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Rhi, a self-advocate, discusses caring for her mental health as someone on the spectrum. This piece was originally posted on Rhi’s website on May 14. It is re-posted here with permission.
I take my mental health very seriously; I’m an autistic perfectionist whose favourite pastime is self-criticism, so I have to. I have the additional issue that if someone’s praise of me is implied rather than explicit, it doesn’t exist, which makes my mind a perfect-storm of self-doubt.
I am someone who takes great pride in kindness and generosity to others, but I am just plain horrible to myself. I must have been a young child when I first started the silent berating that would plague me for years.
Throw in a social processing condition that guarantees I will be regularly making mistakes, or that people will be regularly misunderstanding me and mistaking my intentions, and you have a recipe for poor mental health. Autism is of course not a mental health problem itself, but autistic people have far higher rates of mental health issues such as stress, anxiety and depression, than the general population.
I was an angry teen, frustrated by the constant injustices I saw all around me. I wanted the world to be fair and it isn’t. There is no underlying balance of justice; bad things happen to good people, good things happen to bad people, sometimes the people who refuse to take responsibility for their actions are the ones who get away with it, and the person who waits their turn is the one who goes without.
The world is chaos and I like order, the world is interactive when I like single-player, the world is loud and bright when I can’t always deal with that.
Without my late-in-life autism diagnosis four years ago I would never have been able to find ways to be healthy and happy. How can you do what is right by your brain if you think you must function in ways that you don’t? How can you be happy when you’re comparing other people’s strengths with your weaknesses?
I would wonder how other people found making friends so easy. Why was it so hard for me? Why did no one care that I found patterns and problem-solving easy, why were those interactions the things that were most important? Why could I be brilliant at my job but not valued as much because I couldn’t perform the water-cooler chatting as successfully?
It was thirty-five years of getting things wrong and not understanding how to change that. I had got my mimicry of social-reciprocity as close as I could to the real thing, but it was never close enough, and I would always slip at some point.
I was horrifically anxious of change, going to new places, doing things alone, and unexpected small-talk, but was unable to express it at all. I was always told how confident and together I appeared. This seemed to put people off more; they couldn’t see when I needed help because I didn’t know how to communicate that to them – in truth I still don’t.
For a while I got a FitBit for the sole purpose of tracking my heart rate throughout the day. I have a good resting rate of about 65 beats a minute. Throughout the day it would spike to over 140 for various reasons; small talk in a corner shop, a diversion on my route home, an unexpected knock at the door. I was going through fight or flight rushes of adrenaline several times a day as normal.
The days where I didn’t have those spikes were the days where my routine was safe; I could go for a walk without bumping into anyone, I could focus on a project, I could breathe.
Sometimes I wonder if perhaps I should disappear from the world and take up a Hermit life, but it’s not enough. I need the world, I need people, I need those interactions and changes that can cause me stress.
I could go down all the standard sensible things too; I know I feel better the more exercise I get, I feel better when I eat the right things, I feel better when I have work that I love, but we know all this. I don’t always eat well because sometimes I want to gorge on something grotesquely carb-based. I don’t always exercise as much as I should because it takes time and watching Netflix is right here.
I am much, much better these days at not beating myself up when I don’t do all I should, and praising myself when I do. The carrot is always better than the stick when it comes to mental health.
Like physical health, mental health isn’t about getting to a point and then stopping. I can’t lose three stone and get really fit, then say, ‘Done it!’ and go back to eating what I want and doing no exercise, without expecting that weight to welcome itself back on my hips, and for my fitness to slam the door on its way out.
The same goes for mental health. You can’t go to therapy at a bad point in your life, do the work to get well again, and then carry on as you were before, not without ending up ill again, it’s not how it works. The good news is that whilst some of it might be difficult – like keeping on top of that nagging voice that wants to criticise every mistake – other bits are about indulging the stuff you love – making time to do the things that interest you.
Yes, it’s always easier to watch a boxset and zone out, or head off down an internet rabbit hole, but it’s not always what’s easier in the long run. That’s not to say that those days spent resting and doing just that were not fabulously spent – because some days are for nothing more than existing and getting through – but even on those days if you can spend five minutes doing what you love, or five deep breaths of outside, or five minutes of remembering a good day, then that is five minutes well spent.
Happiness isn’t a perpetual state of being, it’s something to strive towards, every day; we each have our own things that bring it closer and push it away. I am so much happier now than I have ever been at any other time in my life, but I still have bad days, and that’s okay too.
Sometimes it’s worth remembering and mourning a world that isn’t fair, before living in the world we have.
About the Author
Rhi is a multi-media blogger: she uses her personal website (http://autistrhi.com/), Twitter (@outfoxgloved), and Facebook (AutistRhi). In addition to blogging, Rhi is a poet, playwright, and public speaker.