When my then-husband and I were in our early forties, he agreed to get tested for attention deficit disorder (ADD) on condition that I be tested too. Growing up with siblings with ADD, I recognized his symptoms yet was surprised when the counselor’s report indicated that I was mildly affected by ADD (but when not under stress I could generally compensate). Twelve years later, I was again surprised when a psychologist indicated that I have Asperger’s Syndrome. Wow! Even as an older adult, this affirmation – that my odd ways are simply the way I’m made, that I’m not defective – has been a game-changer.
Clinicians had long been trained to look for Asperger’s, and autism in general, only in boys. Since it presents differently in girls, half the population that might have benefited from diagnosis was never examined. I can’t say how other women were affected by this oversight but it shaped me. While many people hate injustice, are outspoken and emotionally sensitive, I also struggle to make eye contact when talking and don’t swing my arms when I walk. Social awkwardness though is my greatest challenge. Non-verbal communication – facial expressions, body language – eludes me. I cannot act or lie convincingly if my life depends upon it. Blunt and honest to a fault, I’m often considered rude. And forget small-talk!
When people look past my – or another’s – oddities, they can find a loyal, caring, capable person. But this requires effort. And many people, in the workplace or elsewhere, don’t take the trouble. They see only the difference. This brings me to my second great challenge: the fear and rejection (even just perceived rejection) that comes with living differently. I wrote last winter about making the choice, as a teen, to let myself be vulnerable rather than risk missing out on life. (You can read it here.) The jury is still out on whether this was a wise decision but I don’t think I could have done differently.
I’m gentler on myself these days. Sometimes I’m able to remove the masks that helped me to fit in and be a little more myself. I’m less patient now with the subtle (and not-so-subtle) messages that being myself isn’t enough. And with the people who send them. Someone who would never slight a gay or trans person will not endure a person whose mind works differently than theirs does. This has to stop! Getting past the messes that we are – locally and planet-wide – will require the participation of all of us. Leaving some out would limit the creativity, passion, and stamina that can be put toward finding better ways forward.
May is Autism Awareness Month. And awareness is needed. Acceptance, too.
Being part of the Christian tradition, I’ve often heard about the need for us church insiders to make room at the table for the ones not present. It’s an important reminder. How do our ways make it hard, or impossible, for an outsider to join us? Irish folksinger, Tommy Sands, offers another perspective. I heard him sing by the water one summer day in Minneapolis. In his lyrics, my sense of privilege was laid bare. Is it my table? Our table? (And I’m not speaking about the table of Holy Communion which is Christ’s table.) What if we invert our assumptions about making room? Here’s his refrain:
Let the circle be wide 'round the fireside
And we'll soon make room for you.
Let your heart have no fear, there are no strangers here,
Just friends that you never knew.
The circle needs to be wide so that there’s room for me.
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