of effort in for not a whole lot of reward, much to my frustration.

So right now, my goal is to focus my time and energy on spaces where I feel like it comes naturally. In this way, I’m also more discerning of where to go and who to spend time with too. It feels so different when people tell me they have really enjoyed my company when I feel like I haven’t really tried all that much, as opposed to in previous instances where I probably tried too hard and then felt unappreciated.

So here is an invitation for you to look at what spaces you spend your time in, and how much you feel at ease within them. Whether you’re spending too much time in scary places or actually only spend time in comfortable ones, it may be time for a rebalance.

On the search for a quietened mind

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My recent weeks have been plagued with fatigue. It got to the point where popping out to the supermarket a few minutes down the road would leave me struggling, and I found myself frequently needing naps during the day.

I’m in the midst of understanding what being neurodivergent means in practice. It’s a lot to navigate – there’s certainly many things that make a lot more sense now, but I’m also cautious to jump to conclusions too quickly.

I went to my doctor this week who recommended I tried antidepressants. In an ideal world, I would have had a bit more time than a short consultation to think about it. In the end I decided to give them a try. I’m fortunate that I’m well passed the point of ‘pride’ against such things. Yet I was still worried how effective they would be with a neurodivergent condition.

The experience has been mixed, but I’m glad I agreed to try them. The downsides have been feeling more intense bouts of anxiety, as well as some headaches (including quite an intense one I have right now). Although I still have an appetite, the idea of feeling the texture of food puts me off from wanting to eat.

On the plus side, I’ve refound energy. It’s broken the cycle of feeling too tired to exercise, meaning I don’t engage my body and end up overthinking even further. My brain feels so much clearer and it’s the first time outside of specific meditative retreats where I don’t feel like I have a flurry of constant thoughts from the moment I wake up.

This experience of calmer thinking did make me wonder whether this was what it was like to be neurotypical. As part of going down further the self-diagnosis rabbit hole, I think I have ADHD (Inattentive Type). Much of my life has followed a curious mix of spacing out and impulsiveness, and the cycle of boredom-induced overthink describes my situation I’m currently facing very well. It also explains when I was younger where I would not fully understand what was going on during classes, usually because I would space out. Meanwhile on the more impulsive side, I can have quite sudden intense desires to socialise or do a new activity, which can come a little out of nowhere.

The reality of adult diagnosis for ADHD/Autism, particularly of the less visible kind, is that you are unlikely to ever figure out about them unless you hypothesise them for yourself, and then go to get it confirmed. I’m now seeing if I can find a good place to get tests done, though I also know I’ll have to pay for these myself since the public route to them could take years.

Internet resources and social media has been impressively helpful in any case. One of the best ways to discern experiences around antidepressants and ADHD/Autism has been to literally read Reddit threads. Meanwhile, on Instagram I’ve already found really interesting information around neurodivergency and nutrition. I now realise how much I’ve struggled with what is known as ‘executive dysfunction’ when it comes to choosing what to eat. If you want an example of executive dysfunction, imagine when your computer freezes and does not respond. That’s basically what happens to my brain.

I used to find the experience of going into a supermarket so overwhelming that I would give up and go home, only to agonise around what takeaway to order. I would be embarrassed by how often my housemates would hear I ordered that I would meet the delivery driver at the front door and generally eat in my own room. This would be a near-daily routine I would go through for about a year.

Quick and easy meals are paramount to me. And this goes beyond the norm of a working professional – I’m talking about potentially having the same meal regularly most days for weeks. Actually getting myself to cook has taken me years of trial and error to find some sort of consistency. I also now have meal shakes as another option for an easier ‘get out of jail’ card too.

It’s also been apparent how much my mental thinking has been affecting my fitness goals. Whilst I knew in theory that the separation of mind and body was artificial, I never saw how linked the two were until now. The fact that I could feel so exhausted from taking a short walk, but within two days do exercise classes and go for an hour long work simply because I took one tiny pill was honestly shocking. And the main difference was that my mind had calmed – the cycle of overthink drains both mind and body.

