The thing I have in common with a vampire as an autistic person — Understanding Autism/ADHD
Picture the scene.
It’s Sunday night. You unexpectedly have a free evening. You’re bored.
Nobody you know is up to much. There doesn’t seem to be many good socialising options. So what do you do? You scroll…
As you scroll through your various feeds, you see what’s going on in the world. Scroll scroll scroll… Jonathan Majors is a horrible person… scroll scroll scroll… someone’s kid isn’t as cute as their parents think… scroll scroll scroll… my country of origin falls further into authoritarianism. Same old, same old.
But then I see it. An event. An event I’d go to. An event I’m almost excited about*
The event was a board game night at a local pub.
Suddenly, I was hyped. I had a goal and somewhere to be. I showered, dressed and made sure I looked super cute. Having burned my initial attempt at dinner,** I decided to treat myself to a kebab wrap on the way. My hunger sated, I strode down Laugavegur, the main high street of Reykjavík. My AirPods blasted banger after banger, to the extent that I basically danced down the hill as I walked towards the venue.
The key point is I’m feeling good. I look good. I smell good. I have the perfect amount of kebab inside me. This is going to be good.
I get to the venue.
And I can’t go inside.
What I have in common with a vampire as a neurodivergent
I’m a bit out on a limb here.
Normally when I write about neurodivergence, I feel like I’m voicing something that I hear people talk about a lot. I write about the sort of things my neurodivergent besties and I gossip about over decaf coffee and herbal teas. It sometimes almost feel like I kind of put voice to what I hear the local neurodivergent community talking about.***
But I haven’t heard other people talk about this, much. So here goes… *gulp*
I’m going to call it ‘The Vampire Rule’.
Now, there are lots of cool things about vampires. I wish I was about to tell you about how I can shapeshift, or fly, or use my magical powers of persuasion. Fuck, I’d even take sparkling in the sun.
But, no, the thing I have in common with a vampire is that I need to be invited into buildings personally or I can’t go in.
Hopefully that makes sense. The Vampire Rule describes my inability to enter a new venue or event without a direct and specific invitation.
Let’s be clear about what I mean.
So if you, as an individual, invite me to a party/dinner/whatever, there’s no problem. This doesn’t spark The Vampire Rule. I have a personal invitation; I know I am welcome; I can enter a strange building without (much) hesitation.
But, if the event is open invite (like the board game night) and noone has personally invited me, then we run into The Vampire Rule. I just can’t go in. It’s too scary/intense/uncomfortabel/aaaaaaaarrrrrrrgggggghhhhh. Admittedly, it’s hard to articulate.
Luckily, there are exceptions to The Vampire Rule:
- Just like vampires, if I have been to the venue before and feel comfortable in it, then I can sometimes get around the rule. You know, almost like the previous invitation still stands.
- Same goes for events that are long running or I’ve been to similar ones in the past. Things like pub quizzes spring to mind. Regardless of whether I’ve been specifically invited, I think I’m welcome at that kind of events.
- If I walk through the door with someone. I think this is the one that most people can identify with. Walking through a door alone is terrifying. So even if I don’t have an invitation, I can make it across the threshold with a friend.
Why does this happen? Pffffft…. I don’t know. In fact, I’d argue that’s usually the wrong question.
Because I think it’s really tempting to get bogged down in the why of neurodivergent behaviour. Why do I feel the need to correct everyone? Why can’t I manage my volume? Why can’t I walk through the fucking door? You can get lost down a million rabbit roles.
If I had to guess why I experience the Vampire Rule, I’d probably point at:
- Needing direct social cues (i.e. being directly told my presence is welcome)
- The social anxiety that comes with a lifetime of socialising with low social skills.
- Liking to know the rules of any given interaction
- The fear of new and unexpected experiences
- It’s much nicer to be wanted at an event than to insist upon yourselves.
- The god of autism, Autismo, has personally smote me with the inability to walk through the door of a pub…
It’s hard to say. I could list autistic behavioural tendencies all day and be none the wiser on the topic.
Because, actually, like with most neurodivergent issues, I don’t think it matters much why. It matters that it is happening.
The question then becomes what I can do about it. And the question of why I am bound by the Vampire Rule is much less interesting to me than working out how I get through the door of the pub.
