Failing the Acceptance Test

Yeah, I haven’t been blogging. To tell the truth my mental health hasn’t been the best recently. Which makes it hard to be interested in anything much, except trying to work out why, and what to do about it. I resent how introspective that makes me, how self-absorbed, but that seems to be the nature of the beast. Besides, how else do you battle an invisible monster but by throwing a bucket of paint over it? So everything (and everybody) gets shoved off to the side, just to find enough headspace to function at a basic level, and work out what else I can try.

One thing that’s become apparent (and I think it’s worth exploring enough to write it down) is that for all I’ve said about autism acceptance, I haven’t truly accepted my own. And therein lies the problem. Let me explain…

It was a field course for work that finally opened my eyes to the connection between AS and my mental health issues – stretching myself too far to overcome the one plainly and directly resulted in the other. It was a painful sort of Eureka moment. So here was the answer, the reason for my struggles: the strategy of pushing through autism issues and striving to do the same as everyone else, which might have worked OK when I was younger, is simply not working for me anymore. It’s making me ill. I can’t keep doing that to myself.

But. But. But.

You see, now I have a problem.

If I’m correct, the only way to maintain good mental health is going to be acceptance of some very uncomfortable truths. Not truths I want to take on board at all. When you read the below, humour me and try putting yourself in my shoes. How would you feel if you were forced to…?

  • Accept that, however late you came to the realisation of your AS, and however great the differences you see between yourself and others with the same diagnosis, however ‘normal’ you consider yourself, there was no mistake. Let’s face it, you would never have sought a diagnosis if AS hadn’t been causing you a whole heap of trouble. It’s impossible to ignore something that has fucked up affected your life so comprehensively.
  • Accept that, while AS might not get worse over time, your ability to deal with it (work around it, compensate for it, and generally pretend it does not exist) has been heading downhill for years. Will probably continue on this trajectory. Pleasant thought, right? In trying to live your life the way you want, regardless of your AS, you’ve bargained away your mental health – and it’s not worth it.
  • Accept your limitations. Which is so much easier said than done when your limitations seem so elastic, and you remember stretching them in the past. This means deliberately not doing things you want to do, know how to do, have successfully done in the past, because there’s going to be a backlash. It means accepting you have a disability. Because however much you want to get out there and live your life entirely on your own terms, you know what’s going to happen when you try and it’s not worth it.
  • Accept that you’re going to have to get smarter about managing the condition. This means planning ahead and forecasting which situations might be difficult. It means accepting the need to tell people enough to get their help in overcoming hurdles, or taking them down. Because (have you accepted it yet?) you have a disability. The alternative is to avoid difficult activities entirely, and be seen as lazy, irresponsible, antisocial, self-absorbed, incapable, unreliable.
  • Accept that other people are not going to understand (however much you try to explain). It’s impossible for them to comprehend how something so basic and obvious (for them) can be so confusing or overwhelming or traumatic (for you). And when you push beyond your limits and they want to know why you’re ill, you’ll have to keep on calling it depression, or an anxiety disorder, or a stress disorder, or whatever seems to fit in the moment. Officially, autistic burn-out does not exist.

I never know quite how my posts come across, but if you’re getting an angry vibe from this, you’re spot on. Being forced to face up to the above points is seriously pissing me off; it’s not something I ever thought I’d have to do, and I resent being pushed to this point. In modern parlance, it sucks big time.

So yes, I’m all for autism acceptance in general, and I’d surely accept the condition well enough in others. It’s just when things get personal that I fail the acceptance test.

 

4 thoughts on “Failing the Acceptance Test”

  1. You haven’t failed it. You’re angry and rightly so because it is so hard. Give yourself time, talk to friends and try not to internalise. I have internalised like you and the result is physical problems because my body can’t cope. So then people have more to not comprehend about you.
    It doesn’t matter. You are what matters and you should know that while you are in this process you are helping others to understand themselves better. You are gifting despite your anger. That is amazing. You are amazing so trust this will not end(I wish it could), but somehow you will find a balance that works, and you have friends that believe in you.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Kay, whatever emotion you are feeling you are entirely entitled to feel it. Don’t put yourself in a box with a label. You are more than that. I see a wonderfully talented (I wish I had half your talent), smart (ditto), brave woman going through a hard time at the moment. You have friends who will stand with you. Grab our hands.

    Liked by 1 person

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