I’m hoping over the next week that some of the more negative symptoms of the pills subside, though I am also meant to increase my dosage by then too. Either way, it’ll take six weeks to properly assess how well these work or not.

Learning about Neurodiversity and Autism as an Adult

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This week is Neurodiversity Celebration week.

When I reflect on it, it was the heightened amount of messaging on social media that made me start researching around my own neurodivergency. This has culminated in me believing I’m Autistic.

So if you wanted an example of why these diversity weeks can be important, here’s a living, breathing example for you.

I had several people who have met me in the last month or two tell me that they already knew that I was neurodivergent in some way. I think the signs have become more obvious the further I’ve gone in living in a more authentic way.

In fact, I’ve found myself subconsciously gravitate towards people with ADHD/ASD, particularly over the last year. Whilst before I thought this was a coincidence, or simply my openness towards different people, it turns out this was me gravitating towards similar people. It’s only recently that I’ve connected the dots for myself.

I am self-diagnosed. I appreciate that in an age of 30 second Tik Tok videos and google, this can set off alarm bells to the (non-neurodivergent) friends around me. Yet self-diagnosis is actually rather common, particularly in in the Autism community. There’s also a difference between watching a short video and doing extensive research and online tests too. This isn’t any old condition either, the signs are quite specific with stigma attached. So the best way to sum it up is what many say in the Autism community – if you think you have it you probably do.

Many people do not get a diagnosis due to the price and difficulty of access – it would take me a few years before I could get an appointment through the public health system in Belgium. There is also a lot of failures within the system through misdiagnosis. Many people are told they are too successful to have a disability, because the traditional view is that people with Autism or another condition would be incapable to live life properly.

Women, ethnic minorities and genderqueer people do not fit the stereotypical mould of someone who has Autism (i.e – cold, analytical, very smart) which is more typically for a straight white Autistic man.

As a side note, Thursday was also the International Day for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination, and it is an important point that racism isn’t just in the form of visible racist slurs, but also the failure of our systems to treat people correctly. For me, this has meant a failure to properly diagnose my condition as a child.

That said, even if I was diagnosed, the treatment can cause more problems than actually help. The recommended treatment for Autism in kids is Applied Behavioural Analysis (ABA) using similar techniques to conversion therapy for LGBT+ people. The idea is that kids are coerced to behave ‘normally’ – they are punished for not displaying enough eye contact, or not being polite enough. A therapist may snap their fingers or even leave the room as a punishment. It is even still legal for a therapist to use an electroshock device to punish an Autistic kid. This can have a long lasting effect – in a study, 46% of Autistic adults who went through ABA therapy reported having PTSD as a result of the experience.

It makes me glad that I was not diagnosed as a child, as I think I would have been misunderstood and mistreated 15-20 years ago. Many Autistic people go through numerous healthcare providers with all sorts of diagnoses that can do more harm than good. Even certain therapies such as Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) which are generally seen in a more positive light have less impact for Autistic people.

CBT looks to tackle irrational fears – such as being left out or sensing danger in a social situation. The issue is that for Autistic people this fear is less likely to be irrational: I’ve spent my life having difficulty making friends. This has been the case even when I make the effort outside of my comfort zone. I’ve learnt that this is not an irrational fear, but instead a lived experience that people find it harder to relate to me – they often perceive me as intimidating due to the way I speak in an analytical fashion.

I’ve also been wondering about this question around how to ‘brand’ neurodivergence. Some people talk about flipping it from a disability and calling it a superpower. There is some merit to this – I’m now understanding that my pattern recognition and cognitive ability are a lot stronger than most people.

Yet disability is actually a useful label, at least for me. It’s not to say that there is anything wrong with me, instead it is highlighting that I am a neuro-atypical person living in a world not designed for me. This means I’ve suffered countless instances of not being understood or being properly treated throughout my life.

