Stoically autistic: A way of navigating life.

In recent times the philosophy of Stoicism has gained a resurgence in many facets of society. It has been embraced in the locker rooms of sports teams, by leaders on the battlefield, in the boardrooms of corporations, among artists, journalists, politicians and ordinary people searching for some practical wisdom as they traverse through the universe. The work of Stoics have found there way into the hands of figures as diverse as George Washington, Arnold Schwarzenegger, JK Rowling, Nelson Mandela, Tom Brady and Winston Churchill. Despite this contemporary and historical popularity, stoicism remains undoubtedly misunderstood.

During my journey through life I have dabbled with varying schools of thought and psychological tools in an effort to navigate the planet more successfully. Despite not being diagnosed with autism until the age of 50, it was always patently obvious that I didn’t fit in with my peers or for that matter the wider world. This societal incongruence persuaded me to try and unravel life’s conundrums by embarking upon varying cerebral activities particularly from the realm of philosophy.

Without doubt, like many autistic people I am a sense making junkie, having explored Christianity, Buddhism, varying philosophical ideas, political theories and a range of psychological approaches in a bold attempt to demystify life. Some of these doctrines I have discarded more wholly, such as religion, there are those that have been incorporated as special interests including my enthusiasm for reading about ethical theories, while others have been adopted as more tangible practices such as meditation and in general mindfulness. Within the last 2-3 years, however, I have stumbled across Stoicism, which due to it’s practical nature quickly appealed to me. Here’s a little Stoicism 101 for those who are not hugely familiar with it.

Stoicism was founded in Athens in approximately 300 BCE by a philosopher named Zeno of Citium, who survived a shipwreck. Following which, he visited a bookseller in Athens where he came across a book called Xenophon’s Memorabilia. Being impressed by the way Socrates was portrayed, he asked the book seller where men like Socrates could be found. At this point the famous Cynic philosopher Crates of Thebes was passing the store and the shopkeeper pointed him out. Subsequently, Zeno became Crates’s pupil basing Stoicism on the moral principles of the Cynics.

Stoicism became one of the most popular schools of thought throughout the Hellenistic period. Later undergoing some refinement during the Roman era by the likes of, Seneca, Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius. At its core lies two major components;

  1. A set of ethical values compiled to help people lead a virtuous life, highlighted by principles of happiness, resilience and the peace of mind that can be attained from doing good. These virtues can enable us to avoid negative emotions including, guilt, jealousy, hatred and anger.
  2. Along with these values are a set of practices that help us reduce our stress and negative emotions by developing self-awareness, wisdom , self-discipline, while cultivating rationality. Stoicism also encourages individuals to align themselves with nature.

These guiding ethical principles are also known as the 4 cardinal stoic virtues.

  • Practical wisdom – in Greek this is called phrónēsis which is the ability to view things exactly as they are, free from bias and prejudice. The virtue of wisdom relates to the ability to decide what is or is not under our control. Matters deemed not within our control are referred to as externals. Epictetus called this sorting process as the dichotomy of control. Wisdom also involves recognising right from wrong, using reason and rational judgement to guide us.
  • Temperance – (sōphrosýnē) is our ability to exercise restraint, moderation, discipline and self-control with a view to maintain balance within our lives. This virtue aims to keep us off the hedonistic treadmill, whereby, we are constantly looking for something in order to obtain our next dopamine hit and then the next. How many times have we heard the phrase, “everything in moderation”. Well, over 2000 years ago the Stoics were already espousing ideas such as these in the form of temperance.
  • Justice – (dikaiosýnē), in a Stoic sense this relates to our capacity to behave in the interests of the wider society. In the modern world we often view justice in terms of a legal code, possibly involving courts and trials, however, for Stoics justice moves beyond this, referring to a moral justice. This type of justice involves treating people fairly and respecting their dignity as human beings. To practice this virtue we must abide by what is legally and morally righteous, while treating others with kindness and impartially.
  • Courage – (andreía) is the ability to act within what we think is right, despite numerous pressures not to do so. Stoics realise that during difficult times we might be pushed to behave in an immoral way and that courage is required to use reason and rationality to avoid making poor moral judgements. Courage from a Stoic perspective, is not just bravery, such as a firefighter going into a blaze, but that of making hard decisions while under fire from the incoming bullets of daily life.

Despite a treasure trove of wisdom emanating from the like of Marcus Aurelius, Socrates and Epictetus, Stoicism has persistently had numerous critics. Many objections tend to misunderstand the practices that Stoic teachers were trying to convey. One such claim, is that Stoicism is passive. The accusation of passivity is aimed at the dichotomy of control as mentioned earlier. The critique suggests that, if we only focus on our character, reactions and actions, putting no effort into what we can’t control, Stoics would remain passive when faced with major issues such as climate change and wars.

This idea grossly simplifies what Epictetus actually suggests. He offers that all we can control are our judgements, values and our decision to act or not. Adding, we may be able to influence certain events, but the bulk of most outcomes will depend on factors outside of our control, which include the values, judgments and decisions of others. Therefore, it is wise to consider this when deciding where to expend our finite energy and time. Stoic philosopher and academic Massimo Pigliucci uses the example of a job interview; worrying about whether we will get the job is not particularly useful, as we have little control over this. However, we do have control over how we prepare, which ultimately could influence those on the interview panel.

A second and common knock on Stoicism is that it has a grim view of strong emotions, in particular those that are negative. What this is referring to is the Stoic concept of equanimity, which is defined as composure. Opponents of Stoicism offer that this philosophy encourages us not to feel a full range of emotions by somehow suppressing them, thus residing in some neutral state of indifference. On the contrary Stoics do feel emotions, however, they are viewed as tools of feedback in order to reflect on our behaviour and how external events may be approached in the future.

For example, if a Stoic lost their job, they may well examine external factors such as a recession or an economic downturn and realise that as their performance was good the vast majority of this decision was out of their control. This acknowledgement of context would allow the Stoic to encounter the emotions that would naturally arise from such an event, such as; sadness, shock and unsettled feelings about the future, without being overwhelmed by them. This use of reason allows space for reflection, possibly leading to a new career path, an attainment of new skills, or simply to become more resilient in the face of adversity.

A further knock on Stoicism, which I’ve heard in corners of both the autistic community and the wider society is it’s perceived absence of empathy, but is this actually true or is it just another common misconception. Allegations of a state of coldness and a lack of compassion are often associated with Stoicism. Even a simple search of the word ‘stoic’ on thesaurus.com returns synonyms including, aloof, apathetic, detached, impassive and unemotional. Is this a legitimate complaint or another misunderstanding of Stoicism?

Stoicism promotes empathy and a deep understanding of our interpersonal relationships. It highlights the importance of cultivating the ability to listen to others in a way that acknowledges their beliefs, values and autonomy. Marcus Aurelius suggests, “Acquire the habit of attending carefully to what is being said by another, and of entering, so far as possible, into the mind of the speaker”. Rather than simply waiting for a turn to speak, a Stoic is encouraged not only to contemplate the words spoken but also the thoughts and emotions from which they arise. Furthermore, Stoics are advised to preserve their tranquility despite instabilities that are often connected with human interaction.

