My Autism is Not a Complex, Yours Shouldn’t Be
Do you feel confident enough to talk about it?
Before I start, I’d like to thank Nakia Allen, who suggested this article in a comment.
How do you manage to have so much confidence in yourself, to the point where you can communicate so freely and easily about your autistic disorder?
I understand the question, and it’s all the more true for people with an autistic disorder.
Because in reality, autistic people don’t need other people to devalue them. They are the first to sabotage themselves.
I stopped doing what I was doing, and I asked myself: do I really have confidence in myself?
Is it my ‘autistic’ self or the one wearing the mask who just radiates confidence?
In reality, being autistic means having to adapt, blend in, and appear neurotypical. A permanent duality, which I’m sure you’ve felt. That little voice whispering in your head, urging you into action.
One of the two will pull you towards your comfort zone, and the second towards the discomfort.
By the way, what is confidence?
We’re talking about the same thing. Confidence can be broken down into four components:
- Self-confidence
- Trust in others
- Trust in organisations and systems
- Confidence in situations and their context
Depending on the individual, each lever may be more or less important.
And honestly, that’s OK.
The risk-taking dilemma
To have confidence, you have to experiment. Accumulate successes and failures.
Behind confidence lies risk-taking. Moving from your comfort zone into the discomfort zone.
The truth is that we are not all equal when it comes to risk.
For some, one failure and that’s the end.
Base-jumpers live in permanent risk
All the people who do extreme sports have brains made for risk.
Neuroscience talks about it here and here.
Risk is measured and calculated. Confidence comes once the risk is accepted and acceptable.
I encourage my three children to take risks
I have three children, and I love giving them experiences.
I push them into their discomfort zone, so that they dare. To build their self-confidence.
In autumn 2023, we Frenchies spent three weeks in the United States. From the West Coast to the East Coast.
(Between you and me, I loved this trip!).
The children were given a challenge to encourage them to speak English.
Each had to approach a stranger and ask a question.
Three children (aged 11, 13 and 15). Three questions.
- The oldest, who is not the shyest, found it very difficult to rise to the challenge.
- The youngest, who is the most introverted, hesitated but succeeded.
- And the one in the middle had no trouble at all.
But why such a difference between the three children?
Personal experience comes into play.
The one who succeeded best was the one who travelled the most abroad. He’s at ease; he knows that the game is fun and that he’s not risking anything.
The other two, who were less successful, have never travelled abroad.
Speaking another language, dealing with a stranger, living in another culture. It was all new to them.
The more you experiment, the more you know about risk and the more confident you are.
Losing someone’s trust in a professional environment
Trust is born of experience. But what about in a professional environment?
In one of my previous articles, I decoded my autistic traits. Did I take a risk talking so openly about my disorder?
Yes and no.
In reality, I’m not saving lives; I don’t have a patient on the table. Let’s face it: I didn’t take any great risks in revealing myself.
On the other hand, if I hide things, I risk a lot more.
I’d like to tell you a story that has had an impact on me
I worked with someone who lied about his professional past. This person lied to everyone.
And it was thanks to (or because of) this lie that they got the job. How did I know? Quite simply because I spoke to one of his former colleagues.
The second I heard about it, I totally lost confidence in her.
It felt like a real betrayal.
For me, it’s inconceivable to lie about your professional abilities. To your team, to your managers, to yourself.
Does that seem fair to you?
I can’t even imagine how uncomfortable his day-to-day work life was.
You can imagine that this person had a lot of self-confidence.
But I don’t think that’s confidence; I think it’s stupidity.
And what was this person risking? Everything.
Losing the team’s trust, getting fired, and blaming themselves.
For me, trust is earned. Fair and square, not by lying.
So you can answer the question:
How do I get so confident that I reveal my autism?
1. I have confidence in my abilities
I’ve had enough experience in my professional career. I know my comfort zone and my discomfort zone.
I have faith in my skills; I know what I’m good at and where I can improve.
2. I have confidence in others
What do I risk by revealing my autism?
At worst, not being contacted for an assignment or not signing with a client.
Is that bad?
In reality, no, because if the client judges me on these criteria, it’s because we’re not made to get along.
3. I can’t stand lies (including lies of omission)
As I mentioned in my example, lying voluntarily or by omission is risky. Very risky.
If I don’t talk about my autism, am I lying by omission?
Of course not. I don’t tell the whole world about my neuro-atypia. I talk about it once if the time is right, and that’s that.
I consider it a non-event.
4. I consider autism to be a significant advantage
And I’ve written an article about it. To prove it.
Everyone is different. Whether you’re neuro-typical or neuro-atypical.
I’m also left-handed, and I struggle in a right-handed world.
Everyone has their own experiences and differences.
We’re the ones who define the boundaries.
Do you *need* to reveal your autism?
No, of course not!
That’s your decision.
The risk is that at some point you will need to talk about it. Because you will no longer be able to adapt to your environment.
And when I say you, I obviously include myself.
But I prefer it to be me who chooses that moment rather than having it fall on me without warning.
To conclude, have I talked about this in my current company?
The answer is yes and no.
I’ve talked to my team about it because I trust them and their goodwill.
I know that this transparency isn’t big news and that it’s not going to revolutionise the way we work.
A final word
This is my vision of trust and why I feel able to talk about it.
I talked about it in an article, but it’s not all I talk about on a daily basis.
It’s something I’m working on myself. I spend a lot of energy adapting to other people’s peculiarities and quirks!
To sum up, there are four types of confidence (confidence in oneself, in others, in a situation, and in institutions).
I think that behind confidence lies risk-taking. To demonstrate this, I’ve used two concrete examples.
Finally, I’ll explain how my confidence, my freedom to express myself, is motivated.
I hope this article has given you some food for thought about your confidence. Perhaps even on your willingness to talk openly about your discomforts.
Tell me if you’ll take the risk of talking about it and why?
I want to know if I’m the only one who thinks this way!
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