And you know what? Seeing myself as disabled has been very freeing. I’ve found the expectations and pressure to succeed melt away a lot in the last few weeks. I’m understanding my own limitations as a human being – I do not need to be everything to everyone and I’m allowed to take care of my own needs.

Most importantly, I don’t need to try so hard. I’ve been living a mantra where anything is possible if you try hard enough. Whilst that may still be true, I’m learning that some things are not worth the cost. A scary thing about Adult neurodivergency diagnoses is that they demonstrate how much people hide themselves to conform to the system.

For my whole life I’ve learnt to mask my own preferences and traits because I thought that was what I was meant to do. And I’ve done it for so long that I thought that these were my actual preferences. In reality, I’ve just hidden my truer nature to create a more palatable version of myself. Whilst this has gotten me this far in life, it’s not the recipe for long lasting happiness.

If this article has got you thinking about yourself, feel free to drop me a line. I cannot profess to be an expert on neurodiversity, yet there are some signs I’ve learnt to pick up on. At the very least, I can point you to some materials which might help you.

Learning to let the mask slip

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I’ve regularly had conversations where I’ve noticed I was different.

It’s been hard to put words to this, and whenever I’ve talked about being different to other people they have always tried to reassure me – we are all different in some way, right?

I never thought of myself as demonstrating signs of autism. My understanding was that autism were for those with very exaggerated traits. Even when I saw some resonance with certain common behaviours, I thought of autistic people as showing little regard to emotion, whereas I knew myself as highly emotional and sensitive.

Yet I read an article which highlighted that many traits of autism vary a lot – non-stereotypical autism shows up as being highly empathetic and sensitive, as well as being existential or spiritual beings. These signs of non-stereotypical behaviours are more common for women, ethnic minority and queer/gender non-confirming folk too.

So am I Autistic? Most probably.

The signs fit closely, and several online tests showed a high probability. One even came out that I had a 86% chance of being neuroatypique/autistic. This week, I went on to read a book on Autism. I did find that a lot of what was written in the book resonated deeply with me, including particular stories of Autistic people who described many things, including having difficulty making friends and finding certain social etiquette like small talk rather pointless.

The funny thing is that even my response in of itself is quite an obvious indicator of autism. I only started down this rabbit hole this on Sunday, after which I took multiple tests and I ended up reading a whole 300 page book within three days. This morning I read another few chapters of another book on it too. This is what could be described as a hyper fixation, a sign of Autism. Whilst I thought this was normal, it turns out most people don’t have an insatiable desire to consume information like I do.

Whilst self-diagnosis has some obvious potential dangers, in this space it is pretty important. Most people who get diagnosed with Autism or related disabilities only learn of them through contact with other people with such disabilities.

For those feeling like I may be jumping the gun here, there is a difference between watching a 60 second Tik Tok video compared to doing proper research including talking to people with the condition, researching articles, following forum threads and reading a whole book too.

Autistic people also talk about how if you think you are Autistic, you probably are. This is especially important to note considering how hard and potentially expensive getting an official diagnosis generally is. There are loads of people who are evidently neurodivergent but will never get tested because of lack of access.

There’s a lot for me to process with this new-found information, which is incredibly tiring mentally. Suddenly all the moments in my life have a new lens – my brain is reviewing thousands of moments. There were many times I found it difficult to understand what was expected of me. There were other times where I felt excluded or how challenging it was to make friends (no matter how hard I tried).

Yet my overriding feeling is one of relief. Whether it be autism or something related, it explains a whole lot. The way I process information is very different to most people. The difficulty of connecting with people isn’t just in my head, and I’m now building the vocabulary to both understand and explain it.

The reason I had no obvious idea of being Autistic was that I’ve become extremely proficient at masking my differences. Many adults have simply learnt to mask their behaviours to fit into the rigid, neurotypical world we live in. There are also many people like me who had no idea, and thought that whatever they were doing was just how everyone lived.

