AGXStarseed
Well-Known Member
(Not written by me)
A woman with Asperger Syndrome explains how a late diagnosis and a professional world which values aggression can cause a meltdown
IN AN age where life is getting faster and noisier, where go-getting aggression is applauded and actively encouraged in both sexes, those who do not fall in with such behaviour are seen by the rule-makers as being of little value.
If you can’t cope with a “fast-paced dynamic environment” — that phrase so beloved by employers and agencies alike — you’re simply not wanted. But when your survival depends on being in a quieter place, where you can concentrate on one task at a time and not spend your day stressed to the max, living every day in an alien world is mental agony.
I am autistic. Diagnosed only last year (I am 56 years old) with Asperger Syndrome, my condition means I am “neurodiverse” unlike the majority of the population who are designated “neurotypical.” My brain is wired differently, if you like, so that I experience the world in a different way from the majority.
Despite me being very capable in many areas there are some things I find hard to do or understand, and some situations that I simply can’t cope with. To be exposed to such conditions causes anxiety and distress and sensory overload can lead to a meltdown, where my brain almost feels like it’s exploding and I fall to pieces in an agony of confusion and fear. This is usually followed by total exhaustion and sleep, and can leave me mentally disoriented and physically clumsy (or clumsier than normal) for hours or even days afterwards. It’s not pleasant and is something over which I have no control. Autism has no “cure.”
As the world has increasingly become an overcrowded, noisy battlefield there is little room for those like me who cannot cope in such a situation. People are viewed now not as individuals but as a homogenous mass, treated as disposable assets to be used and then thrown away when something goes wrong, rather like a ballpoint pen when the ink has run dry.
Government waves a massive stick marked “earn money or else” over us all, regardless of ability, circumstance or opportunity. We are all expected to contribute financially, despite there being fewer and fewer jobs available — many of which are simply unsuitable for someone like me.
Of people on the autistic spectrum, the figure for those in full-time employment is just 15 per cent according to the National Autistic Society. Autism is believed to affect around 1 per cent of the population, so that’s an awful lot of people not working. Yet for those unable to work, or being denied employment, there is little alternative to fall back on except shrinking benefits and a support system that barely exists.
Very few, if any, social housing providers accept mental health-related issues as being a qualification for housing priority, and the Department for Work and Pensions refuses autistic people the benefits they need as their Atos or Capita assessors fail to understand or accept that autism is every bit as serious as a physical illness or disability.
Autism is not a mental health condition in itself, it is neurological. However it can give rise to depression and anxiety when coping mechanisms fail due to constant sensory overload or other adverse stimuli, so there are a high number of individuals who have both autism and mental health problems. I count myself among that number.
The government’s Autism Act 2009 set out some valuable guidelines for local authorities and NHS trusts supporting adults with autism, but in many areas there simply aren’t the financial resources available to implement them. Every local authority is meant to have an adult autism lead, but in some areas there isn’t one.
Asperger Syndrome affects my ability to cope in noisy, overcrowded environments with too many distractions; this led an early exit from my last job and many earlier jobs. I have extremely high intelligence, many skills and capabilities, am a good communicator and thrive in the right environment, yet despite all this I rarely even get as far as the interview stage these days. Perhaps it’s because prospective employers see how often I move on from job to job and so consider I’ll be unreliable. Being an older female doesn’t help either, due to preconceived ideas of what sort of person I’ll be, so the odds are stacked against me. I also have a sneaking suspicion that by ticking the “disabled” box I ensure my application gets no further than the wastepaper bin.
Occasionally I’ve “got it right” and stumbled upon a situation where all was well for a time. Like the job I had at a left-wing London council in the 1980s and early 1990s where I had freedom to set my job up in a way that worked for me; my own room and rules that were relaxed enough to allow me to be myself. I enjoyed my work, was productive, dedicated and happy. That in turn allowed me to explore and express myself, and through that I became interested in union work and became first a shop steward then a co-convenor of a self-organised group.
Those far-off days were, with hindsight, the best days of my life because I was able to earn a good salary in a supportive environment, so I was able to survive pretty well even though life was difficult in many ways. I was different, but crucially I was allowed to be me.
Now turn to the present. With benefit cuts and the slashing of public services there are few sources of support for me as an adult with autism. My choices have been whittled down, avenues to happiness and survival closed down as life gets tougher and the “oddballs” like me fall by the wayside. I’m now trapped in a world of financial insecurity with seemingly no way of extricating myself. I can’t consider a normal working environment again and I have no financial security; add my disability, and the dice do not roll in my favour.
I would dearly love to work again, but in an environment where I could feel secure and happy, to earn enough to enable me to live where I am not forced to change my accommodation every two years (the average since age 21) in order to avoid the acute distress caused me by noisy neighbours. Simplicity and silence are the hardest thing to find. They’re there if you can afford to pay for it, but if not then it’s a struggle just to hang on and survive day to day.
When you are living in a state of constant anxiety it’s not really living, it’s an existence. Our government does not care about anyone who is fragile, differently abled or vulnerable. So I wait in hope for a socialist government which will care about people like me, and offer everyone a better way of life.
People with disabilities can be extraordinary given the right circumstances and opportunities. It’s a fact that such people can become politicians, union officials, artists, poets, singers, actors, comedians, scientists. But for those who don’t get a lucky break or support, how are we even meant to compete in a race where the rules apply only to the young, strong, able and neurotypical?
The Equality Act and other laws and policies like it are great on paper but when it comes down to it people with disabilities are still all too often at the bottom of the list when it comes to selection for suitable jobs and housing. I can only hope that things will get better in the future. Until that time, all we can do is wait and hope.