Stoicism is certainly not a philosophy devoid of emotion, but it is not driven by it either. Stoicism steers clear of emotional reasoning which seems to have become normalised in the 21st century. As Stoicism is a practical philosophy, this approach suits me perfectly. Although I am autistic, I also possess very high traits of alexithymia. This is a condition that results in challenges with identifying and describing emotions. In Greek a rough translation is, no words for emotions. When I took the OAQ-G2 Alexithymia Questionnaire my score was 162 out 183. Which means I have trouble with the following.

  1. Difficulty identifying feelings.
  2. Difficulty distinguishing between feelings and the bodily sensations (interoception) of emotional arousal.
  3. Difficulty describing feelings to other people.
  4. Difficulty identifying facial expressions.
  5. Difficulty identifying/remembering faces. (an extreme form of the latter is prosopagnosia/face blindness).
  6. Difficulty fantasizing.
  7. A thinking style focused on external events (often avoiding inner experiences).

I suspect these strong alexithymic traits coupled with autism enables me to connect more readily with Stoicism as a philosophy and a guide for life. It’s important to recognise that anywhere between 50% and 75% of people on the spectrum have mild to severe alexithymia, compared to just 5% among neurotypicals. Many aspects that were initially thought to be apart of autism are now considered to be linked with alexithymia, one of which is the notion of low empathy. Nevertheless, I would argue that compassion is much more useful than empathy with regards to moral and ethical decisions, but that will be a blog for another day.

The simulation theory of empathy posits that from a young age we use our own emotions to predict what others will do, using our mental states as a template to understand how others may feel. This is clearly problematic if there are difficulties interpreting and describing our own emotions. Not only are problems with empathy linked with alexithymia, but if these traits in an individual are pronounced, the result will be an increased difficulty empathising with others emotions.

Alexithymia comes in 2 broad forms;

  • Cognitive alexithymia — The cognitive dimension of alexithymia has to do with difficulties in identifying, verbalizing, and analyzing emotions.
  • Affective alexithymia — The affective dimension of alexithymia has to do with differences in imagination and emotional arousal (heightened emotional activity as a result of a stimulus).

Autistic people who have added alexithymia tend to have lower cognitive and affective empathy, in relation to autistics who do not have alexithymia. In contrast, not only do autistic folk without alexithymia have in tact emotional empathy, it may even be elevated in some cases. Notably, among autistic people in general, cognitive empathy tends to be lower than average and more so if the individual has high alexithymic traits. The trouble with this is, cognitive empathy is said to be required for emotional empathy and personal well-being by allowing the understanding of your own emotions to make sense of the feelings of others.

To add to the confusion, there are 4 types of empathy;

  • Cognitive empathy — The ability to infer about beliefs and knowledge of other people.
  • Affective empathy — Also called emotional empathy; the ability to infer about emotions felt by other people.
  • Compassionate empathy — Also called empathetic concern; this is what moves you to help others.
  • Motor empathy — The unconscious mirroring of body language or facial expressions of another person.

If an individual has a combination of high alexithymic traits and low cognitive empathy, emotions tend to be extremely difficult to interpret, making it practically impossible to understand the feelings of others. Unfortunately, those undetermined emotions still have a profound effect on our mood and behaviours. Personally, this makes total sense, often I feel something quite strongly, but I regularly have no clue what these feelings mean. Furthermore, if we add interoception deficits into the mix, the result is predominantly confusion with an inability to simply categorise what is being experienced as either physical or emotional. This disorientation includes not having the ability to distinguish if I am physically unwell or if it is an emotional based issue.

As my ability to interpret feelings in both myself and others is severely limited, using emotions as a tool to navigate the world appears pretty pointless and fruitless. This is possibly why I gravitated towards Stoicism, utilising something I am relatively good at, which is reason and logic. Clearly, I can cognitively pattern for example, a course of events for someone that has led to the feelings of x, y and z, and obviously I can be compassionate towards their plight, but I don’t intuitively know what or how they are feeling. Unfortunately, this suggestion that not everyone has an abundance of innate empathy often gets me into trouble with a certain section of the ‘autistic community’.

As usual, I hope somebody out there gleans something useful from this blog. Next time around, I will focus more deeply on the interplay between autism, alexithymia, empathy and interoception. Thanks for reading!

Tales from an imaginary lighthouse: Jobs, solitude and people.

Given half a chance, I would probably be residing in a lighthouse somewhere spectacularly remote. Away from the crowds, with my long suffering wife and a pile of books. Although, I reckon she would probably object to such an extreme form of solitude. Undoubtedly, being a lighthouse keeper would be incredibly useful work, preventing all those vessels out on the ‘big blue wobbly stuff’ from having an impromptu meeting with land. A predicament that could be considered as less than ideal. Disappointingly, their are fewer and fewer manned lighthouses available in the 21st century, which is a travesty in itself.

Thoughts of a rocky hideaway are indelibly linked to those I had in the 1970’s, roughly from the age of 5. While many of the other boys wanted to be astronauts, firefighters, police officers and the like, I had my heart set on becoming a lighthouse keeper. Tragically, it was a dream that never came to pass. Damn you automation! Admittedly, this may seem like an odd life choice for your average human, however, even at this tender age I clearly had a good grasp of what I needed.

Just imagine, crashing waves onto the rocks, the wind howling, whilst sitting in an old comfy chair, contemplating the age old dilemma, whether to clean the windows or change the lamp first. Obviously, considering it’s a lighthouse, the hub of illumination would be paramount regarding the pecking order of chores. Sadly, these musings are now confined to a daydream, as the reality of life for many of us results in working a relatively normal job and mixing with human beings. Bugger!!!

Admittedly, work and I have never been the best of friends. Wearily, I have staggered from job to job over my working life, in a vain attempt to scratch my persistent employment itch of dissatisfaction. Some of course, have been more rewarding and suitable than others, but each one has provided a plethora of challenges commonly found with autistic workers scattered around the world. Frustratingly, even obtaining a job is incredibly arduous, this is before we even examine specific challenges that surround maintaining meaningful employment.

In New Zealand a study in 2017 reported that less than 10% of people diagnosed with autism were in full-time employment, 10% in part-time work and 20% in voluntary work. Data published by the Office of National Statistics (ONS) in 2020 echoed a similar story, stating only 22% of autistic people in the UK were in any form of paid employment. This compares to 50% of disabled individuals and 80% of non-disabled citizens. Furthermore, in Australia unemployment rates for autistic folk are reported 6 times lower than that of the general population. While I acknowledge that not everyone who is autistic can work, most people who are would like to.

Compounding this problem, autistic people are woefully underemployed, routinely being poorly paid and offered only limited working hours. The vast majority of those on the spectrum, work part-time or simply volunteer at their place of employment. Despite the dire quality of paid work and the hours provided, those who are employed unsurprisingly experience a better quality of life and cognitive performance than those who are not. Well, quelle surprise!

