Autism Acceptance: I'm an Irish Examiner writer, and I'm autistic

On the eve of Autism Acceptance Month 2021, Irish Examiner writer Mike McGrath-Bryan was diagnosed as autistic, aged 33. In this article from April of 2022, he discusses the experience of assessment, diagnosis, what he's learned, and the wider conversations around neurodivergence

Mike McGrath Bryan: "you are exactly the person you think you are, and you are not the person you thought you were". Pic: Celeste Burdon

You can spend years of your life dealing in words and expression, interacting with people and framing their stories and experiences for an audience. But when it comes down to it, you can still be completely overawed by their power over you. Such is the case as I’ve sat down to start this article a few times now.

My name is Mike, and I’m autistic. I was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (the latter word being the subject of some contention) in April 2021, on Autism Awareness Week. The specific term for my diagnosis is ASD1, formerly known as Asperger’s syndrome.

I do not “have” autism, or “live with autism”. It is an inherent part of me — a difference in understanding and communication, that, along with my upbringing, my loved ones, a mixed bag of cultural touchstones, and the post-millennial condition, has informed so much of how I’ve perceived the world and formed my ideas.

I was diagnosed at age 33, on foot of a consultation and subsequent assessment after noticing similarities between myself and friends who’d also received late-in-life diagnosis. The last year of my life has revolved, in large part, around that same journey of discovery.

While fully acknowledging the privilege of affording a private assessment (absent of any public options for adults) and recognising the validity of self-diagnosis and identification for a wide range of reasons, my own process of consultation brought with it a kind of clarity. 

As I’d dabbled in psychology in my post-adolescent scramble, I was paying attention to some of the beats my specialist might be hitting with her questions, but the process of applying them to my own experience helped fill in a lot of blanks. 

Growing up in a council house in North Cork in the 1990s and 2000s, things like a nerdish, well-spoken affect, a sometimes changeable disposition, and a passion for the relatively obscure, aren’t necessarily recognised as social anxiety, emotional dysregulation, and what are termed “special interests”, respectively.

As the questions were asked over the course of the assessment, there it all was. Rejection sensitivity, the barrier of understanding social “rules” and cues, or finding that friendships might initially hinge strongly on shared interests. Stimming (self-stimulation/comforting) behaviours I’d sought out in private, thinking they were just my own idiosyncrasies, like the “flappies”. Endless overthinking and fixations.

An executive dysfunction that teachers routinely mistook for a lack of application (much to my mother’s near-perpetual chagrin), and made itself present as the world of adulthood beckoned — and, as of time of writing, may also point at co-morbid attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD).

(Note - the writer was diagnosed with ADHD in April of 2022.)

Mike McGrath Bryan: diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder last year, at the age of 33. Pic: Celeste Burdon

Exploring yourself and your past through a whole other frame of reference brings on a lot of different feelings. “My” autism is, of course, different from the next person’s, but the most concise way I can put my experience is that, at once, you are exactly the person you think you are, and you are not the person you thought you were. That’s a huge thing to grasp right away. 

You’re grappling with a new language for yourself in some ways — dealing with your own internalised, previously-held ideas of neurodivergence, and how you understood them. 

The “spectrum” becomes a wheel of strengths and aptitudes, the “jigsaw puzzle” becomes symbolic of the idea that neurodivergent people must be somehow “incomplete”. Your own consuming passions and the time you’ve given them are more, more than anyone can understand, than the well-meaning “special interests” tag.

And in that, something of a grieving process begins.

We didn’t know, or have as much of a vocabulary for neurodivergence, even 10 years ago, much less 20 or 30. You look back at the child you were, the teenager they became, and how things might have been if schools, community groups and other institutions had that knowledge, and the ability to hold space and facilitate peoples’ diagnoses and support. 

Would the alienation, hurt and anger have been what it was? Would going through school, or early adult life, on being good at a few convenient interests, have become a shorter or less stressful path to the future?

