In the quiet shadows of our daily existence, many of us silently bear struggles that go unnoticed by those around us. These challenges are not confined to specific locations or moments; rather, they persistently thread through every aspect of our lives, casting a persistent hues of isolation that others find hard to understand. As an individual grappling with a complex array of mental health issues, varying degrees of social developmental delays, autism, and ADHD, I face these obstacles every day with my interactions with people around me. The barriers I encounter are not merely physical but are intricately woven into the fabric of social exchanges and personal self-awareness.
Over recent years, I have become increasingly aware of how these difficulties have begun to impact my interactions with others. Particularly, I’ve noticed an increasing tendency for people to avoid me, whether in conversation or physical interaction. This avoidance seems to stem from everything ranging from my verbal expressions and actions to the more subtle cues like my mood and behaviours. While I am sometimes perceptive to certain social nuances, there are many instances where I find myself out of step with those around me. This discrepancy not only deepens my sense of solitude but also complicates my attempts to connect and engage meaningfully with the world around me. As I navigate this complex landscape, I am continually learning and adapting, albeit with significant challenges, trying to bridge the gap between how I am perceived and how I wish to be understood.
I also find it increasingly more interesting that I can express my thoughts and feelings via written word than spoken, through mediums such as this than in person as it’s less judgmental.
In Professional Shadows: A Silent Disregard
Have you ever sat at a lunch table, trying to join a conversation, only to feel as if your words barely make a ripple? Many of us have been there—our attempts at small talk meet with brief responses, or worse, apparent annoyance. It’s not just the struggle to be heard; it’s the sinking feeling that what we have to say doesn’t truly matter to those around us, and then are often ignored and then left in sitting in silence as you drink tea or coffee, eating that meal.
Consider the times you’ve offered suggestions in meetings, or around the table or room. How often are they passed over or deemed irrelevant, unless tightly aligned with your specific role or expertise? This selective engagement can make anyone feel invisible, as if our broader contributions are undervalued. For those of us navigating the complexities of neurodiversity, like autism, social anxiety and isolation struggles, these challenges are compounded by difficulties in reading social cues. We might choose to remain silent, second-guessing our understanding of the conversation’s flow, which only deepens our sense of isolation. Not all of us have the ‘gift of gab’ or outgoing extroverted personality. Sometimes, it’s also best to ‘put up, and shut up’.
And what about when we extend a hand to help? Too often, offers to assist or collaborate are rebuffed, leaving us to wonder why our intentions are misunderstood. For those who are naturally kind-hearted and eager to support others, such rejections can be particularly painful, pushing us toward solitude as a refuge from the discomfort of social rebuffs just because we are different from others.
Many of us, especially when feeling overlooked or misunderstood, might find ourselves explaining our actions or thoughts more frequently than others. This isn’t complaining—it’s an attempt to bridge the communication gap, to make ourselves understood. Yet, this can greatly exhaust our peers, leading them to see our explanations as nuisances rather than legitimate attempts at clarity, sometimes our perceptions, and our understandings may not jive with what actually happened but how we handle the situation in the end is what makes it more clear. We all need to show patience, we are only human.
If any of this resonates with you, know that you are not alone. These are the commonalities we share as I face these myself at times in my own life. These experiences, while deeply personal, are also universal in many ways. They speak to the broader challenge of fostering a truly inclusive and empathetic environment—be it in the workplace or any social setting. Sadly for the majority, this is what keeps people in states of depression, states of isolation, is when they feel that they don’t fit in, don’t belong, are in the way or that they simply are ‘just a body’.
The Complexity of Human Connection
Navigating social interactions often feels like traversing a labyrinth without a map. For those of us with neurodiverse conditions such as autism, social anxiety, ADHD and the like, the challenge is magnified by our intrinsic differences in understanding and processing mental, physical and memory social cues. Neurodiverse individuals often perceive and interpret social signals differently from neurotypical people. This can lead to misunderstandings and social missteps that seem minor to others but are significant and impactful to us.
For instance, my own struggles with memory and processing speed frequently lead to social faux pas that can frustrate or confuse those around me, especially those who are in direct contact with me. Trust me, ask them! I’m sure I’ve caused my share of problems and they would agree that I can be difficult when talking to. Every conversation feels like a minefield where a forgotten detail or a missed social cue could lead to alienation. This often results in a retreat into my own thoughts, where I’m left to dissect what went wrong, replaying scenarios over and over in an attempt to understand the social dynamics that elude me.