Even among higher functioning or level 1 types, circumstances are still not that great. Although overall employment rates appear to be slightly higher, underemployment and subpar utilisation of skills is still rampant among this group. Despite many of my fellow spectrumites holding ample qualifications; degrees, masters, PhD’s and the like, we still find ourselves criminally under appreciated, working for people who couldn’t make less use of our talents and abilities if they tried.

Throughout the years, I have found myself wading through a neurotypical quagmire of what it means to be a good employee. Prior to my diagnosis, it was even worse, I was acutely aware I didn’t fit in, without definitively knowing why. In fact, I’ve wasted years trying to make sense of workplace politics, mind numbing small talk, and nauseatingly dull department meetings. In which, the dumbest always seem to talk the most, in a desperate attempt to gain promotion and the backing from the powers that be.

Fitting in with the ‘crowd’, was and still is the pinnacle regarding your value as an employee. Turning up for tedious after dinner drinks, pretending to be enthusiastic at the Christmas Party and organising inane social events, are viewed favourably by the corporate hierarchy, regardless of how inept you may be at your job. For me, by far the worst experience that transpires particularly in New Zealand workplaces is ‘Secret Santa’. “Excuse me, do you have bullet to go with that torch you bought me from the $2 shop”? Disappointingly, the answer is likely to be a resounding no.

The other pesky thing valued above all by an employer, is persistently turning up. You don’t necessarily have to do bugger all on arrival, as long you waltz through the door with an annoyingly cheerie “mooooorning”!!! Which without doubt, should be punishable by death. Unfortunately, for us poor autistic sods, turning up consistently can be a big ask, putting us at an instant disadvantage. However, a word of warning, don’t ever try to explain why at times it’s like trying to climb Everest while carrying the damn Sherpa on your back, because you will be greeted with, “well everybody finds it hard in the morning”. Which, I usually reply with “oh piss off”, but under my breath, of course, as not to get fired within the first week.

Additionally, trying to avoid the gossips, ladder climbers, lazy bastards and the assortment of office dickheads is a full-time job in itself. Invariably, we autistics are frequently distracted from doing what we are paid to do, primarily because our beloved colleagues insist on talking shite to us, when we are trying to work. Don’t get me wrong, I like to talk about something meaningful at times, but it doesn’t take up 90% of my overall allotted hours, like for some. That’s before they vape, smoke, or whatever else they do to fritter the hours away, prior to going home, often early.

Let me state the obvious, bosses and autistic employees are not exactly a great match. Principally, because we tend to use a straight-forward version of an internationally accepted language to communicate, while managers use a dialect of ‘managerese’, colloquially known as bollocks. With or without the diagnosis, I suspect bosses have always considered me a bit of a “weirdo”. While viewed with suspicion, I’ve been routinely expected to contribute to the daily ‘bullshittery’ of working life. Alas, each day I patiently await my reward, half an hour of seclusion, commonly referred to as lunch, which is usually enough downtime to get me through the day.

So there you have it, if none of this gets me fired, I’m not overly sure what will. What began in deepest recesses of my mind as a serious investigation of autistic workers in employment, descended into a post work rant. Well, I’ve typed it now, so I’m sticking with it. If anybody autistic or those who are not, manage to extract something meaningful from this, well, good on them. Although indirectly, you may have gleaned that life for an autistic employee is frustrating, often unsatisfactory, socially a minefield and rife for sensory overload. But be aware, this is one persons account, others may well be working in a neurodivergent utopia. But if you asked me, whether I still yearn for life in a lighthouse, the answer is an emphatic yes.

Is autism really a superpower or a curse?

Superman can fly, Spiderman can climb up buildings, the Hulk is incredibly strong, so what’s my superpower? Well….., I’m relatively useful in a quiz. So, once a week I could go down to the local boozer and help a quiz team do a little better…..maybe. Wow, that’s a headline grabber, I’m not sure Marvel will be making a movie about my crazy superpower any time soon. Yes ladies and gentlemen, over the years I have accumulated many a puzzled look from real ale swilling geniuses in pubs, as I scoop first prize at their beloved weekly quiz, only to fade into the mist never to be seen again.

The Phoenix quiz dream team

In a world of positive psychology, autism or traits associated with it are often described as superpowers, but at times they can be more akin to a curse. If I had dig deep to find anything that could vaguely be presented as a so called superpower, then accumulating disparate trinkets of knowledge is the closest I can get. Retaining facts from a sizeable collection of atlas’s, encyclopedia’s and general knowledge books from as far back as I can remember is what I did and do, albeit electronically these days. By the age of 10, I strangely, knew every capital city in the world, among many other ‘niche’ facts that sparked my bizarre brain.

But let’s be clear, this not a superpower, my thirst for knowledge is simply a special interest. I’ve never been a fan of fiction, but over the years my interest in tangible reality and my detachment from fiction has strengthened. In total, I’ve probably watched less than a dozen films all the way through in the last 10 years, while barely making it past the first couple of episodes of any recent TV show. In contrast, I’ve perhaps viewed 100’s if not 1000’s of documentaries over the same time frame and read countless books on all sorts of odd topics. My weirdest to date being, The Soviet Afghan War. How a Superpower Fought and Lost. Which is fine for military historians, but may be a little too obscure for light bed time reading.

Of course, this doesn’t make me smarter, or superior in comparison to anybody else. It simply means I have a knack and an interest for remembering lots of useless information, that most people don’t care about. Yet, I wouldn’t be able to remember which cupboard the saucepan goes in, after years of living in the same place. So if pushed to name my superhero character, it would be less Superman and more Mildly Good at Pub Quizzes Man. Which somehow doesn’t possess the same sense of aura as the former moniker, nor does it neatly fit on a tee shirt. But who knows, it may well catch on.

Even my superpower, as ‘impressive’ as it is has a downside, generating constant thoughts about subjects from all corners of the knowledgesphere. Inevitably, this leads to bleeding my wife’s ear about the latest thing on my mind, because as we know, autistic folk like to talk about their special interests (and talk and talk). Which is fine, but sometimes it would be nice for my mind to just chill out, but it never does. Hence why I do blogs, writing constantly about politics for about 6 years, before I sort of got it out my system. Now I use my own experiences to explore topics related to autism, thus still providing a valid outlet for discovery and learning.

To be honest, I have other dubious strengths, that often feel like millstones around my neck. It was once described to me that autistic people don’t just notice the forest or the details of one tree, but every leaf, insect, flower and moss on each tree. This is primarily, because we process a greater amount of sensory information than neurotypicals. Regularly, I detect details, patterns and inconsistencies where others may not. Even this can be a nightmare, as I recognise imperfections everywhere, making it difficult to enjoy certain things, even my new house at times.

Ok, this isn’t really my new house.

Many of my other traits could be labelled cognitive strengths, but they are not without significant drawbacks. One such trait is the ability to make rational decisions more easily than non-autistic people, primarily because I don’t get influenced by “gut instinct”. In fact, although intellectually I know what this phrase is supposed to mean, I’m not sure if I’ve ever experienced it. The distinct lack of emotional sway in my deductive reasoning skills is largely to do with Alexithymia, which I undoubtedly have. Broadly, this is defined as emotional processing problems, which is not entirely helpful, nor is it as exciting as say, being invisible.

