Doubtless anyone who, as a child, was labelled “mature and sensible” by teachers, relatives and family friends will recognize that they were destined for a childhood full of compliance, second-guessing and feeling responsible for adults’ moods. This inner-child death knell must have been intended as a compliment by most of those adults, I am sure. I like to think that very few people would be cruel enough to deliver that assessment if they knew the damage it could visit upon an impressionable mind.
Some children will, of course, realize early on that they are not to blame for the behaviour of adults. They see the unfairness, and refuse to stifle their authenticity. It’s not that they won’t play the game: they will put on a compliant front, only to do what comes naturally to a child when the adults’ backs are turned. If caught, they might face abuse and disproportionate punishment for transgressions. Some turn out all right, probably because they’re cunning enough to be naughty boys or girls when they’re out of sight and earshot of their parents, or their parents are too wrapped up in their own everyday drudgery to expend any energy chastising them. There may also be parents who learn and grow with their children, recognizing the battles that are worth fighting and the situations that need not even become a diplomatic crisis. These children, I assume, become adults who are well-adjusted. They have boundaries, they know their inherent self-worth, and they will not tolerate abuse from authority figures.
Other children carry on believing they are the cause of adults’ reactions. The authority figure will be happy if the child does A, B or C or furious if the child does X, Y or Z. This belief hangs on throughout adolescence and continues into adulthood. They operate according to a belief that they must do everything just right, so as not to make authority figures upset. Their behaviour must fit a predetermined set of criteria, and if one criterion is not met, the result is a darkening of the mood of anyone who is in the position of teaching, looking after, or managing them. If such an event occurs, the person remembers, and makes sure that they pre-emptively remedy the situation next time they interact with the person who wields the power. This kind of person is, I think, known as a “people-pleaser”.
I am – or rather, I was until recently – in the latter of these two categories of person (categories that I realize are by no means representative of all people, and are perhaps rather simplistic). It strikes me as ironic that it is the former category of person that would be deemed “immature”, when that person is actually mature, self-determining and authentic. The latter category, the people-pleaser, would likely be considered “mature”, when all they are doing, really, is complying with what adults demand of them, and never developing their sense of self. They have given practically all their power away – in fact, they haven’t necessarily done that, because how can someone give away that which they don’t realize exists?
The reasons for carrying on down this dreary pathway are probably innumerable, but in my case, I have no doubt that it is because I am autistic that I operated like this for four decades. I just wanted to be left alone to exist, and I suppose that I believed if I did everything the “right” way, I would be granted permission to be myself.
It is obvious that, rather than being sensible and mature, I am in fact a rather silly late developer, because it is only since I realized I’m autistic, back in September, that I have completely dispensed with the notion of people-pleasing. Having dropped the mask, my inner child is coming through, and it hasn’t come out to play since about 1984, so it has a lot of catching up to do. Sometimes, it comes out in a rather wacky way, when I get overburdened with tasks, and I will want to practise my impressions of Michael Caine, Ali G and Alan Partridge, or invent rhyming slang and try to use it in conversations alongside Partridge and Brent references. Other times, it manifests itself as a crusader for justice, who cannot bear to see people treated with a lack of dignity and respect.
My true self has, at last, made itself known in all its autistic glory, and it cannot squeeze itself back into the vault constructed by a neurotypical-centric society. This true self tried to break free several times over the past few years, but somehow, it stayed underneath the surface, held in place by a gossamer mask. I don’t know what happened to change things a few months after I turned 41 – maybe one meltdown or burnout too many – but I’m glad that it did, because realizing I’m autistic has given voice to my authentic self. I’m reminded of something my brilliant therapist said to me a few weeks ago: words to the effect of “a breakdown can be a breakthrough”. That’s exactly how it feels.
Slowly, I am learning to live authentically. I’m constantly striving to remain mindful that my existence is valid, and that if someone treats me with disrespect or reacts in an abusive way to me, it is because they have a problem – it isn’t my problem. I pay attention to what I feel is the “right” thing to do, and now, this is defined not as what a bunch of middle-aged people in the professional classes might think, but instead, as what is ethical and causes the least possible amount of harm.
This is a rather dangerous way to operate, because we are not supposed to do that, are we? We’re supposed to treat others according to the level of power they hold, whether that’s in terms of the amount of money they earn, their job title, their social class, or their capacity for violence. That’s why, in our society, people snub cleaners and porters and fawn over bankers and tycoons; why they respect (or, more accurately, fear) the violent and see decency as weakness. This is worsening all the time in society, as we creep ever more rapidly towards fascism. People have internalized this compliance to the point at which they think they are expecting too much when they dare to think about getting paid fairly for their work so that they can live in adequate housing and not starve. (Curiously, some will not comply with sensible measures to mitigate the severity of a pandemic. Perhaps that is because those over whom they fawn are disdainful of such measures, shunning expert advice.)
It is now impossible for me to go back to being my non-authentic, compliant, people-pleasing old self. I realize the privileged position that I am in to be able to say that – to be able to unmask. Because I am white, male, straight and cisgender, I do not have to face racism, sexism, homophobia or transphobia. I can show my authentic self, because I can fit into neurotypical society as a direct result of the characteristics I have. I want to use that privilege to advocate both for myself and for others who cannot do so.
And I think I have already made a start.