devon_price

Yes! One person that I profile near the end of the book radically changed her entire life to allow herself to unmask more fully -- she quit a stressful job in the legal profession, stopped wearing suits and getting expensive professional haircuts and manicures, moved to the countryside with her spouse and started living at a much slower pace, wearing messy buns and sweatpants and napping a ton.

She isn't Autistic. At all. But her stepdaughter is! In the pursuit of making a life that was more comfortable for her Autistic child, she found out that the life she had been leading was not authentic to who she really is and what she really values, either.

All the tools in the book are for *anyone* who wishes to stop faking who they are and begin living a more authentic life. And the profiles throughout the book are really just general human stories of people choosing to stop conforming and begin being who they really are. That's not an experience unique to Autistics.

I'm of the opinion that "rejection sensitivity dysphoria" as a distinct problem or symptom doesn't exist, and that instead what we call RSD is actually a blend of attachment distress, social anxiety, hypervigilance related to trauma, and rumination about social rejection that is all rooted in genuine life experiences.

There is no doubt that Autistics and ADHDers (as well as others) struggle with the fear of being abandoned, and we tend to read a lot of negative feedback into neutral responses and see rejection when it isn't there, but this happens because we've lead entire lives filled with subtle mockery, abandonment, and rejection for doing things "wrong" socially that we don't even understand or recognize as wrong. We fear rejection really acutely because we know our social position is extremely perilous, and we've been burned before. In high school, I lost a dear friend whom I'd known for years because (from my perspective) I'd made a single statement that I considered to be a neutral observation, but that she considered to be a rude insult. She wasn't even wrong to feel that way -- I didn't realize how my words were coming across. I'd probably unwittingly hurt her feelings many times, and had absolutely no idea.

My life is filled with stories like these, moments where I was rejected or turned away because I'd been doing things "wrong" for ages, but nobody had ever told me. How can you not fear rejection around ever corner when your life is like that!

A neurodivergent person whom I interviewed for my book was fired this week at their cushy tech industry job because they'd been too "negative" at work (all they had done was point out clear problems in the workplace's diversity and inclusion practices). People misread the tone of their emails -- the emails were "too long," which suggested hostility. This person is incredibly patient, thoughtful, and diplomatic. They'd carefully edited every email they ever sent to make it as softly worded as possible. Yet still they were rejected for telling the truth of their opinions, and for providing too much detail, which made the neurotypicals around them uncomfortable.

As your comment points out really well, there is no objective standard of how much reassurance seeking is "too much," how much insecurity is normal, and how independent a person is really "supposed" to be. What we typically label as a dysfunctional amount of reassurance seeking or insecurity is really just a quantity that sticks out in our really individualistic and ableist culture. It's actually fine and natural for us to be interdependent. Even neurotypicals find it much easier to look after other people than to look after themselves when they are alone.

We need one another, and when we are abandoned, it's a dire situation. Without enough social contact and emotional support, people's immune systems worsen, their heart health plummets, and their mortality rate skyrockets. So I really don't think it's unusual or a sign of mental illness to fear rejection as much as neurodivergent people commonly do. A behavior driven by rejection sensitivity can be intrusive or abusive potentially, and we can focus on problem behaviors that either hurt other people or are ineffective -- but there is nothing wrong with needing a lot of social contact and reassurance itself.

It *is* very insidious! I've had to get more comfortable with other people being uncomfortable. My masked self is this officious, chipper little people-pleaser who is hyper aware of everyone's reactions to me (and to other people), who wishes desperately to make sure everyone is accommodated and entertained -- except for himself. It's miserable and exhausting and sometimes my attempts at communicating the way I think people "want" me to are just annoying and overbearing, or overly conflict averse.

I've had to stop pressuring myself to be so pleasant and give myself permission to be disappointing to others. Often at work I am really a buzzkill to be around -- I don't bring the smiling, bright, compliant energy that is expected or that many of my colleagues feel they must project. I just say what I think, in as simple a way as possible, using a flat tone of voice and faking very few emotional expressions. It might make people feel sad to not get that fake sunniness beamed at them, but I really don't have the heart to do it anymore. Not after a lifetime of masking and years of a global mass death event. And ultimately, being a bit more flat affected frees up other people to show up more honestly too.

It's hard though. I'm very fortunate in that my job does not require the emotional labor of faking a bright personality the way food service, nursing, therapuetic work, and education often do. But we are in the midst of the great resignation and more and more workers are feeling free to bring a flat, so-done-with-this attitude to work and I encourage people to keep that going! Preserve your energy! Test the limits if you can. Give yourself permission to leave other people feeling awkward or underwhelmed. Their emotions are not something you are in control of or responsible for. Or you shouldn't be anyway.

Outside of work, the stakes are often lower and so there is even more room to play with disappointing people. Find safe friends to practice not making eye contact with. And really release the pressure you put on yourself when interacting with people you aren't invested in a relationship with -- like honestly, who cares if a total stranger at a party things you're weird for looking at their shoes while you talk. If they can't handle that they aren't gonna be a good friend to you anyway.

Professional diagnosis is highly overrated. It's expensive, it's rarely covered by insurance if you're an adult, and all the tests you'll be asked to undergo are based on how Autism looks in young white, cis male children. Adults who go to get assessed for Autism often get turned away for things as simple as wearing makeup, being polite, or being female (seriously). And even if you do get an assessment, it may take the form of being asked to explain the plot of a children's picture book, and other tasks designed for kids under five. the process is a joke, honestly.

For these and many other reasons, I and most of the Autistic self-advocacy community support self identification. If Autism is not a disorder to be cured, but rather a normal source of human diversity, why should it need to be diagnosed? We don't require people to be diagnosed as trans anymore to access trans healthcare, tho transness was also considered a mental disorder in the past. It's the same thing here. We are a diverse community that needs acceptance and support, not a disease to be identified medically.

All that said, in order to access legal protections under the Americans with Disabilities Act, you sadly do need a formal diagnosis! And even if you do get one, you might still be fired for asking for the accommodations you need, tho your employer will make up some other pretense for doing it. It's very difficult and expensive to pursue a disability discrimination case, so sadly many employers get away with very flagrant discrimination.

I wish I had better advice to offer. You will know the specifics of your situation and the vibe of the place where you are working best. You are correct to worry that asking for dimmer lights or more break time or whatever else you need might result in you getting treated poorly or being fired. Unfortunately, this happens pretty often. In the book I cite statistics on this -- the majority of Autistics who come out at work end up regretting it. The solutions we need are systemic: an end to at-will employment states (which make it possible for you to be fired for any reason at any time), expanded legal protection for disabled people that makes it easier to sue for discrimination, and far more social welfare benefits for disabled people, so we don't risk homelessness and starvation ever single day simply for being ourselves.

okay yes I gotta respond to this, thank you for bringing this up.

For many Autistic people, masking means learning to fake a bright professional neurotypical personality, but it also means becoming deeeeply inhibited. Don't bounce in place on your heels. Don't talk about your passions "too much." Don't hand flap. Don't be weird. Don't sing along to your favorite music.

As I grew from a quirky kid to a repressed adult, I became less joyous and expressive too. So much more filtered and inhibited, and out of touch with my own joy. So for many of us unmasking does also mean learning to experience joy more openly again -- and not feeling ashamed of our positive emotions and passions. One great place to do this is online, and another that i mention in the book is the power of nerdy conventions, conferences, meetups, etc where a lot of people are likely to be super Autistic and awkwardly, adorkably passionate.