I am extremely self-aware. Most of the time, too self-aware. And I’m learning that neurodivergents in general tend to fall on the edges of the spectrum when it comes to self-awareness. We’re often either extremely self-aware or we lack a sense of self-awareness entirely.
For me, being hyper self-aware has led some individuals to praise me for being intuitive. Whereas others scold me for being “paranoid.”
What does being extremely self-aware look like for me?
I notice every. little. thing. going on inside me: I catch health concerns so early that my doctor often doesn’t know what to make of it at first. Take for instance my alopecia that took 1 year to diagnose because I caught it so early my doctor couldn’t initially detect it.
I deeply understand how my mind works: Therapists have told me time and again that “I’m already doing everything I can” or that “I seem to already have all the answers.” However, my RSD feeds into my overt self-awareness by making me overthink my self-aware thoughts. So even though others may tell me “I already have all the answers,” it’s extremely difficult for me to come to this conclusion on my own.
I have also lived most of my life being haunted by the feeling that there was a piece of information I was missing about myself… my AuDHD diagnosis. My self-awareness knew for many years that I was neurodivergent, but had no name for what I was experiencing. When I asked for help, I was told I would “outgrow it.”
Having an extreme sense of self-awareness often makes it difficult for me to find the help I need because I typically identify problems that are too unique to easily solve.
Fortunately, I inherited a love of gathering data from my dad and I truly enjoy learning. I’m genuinely curious about my “true self.” I want so badly to understand her and how my brain works, so I can help her shine. I know that this process of understanding is a life-long journey…for all of us, and I am down for the ride!
There’s a quote from David Bowie that describes this concept perfectly, “Ageing is an extraordinary process whereby you become the person you always should have been.” I’ve always felt myself to be in the constant pursuit of uncovering who I truly am, and finally being able to comfortably be my most authentic self.
So yes, when I seek help for problems my self-awareness uncovers the answers I find often aren’t enough. It’s a frustrating and discouraging experience to search and search for the end to a problem, only to find that no one has really found an answer to my question.
Per usual the game of life is on “hard mode” for me and other neurodivergents.
All that being said – even though my hyper self-awareness often creates problems by overloading my brain with concerns, I do greatly appreciate it in other ways. I like that I understand myself more deeply than other people my age typically do. I suspect this is why some of us are perceived as “old souls.” It makes me feel like for all the difficulties my AuDHD might cause me, at least I have a deep relationship with myself.
In 2022, I began the arduous process of changing careers. Why? Because I was burnt out. The field I was working in (Graphic Design) ended up being highly competitive and ultimately not my true skill set.
For years, I had been working so incredibly hard just to find a shred of work, that I lost almost all my desire to work on personal creative projects in my freetime. I hope someday I’ll enjoy photography and illustration again… but for the moment, I’ll let those interests take a breather.
Recently, I discovered my burn out goes even deeper than “traditional” burn out. I’m also dealing with neurodivergent burnout.
Though, I find my neurodivergent burnout interacting with both my Autism + ADHD, I’m going to primarily talk about Autistic burnout today since there is more information available about it.
What does Autistic burnout look like for me?
I’m SO tired all the time… even though I get a solid 8 hours of sleep most days.
My anxiety is a constant companion and sometimes I don’t even know why I’m anxious.
It’s difficult for me to complete even the simplest task because it takes steps to complete, and those steps require too much brain power when my brain feels fried.
The wall in my mind is even more solid than normal and it is especially difficult for me to access information. So I find myself stumbling over my words more frequently.
I have a much lower tolerance for socializing. My partner now assumes that I will be too socially exhausted to play videogames with our friends on the weekend. Virtual socializing has always been especially taxing for me because it’s extra challenging to read social cues over just video or audio.
I’m experiencing an increase in selective mutism. I normally experience some selective mutism when I first wake up in the morning or when I don’t know how to navigate a social situation. Since regular burnout often results in a shorter temper, my selective mutism is activated more frequently.
I’m so overwhelmed that it’s extra hard for me to remember what I need to remember. I find myself making sloppy mistakes as a result.
