Artist: Karlotta Freier
A few weeks ago I was driving home from an extended coffee date with a friend feeling as if someone had lit a fire inside me. I was all wide-eyed and electrified, feeling my pulse move through me as I drove down the highway at 2pm on a Saturday. I can appreciate that sounds intriguing, like maybe something really pivotal had been raised. In contrast our topics of conversation were objectively similar to the many that had come before this one.
Except for one thing. I’d shared my recent diagnosis; I was autistic. As I spoke, I fumbled over my words and felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I cast my eyes downwards and looked everywhere other than in front of me. I couldn’t quite articulate why this, of all the things I’d ever shared about myself, was so damn hard. Instead of being met with the hesitant glance I’d been expecting, my friend’s eyes widened and a smile spread across her face, “Oh! Me too!”.
In that split moment all illusions I had been mulling over were shattered. Could it really have been that easy to share this part of me? We spoke at length about the many joys, challenges, and limitations we both experienced as neurodivergent women. I felt seen in a way I don’t think I ever have before. It was a moment of pure joyful connection that could have easily been inhibited had I let the running commentary of my mind win.
You see, I realised on that drive home just how much I had compartmentalised aspects of my identity. In spiritual circles I could talk about Human Design, Astrology, and Embodiment. In social/political circles I could talk about the patriarchy, the constraints of gender, and decolonisation. In my academic circles I could talk about which novels I’d read recently, the latest humanitarian crisis, and so on. You can see my point. I had so many unwritten rules floating in my brain about who I was allowed to be, what I was allowed to say, and in which environment.
I had pre-judged my friend as someone who lives in the spiritual camp and therefore uninterested or maybe uneducated when it comes to my struggles as an autistic woman. Not only do these ongoing assumptions limit me considerably around what I feel comfortable sharing, but it also limits the people in my life to reductive stereotypical assumptions. That moment, small but powerful as it was, completely shattered any remaining biases I held around conversational topics and the way they intersect with the identities we hold.
It took this conversation for me to realise how I had compartmentalised my identity to such an extent that aspects of myself were bound to stay permanently apart from one another, “Only in circumstance X can I talk about Y but definitely not Z”. There was such a heavy realisation of all the ways I had been attempting to mould myself into the perfect person to suit every situation. Heaven forbid I talk about the prescription medication I take among spiritual circles, or that I mention the full moon as a reason for feeling emotionally spun out in my academic circles.
It seems almost laughable that until that moment I’d been trying to fit into all the individual boxes; the neurotypical box, the healthy box, the embodiment/somatic box, the academic box, the spiritual box, the entrepreneur box… with absolutely no overlap. Each box holding rigid rules around what it meant to occupy those spaces. I hadn’t realised how exhausted I was by trying to live up to these imaginary standards the world had placed around me. Yes, I love yoga and somatics and pilates but I also really love a good glass of red wine and letting my brain melt over The Kardashians.
I think the truly liberating aspect of revealing more parts of ourselves is realising this thing we have been mulling over really just isn’t that big of a deal. I remember when I came out as bisexual to a close friend. I was so nervous I almost didn’t do it, and finally when the words left my lips I was met with a shrug of indifference and a well, yeah, I already know that? Obviously, we all want to be validated which is important in and of itself, but it’s also kind of nice to realise this thing we’ve mulled over and over just isn’t the earth-shattering announcement we thought it would be. A reminder that we make enemies out of ourselves, considering all the ways we’ll be mocked until we realise that the ostracism is more internal than external.
It takes an insurmountable amount of energy to filter yourself so heavily. We don’t have to exist in a binary of extremes anymore (we never did). You don’t have to adhere to every stereotypical aspect of the identity/s you hold. Please, please, bring your multifaceted, complex, nuanced parts of your identity forward and allow them to take a seat at the ever expanding table of your rich and fulfilling life.
I’m tired of feeling like I need to fit into the spaces in front of me. I want to create a space that fits all of me. Not a box; but a fluid, dynamic, shifting container that allows for my true essence to emerge in each moment. One that accepts the person I am today may not be, and probably won’t be, the person I am tomorrow. How beautiful that we get to exist within the realms of the vast and complex nature of humanity.
It’s not until I realised that I was trying so hard to be really good at all the rules of each identity I held that I could completely let go of them all. It seems ridiculous that we should have to hide parts of ourselves to feel acceptance; if acceptance is conditional, then the very definition of the word becomes obsolete. If you can’t see and accept the nuances of a person’s existence then you don’t want a relationship, you want a projection. If you can’t accept one part of me then you don’t deserve any. And I think that is a perfectly reasonable way to lead your life.
this was a much needed reminder today - signed, a fellow bisexual autistic person!