My name is Lucy, and This is The Arcane Focus.
When I make attempts to convince people that they should explore their Neurodiverse identity, I am usually met with a lot of resistance, often in the form of passively expressed fear.
Systemic Ableism, and by extension our own internalized ableism, makes us afraid to confront these new “truths” about ourselves. I imagine that the reasons for this are also caused by fear, one way or another. In today’s world, the idea of being an “out” Neurodiverse or Disabled person is still, too often, a condemnation to being discriminated against on a daily basis. Nobody wants to deliberately pull that kind of pressure down onto themselves, because who would? It’s a lot to deal with.
Over these last few months of 2023, I’ve been learning to accept that I am an Autistic person. But as I do this, I’m also slowly realizing how much of a hypocrite I’ve been.
I was diagnosed with inattentive ADHD in 2011, but the presence of Autism among members of my close family has been a known factor my entire life. The more I learn about Autism, the more I realize just how closely my own experiences align with the thinking patterns and behaviors that are common among Autistic people.
There is a joy in this, in learning about why I think and behave the way I do, and subsequently realizing that I am less alone than I believed myself to be, but there is also admittedly a sense of guilt within me too. There is a guilt I feel about the fact that my own fears, and my own internalized Ableist views about the concept of Autism, were keeping me from wanting to explore that part of myself.
I’ve spent the last 12 years of my life, aware of my ADHD-attributed Neurodiversity, but still paralyzed by the same fears that prevent anyone else from confronting the realities of their own identities.
By confronting this new angle of my identity, I’m finally realizing that I’m no “better” (or worse, I guess) than these other people I’ve tried to convince in the past.
This is actually comforting, to me. A humbling reminder of my own imperfect humanity, but also a reassurance that when other people resist the idea of exploring their own Neurodiversity, it’s not out of implicit malice or a desire to perpetuate Systemic Ableism.
However, I want to stress to my readers, both Neurodiverse and “not”, that if you truly want to behave like an Ally to Neurodiverse people like myself, confronting your own Neurodiversity is still critical.
Swallow your pride. Ask yourself the hard questions. Learn as much about it as you can.
For those of you just getting started, I do want to offer just a few points of advice. If you ask me, when you are just beginning to explore, you will probably be better off if you avoid trying to categorize yourself into “symptoms.” There is also so much Ableism present in the U.S. American medical system that I’m honestly not sure anymore if I even endorse the idea of seeking a “diagnosis” anymore, because of all the self-image bullshit it’s personally created for me.
Just as a reminder though, I am not a mental health professional, nor am I anywhere involved in the medical field. Please do not take my blog as medical or mental health advice. Please.
But I will endorse your efforts to explore yourself. At minimum, you will learn more about what challenges exist in the lives of Neurodiverse people on a daily basis. If you’re lucky, you’ll learn more about yourself, and just maybe, grow into the idea that you’re not as weird or broken or alone in the world as you once believed yourself to be.
Sounds like a win-win situation to me.