Last updated on November 26, 2023
The autistic me is the disabled me.
Last week, I sat for an interview conducted by a graduate student interested in autistic adults and our educational experiences. The interview offered a chance to reflect on how different communities understand the label “autistic.” I also reflected on the nature of disability and what it means to be physically and cognitively disabled.
I am not “differently abled” and my needs are not “special.” I am disabled.
Physically, I am disabled in ways I have detailed many times on this blog and elsewhere. Birth trauma and other injuries limit my capabilities to do things that are part of regular, daily life.
Disability is a condition that limits one’s participation in some aspects of routine daily life. My inability to run a marathon isn’t a disability, but my inability to lift ten pounds or more some days is a disability. Plenty of things weigh more than I can lift. Being an introvert is not a disability, but my inability to navigate basic social situations limits my employment. My inability to manage sensory input isn’t an “inconvenience” when those sensory issues force me to avoid public spaces, including transit.
If I only had physical disabilities, I believe I’d be more employable than I am with my autistic traits and the co-morbid cognitive challenges.
I know people with physical disabilities who are amazingly upbeat, positive, funny, and successful. A positive personality with social skills can better overcome some challenges. Attitude matters, as does the ability to convey a positive and connected attitude.
If I could change anything about myself, it would be my ability to manage stress and the unexpected. I’m fine with having a partially paralyzed arm. I’m okay with not being an athlete. Color blindness? I can manage fine. Poor vision? I can find ways to adapt. But I cannot overcome the personality traits I hate about myself.
I would rather be nice, fun, and charming than have a perfect body.
Education, employment, and relationships all depend on the ability to maintain social connections. You want to be known as a good colleague, a stable and reliable person. Studies suggest it is better to have a moderately high IQ and great social skills than an extremely high IQ and poor social skills. That makes sense to me: if you cannot connect to people well, you cannot succeed.
Socially disabled, I struggle in every aspect of life that matters to me.
Most important to me are my wife and children. Yet, unanticipated events through me off and damage my relationships. I cannot “go with the flow” and calmly accept the unexpected, but that’s an essential skill. The unexpected happens.
I want to be a fun, energetic parent. I also want to be able to cool quickly when the children do something I dislike. I want to be the parent who can calm and comfort the child who needs security. I do my best, but I want to do better.
Education and employment have been difficult. I work well with only a few people. It’s hard to find the right collaborations for my personality. I’m a perfectionist, so I’ll take over tasks to protect the quality of a project. Order matters to me. Process and product go together in my mind: a good process helps deliver a good product. Other people aren’t as process oriented.
My wife is a pleasant introvert, so don’t confuse introversion with autism. I know extroverts with autism, and they are prone to depression because the social interactions they desire tend to go badly. Imagine wanting social networks, but everything about you makes other people uncomfortable. At least I am not seeking out parties or events with lots of people.
I cannot name more than four of my colleagues, meaning first and last name. I don’t always remember student names week to week. I’m okay with sitting here at a desk, typing. That’s not autism, that’s introversion. Autism becomes a problem when I do need to or want to interact with colleagues, friends, or others.
Just as rough streets and walkways cause me misery, so do my autistic traits. One is physical, but the other is as important. Autism is not merely a set of “quirks” I can overcome.
Autistics make other people uncomfortable. That’s a reality, and that’s a disability because it limits my opportunities.