Social gatherings are particularly daunting. While others seem to flow effortlessly into conversations and group dynamics, forming connections with ease, I find myself out of sync. It’s like watching an orchestra play a piece I’ve never learned; everyone else knows their part and how it fits into the whole, but I am stumbling, trying to find the rhythm. This dissonance is jarring and often leads me to avoid social situations altogether, which only exacerbates feelings of isolation and loneliness.
The impact of these experiences extends beyond social gatherings and affects every aspect of daily life. The constant anxiety and stress from trying to fit into social molds I don’t understand take a significant toll on mental health. Many individuals, myself included, find themselves dealing with depression, which can make even basic self-care and household tasks challenging. The effort required to simply get through a day of pretending or trying to ‘be normal‘ can be utterly draining, leaving little energy for things like cleaning, personal hygiene, or engaging in ‘happy joy’ hobbies. But sometimes the opposite can have the same effect.
This depression isn’t just about feeling sad; it’s a profound sense of exhaustion and disconnection from the world. The mental load of decoding social interactions and the continuous sense of failure in social settings can make one’s personal space—like a home (especially for me)—feel like a prison of sorts. Here, the loneliness and the reminders of daily struggles loom large, making it difficult to find the motivation to maintain regular routines or care for oneself.
The dynamics of group interactions and the concept of belonging are complex for everyone, but for those of us who struggle with social cues, these dynamics are often overwhelming. Belonging requires mutual understanding and acceptance, which can be hard to achieve when your way of communicating and understanding the world is fundamentally different from that of others around you.
In light of these challenges, it’s crucial for both individuals and society to strive for a deeper understanding and more supportive structures that can accommodate neurodiverse needs. Education about neurodiversity, autism and similar conditions can help bridge some of the gaps in understanding. For those of us living with these challenges, finding communities and resources that resonate with our experiences, can offer support and validation, but at the same time, trying to ‘get’ to that state is also just as tasking in finding those communities to fit into as our own personalities struggle due to extrinsic and intrinsic factors.
Ultimately, by fostering environments where differences are not just acknowledged but genuinely understood and appreciated, we can begin to build a world where everyone, regardless of their neurotype, can feel like they truly belong.
Finding Friends: Navigating a Mismatched World
Forging friendships when there’s a mismatch between one’s chronological age and mental or emotional age presents a unique set of challenges, especially for someone with mental complications. For individuals like myself, who may are older yet find a deeper connection with the simple, untarnished joys typically enjoyed by younger people, the task of fitting in can feel insurmountable. Adults naturally anticipate interactions and shared interests that reflect more mature, complex life experiences—expectations that clash with a preference for straightforward, pure pleasures. A pure example in my case is that I like spending time, writing, watching cartoons, I have stuffed animals, and still interact with my “inner child”, where as I can still do “adulting” like pay bills, rent and buy fancy things I cannot afford (and make poor decisions about it later). I am not into the “clubbing” or bar scene, and don’t get me into the “dating” world as that baffles me. But, honestly, I just don’t know how to make friends.
As an “INFJ Advocate” personality type, my personality compels me toward deep, meaningful connections, but the nuances of everyday social interactions can sometimes escape me. This Myers-Briggs personality type is known for its empathy, idealism, and introspective nature, all qualities that can enrich friendships profoundly. However, these same traits can complicate social interactions when the intuitive understanding of others does not extend to understanding how to navigate the practical aspects of those relationships. For someone living with autism, the additional layer of struggling to interpret social cues can make it even more challenging to decipher what friendship looks like and how to maintain it. It shows that my compassion, kindness and caring nature, tends to get in the way of logical rational thinking which can get me into trouble and thus it causes many people around me to take advantage of that and I don’t know any better.
When it comes to forming and nurturing relationships, it often feels like I must suppress parts of my true self to blend into the expected social norms. This performance involves putting on various personality and social masks—hiding real feelings and emulating behaviours that are deemed socially acceptable. This ongoing masquerade is taxing and does little to assuage the loneliness that comes from not fully connecting with others on a genuine level. Each interaction where I must perform rather than be authentic leaves me feeling more isolated, not just from the people around me, but from my own sense of self. It’s like being a “Phantom of the Opera” shipped with “Superman” but still being “Jack Frost”. Not many will get that reference.