Oh my goodness, I’ve never been so clumsy in my life! I think I’ve burned myself on the stove more times in the last few months than I have in my entire life.
I’ve been researching and researching what to do to help both of the types of burnout I’m experiencing. But being the self-aware superstar that I am, I’ve already been doing most of the recommended treatments.
You’d think this would make me feel good. But I’m left with the question, “Well, what do I do now”? The burnout is still here, alive and well.
Here are a few things I’mtrying:
I’m socializing exclusively with friends and family who encourage me and who I can be less masked around.
I’m seeking comforting activities that give a more immediate reward like: watching old tv shows / movies, taking a bath, playing (relaxing) video games.
I’m seeking mental health support.
I’m temporarily reducing social activities and other more stressful tasks from my to-do list.
I’m taking more frequent breaks during the day.
I’m exercising more! Gotta get those happy brain juices flowing.
I’m taking a shower before bed to relax better.
I’m sleeping with a fan, use noise canceling headphones, wear loop ear plugs, and wear sunglasses more often to eliminate sensory issues.
I’m building tools to address and prevent future burnout. Problem solving always helps my brain feel better!
The best advice though? Know your personal symptoms of burnout and take preventative measures… before you actually get burnt out.
I now work as a Copywriter where my natural talents are being put to use. I realized the importance of pursuing a career that uses your innate strengths versus a career you are simply passionate about. I know I made the right choice because now my work excites me, completing my work is easy, and I leave work to happily write in my personal time.
Today’s post is a little different. The following is a much overdue love letter to my special interest fashion.
I once bonded with a complete stranger over the color pink.
Now, if you think I love the color pink, you would be mistaken. During childhood, pink was a color I vehemently avoided because it was so girly, so basic, so cliché. However, in adulthood I began using the color pink to challenge myself. It became a way to push the boundaries of my comfort level with fashion. I bought pink clothing, despite my dislike of the color, as a way to force myself to try something new, and somehow make it work.
With all of my shortcomings socially and in my career, I at least could conquer the color pink.
It became a tool to expand my fashion skills and build my confidence in a world that constantly overlooked me. Today, I not only buy pink clothing, I buy other things that are pink. For instance, I have a pink bike (her name is Princess Bubblegum). Pink has become a reminder that I have the power to learn and grow, while simultaneously connecting me with my inner-child who maybe wanted to like pink but didn’t know how to.
In this way, fashion has been a deep interest of mine since childhood, but it didn’t truly make itself known until my freshmen year of college.
In the beginning, fashion was about “fitting in”, as it is for most kids, neurodivergent or not. But for me, my inability to access the trendy clothes that my wealthy private school classmates wore made my neurodivergent traits feel more obvious and exposed.
I remember the day I got my first pair of jeans. I was about 10 and visiting an open air mall with my family in Corte Madera, CA (a suburb of San Francisco). The jeans were slightly flared and an unnatural shade of blue because of a shimmery thread woven into the denim fabric.
Wearing those jeans was the first time I had ever truly felt “cool”. And in feeling cool, I finally felt safe. Safe from the judgment of my peers.
Also around age 10, I had a brief but prolific period where I drew pages upon pages of dresses and shoes. Not people, just dresses, and just shoes. I then concluded I would be a fashion designer “when I grew up”.
But my mom reminded me that being an apparel designer would involve learning how to sew… and I quickly lost interest. Sewing then and now has never been able to hold my attention.
Middle school and highschool saw me continuing to be a “follower” of fashion. But I always had an inkling that fashion could be something more for me. Unfortunately, I was too afraid to engage with that thought.
Then I moved to the middle of nowhere Missouri (for college) and I suddenly wasn’t afraid anymore. Why? A perfect storm of circumstances:
I was a “big city girl” in a town of just 8,000 residents and 500 students.
I found myself at an ALL GIRLS school, or in other words, there were no more scary boys around.
I almost instantly bonded with one of my roommates over fashion and we quickly became best friends.
My new best friend and I discovered and located an infamous thrift store where clothes only cost 25 cents.