I do, however, have an incredible talent for losing my keys, wallet, ATM card and my phone, sometimes in the short term, but it’s not inconceivable to lose things for days on end. This is due to the ‘superpower’ of executive dysfunction, where I have notebooks for my notebooks, plus a whiteboard in my home office. Despite these secretarial accessories, I’m still not remotely close to being organised, but my notebook collection is a thing of beauty, so I guess there is an upside.

Sure, I can power through an academic assignment in a couple of days, where it may take others 2 weeks or so, but that’s a pretty specific skill and not wholly practical most of the time. It means during these periods, I get totally consumed by what I’m doing, while not particularly receptive to anything else going on. I can easily lose track of time and get grumpy when prevented from pursuing what I feel I need to do. Again, I don’t expect the big Hollywood studios will be knocking on my door anytime soon proposing “Hyperfocus Man, coming to cinema near you”.

But hang on, why do we need to wrap everything in such grandiose terms, to make us feel windswept and interesting. We are all extraordinary, just by our very existence. Isn’t that not good enough? Sure, I’m going lose my wallet within the next week, leave my money in the ATM and walk away, forget my phone that’s on top of the car, stay up until 4am watching documentaries and continue to enjoy learning Polish. Why Polish? Because I find it cool, in a weird autistic way. Just as I find baseball stats, geopolitics and moral reasoning fascinating. But I know I’m not alone in having quirky interests and traits, we all have our unique autistic blueprints to offer and that’s the amazing bit, not some contrived superpower that may or may not exist.

The weird world of gut feeling, intuition and moral reasoning

Phrases such as, “well what’s you’re gut telling you” or “I’m getting a funny feeling about this”, are used all the time. But what if you don’t get any feelings in your gut or anywhere else for that matter and intuition just simply sounds like an excuse to explain guesswork or a coincidence? Well I’m one of those people. Of course I can intellectualise what people mean by this, despite never experiencing it. However, I can’t ever remember any kind of emotional intuition based epiphany that has shaped my decision making. On my favourite quiz show The Chase, often the host will say to contestants “go with your gut”, well, all my gut ever tells me is if I’m hungry or not.

So what is intuition? Linguistically, a 15th century definition describes it as, “insight, direct or immediate cognition, spiritual perception,” this was originally a theological term, from Late Latin intuitionem. Although, In practical terms, an example of this could be a feeling or a voice inside your head telling you not to go down a certain street. On the whole, intuition is a thought to stop you from doing dumb things and can also be known as a sixth sense. Decisions using this sense are not reliant on reason, or are they always logical but they can still lead you to the right answer……apparently.

Generally, it is thought that everyone possesses this special power, but I would be inclined to dispute this assertion and if I do indeed have intuition, I would argue mine is infinitesimal, to the point of being redundant, a bit like an appendix. Intuition could be said to be deployed when you hear people claim they have negative vibes about others. Personally, I have no idea what this concept even means. Many times I have been duped by people who I thought were friendly, only for them to turn out to be devious and at times abusive. In addition, I always use logic to decide whether for example somewhere is safe to walk, checking lighting, if people are hanging around, historical reports of violence, location and knowledge of the area among other sources of input.

So let us dig a little deeper into the concept of intuition. Firstly, it appears to have been largely immune to scientific inquiry, plus it is exceptionally difficult to measure, therefore, it resides in the realm of philosophy. Most studies have been of a qualitative nature, with many quantitative studies adding precious little to our understanding of this construct. The best that researchers can do at this stage is to split it into two broad categories. One of which would be to view intuition as an experience based phenomenon relying on implicit knowledge, accumulated through experience and recalled through pattern recognition. Other studies indicate that it relies on sensory and affective components during the intuitive process.

Researchers generally agree there are 3 commonalities;

  1. Intuitive events originate beyond consciousness.
  2. Information is processed holistically.
  3. Intuitive perceptions are frequently accompanied by emotion.

In summary, the concept of intuition could be explained as a non-conscious, quick pattern recognition and synthesis of past professional experience, plus expertise. Therefore, experienced decision-makers circumvent analysis in favor of holistic scanning of memory for similar events or situations.

To take this one step further, in psychology, cognitive experiential self-theory (CEST) was developed, which offers that humans process information using 2 systems; a rational system and one that is experiential. Not dissimilar to this idea, Nobel Prize winning Daniel Kahneman proposes the idea of fast and slow thinking, this also known as Dual Processing Theory and is thought to be the procedure used when making decisions. This mechanism is divided into two, system 1 (thinking fast), a “gut reaction” intuitive way of thinking and system 2 (thinking slow) which is analytical, often called critical thinking.

Kahneman postulates that as humans, we wrongly think we are rational, spending the majority of our existence in system 2 thinking, when in reality most of the time we are accessing the intuition based fast thinking method (system 1). He asserts that it is only when we encounter something unexpected or when we make a conscious effort do we use slow thinking. Kahneman explains that system 1 is automatic, constantly generating suggestions of, intentions, impressions, intuitions and feelings for system 2. If these are approved by system 2, they then become beliefs and voluntary actions.

Although fast thinking is often accurate, periodically it can produce errors of bias, answering easier questions than those asked, without knowledge of logic and statistics. Fast thinking is narrative driven, quickly creating plausible stories, relying, on associations, memories, assumptions and pattern matching. This can lead to defaulting to a seemingly conceivable story, even if this originates from incorrect information, thus leading the individual to jump to conclusions.

So, where does autism fit into all this? In 2016, a paper was written to investigate Dual Process Theory, which is basically fast and slow thinking, in relation to autism. With regards to decision making, it was surmised that autistic individuals found three core features that made this particularly difficult. Those being, decisions that involved talking to people, a change in routine or if the decision was required to be made quickly. While it is recognised that the first two are core diagnostic features of ASC, the third is not.

Delving deeper, it has been identified that people with ASC or those with high autistic traits display a combination of lower intuitive and greater deliberative reasoning styles, compared to both individuals with low autistic traits or without a diagnosis of ASC. Intuitive and emotional reasoning according to this study features less in an autistic person than deliberative, logic based critical thinking, leading to enhanced logical consistency. Potentially, unearthing a valid reason as to why autistic people are reported to dislike making decisions quickly.

As much as this sheds light on autistic thinking processes, personally, I consider there are other things at play that lead autistic people to rely more on deliberative reasoning, that being alexithymia. It is estimated that between 45-80% of the autistic community have alexithymia, as mentioned in my previous articles and is a condition that’s characterised by emotion processing discrepancies, possessing these 7 traits;

  • Difficulty in identifying feelings
  • Difficulty distinguishing between feelings and bodily sensations
  • Difficulty describing feelings to others
  • Difficulty identifying facial expressions
  • Difficulty identifying / remembering faces
  • Constricted imaginal processes, evidenced by the scarcity of fantasies
  • A stimulus bound, externally orientated cognitive process

With this in mind, I propose that someone possessing some if not all of the listed traits of alexithymia will have extreme difficulty accessing intuition and emotion led reasoning (fast thinking) effectively. For autistic individuals with alexithymia, this type of deliberative thinking has been suggested to have an effect on the moral reasoning of an individual. This is a relatively convoluted idea, but I think it’s worth sticking with it, for the metaphorical pot of gold at the end. But first, I need to introduce you to the trolley problem which has been used extensively to investigate moral reasoning.

