On Being Aware
You might be aware that we recently had Autism Awareness Day. I’m aware. I’m particularly aware of how aware I was this year compared to last, because in the year since the last Autism Awareness Day, I became aware that I am Autistic.
Last year I was aware of Autism in a general kind of way, as something that affected other people (including some people I know). This year I am AWARE, in a very tangible way, that Autism is something that affects me, and the people around me, every day.
And I’m aware it’s not all roses and lollipops.
I am Autistic. I have Asperger’s Syndrome. I’m an Aspie. I am now very aware that these labels, labels that once belonged to others, now belong to me.
I’m aware of how much I now identify with my new labels, and I’m not really sure I want to do that.
I’m aware that “neuro-typical” means being normal, and that “neuro-diverse” is a nice way of saying “not normal”. I’m aware that I quite like being not normal.
I’m aware that being “on the spectrum” means I fit somewhere within a ludicrously broad range of people with incredibly different expressions of a very complicated thing called Autism Spectrum Disorder. I’m aware that I don’t really like the phrase “on the spectrum”, but I’m unaware of why.
I am becoming aware of the impact this thing has had, is having, and will continue to have on my life. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so aware of that.
I’m aware that drinking green tea helps.
I’m aware that the people who wrote the descriptions of Asperger’s symptoms have done their best to be diplomatic.
I’m aware that “challenges with executive functioning” means I often miss deadlines and my house is always a mess.
I’m aware that “difficulty maintaining a conversation” means I often appear aloof and disinterested, and sometimes quite rude and dismissive.
I’m aware that “misunderstands social cues” means I sometimes tell people how I am when asked “how are you?”, instead of saying “I’m fine thanks, how are you?”. I am aware that this is incorrect, but I do not fully understand why.
I am aware that “internal thoughts are often verbalised” means I say things that are often inappropriate, sometimes unkind, and occasionally funny in an “oh my god did he just say that?” kind of a way.
I am aware that “appears to lack empathy” means I sometimes appear to be a heartless bastard. I’m aware that I’m not, but I’m aware that I appear that way sometimes. I’m aware that I don’t want people to think that about me.
I am aware that “difficulty making and maintaining friendships” means I don’t have a lot of close friends. I am very aware that the ones I have are awesome people. I am also very aware that I have lost friends over the years because of my behaviour, because of my Asperger’s.
I am aware that no one worth knowing would shun me because I forgot to say “how are you?” that one time. I am also aware that repeatedly appearing rude and disinterested is not a good way to win friends and influence people.
I was diagnosed late last year.
At first awareness made things better. I became aware that there was a reason for the unease I had felt throughout my life. My diagnosis came not as a shock, but as a relief. Finally things made sense.
Now all this awareness is making me more anxious, because I feel like things will never fully make sense. Relief has turned to unease, clarity has turned to confusion. Awareness doesn’t fix anything, it just makes the problems more obvious.
Perhaps ignorance was bliss? Perhaps awareness isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?
But I’m aware that I wouldn’t go back.
Because ignorance wasn’t bliss: it was confusing and frustrating and complicated and messy. Ignorance was making me angry, and anxious, and often unbearable to be around. Ignorance made me difficult to work with, difficult to live with, difficult to love, and difficult to stay friends with (except for the really good ones, who just accepted, unaware).
Ignorance hurt my relationships, it lost me jobs, it damaged my mental health and affected every part of my life.
Awareness doesn’t fix any of those things. But awareness helps.
I’m aware of how my brain works, and what I need to do to keep it in good working order.
I’m aware of how important it is for me to run at least 3 times a week, and meditate every day. And I’m very aware of how rarely I meet those goals.
I’m aware that being aware means I can manage it better, and I’m aware that managing it better is better for me, and the people the around me. Because the people around me are very aware of it, more aware of it than I realised.
I’m aware that being aware of my Asperger’s means I can be a bit less Aspie. I can be a bit more normal. I am aware that this is not what I should be aspiring towards.
I’m aware of how much time and energy I have spent trying to adapt who I am to the norms of the world. I am aware that this has only been a partial success. And I am aware of how much I wish I hadn’t.
I’m aware that my best friends like me because of my oddness, not despite it (oddness is, after all, why I like them).
I’m aware that the people who don’t like my oddness won’t like the slightly modified, mildly less-odd version of myself that I have to work very hard to maintain.
I’m aware that all the energy I have already wasted worrying what other people think of me could have been better spent on more productive tasks like being awesome and not giving a shit who gets it. And I’m aware that it’s not too late to put that awareness into action.
I am aware that I am not like everyone else. I am aware that I am not alone. I am aware that others have it worse. I am aware that this is better than having cancer.
I’m aware that you don’t need Asperger’s to feel alienated, confused, overwhelmed, misunderstood, and/or anxious. I’m aware that we seem to have designed our society specifically to make as many people as possible feel exactly like this.
I’m aware that being diagnosed with a thing doesn’t grant me any special entitlements or consideration. I’m aware that having Asperger’s brings with it some advantages.
I’m aware that I am incredibly lucky to have been born in a time and place where these things are being embraced, not feared. I am aware that Autism Awareness Day is part of the reason why this is the case.
I’m aware that awareness helps.
All this awareness is exhausting. I’m aware that I need a whiskey and a nap.
Tomorrow, I’m aware, is a new day.