Honestly, I’m not sure if my deep interest in fashion would have survived and blossomed like it did without my best friend. So thank you, Anna Lee!
I still dream about that 25 cent thrift store! It was nothing glamorous. Just a small single-story building with dingy white walled rooms filled with piles and piles of clothes. And yes, the clothes were indeed only 25 cents. But you certainly had to do a lot of digging to find anything!
We enjoyed the treasure hunt. It was an experience I imagine is akin to digging through the Goodwill bins (something I still have never done).
With clothing costing only 25 cents, I was able to explore my interest in fashion with freedom I had never experienced before (or even imagined possible). I could try all sorts of different clothing and if it didn’t work out, it only cost me 25 cents to try.
Anna Lee and I soon became known as the fashionistas on our small college campus. We did fashion photoshoot after photoshoot to occupy our free time. I poured over fashion magazines looking for inspiration. I was even elected to lead and organize a huge campus wide clothing swap my sophomore year.
I found fashion finally giving me what I had hoped it would for so many years. It had given me confidence.
Fashion quickly became one of my most valuable and beloved tools for my AuDHD.
How did it become a tool for me? Fashion became part of my mask.
Though masking is largely a bad thing, fashion is a part of my mask that I actually…enjoy! It’s part of my mask that is somehow authentically me. But masking is by nature unauthentic, right? True. So in identifying fashion as a piece of my mask, I have simultaneously identified something new about masking that we don’t yet completely understand or have the terminology for.
How does my fashion mask work? I create outfits that convey how I feel on the inside. These outfits make the confidence, the personality, the strength that is often not immediately apparent to others, visible on the outside.
If RSD is the evil sidekick that obnoxiously tags along, fashion is the trusty companion that leads me fearlessly through my day and lovingly promises to keep me safe at all costs.
Here’s what my fashion mask does for me:
It quietly and safely expresses (in a visual way) to others my true AuDHD self.
It acts as my metaphorical armor: when I look good, I feel good. When I feel good I can more comfortably take on whatever comes my way. If I wake up in a bad mood one morning, I make an effort to put on a nice outfit to lift my spirit.
It allows me to express my creativity with minimal effort and reminds me that I am indeed skilled, on those days when I feel like a useless blob that no one likes.
It gives me a default talking point. If anything I can compliment your outfit and connect with you through fashion. This is my go-to conversation opener with strangers (hence my conversation about the color pink).
After Missouri, I returned to Portland and fed my deep interest in fashion by taking fashion history classes at design school. I later became an assistant producer of a seasonal fashion show at the MAC which I helped produce for many years. I also trained and worked as a fashion stylist for a brief but memorable stint in 2017.
Today, I follow a lot of fashion influencers on Instagram, listen to podcasts about fashion history, check out fashion related museum exhibits, and curate a closet full of unique clothing.
There has always been a wall in my mind. A mental wall of solid brick that flies up at the slightest sign of emotional discomfort.
This wall conceals from me the library of information I have accumulated in my 32 years. It tucks away recent and long ago memories. It hides from me what makes me interesting.
When this happens, my thoughts are abruptly shoved into the corner, and I’m left helplessly stuck in the present moment. My social anxiety rises. I try to push the wall open but it slides just out of reach.
It is always just out of reach.
What happens when someone asks me a question or tries to carry on a conversation? I’m often left banging on the wall, begging it to give me the information I so desperately need. I am left unable to effectively communicate with others. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned how to remain calm when the wall goes up because I’ve come to expect its presence.
The wall delays my ability to answer a question fully. I described it to a friend as me “needing to submit an information request”. The information is not currently available to me. It is somewhere tucked away in the vast network of my mind. But once the information request has been submitted, the paperwork approved and filed, the information will arrive. But it will likely be a long time after the question has been posed before this information arrives. So my answer to your question might be a bit late.
It’s like neurotypical minds can send information via text, and I’m stuck with snail mail.