Speaking of which…
I stare at Gaukurinn’s door. I reach my hand out for the handle even though I know in my heart of heart’s that I’m never going to open it. I sigh. *le sigh*
I put my hand back in my pocket. I’ve lost all my gloves (Yay ADHD!) and it’s fucking freezing. I turn to leave.
Fuck.
Without a clear sense of where I’m heading, I start wandering around downtown Reykjavík. I figure that some fresh air and exercise couldn’t hurt, even if I’m a vampire.
I go say hi to the ducks chilling on the big pond downtown. I read some restaurant menus. It is clear that, for some reason, Reykjavík is really trying to make Latin food happen. About 30 minutes pass. It’s starting to get cold, even for a vampire.
So, dear reader, as you can tell, we’re clearly at the ‘all is lost’ moment. Our protagonist is clearly as far from his goal as it’s possible to be. He sought connection and fun and he’s sitting alone in subzero temperatures critiquing the menus of restaurants he will never go to and talking to ducks. It is not going well.
Have hope, dear readers. This story ends well.
Before we get to our inevitable and glorious happy ending,**** let’s take another quick aside to talk about event accessibility.
Because even though I have experienced The Vampire Rule for most of my adult life, I don’t think things have to be this way.
Making events more accessible
I’m really passionate about accessibility. It’s a passion I share with a lot of my friends and colleagues. I fundamentally believe that you can make events accessible to vast majority of folks with a little thought, a little care and some knowledge about what issues would cause an event to feel inaccessible to folks.
We’re going to talk about event accessibility A LOT in the coming weeks and months in these articles (feel free to subscribe so you don’t miss it!) so instead of a deep dive, let just list a few things that make events accessible for vampires like me. You know, just a taste. An amuse bouche, if you will.
Oh, but before I do, I want to say that this interruption is in no way meant as a comment on last night’s event. The event organiser was lovely; we spoke and will again; the event was great. No notes.
I just thought, while we’re on the subject of The Vampire Rule, it might be useful to talk about some ways to get around it (or reduce its effects) for both event organisers and those wishing to attend. So, with that goal in mind, here are some things I’ve found helpful on this issue.
- Adopt an autistic person — If you have a neurodivergent friend going to an event, you could always offer to arrive at the same time or meet them there. They’ll really appreciate it. Also, if you have a neurodivergent friend who is struggling to socialise, keep inviting them (unless they ask you to stop). One day they’ll say yes. And they’ll be really grateful you asked.
- A ‘new people’ time — If you run a regular event, making the first half hour of an event exclusively for new folks can really help. That way folks can come in to a new event without having to face a wall of faces and the organisers can chat with them to reassure them.
- Appropriate Signage — Information is always appreciated. If you have signs telling me what to do, I don’t feel as uncomfortable.
- Etiquette Guides — As discussed above, one of the potential causes of The Vampire Rule is potentially not knowing the rules. Post the rules, if there are any. In Facebook events. On the walls. Everywhere. The more the better.
- Autistic-friendly language in events — Speaking of etiquette guides, efforts can be made to make that language transparent to those with autism. I swear phrases like ‘make an effort with your dress’ or ‘you can donate what you want’ or ‘we’ll see on the day´ make my top incisors grow. I feel myself becoming a vampire in real time. I often don’t even attempt attending some events half the time. Direct language is much more accessible for neurodivergents in the main. ‘Wear a collared shirt, if you are unsure’ or ‘please buy a couple drinks at the bar because I made some promises to the venue’ or something. But if you can’t always do that, then you could be a…
- Host explicitly open and available for questions — I absolutely love it when an event gives me a named host and says ‘contact me if you have any further questions’. I guarantee you right now I always have further questions. Being able to ask them in advance and process them in advance makes such a difference.
- Inviting Folks — If you are worried that you’ll arrive at an event and be unable to get inside for whatever reason, ask your people to come. The event is probably cool. They are probably equally bored. Invite everyone you know and get yourself an event ally.
- ND-friendly venues — One of the biggest things you can do is just let ND folks know we’re explicitly welcome. You often see venues say that they’re queer friendly and/or trans friendly or what have you. Just take that poster and add us to that list.
- Information about the venue — How loud will it be? Will there be lights? Will it be busy? The more information I can get on that in advance, the less Nosferatu I am at the door, for sure.