My whole career is riddled with instances of me downplaying my own intelligence so that I don’t intimidate or frighten the people around me. In my social life, I’ve deeply studied and practiced social cues to get better at socialising as a response to finding it difficult to connect with people.

I am relieved to understand why my methods aren’t really bringing me the reuslts I want. No matter how hard I try, I’m not going to find success by hiding my weird quirks. Even with all my practice on socialising, there is still an undercurrent of inauthenticity if it is just to hide my true nature. Meanwhile, diminishing my own intelligence only leaves me feeling frustrated and undervalued.

I’m still in the midst of digesting a lot of new information, so it will be a tiring journey to really understand what it means. Nonetheless, I feel a lot more grateful for understanding more about myself.

Living life in our own fantasy world

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This week I’ve been spending a lot of time in the world of fantasy. I’ve been binge watching Japanese anime, mixed up with RPG video games. I had forgotten the beauty of getting engrossed in a whole different, fantastical dimension.

Getting into series’ and playing games has been something I’ve found pretty tough in the last few years, especially so in the last month or two. This is in stark contrast of when I was a teenager, where I would get through so many fantasy novels. I remember staying up reading one night for so long that it actually was daylight outside (and I realised I better go sleep!)

But as an adult, the world of ‘fiction’ lost its appeal. In fact, I think I’ve ended up becoming quite condescending and judgemental about it. Whilst this sense of escapism might be nice when you don’t have responsibilities, what about as an adult with a job? I didn’t really understand the point of it all, because it didn’t materially help me in any way.

So the information I now consume has shifted towards things that are more ‘serious’. Real world news, politics. Non-fiction and self-development books. Important, hard hitting stuff, rather than namby pamby worlds filled with goblins and elves.

This week was the point that I realised that somewhere along the way I had lost my joy for fantasy. In fact, anything not based in reality felt like wasted effort – I’ve stopped watching films or even TV series. I had subconsciously built a suspicion of all these things as not being a valuable use of time.

Sometimes the remedy to a challenge is to plunge yourself into the deep end. And there’s no better deep end of getting into fantasy than watching some Japanese anime. Yet perhaps it’s also what I needed – watching a reality-TV show, whilst sometimes enjoyable, would be like taking a weak dose of medicine. I can now see with the benefit of hindsight that those have not been satiating my intense curiosity and desire to dream.

It’s been really interesting to observe the psychological effect too – watching a positive story unfold has left me feeling the most hopeful I’ve been in probably months. My sense of my own abilities and belief in myself also increased too. When we see people succeeding – whether real or not – our emotions also follow with them.

What I’ve learnt in the last few years of personal development is that to some extents, we are all living our own fantasy. There may be things that exist that are real, but the way we interpret them colours our experience of the whole world. But we often get caught up in the worries and concerns, so we inadvertendly paint our lives as dark and difficult, rather than bright and beautiful.

I feel that there is a way in which we can live our lives where everything is our own fantastical creation. We can choose the beauty and vivid colours, even if they may not necessarily be there ‘in reality’.

When I had this thought, I wondered whether I was going delusional. Am I convincing myself to be happy in spite of the hard, cold realities of the world? Was this a genius, inspired vision of how to be positive or the moment before the mental breakdown?

Well maybe I am being delusional. But I also have come to the conclusion that I would rather live a happy, somewhat delusional life than a miserable, hyper realist one. So why not indulge myself in dreaming and wonder?

Besides, I also know that I’m far more effective when I’m happy. I’m more positive, pleasant to be around and far more likely to take action. The magic is seeing that I can be a dreamer but also not be in denial of the realities either. I think true madness is losing touch with reality, but a happy delusion is seeing the positives even when things are difficult.

When we can see life as a choice of how we choose to see it, it opens up so many possibilities. Critically, it opens up our abilities to see it in a positive light, even when there may be many factual reasons not to.

If we’re all living in our own fantasy worlds, why not make yours more happy and colourful?