So what’s going on here? A lot of social anxiety, a touch of executive dysfunction, and a good amount of “I don’t know”. As with other neurodivergent traits, there are unfortunately still a lot of question marks when it comes to understanding how our brains work differently.
Social anxiety throws up the wall as a sort of protective mechanism. Whereas, executive dysfunction makes it challenging for me organize my thoughts and recall information. ADHD is notorious for making you forgetful, and when you add social anxiety into the mix, you can also have difficulty forming lasting memories. Your mind ends up being too occupied with safely navigating the social cues of the present moment.
How do I try to get around having poor memory and a wall in my mind?
You might practice an important presentation you’re giving at work. Well, I practice basic conversations I plan to have. The more I practice, the more that information stays on my side of “the wall”.
I rely heavily on taking photos to fill in the holes of my poor memory. “
I keep a lot of different task-lists on my phone that I “brain dump” into, so as to not forget things I plan to do later and to help me better organize my thoughts.
All that being said, my ability to memorize (especially directions to destinations) is above average. I often only need to travel somewhere once before I have memorized how to get back there the next time. I can also memorize series of numbers and other random strings of information much more easily than I can form actual memories.
What I’d like you to take away from this is be mindful that you don’t confuse my silence for shyness. I often don’t have access to the things I’d like to tell you. Asking me questions can help me know what specific information to request access to. Also, if you share photos you’ve taken of me or of an adventure we’ve gone on together, I will love you forever. My poor memory is a great sense of anxiety for me and sharing photos helps me form lasting memories!
You know when someone says something mean or otherwise reacts negatively to you, it doesn’t feel good? Well, when you have RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria) your brain sees negative social interactions everywhere.
RSD is a common condition that tags along with ADHD like a clingy toxic sidekick. In fact, I’ve read that anywhere from 90-99% of those with ADHD experience RSD. Now, I’m not sure what the exact number is, but we can assume it’s a lot of people!
For me, RSD is without a doubt the primary way I experience ADHD. It is such a prominent part of my day to day that it is the lens through which I interpret all social interactions. As a result, I don’t know who I am without RSD. That being said, unlike other aspects of my ADHD and Autism that I consider a gift, RSD is something that I want to get as far away from as quickly as possible!
Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria is described as being like the rejection neurotypicals feel after a negative social interaction… but on STEROIDS. It is said to be a “physically painful emotional experience”. RSD takes the anger, embarrassment, frustration, and sadness of a negative social interaction to another level. When you have RSD you might also perceive positive and neutral social interactions as negative. You might dwell on a particular social interaction for days… or even weeks!
This is my experience with RSD. It whispers cruel things in my ear that I can’t help but listen to, and in listening I create a wound that begins to fester. I scratch at the wound day after day and the pain continues.
How exactly do I experience Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria?
I am a people pleaser. I will bend over backwards to ensure that you have zero reason to dislike me because 97% of the time I can’t tell if you truly do or not.
It is extremely difficult to stand up for myself, express opposite opinions / preferences / interests, set boundaries, and make decisions that affect others because it feels like I’m sabotaging myself. It feels like I’m inviting someone to dislike me.
I avoid strangers and other social interactions with new people because it is especially challenging for me to read social cues when I’m unfamiliar with someone.
I go over and over the same social interaction in my head, picking it apart and berating myself for it not having been “perfect”.
If I engage with my RSD thoughts, they’ll lead to a panic attack of confusion where I conclude that I’ll always be second best and nobody’s true “favorite”.
I try to stim away an RSD thought before it can gain traction. I’ll make a sound, say a word, or make a sudden movement to distract my brain.
I get quietly enraged if someone accuses me of not giving them my best effort because I genuinely do, in order to avoid feelings of RSD. If I truly haven’t given you my best effort, it is because I trust you as someone who genuinely loves me and understands my needs.
So as you can see, RSD is a force to reckon with. It plays games with one’s mind.
How can you help me prevent my RSD from surfacing?
Over explain yourself, your behaviors, and what emotional state you are in. For instance if you receive a text from me and can’t respond immediately, let me know why. Also, whenever possible respond to a text with words (versus an emoji) so I get as much context as possible.