Mike McGrath Bryan: being diagnosed as an adult brought questions and answers in equal measure. Pic: Celeste Burdon

You grieve for your younger selves: the failed Leaving Cert, the missed or dropped connections, the ideas and projects half-realised, the misaligned expectations, the things taken out of your control by circumstance. The attrition of being a square peg, for reasons unknown to yourself, the toll that all takes over time.

But you also learn to be kinder to your younger selves, over the course of your life. You look at their circumstances, understand better what they knew about themselves and others, the best they knew how to negotiate their situation, and what they couldn’t help. There’s healing in that — you can take those younger selves, and give them a good, long hug.

Seeking neuroaffirmative therapy has done wonders at further clarifying these thoughts and feelings for me. The #actuallyautistic hashtag on social media is a wonderful source of first-hand accounts of the autistic experience, from all walks of life and all kinds of backgrounds, to be learned from.

Daily life has crawled by relatively slowly in the last year, as the Covid crisis meant working from home and being careful about social visits. But even amid lockdown’s daily mundanities, there were little discoveries to be made every day, the realisations and connecting of dots where surprise, shock, and half-remembered embarrassment gave way to acceptance.

You’re better able to understand yourself, identify your strengths, and start on the things you’d love to pursue, or improve upon. You can go about “ unmasking” in your own time, at your own pace, learning the ways to maintain your own space and let people in.

As that process of self-discovery continues, you happen across the aforementioned co-morbid conditions - many people are surprised to find about the commonalities between autism, ADHD, and anxiety disorders, as well as dyspraxia and dyslexia.

Mike McGrath Bryan: autism presents different challenges for everyone - and there are still questions we have to ask about acceptance in wider society. Pic: Celeste Burdon

You might well say that it’s all well and good for someone in their 30s, working for a national newspaper, well able to articulate themselves, to talk about their experiences, and you’d be right. Autism and other forms of neurodivergence vary from person to person, presenting unique challenges that require unique and sometimes demanding responses — when even the most convincing of “masks” take time and energy to maintain.

I’m still learning. Still unpacking, still questioning.

And there are questions: how we can create a public mental health service that’s accessible and fit for all, how we can get schools and teachers to identify the signs earlier in kids, and how we can advocate for the rights of autistic people in our society — from normalising neurodivergent communication styles, to holding social space for aspects of our existence like stims and sensory requirements?

But these are indicative of wider systemic malaise and complacency, and in holding space for ourselves and each other in our own lives, we can work toward advocacy and playing our part in the conversations we need to have — and what needs to change.

• This article was originally published in the Irish Examiner on April 2, 2022. Edits have been made to acknowledge the conversation around the term 'disorder', and to include a subsequent co-morbid diagnosis.

RESOURCES:

Listening to autistic people: conversation and advocacy around autism is growing, and as more people seek assessment and understanding of neurodivergence grows, so too will the range of experiences being publicly disclosed. Start with:

• Limerick writer and conceptual artist Blindboy Boatclub, who discussed his diagnosis on his podcast
• Dublin illustrator Aoife Dooley, who advocates for adult autism awareness
• Mallow writer, author and media personality Stefanie Preissner
• Derry crime writer Claire Allan, diagnosed after her own daughter
• Cork rapper Craic Boi Mental, who openly discusses autism in his music and social media

#ActuallyAutistic: A popular hashtag across all social media, where autistic people discuss matters pertaining to their lives, neurodivergence and the issues affecting them.

AsIAm: The best-known autism advocacy body in Ireland’s online resource on adult autism is an accessible and easy-to-understand place for the basics: asiam.ie/advice-guidance/diagnosis-clinical-supports/adult-diagnosis/

Adult Autism: A practice based in Co Dublin, running online over the course of the pandemic, accepting GP and self-referrals for initial consultations, assessments and post-diagnostic support: www.adultautism.ie

Thriving Autistic: A non-profit organisation, offering different kinds of neuroaffirmative coaching and therapies given by neurodivergent practitioners, online social events, and consultation to the HSE, Trinity College and UCD among others: www.thrivingautistic.org