Finding ways to thrive as a neurodivergent creative

Coming home to myself following my Autistic / ADHD diagnosis

It’s been almost a year since I was assessed for Autism and ADHD. And if I may say so myself, and this is my Substack so therefore I may, I passed with flying colours.

Photo by Eleonora Patricola on Unsplash

So much so in fact, that when I was heading home from spending the day with two neuro-affirming professionals, who helped shed light on a lifetime of feeling both ‘other’ and so very sensitive in the sensory department, what I was mostly thinking was:

1. That I wanted to order myself a cake with Neurodivergent AF iced on the top to celebrate.

2. How grateful I felt to the Autistic and ADHD community, and in particular to other late diagnosed folks travelling this road ahead of me (including Katherine May, Kristy Forbes, Morgan Harper Nichols and Amy Richards), for sharing their experiences and helping me to come home to my own neurotype.

3. Why the hell had it taken 41 years to figure this out?! Spoiler alert, I know why. But changes to the diagnostic criteria, ableism, skewed research and general gender-related bullshit will need to wait for another time.

4. How grateful I felt to live in this time and not in the days when I may have been drowned in the Nor Loch. Scotland has a particularly nasty past when it comes to the treatment of folks who are different. This horrendous witch’s iron collar hails from the area I now live in.

5. How privileged I was to have been able to go private and access a diagnosis (and to feel safe sharing it publicly), even if it did mean sticking the fee on my Mastercard. On that note, I’m experimenting with monetising my writing once more and paid subscriptions are very welcome here. Particularly from all you lovely neurotypical folks. ;-)

Anyway, due to the aforementioned ADHD, I digress.

In the spirit of paying it back to those who walked this path before me and forward to those still to come, and without further tangent talking, here are a few reflections on life as an Autistic ADHDer, plus resources and tools that I have been finding useful.

Whether you are or suspect you may be neurodivergent yourself - and there’s a lot of us around, particularly in the creative circles I move in - or not, perhaps there is something here that you too will find helpful when it comes to regulating your nervous system and reducing stress and anxiety.

I’ve written before about what science tells us about walking, and how it can help us to come unstuck when faced with difficult decisions or creative blocks.

Walking is also one of my favourite regulation tools. Especially when I’m in a city. It’s not unusual for me to clock 10-20km days if we’re visiting our family in Madrid. Unless the rain is coming down sideways (which, let’s face it, back home in Scotland is a very real possibility most months of the year), I usually prefer to travel on foot than by bus or the Metro. 

I love soaking up all the lights and sights when I’m out and about. People watching - and imagining storylines for the folks who catch my attention - is a lifetime hobby. But also, it can be hella noisy. And a complete assault on the senses at times. Add in some fluorescent lighting and I’ll need to retreat to a low lit room for recovery as soon as I get home. 

The way my brain processes sound means that the conversation happening at the table across the cafe can be given equal weight to the words coming from the person sat across from me. And much as I love a catch up over brunch or coffee, the effort and concentration it takes to listen, hear, process and formulate a response, over and over again, can be exhausting at times. 

My processing system is glitchy. It thrives in the forest and stutters in the doctors’ surgery. Multi-way conversations tug my thinking in so many directions, like a spaniel dashing around after a ball that never drops. Words take me on tangents into fascinating places that I try to bookmark to come back to and explore later, while staying present in the current moment. On this page.

If that sounds tiring, it’s because it is. And after a length of time, when I can no longer follow these word paths, I have to wander off into a clearing and make the space that my processing system so desperately needs to catch up. Sometimes that means physically moving or at the very least gazing away or out of a window, the added effort of making eye-contact having reduced my capacity further. 

Photo by Mika Matin on Unsplash

As I write this, I’m going rollerskating (Monday of dreams!) and I’m currently sitting under the very loud speaker on the train. There seems to be speakers everywhere, so escape isn’t an option. Instead I’m listening to Apparat to take the edge off. 

I’ve scheduled in time to walk from Waverley Station in Edinburgh to Leith. It’s around 4km which should give me a chance to regulate and adjust to being in the city, before soaking up the mirrorball action and catching up with some of my fellow self-employed pals for a skate date. There will be music, and conversation, while trying not to fall on our asses, and then lunch afterwards. So it’s going to both be a lot of fun and take up a lot of my day’s processing capacity. 

I’ve learned over the years that I need to be mindful and intentional about what I do in this way. Otherwise, I get ill. I think back to the time I spent travelling for work, hopping off planes and into taxis then straight into events, turning up to conferences hungover but keen for knowledge, filing copy at 2am. I loved the rush of it, but would feel utterly depleted afterwards and had no way to mitigate the stress response or regulate my nervous system. Cue bout after bout of IBS and constant colds and viruses.

I’ve been using the Endel app for a while now, and the Move setting often accompanies me on these travels. It syncs to the beat of your steps, which feels simultaneously soothing and uplifting to me. 

In this way, I add buffer zones into my days. Carving out quieter, calmer mental spaces in which I can move at my own speed. Often I still need to recover with deeper rest - whether it’s soaking in a bath or reading in my beloved hammock chair (honestly, it’s been a game-changer) or taking a nap.

Rest and recovery time is now non-negotiable. Without it I cease to function, the words dry up and sometimes I’ll experience autistic shutdown, when I can no longer talk at all. While for some folks this can be hugely debilitating, for me it usually passes swiftly so long as I can accommodate my needs.

I’ve found that, by tuning into what my body and beautiful, if slightly scrambly, brain need in this way, I can not only move in a world that wasn’t designed for me. I can carve out my own time and space in which to thrive.

And that feels like a very good reason to go right ahead and order that cake. There is an anniversary approaching after all. And it just so happens to coincide with Neurodiversity Celebration Week.

Photo by Carlos on Unsplash

A few things that I have found inspiring, informative or helpful this week:

1. Unmasking Autism: The Power Of Embracing Our Hidden Neurodiversity by Devon Price is an engaging, empowering read for anyone beginning the complex process of unmasking in order to live an authentic life.

2. It can be tricky to find folks speaking to the experience of being both Autistic and an ADHDer, despite recent research showing the co-occurrence potentially being as high as 60-70%. This episode of The Neurodivergent Women podcast is such an insightful, affirming listen.

3. Comedian Fern Brady’s memoir of life as an undiagnosed autistic girl growing up in small town Scotland gave me relatable moments, laughs and food for thought in equal measure. I could barely put it down.

4. For a different perspective, and a book that will engage young readers, Tiffany Hammond’s A Day With No Words is available to pre-order now. I can’t wait to read it and share it with my family.

5. I really wanted to think of a fifth one because four is not a particularly pleasing number to end on but also I’m tired so I’ll end as I began, perfectly imperfectly.

The reflections shared above relate to my own experiences. It hopefully won’t surprise you to hear that not all Autistic ADHDers think the same way or experience the same things. Also, the neurodiversity paradigm covers many differences - you can learn more here if you’re interested.