If I let you know (or you see that) I’m experiencing an RSD moment, acknowledge it, and quickly help distract me away from it. Distraction has proven to be the most powerful tool for me when it comes to fighting RSD.
Help me talk to strangers and make an indisputably positive first impression.
Help me stand up for myself! Remind me that you support me in setting boundaries and saying “no”. It makes me feel so loved when my friends do this for me.
It is frightening that Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria is so wrapped up in my true personality. As I’ve said previously, it has been confusing trying to disentangle myself from what is neurodivergent behavior and what is me, Kaïa. It’s certainly a challenge. But with a little more emotional transparency and extra love from you, I can get there.
I started to write a completely different blog post than this one… But I quickly realized that a solid understanding of “masking” was needed to understand the content.
So let’s take a step back, and define masking.
What is masking? It’s a number of different behaviors that (for lack of better terminology) “higher-functioning” people with Autism or ADHD do to blend in and appear “normal”. Masking is metaphorically speaking when those with Autism or ADHD wear a mask over their neurodivergent behaviors. They cover up their true personality to conform to what society expects from them.
I’ve been told that I am an expert masker. How do I mask? I force myself to make eye contact, I laugh often to cover my social anxiety, I mimic emotions, and I nod incessantly to show I’m listening.
These are just a few pieces of my mask that I’ve identified. Some of these behaviors are difficult for me to perform, while others (like the nodding) simply annoy me.
I’m still disentangling myself from my mask and determining what is “Kaïa” and what is my mask. I’ve been unknowingly masking for so long that I cannot easily flip a switch and turn off my mask. So the process of unmasking is confusing, difficult, and quite honestly an uncomfortable experience.
Why is it unpleasant to remove my mask? My mask makes me feel safe.
But masking is a double edged sword. Not to mention that masking shouldn’t even be necessary. And for something unnecessary, masking takes a surprising amount of effort. In fact, the energy vacuum created by my own masking is in part what led to my diagnosis. So thank you, I guess?
For months, I found myself stuck on the couch on my days off from work. Sometimes I would be trapped there for a solid 2 hours. Those of you who know me well, know that I am a driven individual who likes to always be busy. But as much as I mentally wanted to go get my to-do list done on those couch days, and otherwise enjoy my weekend, I physically could not get my legs to move. It was extremely frustrating because I felt like I was wasting my time. I felt like I was no longer in control of my own body…
I’ve since learned that a large part of why I found myself perpetually imprisoned by my couch was because I had used up too much of my finite energy masking. In fact, I had used up SO much energy that I had used more energy than I literally had available. Sure, I went to sleep every night for a healthy 8 hours. But it wasn’t enough because I had reached outside of my energy bank to steal energy from the future.
As I continue to peel back and remove my mask, I still find myself stuck on the couch some days. But I don’t get stuck there for as long as I used to. And I find great comfort in knowing why I’m stuck there, and that I am learning how to get “unstuck”.
So when you see me next, if you notice I am behaving a little differently, maybe I’m acting a little more “awkward”, you shouldn’t be concerned. You certainly shouldn’t judge me for it. Instead, you should feel honored.
If I let part of my mask slip away in front of you, I’ve done so intentionally, and it is truly the highest compliment I can give you. It means I feel loved by you, that I see you as someone I can trust to keep me safe, and that you are someone who will make me feel comfortable as my true AuDHD self.
But besides social anxiety being my strongest Autistic trait, parties are otherwise chock full of triggers for me.
Work parties, holiday parties, birthday parties, showers, weddings, you name it, if there are strangers present, I’m already uncomfortable… I nearly have a panic attack when I just need to ask a grocery store clerk “what aisle are bread crumbs in?”.
I recently recognized that when I attend a party, I turn into “self-absorbed Kaïa”. I find myself thinking how much “cooler” I am than those around me, and then instantly feel like a terrible person for having had this thought. I give off a “holier than thou” attitude and remain aloof from those I don’t know. I become distant and short tempered with my friends because ultimately I’m just SO stressed out. I turn into someone I don’t recognize, someone I don’t like.
