From Brilliant to Mediocre

I used to be special. I used to be an interesting neurotypical and now I’m an everyday autistic.

I’m not original after all.

All those actions. All those ways of being that marked me as an oddity. All those things that both attracted and repelled people in equal measure. All those idiosyncrasies, all my inspiration, my individuality. All rooted in something so mundane as a social processing disorder.

I see the world differently. I prioritise different things. I revel in finding new viewpoints for old views. And it turns out that’s just another normal thing for us autistics.

I’ve spoken of the incredible feeling of finding your people. Of being a part of something when you thought you were alone. And that is a powerful and wonderful thing.

But damnit, I used to be cool! 

I used to be the life and soul with my hilarious rants about everything and anything.

Now I’m a normal Aspie-ranter. Just another one in a long line of eloquent and brilliant people who passionately engage with their subject matter.

But it’s nice to have the crazy bits explained. It’s nice to look back at all the moments when I knew I wasn’t reacting normally to everyday things, and to feel justified. It’s nice to know that so many of my techniques for avoiding meltdowns and shutdowns, are actually shared experience. They’re not so lonely anymore. They’re normal too. Even the destructive ones.

And it’s nice to know that I worked out my own way to minimise the destructive behaviours. It’s nice to know that I am that capable. That I moulded new actions from old ones, to build this person that I am. And that I’m not alone there either.

It’s sad to know that bad times could have been avoided or minimised. It’s sad to know I’m not alone there either. Not that I could have avoided certain life events, but that I could have accepted my reactions instead of minimising them and dealing with the consequences of that later. That I could have spotted the bad ‘uns more easily. That I could have learned that if actions don’t match words, it’s the words that are the lie.

So it’s not that I’m a brilliant neurotypical. My brain is designed to be like this. I used to be the creative one in the village, then I walked into this city of fellow creators, and suddenly I’m distinctly mediocre.

How very disappointing.

Just in case it needs saying for those of us who like things to be literal: I am in no way disappointed! I’m being satirical rather than hysterical. Don’t go worrying about me.

8 thoughts on “From Brilliant to Mediocre

  1. But you are brilliant, you are unique and extraordinart in good ways and in bad ways just like we all are when we allow ourselfs to be so. When we stop to be afraid that other people may think we are odd… I took a step in that direction on my blog today – I stopet being a faceless person on my own blog. Finally 😊

    Liked by 1 person

  2. While I found relief in being diagnosed, I never found “my tribe” among NT or ASD people. Maybe its my specific sensory triggers. Maybe it’s the normal IQ mixed with severe, life limiting symptoms. It’s a lonely road for me.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. My first instinct on reading this was to reassure, or try to help (I still want to do those things too, but actually, what I’m going to do instead is say that I hear you.

      There are few people in my day to day life who really get me. They’re all NT. It’s been online that I’ve found the tribe. It’s been good to actually have shared experience with people. I don’t think I’d ever had that before.

      Thank you for commenting. It’s good to hear all experience and I really appreciate it. I hope it gets less lonely for you. I really do.

      Liked by 1 person

    2. Lonely road here too. I still don’t seem to belong, anywhere. Not really. Still not. Been pondering that for more than a year now. Maybe it is the life limiting symptoms? I’ve often been thinking. Or maybe my situation in life. Or maybe it is the the huge gap between my wishing and yearning on one side, and my abilities (or lack thereof, rather) on the other. Or maybe the wrong age, different experiences, .. or just me being “wrong” as I’ve always been. Or maybe … I don’t know really. Online or offline, no tribe.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I wish I had the right words to respond. I want to say that you’re not alone, even in your feelings of aloneness. But then it feels like I’m ignoring what you’re saying and not listening to you.

        I don’t think we all need a tribe. I don’t think we all have that urge to belong. And that’s ok too.

        The only thing I wish on everyone is contentment. And we each have our own way to find that.

        Like

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