A journey of discovery

It seems a bit of a cliché to say I always knew I was different, and I am not entirely sure I thought about it in that way. As a child I was painfully quiet and often didn’t respond to requests to be polite and sociable in conventional ways. Referred to often as “contrary Mary” with restrictive eating habits, sensitivity to environments and textures and with a stubbornness and quickening to anger/meltdowns that would challenge any parenting, I often felt isolated.

I found it hard to express how I felt in words, made harder by a difficult childhood with linked trauma that forced me to withdraw as social struggles were exemplified; being awkward both socially and physically. Being incredibly clumsy from a young age, I was considered a little odd but nothing that drew any specific attention, other than a suggestion of “clumsy child syndrome”, a 70s, now outdated terminology for Dyspraxia. A conclusion largely drawn by my inability to use a skipping rope and play hopscotch without falling on my face, but contrasted by my artistic ability, beautiful handwriting and musical talent.

What followed was a life of meeting people but rarely being able to sustain long term friendships, an obsession for thimbles and gemstones, the collection of which motivated several trips to tourist attractions which I otherwise would not have enjoyed, as well as an intense interest in Jane Austen. I felt as a girl I was meant to be like Elizabeth Bennett and somewhat managed to align my apparent directness to being like the character I aspired to as I grew older. My inability to understand the complexities of female communication meant I connected more to boys and men, finding them much more straightforward and naturally more direct. The ones that I ended up in relationships with were older, stable and assisted in guiding me how to behave socially which I welcomed in my quest towards mimicking Elizabeth Bennett.

After a series of quests to “try again” which resulted in moving around and changing roles, stemming from a series of failures socially, I met my husband. An openly aristocratic sounding and somewhat precocious scientist, older than me and safe, with an honesty and straight forward approach that fitted my idea of Mr Darcy, I embraced the connection. We fitted together nicely and worked as a prospect. What followed was a series of sensible decisions, planned out with detail.

Jumping forward a few years and our daughter was starting to experience challenges, a question of dyspraxia, expensive private school and a childhood of difficult friendships followed. This resulted in a similar breakdown to that I had experienced at a similar age, and a question of autism was raised. The parallels started to align, and I realised her resentment for me not seeking a diagnosis sooner was linked to a series of justifications “Well I had that and I have turned out OK”

My directness, unfailing honesty with no filter, tendency to reactiveness and rigid black and white thinking lead to comments such as “it’s not that simple”, “I think you misinterpreted”, “you are too direct” and “that was a bit rude” that plagued my working and personal life. Many of these conflicted with the typical female stereotype of being softer, with a more cordial way of presenting oneself. I relayed information and facts and stated the result of those facts. I completely missed what other people ‘read’ in between the lines or the story/rhetoric that was created either by what I wrote or what I should have seen in communication sent to me. I also missed non-verbal clues and often failed to pick up when I was expected to understand the situation or “read the room”. When I received such feedback or didn’t get the response I was expecting, I would spend a long time ‘overthinking’ and analysing my interactions, leading to exhaustion and burnout.

Receiving a diagnosis at 50 as autistic was both exhausting and exhilarating and led to a series of aha moments as I trace back though my life, making the connections and seeing that the signs were there all along. I now understand myself better than I ever have. I can embrace myself as I strive to remove the mask which made daily life exhausting Being truly me is refreshing but also requires a realignment with the people that surround me, as they accept me pushing back on the activities that make me uncomfortable, sometimes even causing physical pain. Such activities would have led to me withdrawing for days afterwards to recover and turning to alcohol to cope with.

In my journey as a coach and champion/consultant, I have taught myself a strong sense of cognitive empathy by observing individuals extensively, and I now have a good understanding of how people feel, think and behave. I am open about my autism and the way it impacts me whilst allowing my strengths to shine out and I use that to help and support others to do the same. My strong sense of fairness and demonstrable inclusion as a pillar in my career journey, allows me to help organisations to  understand and manage an equitable team environment which respects all aspects of neurodiversity. Championing neurodiversity in its variations and promoting the embracing of the strengths neurodiverse individuals bring to teams and organisations drives me forward and brings me a sense of changing the world for the better.