This struggle is intensified by the frequent internal narrative that frames me as both the problem and the potential solution in social settings. This can be a heavy burden to carry, as it places the onus of social success or failure squarely on my shoulders, perpetuating a cycle of self-blame and frustration when relationships do not flourish. Despite my best efforts, the outcome is often a reinforced sense of otherness, reinforcing the walls that compartmentalize me into solitude.
Navigating these challenges is a continuous process of trial and error, where each social interaction can either be a step toward connection or a retreat into the comforting shadows of solitude. My journey involves learning to balance the innate desire for deep connections with the practical skills needed to interact in a world that often operates on a different wavelength. It’s about finding the courage to occasionally let the masks fall away and hoping that in doing so, the right people—those who can appreciate the unfiltered version of myself—will recognize and cherish the genuine person beneath.
In sharing these experiences, I hope to connect with others who feel similarly misplaced and to remind them that they are not alone in this struggle. It is my aim to foster understanding and empathy, not just for myself but for anyone who finds the social world a challenging maze to navigate. But for now, I must where masks in both my daily life, at work, in my family and with friends. All to simply protect myself from harm.
Suffering in Silence: The Cost of Normalcy
Navigating daily life with barriers of mental health conditions like social anxiety, PTSD, ADHD, and many others introduces a complex array of challenges, and for me being autistic managing sensory sensitivities to confronting social misunderstandings poses other complexities. These issues, though deeply personal, resonate with many who find themselves in similar situations. Among these challenges, auditory sensitivities and behaviours like stimming are often the most misunderstood. For myself, despite the necessity for hearing aids due to degenerative hearing loss and auditory processing disorder, the addition of earmuffs might appear confusing to onlookers. This dual adaptation is not a preference but a critical necessity; while hearing aids enhance sound to aid hearing, they can also amplify painful high frequencies and cause audio distortions that lead to vertigo. The earmuffs serve to dampen overwhelming noises, striking a balance and creating a manageable auditory environment. Although for myself this is new, it’s now how I have to manage my life. Although when I am at home, my place is now a silent refuge.
The reasons behind stimming or fidgeting, or why someone might be overwhelmed by sensory inputs like bright lights or loud sounds, are not widely grasped. These behaviours are not choices but essential coping mechanisms for those with sensory processing issues accompanying autism and PTSD. Yet, the perception persists that these necessary adaptations are merely excuses or overreactions, adding undue judgment to already challenging lives.
For those of us living and functioning in environments where Christian values are placed and where such as the Fruits of the Spirit are preached—but not always practiced—the gap between preached ideals and reality can be disheartening. These values—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control—are meant to guide behaviour towards inclusivity and understanding, yet they often fall short when it comes to embracing and supporting the neurodiverse community. Those I know are probably going to give me heck for this too but, this is how I see it;
- Love is often discussed as unconditional, yet it can feel contingent upon conforming to certain behaviours or hiding one’s true self. This refers to unconditional love that goes beyond affection or fondness. Love is supposed to be a selfless, enduring, and sacrificial concern for the well-being of others.
- Joy remains elusive for many who feel disconnected or misunderstood by their communities. This is supposed to be a sense of inner gladness regardless of circumstances. It is deeper and more constant than happiness, which is often dependent on external situations.
- Peace is touted, yet the environment can still be rife with judgments and exclusion over differing beliefs. Peace is supposed to represent tranquility and harmony in personal, relational, and communal aspects of life. It involves a sense of contentment and well-being that comes from trusting in God’s plan.
- Patience is essential but rarely extended to those who require more time to navigate social interactions due to neurological differences. Often translated as “long-suffering,” it involves the ability to endure discomfort and trials without responding in negative ways. It’s about being slow to anger and enduring patiently under the provocation.
- Kindness and goodness are advocated, yet often, actions do not align with these preachings, especially towards those who navigate the world differently. This involves being considerate, generous, and friendly to others. It reflects a spirit of compassion and sympathy towards the needs and feelings of others, while goodness entails the desire to be virtuous and moral in one’s conduct. It’s closely linked to doing what is right and beneficial not just for oneself but also for others.