So what would you choose? Personally, I would drop kick the man off the bridge, but I know I’m in the minority (again). So why do other people like me think this way? One academic that has studied trollyology extensively is Professor Joshua Greene from Harvard University. Greene suggests that this goes back to the dual process thinking model, what Kahneman termed fast & slow thinking. Greene states that if we were faced with such a dilemma, we would experience a strong negative emotional response, activated by the thought of harming someone physically.

Intense feelings surrounding such an event would be due to empathic concern for the victim’s pain, causing personal stress for the decision maker. Furthermore, performing the action itself, challenges our developmental and historical conditioning with regards to harm aversion. If these emotions are not countered by deliberative reasoning processes, then a deontological (Kantian ethics) response would prevail, deeming it always wrong to sacrifice 1 to save 5. Conversely if the emotional response is not strong enough to counter slow thinking (deliberative reasoning), a utilitarian solution would be found. Interestingly, Jeremy Bentham the founder of utilitarianism is thought to have had autism.

As previously noted, alexithymia is a reduced capacity to experience, reflect and identify ones own emotions. In addition, there is a difficulty identifying feelings and bodily sensations associated with emotional arousal, plus an inability to describe these emotions adequately to others. Therefore, this creates an obvious problem for the alexithymic person regarding empathy.

Empathy consist of two parts;

  1. Cognitive empathy – involves understanding the emotional state of others by forming abstract mental representations of these states while maintaining self-other distinction.
  2. Affective empathy – revolves around experiencing these emotional states indirectly, for example “I suffer, because you suffer”.

Social neuroscience, indicates that the brain regions that are involved in mapping our physiological states that inform us of our subjective feelings are also involved when predicting the feelings of others. We basically use our own feelings as a guide to understand the emotional states of others, in order to experience these vicariously. Therein lies the problem. If some individuals have trouble pinpointing their own emotions, how can they indirectly experience the feelings of others? Unsurprisingly, this will give rise to an impairment regarding the expression of empathy and thus an increased propensity towards a utilitarian model of moral reasoning.

In summary,

(1) Higher levels of trait alexithymia relates to reduced empathic concern and increased acceptance of utilitarian choices when faced with moral dilemmas.

(2) Reduced empathic concern predicts a higher acceptability of utilitarian options when challenged with moral problems.

Of course, this by no way means that people with alexithymia, with or without autism do not care. We simply need to use a different route to neurotypicals in order to obtain the best possible outcome. I know I cannot rely on intuition or emotional reasoning, because I have no real concept of it. What I do have is, good deductive reasoning, meaning, I may at times have to ask more question than a neutotypical, but simply being aware of this is exceptionally useful. Further to this, although my thought processes are more deliberative and less intuitive, in certain settings I may gain an advantage. For example, in acute stressful situations regarding others, I rarely get emotionally wedded to the situation, allowing me to make clear logical decisions.

These thoughts have been ruminating in my mind for a while and it has taken a reasonable amount of work in order to piece them together, as they are tricky concepts. I first started thinking about my distinct lack of intuitive skills a while ago. I would often stare blankly at people who ask, “what’s you’re gut feeling”? Having no real insight as to what they were referring to and consequently at a loss when trying to provide an adequate reply. These ideas graduated towards wanting to explore how this might affect my moral decision making, as I knew from previous studies that utilitarian philosophy made a great deal of sense to me, but often not to others. Hopefully, this article may help non-autistics and autistics alike in gaining some insight into moral reasoning and why our core morals may differ quite substantially.

Can you feel it? Tactile processing difficulties and autism.

I’m sure it will come as no surprise that sensory issues are a predominant factor regarding people with autism. After all, it’s part of the DSM V diagnostic criteria, therefore, almost everyone who is autistic has difficulties with sensory processing in some form or another. In a 2013 study it was reported that over or under sensory responsiveness existed across all domains examined; visual, olfactory, tactile, auditory, vestibular, gustatory and proprioception. A later 2019 paper confirmed these findings, adding that 95% of those on the autistic spectrum expressed sensory abnormalities.

Comparatively speaking, touch appears to attract rather less attention regarding research, despite approximately 60% of us showing altered tactile sensitivity. This can manifest in a variety of ways from actions that can cause injury such as; head banging, skin picking and self biting to hyper or hyposensitvity towards certain stimuli. Personally, I find hugging an interesting topic, primarily because many people on the spectrum shy away from such an activity. However, this may not be solely related to any social component, but a combination of this and hypersensitivity of the peripheral neurons, leading to avoidance or conversely, hyposensitivity causing some people to be indifferent to touch.

Looking broadly at touch, it is viewed as an essential component in which to explore our environment. Further to this, it is important when forming social interactions and developing relationships. Social touch early in our development can produce long term positive effects. This type of physical contact between mothers and their babies can improve mood and reduce cortisol reactivity, while gently rocking the child produces a calming effect. It is suggested that abnormal responses to sensory stimulation reduces the substantial contribution of touch involved in the normal parental relationships in early life. This is thought to add to any social impairments, while being closely linked not only to social but emotional distress early on in a child’s life.

One could argue that hugging encapsulates many of these interconnections. In all honesty, it has never been my favourite sport, I like my personal spatial perimeter to be approximately 3 kilometres if possible. Joking aside, I think I’ve hugged probably less than ten people in my lifetime. It’s an awkward activity, primarily from a social perspective, also, I’m never sure when it’s the appropriate time to do it, on which side or even for how long.

To complicate matters further, I grew up in stoic, stern and unemotional 1970’s Britain, where you hugged your grandma and possibly your mother, but never other males. A firm handshake was more than adequate when meeting someone, this would include family members. To this day, I have never hugged my Dad, nor do I feel any less of a human for not doing so. Now, however, I live in the substantially more ‘huggy’ New Zealand and I find it all a bit of a tactile fueled minefield.

Although I have had some auditory sensory issues over the years, and to a lesser extent problems with visual stimuli, it’s appears that tactile sensations have been my Kryptonite for as far back as I can remember. As a kid, I frequently produced many strange and wacky responses to what would on the surface appear innocuous encounters for most people. One such reaction relates to stickers, yep, those ‘things’ that are often handed out as rewards for younger children. I could cope with them being in an album (where they obviously belong), such as my 1977 Panini football sticker album, but they don’t and never will belong on me, be it my jumper, coat or shirt. Just in case charity “tin rattlers” are reading this, I don’t need a sticker. But alas, my tactile inspired weirdness doesn’t stop there.

