Hi, I’m Charlie, and I am neurodivergent, which means I am ‘neurologically different’; my brain is not standard issue.
Some of my neurological differences I was born with, and others I acquired.
I was diagnosed Autistic, aged 42. Then with Complex PTSD, aged 46.
I am now partway through ADHD assessment, aged 48.
Before my Autism diagnosis, I experienced ‘Anxiety States’ and Depression, in hindsight probably autistic burn-out, on-and-off for 15 years!
Treatment was usually a month off work, with beta-blockers to stop the physical symptoms of anxiety, and SSRI to lift my mood… and nobody ever tried to identify the underlying cause of my mental health issues!
I felt like a failure, unable to make sense of why others seemed to cope easier with aspects of day-to-day life that I found overwhelming?
Why did I flunk university, despite being intelligent, and a fast learner?
Why was meeting people so nerve-wracking? Why do I so often seem to say the wrong thing, in the wrong way, never fitting in, an outsider?
And where did those uncontrollable rages come from?
I now share my lived experience of mental health and neurodivergence.
Telling my stories helps me to process my traumas.
It can also help other neurodivergent people, whether diagnosed or not, to feel less alone, less broken.
Maybe it can help people who have been struggling like I was, to realise there may be a mitigation for their struggles, a valid reason. I certainly found my autism diagnosis validating, life-changing even.
I am lucky that I now feel safe to talk about my neurodivergence and mental health without fear of being mocked, because now I have that thicker skin that comes with age.
When I was younger, in my teens and twenties, mockery and critical words cut me deeply.
I would internalise harsh words, and they would come back to haunt me, morphing into self-limiting beliefs. Or I’d lock the memory in a box, and kick it to the back corner of my mind… until unexpected triggers open that box.
I needed to talk, to find comfort and reassurance, but I did not know how.
And when I say ‘talk’, that does not necessarily mean speaking out loud. This is important!
Spoken conversation can often be inaccessible to autistic people in mental distress.
Some may be situationally non-speaking. I struggle to form coherent sentences when I am overwhelmed.
When I am in a bad place, I do not want my friends to make unexpected visits or phone me. And I won’t pop round, even if their kettle is on, their door is always open, even if they duly copied and pasted that Facebook viral post.
When they notice that I am not my usual self, my friends message me, or invite me out to run or walk. Undemanding, with no intense eye contact. An ebb and flow, with comfortable pauses. Now THAT is accessible to me. THAT is when I will open up.
And their role? To listen with curiosity and compassion, without judgement.
To avoid diminishing my struggles, to believe me!
I am never making a fuss about nothing, nor being paranoid.
And if they want to share their own relatable anecdote, that’s fine too. This is how autistic people often find connection, how we show understanding and empathy.
Yes, it is good to talk, but only when we have somebody to talk to in a way that is accessible and comfortable to us.
Someone who has earned our trust, with whom we feel psychological safety.
Someone with an open mind, and an open heart.
#TimeToTalkDay #TimeToTalk #MentalHealth #Autism #ActuallyAutistic #ADHD #AuDHD #PTSD #CPTSD #Trauma #Depression #Anxiety #Neurodivergence #Neurodiversity #ItsNotOKToNotBeOK #RunningBuddies #TextBuddies
Ausome Charlie 