- Gentleness should reflect in our actions and interactions but is often overshadowed by impatience and misunderstanding. Also known as meekness, it is not weakness; rather, it is strength under control. It involves humility and thankfulness towards God, and polite, restrained behaviour towards others.
- Faithfulness involves trusting in the good intentions of others, a practice that should be universal but is sometimes only selectively applied. This involves being reliable, trustworthy, and loyal in all relationships, including one’s commitment to God. It also encompasses faith in God’s promises, trusting in His steadfastness.
- Self-control is about more than personal restraint; it’s about actively choosing to embrace diversity and extend grace. This is the ability to control one’s emotions, desires, and actions, particularly in difficult situations. It implies a mastery over one’s will and an exercise of restraint.
In an ideal world, the Christian virtues of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control—collectively known as the ‘Fruits of the Spirit‘—would guide our every interaction. However, the reality often falls short, particularly in how we engage with individuals facing mental health challenges, autism, or disabilities. Despite these teachings, people with disabilities frequently encounter barriers that stem from a lack of understanding and acceptance, contradicting the very essence of these Christian values.
In the professional world, these individuals might face indifference rather than the patience and kindness they deserve. Socially, the joy and peace promised by Christian fellowship can feel inaccessible due to the exclusions they experience. This gap between doctrine and practice not only affects their quality of life but also challenges the integrity of Christian witness.
Why do these gaps exist? The reasons are complex and varied—from cultural influences that prioritize individualism over community to discomfort with difference that leads to exclusion. Additionally, a lack of real understanding about disabilities and mental health can lead to fear and prejudice, further hindering genuine inclusive practice.
As Christians, we are called not just to believe in the virtues of the Fruits of the Spirit but to actively practice them, creating a more inclusive, understanding, and supportive environment. This means stepping beyond our comfort zones, confronting our prejudices, and making a concerted effort to learn about and from those who navigate life differently. It’s about aligning our actions with our values, demonstrating that the love, kindness, and gentleness we preach are not just ideals, but practices we live by every day.
This reflection isn’t just call to awareness but for all of us to truly embody these ‘spiritual fruits’ and ensure that our communities are places where everyone, regardless of their abilities or challenges, can feel truly valued and included. The necessity to mask one’s natural tendencies to fit into societal norms is a profound and shared struggle among those with autism. This masking, a survival strategy, not only costs individuals their authenticity but also perpetuates feelings of isolation and loneliness. This dual existence—maintaining a socially acceptable façade while suppressing one’s true identity—is exhausting and unsustainable, and why I am tired at a long day with people. The continuous effort to appear ‘normal’ (for others) erodes joy and a sense of self, silencing the genuine voices that long to be understood and accepted.
But it should be know that this also pushes others away. My ‘normal’ is not your, ‘normal’ but at the same time, I am just as equally guilty of not following this myself.
A Glimpse into the Ideal World
In an ideal world, we wouldn’t place barriers around people based on their differences. Whether it’s mental health issues, disabilities, or just plain old human quirks, these shouldn’t be reasons for exclusion or disdain. Yes, the world is not perfect—far from it. We’re navigating through a landscape dotted with challenges and, let’s face it, a fair amount of sin. But amidst all this, one truth stands clear: we are all human. Seriously, get over it!
We really need to chill out and cut back on the hate. It’s like everyone decided to crank the drama dial to max and forgot how to turn it down. Imagine if we all just took a moment to breathe, look around, and realize that everyone else is trying just as hard to get through this thing called life.
So here’s a thought: Let’s stop making life harder for each other. Wouldn’t it be wildly revolutionary if we simply started treating each other with the basic respect and dignity every person deserves? Let’s drop the judgments and start boosting the kindness. Who knows, we might just find out that we like this version of humanity a lot better.
To wrap this up with a profound yet straightforward thought: In the midst of our chaotic, beautifully flawed existence, let’s remember to embrace our shared humanity with open arms and maybe, just maybe, sprinkle a little humor along the way. After all, if we can’t laugh at ourselves every once in a while, we’re definitely doing it all wrong. Here’s to hoping we can find a way to turn down the drama, turn up the decency, and maybe, just make the world a slightly better place to live.
For the love of God people…
We’re all Human. Learn to just be.
Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.
~Leo F. Buscaglia, “Making love felt,” Born for Love: Reflections on Loving, 1992