As a young child, I remember hating having sand on my feet, in particular in between my toes. My mother used to try and remove it with a towel that felt more like sandpaper, unsurprisingly making matters worse. Later my Dad learnt to simply carry a bottle of water with him, using it to wash off the offending sand, once we’d left the beach. Of course, good old clothes labels were always a problem as a kid, slightly less so now, however, it’s those pesky seams that irritate me more as I get older. Even now, some materials and the particular fit of clothes can make it difficult to wear certain items and this can change day to day.

On the whole, I find creams and lotions hugely constricting, especially if it’s required all over the body. Unfortunately, possessing typical Celtic skin (freckles), applying sun lotion is a must, unless I want to look like a lobster over the summer and increase the chances of skin cancer (which I don’t). So invariably, when I return home from the beach, where sand is now no longer a problem for me, I have to shower the sun cream off my body almost immediately. One further issue, which is also a deeply disturbing habit Kiwis possess predominantly at sporting events, is the wearing of face paint. Just for the record, if anyone ever approaches me with any weird ideas of applying paint to my skin, I will not be responsible for my actions. Just saying.

There is one potential area of tactile processing sensitivities that is persistent and disruptive, occurring almost every night. I say “potential” because I’m not sure if this would be classified as a tactile response or an interoception issue. Just to clarify, interoception is the process in which we interpret internal sensations of the body, such as, recognising when we are hungry. My issue is this, I routinely have sensations all over my body at night, ranging from tickles, feelings of itchiness, through to relatively intense sensations of pressure from the covers particularly on my feet or even my limbs resting on each other. I have witnessed some of this during the day, but it is more noticeable at night, often keeping me awake, contributing to an already poor sleeping pattern. Does this sound familiar to anybody?

Now obviously this could be anything and not necessarily related to autism, but there is an interesting gene called contactin associated protein 2 (CNTNAP2), linked to autistic individuals which has been found to play some role in the itch response. What the function of CNTNAP2 is, regarding the neural transmission of itch is currently unknown, but this discovery does suggest a connection between autism and itching. This gene is found throughout the Dorsal Root Ganglia (DRG), which is a superhighway containing sensory cells. The DRG is responsible for transmitting sensations of itch and pain from the skin via the spinal cord through to the brain.

I’d be curious if other people with autism experience a similar kind of skin sensitivity, as it is difficult to find much information about this among the academic literature. Research in this area is still very new, with this paper on the CNTNAP 2 gene being published in 2021. Please let me know in the comments, plus you’re welcome to add any ideas that may help relieve this. So far, I’ve tried antihistamines and mindfulness and other common sleep hygiene tactics. As always, I hope this blog has highlighted an area of autism that is of interest to individuals on the spectrum and those who are not. Take care.

Fantasy land! Imagination and autism.

When I was 9, my teacher at the time Ms Craigie suggested I had no imagination. How dare she! Well, okay she was right. Alternatively, she could have said, that the scope of my imagination did not extend too much further than the bounds of reality. As a young child, I don’t ever remember playing pretend, nor did I want to, often much happier kicking a ball around, on my own. It’s also certainly possible that my narrow range of imagination is as much due to nurture than it is nature. Interestingly, I have absolutely no recollection of my parents ever reading stories to me before bedtime when I was young. So, as I grew older, everything I perused was grounded in reality, encyclopedias, maps and anything else in between was marinated in facts.

By about 9 I knew every capital city in the world, admittedly, not entirely useful, but I guess it kept me quiet, while providing a source of intrigue for my primary school teachers. Rather than reading fantastical stories that didn’t make any sense to me, I collected, stamps, foreign currencies and studied the football tables on a Saturday night, after the match results had come in. This was infinitely more preferable to something that didn’t actually exist and this is still largely true today. Although old ideas of autistic people not possessing any imagination is now considered inaccurate, there is a group of us who do have a limited imagination, but this is only indirectly related to autism.

It is thought that one reason for a dulled imagination could be Alexithymia. In a nutshell, it’s described as a condition that’s charactersised by emotion processing discrepancies, with between 45%-80% of spectrum dwellers possessing this trait. In short, aspects of Alexithymia present as;

  1. Difficulty in identifying feelings
  2. Difficulty distinguishing between feelings and bodily sensations
  3. Difficulty describing feelings to others
  4. Difficulty identifying facial expressions
  5. Difficulty identifying / remembering faces
  6. Constricted imaginal processes, evidenced by the scarcity of fantasies
  7. A stimulus bound, externally orientated cognitive process

As mentioned in previous articles, Alexithymia comes in 2 main flavours, cognitive which is what many autistic people experience, encompassing numbers 1-5 and affective alexithymia where examples 6 & 7 live. Having completed the OAQ-G2 Alexithymia test, scoring a lofty 157/185, it can be determined reasonably confidently that I have high alexithymic traits in all 7 domains, hence my ‘blunted’ (relatively absent) imagination.

As an adult, this manifests in a number of ways; although I can now actually enjoy reading fiction at times, it must still contain a strong link to reality to retain my attention, such as crime or spy novels. Therefore, reading any book that has little connection to the real world is still considered an utterly pointless exercise. Some will argue that fiction is a great form of escapism, this may well be true, but to me it is more like being held captive on a fairy infested Alcatraz inspired prison island.

Film and TV is another area where I mercilessly apply my ‘reality filter’. Only once have I ever watched something that would resemble a superhero movie, that being the very first Batman film made in 1989. Furthermore, I am proud to say that Potter in all his bespectacled wizardry has never crossed the threshold into my life, in either medium, film or book. Neither have I read or seen one installment of Game of Thrones, because lets be honest people, dragons don’t exist. Further to this, my irritation towards the nonsensical even extends to adverts, such as this one.

For crying out loud AA, unicorns are not real and dinosaurs haven’t been around for millions of years, so why would they been in the same living room fighting? Stuff like this drives me nuts! Of course I’m probably in the minority and I’m acutely aware I’ve become less tolerant as I’ve got older. For example, as a child I could sort of cope with Star Wars or Battle Star Galactica, because I could depict the narrative as a battle between good and evil. But Dr ‘bloody’ Who, on the other hand, was a step too far. A plethora of monsters, a disappearing police box and the incomprehensible fact that it was cavernous inside, despite being externally tiny looking, blew my mind.

Even family games don’t escape my authenticity check. Balderdash is probably my least favourite game of all time. Why? You may ask. Because the object of the exercise is to make crap up about non-words or provide false definitions about real words convincingly, in order to win. In my exceptionally irrational view of the world, this is what you play when you’re crap at quizzes, but want to still appear outwardly superior to morons like me. Am I projecting a little too much? Probably. But to my annoyance, I was once caught up in this trap of tedious bullshittery, thinly disguised as an enjoyable game. Yes, this may have been 15 years ago, but the scars run deep

So what have we learnt today? Well, we are all wonderfully different. Some autistic people may not have much of an imagination (me and I suspect a few others). Although, this may not be directly linked to autism, but a condition called Alexithymia, more accurately Affective Alexithymia, which can restrict the imagination, while limiting many cognitive processes to those of us that are externally orientated. As always, I hope readers can obtain something relatively interesting from this article and even have a go at the Alexithymia test, maybe let me know how you get on in the comments. Finally, please don’t take my irrational ramblings too seriously, I was predominantly pretending…….or was I.