This is by no means an exhaustive list. There are literally thousands of ways that you could make an event more accessible for neurodivergent folks. Don’t believe me? Totally fair enough. Ask your closest neurodivergent friend or family member. They’ll tell you.
Trust me. A lot could be done.
Because I think it’s tempting to see neurodivergence as a huge unsolvable problem in your life. I’m autistic and have ADHD; I’m just fucked, right? The Vampire Rule means that I’m never going to go to public events. Woe is me.
I don’t know how you feel, but I think that’s generally how society thinks of it. Autism is usually treated a curse. Parents would rather give their kids measles, mumps and whatever the fuck rubella is instead of ‘risking autism’ based on one unethical 5 page study about colons by the most discredited former doctor since fucking Mengele.
But that’s silly. It’s not a curse. It’s just something to deal with. Type 1 diabetics need insulin. Paraplegics need help to move around. Neurodivergent people (can) need help socialising (amongst many other things). It’s as simple as that. We all face challenges. But we all seek to overcome them. Neurodivergents are no different in that regard.
So, I think it’s important to show that autism is a solvable problem in many cases. It presents problems but those problems can and do have solutions.
The first autism diagnosis was of the recently-late Donald Triplett in 1943. Autism became an official diagnosis for the first time in DSM III in 1980. In every subsequent volume of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, the definition of autism had been significantly revised in the light of new research.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that there are answers here. We’ve just barely begun to ask the right questions.
Here’s the thing.
As I sat with the ducks, I knew I had an ace in the hole.
This wasn’t my first time being a vampire. I knew that this might (and probably would) happen. I expected to end up with the ducks.
So, knowing I might need help, I had spent the hours before the event asking friends if they’d be there. Luckily, a good friend and excellent human was attending and said I was welcome to join him and his partner. They even offered to let me know when they arrived.
As I sit by the pond, I get the text: ‘Just arrived’.
Immediately, no vampire am I. I get up, get moving and go inside. I enter the event, grab a 0% Peroni and say hi to my friends. I spend the rest of the night social butterflying around the place, playing games and meeting new people. I had a great time. It was totally worth going.
Which again, isn’t a surprise, right? Remember, how this article started? I knew this event would be fun. I was excited about it.
I just had to deal with The Vampire Rule.
To me, that’s the key point here. I had to deal with The Vampire Rule. I didn’t have to accept it. I didn’t have to give in to it. I had to deal with it.
And I did.
Thanks for reading, lovelies. Until next time!
A Postscript about Gaukurinn (the venue from the story)
So, I’m not a good enough writer to have worked out how to have worked this into the main body of the article, but there’s one more thing I want to say.
I want to give both the staff and venue of Gaukurinn a big shout out.
I had been nervous about going partially because of incidents I had heard about that took place under the previous ownership. I needn’t have worried.
The bar is full of lovely little touches that make going out much more accessible for folks like me. There were earplugs on the bar in case noise was overwhelming. The toilets were filled with scented candles and sanitary products. There were signs everywhere saying that abuse would not be tolerated. The staff were engaging, friendly and open.
Talking to the staff it was so nice to hear them talk about accessibility and inclusivity as one of their stated aims. Honestly, I think it’s super cool.
So cool, in fact, that I’m going to Twitchy Love’s drag comedy show there on Wednesday 29th March 2013.
If you’d like to come, I’d absolutely wait for you so we can go in together. You know, in case you feel The Vampire Rule too…
Thanks so much for reading folks!
It’s been so fun to see so many new subscribers and followers over the past week or so! I can’t believe there are over 65 of us! If you want to join the party, you’re very welcome. Feel free to subscribe any time!
Remember, for some reason, you can ‘like’ a story on Medium up to 50 times. So you could do that!
Also, if you have any neurodivergent friends (or normal ones!) who might enjoy my writing, feel free to share this far and wide!
Have an amazing start to your week. Moisturise if you can.
* Which considering I’m currently at the nadir of my breakup feels is quite surprising.
** Don’t worry, the story of the burned pasta is coming.
*** I’m fully aware that I lowkey just declared myself the voice of the Icelandic neurodivergent community and I do not feel good about that. At all. Inspired by. That’s better.
**** I don’t know why they’re laughing either, Mum. Don’t worry, if it keeps happening I’ll ask them to leave.