SOURCE: http://morningstaronline.co.uk/a-8569-Autism-in-the-age-of-noise-and-fury
A woman with Asperger Syndrome explains how a late diagnosis and a professional world which values aggression can cause a meltdown
IN AN age where life is getting faster and noisier, where go-getting aggression is applauded and actively encouraged in both sexes, those who do not fall in with such behaviour are seen by the rule-makers as being of little value.
If you can’t cope with a “fast-paced dynamic environment” — that phrase so beloved by employers and agencies alike — you’re simply not wanted. But when your survival depends on being in a quieter place, where you can concentrate on one task at a time and not spend your day stressed to the max, living every day in an alien world is mental agony.
I am autistic. Diagnosed only last year (I am 56 years old) with Asperger Syndrome, my condition means I am “neurodiverse” unlike the majority of the population who are designated “neurotypical.” My brain is wired differently, if you like, so that I experience the world in a different way from the majority.
Despite me being very capable in many areas there are some things I find hard to do or understand, and some situations that I simply can’t cope with. To be exposed to such conditions causes anxiety and distress and sensory overload can lead to a meltdown, where my brain almost feels like it’s exploding and I fall to pieces in an agony of confusion and fear. This is usually followed by total exhaustion and sleep, and can leave me mentally disoriented and physically clumsy (or clumsier than normal) for hours or even days afterwards. It’s not pleasant and is something over which I have no control. Autism has no “cure.”
As the world has increasingly become an overcrowded, noisy battlefield there is little room for those like me who cannot cope in such a situation. People are viewed now not as individuals but as a homogenous mass, treated as disposable assets to be used and then thrown away when something goes wrong, rather like a ballpoint pen when the ink has run dry.
Government waves a massive stick marked “earn money or else” over us all, regardless of ability, circumstance or opportunity. We are all expected to contribute financially, despite there being fewer and fewer jobs available — many of which are simply unsuitable for someone like me.
Of people on the autistic spectrum, the figure for those in full-time employment is just 15 per cent according to the National Autistic Society. Autism is believed to affect around 1 per cent of the population, so that’s an awful lot of people not working. Yet for those unable to work, or being denied employment, there is little alternative to fall back on except shrinking benefits and a support system that barely exists.
Very few, if any, social housing providers accept mental health-related issues as being a qualification for housing priority, and the Department for Work and Pensions refuses autistic people the benefits they need as their Atos or Capita assessors fail to understand or accept that autism is every bit as serious as a physical illness or disability.
Autism is not a mental health condition in itself, it is neurological. However it can give rise to depression and anxiety when coping mechanisms fail due to constant sensory overload or other adverse stimuli, so there are a high number of individuals who have both autism and mental health problems. I count myself among that number.
The government’s Autism Act 2009 set out some valuable guidelines for local authorities and NHS trusts supporting adults with autism, but in many areas there simply aren’t the financial resources available to implement them. Every local authority is meant to have an adult autism lead, but in some areas there isn’t one.
Asperger Syndrome affects my ability to cope in noisy, overcrowded environments with too many distractions; this led an early exit from my last job and many earlier jobs. I have extremely high intelligence, many skills and capabilities, am a good communicator and thrive in the right environment, yet despite all this I rarely even get as far as the interview stage these days. Perhaps it’s because prospective employers see how often I move on from job to job and so consider I’ll be unreliable. Being an older female doesn’t help either, due to preconceived ideas of what sort of person I’ll be, so the odds are stacked against me. I also have a sneaking suspicion that by ticking the “disabled” box I ensure my application gets no further than the wastepaper bin.
Occasionally I’ve “got it right” and stumbled upon a situation where all was well for a time. Like the job I had at a left-wing London council in the 1980s and early 1990s where I had freedom to set my job up in a way that worked for me; my own room and rules that were relaxed enough to allow me to be myself. I enjoyed my work, was productive, dedicated and happy. That in turn allowed me to explore and express myself, and through that I became interested in union work and became first a shop steward then a co-convenor of a self-organised group.
Those far-off days were, with hindsight, the best days of my life because I was able to earn a good salary in a supportive environment, so I was able to survive pretty well even though life was difficult in many ways. I was different, but crucially I was allowed to be me.
Now turn to the present. With benefit cuts and the slashing of public services there are few sources of support for me as an adult with autism. My choices have been whittled down, avenues to happiness and survival closed down as life gets tougher and the “oddballs” like me fall by the wayside. I’m now trapped in a world of financial insecurity with seemingly no way of extricating myself. I can’t consider a normal working environment again and I have no financial security; add my disability, and the dice do not roll in my favour.
I would dearly love to work again, but in an environment where I could feel secure and happy, to earn enough to enable me to live where I am not forced to change my accommodation every two years (the average since age 21) in order to avoid the acute distress caused me by noisy neighbours. Simplicity and silence are the hardest thing to find. They’re there if you can afford to pay for it, but if not then it’s a struggle just to hang on and survive day to day.
When you are living in a state of constant anxiety it’s not really living, it’s an existence. Our government does not care about anyone who is fragile, differently abled or vulnerable. So I wait in hope for a socialist government which will care about people like me, and offer everyone a better way of life.
People with disabilities can be extraordinary given the right circumstances and opportunities. It’s a fact that such people can become politicians, union officials, artists, poets, singers, actors, comedians, scientists. But for those who don’t get a lucky break or support, how are we even meant to compete in a race where the rules apply only to the young, strong, able and neurotypical?
The Equality Act and other laws and policies like it are great on paper but when it comes down to it people with disabilities are still all too often at the bottom of the list when it comes to selection for suitable jobs and housing. I can only hope that things will get better in the future. Until that time, all we can do is wait and hope.
SOURCE: http://morningstaronline.co.uk/a-8569-Autism-in-the-age-of-noise-and-fury