Boo!!! Autism and the calming smell of fear

One thing I’ve noticed during my 50 years on this planet, at times where the majority of people are relaxed and calm, I’m often on edge, for example chatting with friends in a group. Conversely, instances that many would state as anxiety or fear inducing, I feel strangely relaxed. Whenever I’ve been among potentially stressful environments that are not directly concerning myself, I’m usually calm and logical. Now some of this could possibly be that I had the skills both innate and practiced to deal with such events, but there might just be another contributory factor.

When people are afraid they emit chemicals that are detected by others, inducing a contagion effect. Although, the spread of fear throughout the group appears to bypass those who have autism. Not only do autistic people have trouble deciphering facial expressions, the same can be said for odours. Humans release chemicals, announcing a range of emotions including happiness, aggression and fear. For neurotypicals the detection of the fear chemical can lead to a physiological response such as, raising the heart rate. In contrast, those who are autistic can have a very different response to NT’s.

In a 2017 study, 2 groups one autistic and the other non-autistic, were exposed to sweat odour from 2 distinct groups. One who had been skydiving, while the other group possessed non fear induced sweat from exercise. When the non-autistic group smelt the fear induced sweat group, it initiated a fear response within their own bodies. In contrast the non fear-induced sweat failed to evoke any anxiety responses within the same group. For the autistic group there was a polar opposite response, as the autistic group displayed heightened levels of anxiety towards the non-fear inducing chemical in sweat.

Expanding on the first experiment, both groups spoke to robotic mannequins that emitted different odours from their nostrils, while giving the participant tasks to complete. The autistic group showed greater trust in the mannequins that expelled fear inducing chemicals, rather than mannequins that smelled calmer. Conversely, the non-autistic group trusted the ‘calm’ mannequins more readily. Finally, a third experiment was conducted to ascertain the response to the calming chemical in sweat (hexadecanal), which was released into a room along with a loud unexpected noise. The autonomic fear response was analysed using the blink response. While those without autism showed decreased blinking, the autistic group displayed more anxiety with a noticeable increase in blink response.

A 2017 meta analysis on autism, odour detection and identification using 11 studies discovered some fascinating correlations. Those with IQ’s above 113 were hypersensitive, while individuals with IQ’s less than 113 were hyposensitive to odour detection. Furthermore, those over 30 were found to be hypersensitive, with under 30’s deemed to be hyposensitive to odour detection. Obviously, as with practically everything, correlation does not necessarily mean causation, but these results certainly provides interesting food for thought.

Maybe all of this information can offer some insight as to why I avoid so called joyful, fun, calming activities such as social gatherings like the plague. My wife quite rightly states that I am terrible in everyday situations, but great in a crisis. During my time in the navy, within health professions and even during day to day events, I certainly feel eerily comfortable the more serious things become. Over my half century, I have been involved in ship engine fires, helicopter flight emergencies, quite serious personal physical attacks and medical emergencies. However, on the whole, feel less stressed dealing with such events, than sat in a loud crowded pub on a Saturday night.

As with many things it’s always difficult to untangle the contributions of nature versus nature, but we autistic folk are undoubtedly different (proudly so). So I think this particular subject adds further intrigue and complexity as to why this is the case. As always, I hope autistic and non-autistic people alike find this interesting and possibly enlightening in some small way.

Executive dysfunction and autism: The eternal quest for an organised life.

People talk about multi tasking, but honestly, I’m just amazed I can walk, breathe and speak at the same time. Just getting my stuff together prior to work is a military operation. It involves transporting items I need to the door and then checking each one carefully, while mentally working through what I’ll require during the course of the day. Inevitably, there will always be something that I will have lost, but that’s just the way life is for me. Even getting out of the car to go into the house with several items in my hands, requires conscious careful preparation in order for them not to end up crashing to the ground.

Common skills required to perform many tasks can be found (unlike my phone) under the term Executive Functioning or simply EF and is something many autistic people regularly struggle with. To others, I could be viewed as scatty, unorgansised, forgetful, rigid in my processes and maybe easily distracted, but my sub optimal executive functioning skills is my excuse and I’m sticking to it. But don’t just take my word for it.

Executive Functioning is considered essential for goal orientated behaviour, closely linked to cognitive processes such as memory and attention. It is an umbrella term that can encompass functions that include; working memory, impulse control, planning and cognitive flexibility, generally referred to as domains. Although EF is not explicitly stated in DSM V as part of the diagnostic criteria, difficulties with Executive Functioning have been expressed by autistic people in numerous studies. However, the relationship between autism and executive dysfunction appears to be a complex one.

Johnson et al. (2019) noted in their study that executive dysfunction was reported more by the ASD group than the control group and was considered distinct from any autistic characteristics. This suggests that autistic individuals can have clinically significant Executive Functioning difficulties which substantially disrupts everyday life, as well as any challenges that present with autism. These conclusions concur with an earlier paper by Hill and Bird (2006) who observed an association between ASD symptomatology and executive dysfunction. Furthermore, brain imaging studies also support the idea of EF as a fundamental aspect of ASD, displaying functional and structural differences within the pre frontal cortex.

Although there are regular findings of EF dysfunction across autistic children, adolescents and adults, the domains affected are less obvious. A meta analysis carried out by Demetriou et al (2018), found that autistic individuals performed worse when EF skills are tested compared to neurotypical controls. Despite this, particular domains of deficit were not identified, moreover, moderate differences were highlighted in all the EF sub domains utilised; fluency, concept formation, planning, mental flexibility, response inhibition and working memory. This is congruent with the current broad idea that autistic individuals have a global impairment of executive functioning due to either an under or over connectivity between brain networks as opposed to distinct anatomical deficits.

The bottom line is, autistic people have an array of problems with executive functioning, most probably because our brains are wired differently. As a mind break, here’s a nice colour piccie to recap what makes up executive functioning, just in case your brain is about to explode.

From a personal perspective, executive dysfunction is probably my most prevalent dilemma I deal with on a daily basis, due to my weirdly connected brain. I have, however, over the years developed varying ways of combating this (some better than others), enabling me to function relatively well in the world. Current literature also confirms that the differential in EF performance between those who are autistic and neurotypicals decreases with age. These changes are largely thought to be connected to two things; mental maturity developing naturally as we age and an increased use of compensatory mechanisms that have been honed over the years. Despite all this, in my experience these strategies are still tiring, plus not always reliable, thus requiring constant modifications and tweaks.

It is noticeable that my executive functioning often deteriorates when I need it the most, when there is pressure to perform. As a Registered Nurse, this is primarily a result of the amount of tasks or information that is held in your head, plus the time-frame required for these tasks to be completed. Without doubt, this can be demanding for the vast majority of people at the best of times, but if you have executive functioning problems, it can be truly arduous to say the least. Due to the nature of the work, I quickly had to find systems that worked for me, usually involving lots of writing and re-writing of plans. Although this significantly adds to my workload, these strategies ensure that I am the safest most competent nurse I can possibly be. As a positive, because I can’t rely on my executive functioning skills, I am forced to reflect, evaluate and update any processes regularly. Which of course, is not a bad habit to get in to.