I now understand that this is me mimicking “confident behavior” as I’ve seen in TV shows and movies. As someone with Autism, I lack the understanding of how to actually be confident. So I do the only thing I can think of, I become an actress. Somewhere along the way my subconscious identified this “self-aborbed Kaïa” to be a believable expression of confidence.
As much as I can separate myself from this behavior and tell you that I know there are much better (and kinder) ways to convey confidence, I could not tell you what that behavior looks like.
So by default, I continue to display the only “confident” behavior I can muster. This behavior serves as my armor to mask my fear of interacting with unfamiliar people.
Additionally, there are other triggers at parties for me. Here is a list of what I deal with:
Sensory issues: Loud or sudden sounds, people standing or sitting too close to me, bright lights, etc, are all too much for me. Normally, these things aren’t a big discomfort. But when you pair these sensory sensitivities with social anxiety, it adds up quickly.
Not knowing what to expect. Those of us with Autism often need to plan out our day so as to mentally prepare ourselves for what’s to come. But how do you prepare yourself for a party full of unknown events, spaces, foods, sounds, and people?
I have difficulty recalling information. Besides social anxiety, recalling information is one of my biggest Autistic struggles. People who know me may describe me as quiet. As evidenced by this blog, the truth is if I could only remember what I wanted to tell you, I would have so much to say! I can often get around this fairly well by practicing conversations I plan to have. But this is difficult when I’m going to a party and have no idea who I’ll meet, or what they’ll be interested in talking about.
Not being able to “stim” to release anxiety. I’ve only recently started flapping my hands when I’m upset or excited. I do find that it lets me release built up energy, and helps me feel better. But I don’t feel comfortable flapping my hands in front of anyone… Let alone a room full of people I don’t know. Fortunately, I do have some verbal stims, and with the pandemic, I can easily conceal those under a mask.
My ADHD makes me fidgety. Before I got my ADHD diagnosis, I could never understand how people could sit still for 30 minutes, let alone an hour or more. I am constantly playing with my hair, touching my face, scratching an imaginary itch, drinking a nearby beverage, or changing how I’m sitting. I’ll do anything just to be able to move! Not being able to move as much as I need to causes a build up of anxiety and frustration. I’m currently looking for things I can carry with me at all times and fidget with when needed.
Because I’m Autistic, I have a sensitive nervous system. A more unique sensory issue I deal with is chronic pain. Long story short, my doctor could never figure out why my back always hurt so much. After my Autism diagnosis, I had my answer. At parties it’s often hard for me to find a chair that doesn’t stab me in the back, or a couch that gives me enough back support. I’m often left pushing through a wall of pain on top of having to try to act like a normal functioning human.
How can you make parties suck a little less for me?
Let me invite a friend who can be my “wing person”. This friend can open conversations for me, and provide me with other tools I need to feel more comfortable.
If you or someone at the party has a pet, bring me immediately to this pet. Animals are such a great comfort to me, and will instantly make me feel better.
If possible, help me find a less crowded, quieter space at the party to hang out in.
Help include me in conversations by asking me questions. Asking me questions will give me a designated chance to speak, and will also give me an idea of what to talk about.
Help me get food. When I am at big social event like this, I often enter a “fight or flight” state. In this state, food becomes a luxury, it becomes irrelevant. It feels like a monstrous task to locate the food, find allergy friendly options (I have food allergies), choose which foods I want, put them on a plate, and eat them without feeling like everyone is staring at me.
Stop asking me to sing or dance in public. I know my friends find this fear of mine irrational and amusing. They think if they just push me a little further, I’ll sing or dance, and see how fun it is. What they don’t realize is the unbridled terror that this request brings me. I hope my friends will soon recognize how cruel it actually is to ask me to do this. Just because I don’t dance or sing in public, doesn’t mean I have an inability to have fun. In fact, I enjoy singing and dancing… by myself.
Don’t expect me to stay long at the party. It takes a lot of energy and often literal pain for me to attend your party.