This conscious planning, encompassing writing lists in notebooks, on the phone or on whiteboards isn’t exclusive to nursing or even work for that matter, it’s been a recurring theme throughout my life. I have notebooks for my notebooks, lists for my lists and a whiteboard in my office, all in an effort to maintain a reasonably organised life. Keeping work on track is relatively easy in a way, because it’s contained within certain hours, a geographical location and a discrete role. The rest of my life, however, often feels utterly chaotic. Anything added to my daily routine that is out of ordinary has a pretty good chance of being initially forgotten. Luckily my wife is often on hand to gently remind me what needs to be done, such as taking a mask with me every time I go out during these times of COVID.

University or college courses have always proved to be difficult periods and leave me prone to executive malfunctions. Broadly speaking the purely academic aspects of studying have rarely been an issue, but remembering deadlines, equipment for labs or exam dates have caused major problems in the past. In fact during my last degree (nursing), my good friend Fern practically became by personal assistant, reminding me about exam dates, assignment deadlines, what I needed to bring or do for certain lectures or activities and even suggestions about when to start studying. We actually joked about her impromptu, unofficial administrative role, but without her help, the course would have been infinitely more challenging for me.

If I actually got to the exam on the right day, or handed my assignment in correctly, that for me was often the hard bit done. There was, however, one occasion when I didn’t realise I had an exam until an hour before, luckily, I still managed to pass, albeit with a poorer grade. Below is a list of similar dilemmas that may plague others with executive functioning issues. See how many you can recognise.

Roughly, only 20% of people in the English speaking world that reside within the autistic community have full time employment. Among a myriad of other reasons, I suspect that problems with executive functioning is a significant barrier to obtaining and maintaining a full time job. Furthermore, many autistic people have fairly stripped down lives, such as; having no partner or kids, not driving, having few friends and an adhesion to fairly rigid routines. Of course, not all of this will be in response to diminished EF skills, but from my own experience, I know it certainly doesn’t help when life is complicated. The world suddenly becomes messy, confusing and tough to organise without these innate skills to draw upon.

Coordinating varying components of life can be exceptionally exhausting and things often feel out of control. So, with this in mind, if you are autistic, please don’t be so hard on yourself, consider the perpetual pursuit for an organised life as a journey and not a destination. It’s important you find your own distinct way to navigate the murky waters of executive dysfunction towards a more peaceful you. As always, I hope touching on this subject may help in some small way, for both autistic and non-autistic people alike.

No answer: Why many autistic people hate phone conversations.

This is a short but apt article, especially as I lost my phone earlier this week, focusing on the recurring theme of autistic adults and their hatred of phone conversations. Of course, I could have written about my less than optimal “executive functioning” abilities leading to the loss of the aforementioned communication device, but I’ll leave that for another day. In a study by Sedgewick and Howard 2021, the general consensus was that among our community the phone was considered ‘evil’. Regardless of whether we are phoning out or receiving a call, the phone is commonly thought of by autistic people as a terrible way to communicate.

So why is it, that this symbol of modern communication is so despised by us? One word that seems to appear consistently around the idea of phone calls is anxiety. Participants in this paper stated difficulties with deciphering social context, finding it challenging to interpret the caller’s tone or intonation. From personal experience this is hard enough when someone is standing in front of me, let alone when I am speaking on the phone. Without facial expressions or body language to give me a fighting chance, often I am left guessing with regards to any nuance that may be hidden beyond the actual words.

Furthermore, many of us like to incorporate routines and some predictability into our lives, so receiving a phone call, especially whilst in the midst of concentrating on something else can be particularly unnerving. There is of course a major drawback to this phone allergy, that being, the vast majority of jobs include telephone calls at some time or another. It’s difficult, if not impossible to escape (not through a lack of trying on my part) that at some point you will have to talk on the phone. For me, receiving phone calls is on the whole worse than making them. Surprises that start with an annoying ringtone, followed by someone blathering on, while I attempt to understand what they are trying to convey, at the same time placing it into some form of social context is not my favourite way to spend the day.

At least if I am going to make a phone call, I can rehearse what I want to say and pace it accordingly. Often, I will even use a script to keep me on track, however, this can fall over into a big snotty heap if the person decides to veer off piste, or asks questions I hadn’t prepared for. Regularly, this results in a period of elongated silence, followed by querying what they just said, in order to buy myself sometime to figure out what they are actually talking about. What is also mildly to moderately irritating is when somebody else answers the phone, then says “oh it’s for you”, without any warning, preparation or even a clue as to who it is. This mainly occurs at work, so in fairness, it wouldn’t be hugely professional for me to hang up on them, as tempting as this option may appear.

So what form of communication do autistic people actually prefer, I hear you ask. Well according to several studies, it turns out we like the written form, texts, emails, snail mail, online messaging, it really doesn’t matter, as long it’s not the damn phone. There are several explanations thought to be behind this, one of which is thinking time. On the whole autistic people are planners, we like to gather and organise our thoughts for maximum clarity and effect. The written form is inherently slower, providing time for us to process the information and present an appropriate response thus reducing the possibility of anxiety or simply being misunderstood.

Another reason to gravitate to this mode of communication is structure, using the written word, autistics are given time to research or to find the optimal response, which may even extend to ‘borrowing’ phrases. This is something I have definitely done over the years, frequently stealing phrases from people who I considered role models, even from the TV or books. I’ve utilised this for both face to face communication and during times on the phone. Over the years, I’ve collected phrases that seem to have had the best effect (by others). All the while, intently observing and studying social interactions, in order to pass as a neurotypical These are what I call my ‘presets’, but over a period of time (50 years) they are now more ingrained, fluid and practiced, therefore, fooling many people I meet into thinking I’m not weirdo. This can be used as an example of camouflaging, deployed in an effort to fit in with society, but alas, it comes at a cost to ones mental health.

A further issue common with autistic folk is a multitude of sensory issues associated with conversing with another on the phone. Many of us will have problems blocking out background noise, making it increasingly difficult to figure out what is being uttered, exacerbating any existing anxiety. Beyond auditory issues, from personal experience I can be distracted by just about anything, but generally it manifests visually. However, a combination of sounds, movements and even temperature can easily overwhelm my senses, making it difficult to focus on the conservation, resulting in asking the caller to repeat the sentence. One further issue that applies more so on the phone, is knowing when to speak. It would seem that I spend most conversations speaking over someone, as I fail to work out when it is my turn to talk.

So, how do we get around this aversion to phones for many autistic adults. Well, personally I would prefer it if people didn’t phone me at all. Maybe, leave an answer phone message, or a text, possibly an email, how about write me a letter that I’ll receive in a decade or so, or scribe to me on an ornate scroll with your finest quill. Whatever method you choose, just please please please don’t use the bloody phone.

I’d be interested to know what methods of communication any autistic folk out there love and hate, in the comments. Does the current research regarding phone calls fit with your experiences, or do you love a good chin wag on the “dog and bone”. Anyway thanks for reading everyone.

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