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The politics of existence and the regulation of Neurodivergent experience

For a long time now, Autistic people have been fighting to have the contested title of Autism Spectrum Disorder removed from discourse of medicine. We feel that as an emerging culture, being Autistic is an identity rather than a medical matter. When considering one’s identity, we have to consider all avenues of discourse surrounding it. Today, we’re going to consider politics.

Whether you want to admit it or not, politics is relevant to the lives of every single human. There isn’t a single aspect of human life that doesn’t have an association with beaurocratic regulations and inaccessible power structures. In the case of Autistic and otherwise Neurodivergent people, a unique problem is posed to those in power. For a current system to function, people need to assimilate into normative standards. How can one regulate another’s existence in such a way?

The answer is relatively simple. Psychology. More specifically, psychometry. By quantifying and regulating the expectations for people development and behaviour, you can position those who do not assimilate as outliers. You create a binary of in-group versus out-group. This allows those in power to create a disconnect between the normative world and those who do not fit in.

This is how society oppresses neurodivergent people. We are positioned as less-than-human using psychological metrics that have been arbitrarily created. Once a group has been dehumanised in such a way, it’s easier to make people turn on each other. When positioned alongside the idea of finite resources, we can be viewed as an unnecessary drain on resources rather than humans who have rights. People are taught that more rights and resources for us means less for them.

And so, by quantifying human development and behaviour, governments and authorities have effectively regulated human expression of identity through the politicisation of our very existence. This is why the push to have Neurodivergence depathologised is so important. It’s the first step towards a world in which those in power no longer control how we think, feel, and embody ourselves.

Until such time that this is achieved, we have to make peace with the uncomfortable truth that our identity and the wider perception of it is not a matter of our own choice.

What purpose does the concept of mental “illness” serve?

As a Schizophrenic person, I see many talk about me as being mentally “ill” and in need of medicine. I do take medication, but for me, medication usage is similar to what one might see within ADHD communities. Medicine is a tool, not a treatment. It allows me to function in environments that are not designed to be accessible to me or my needs. It allows me to live my life without the constant experience of distress, one that I experience without medication because the world is not designed for me.

All suffering is valid, and all neurodivergence can result in suffering. Not because we are ill, but because the world is a traumatic place to live. Neurodivergent people have to face the oppression of all that is different on a daily basis.

“Illness” as a concept within psychological wellbeing a distress is a convenience. It allows professionals to tell us our suffering is unavoidable. If we die by suicide, then we are collateral damage. Victims of a pathology ravaging human kind. If we are “ill” then professionals and leaders do not have to acknowledge their role in a system, causing us distress.

This is what we are actually experiencing. Distress. When we can move forward from pathology models and start to consider that what is happening is a very human experience, we can start to point the blame where it belongs. A world that is violent and terrifying for a huge portion of the population. It is not on us to recover from a mysterious, unquantifiable entity of illness. The world needs to change.

We need to recognise that distress is a human experience, and no two humans have the same experience. Just because my distress looks like the loss of our shared reality does not mean that I am ill. Just because I take medicine that eases my distress does not mean I have a disorder. We don’t assume ADHD’ers to be ill for taking medication. Why do we do it to other forms of medication-assisted neurodivergence?

This ties us up in ideas around med-shaming and toxic positivity. One of the reasons people feel shamed of their meds is because, to them, it feels like an admission of guilt. They weren’t strong enough to survive without becoming ill. It’s not fair to let people feel that way. It’s also unfair to go the other direction and tell people to manage their distress without tools such as medicine. It’s possible to be neurodivergent (and not ill) and still need medication for day to day life.

Neurodivergence is aggressively neutral. It has positives and negatives, and it also has experiences that are not able to be compartmentalised. Truthfully, neurodivergent experience is human experience. The fact that we have to section off different experiences and diagnose them as “illness” or “disorder” fundamentally undermines the neurodiversity paradigm.

Mental “illness” is a deeply flawed concept, and until we fix this, we will not be able to reduce human distress.

Understanding Autistic mental health in a broader context

We often discuss anxiety and depression amongst the Autistic population. Some such as myself and Autistic and Living the Dream have pushed to get lesser discussed mental health concerns into the zeitgeist, but there is a problem with how it is framed in a more general sense. When most people discuss Autistic mental health, they discuss the individual experiences, I feel it is necessary to look at the bigger picture.

One of the reasons we centre our conversations on individual experiences is because of the medicalisation of acquired neurodivergence. Medical models of psychological wellbeing centre the experience of distress as the defining feature of what is then described as a disordered mind. It teaches is that acquired neurodivergence is the source of our suffering, placing the responsibility on us to adapt to an unchanging environment.

This is where Autistic mental health becomes complicated. In general, Autistic people favour social models of disability and neurodiversity-affirming approaches, and yet we are taught that further neurodivergence is a disorder. It directly conflicts with our understanding of our Self. It partitions off parts of ourselves and teaches us to eliminate them rather than co-exist. What we actually need is to recognise that distress from traditional “Psychiatric conditions” is as much of a reaction to our environment as an Autistic meltdown is.

The environments that exist in our world are inherently traumatic for Autistic people. Trauma alters the way the brain functions, and we are then taught it is our responsibility to recover from that. In truth, the responsibility lies with the environmental factors that cause our distress. You are not suffering because of “illness”. You are suffering because the world is not made with your needs considered. When the world consistently abuses us, crosses our boundaries, and fails to meet our needs, we suffer.

Autistic people need to be allowed to co-exist with themselves. We need a world where the experience of distress doesn’t require us to get better but requires the world to do better. Lack of accessibility and invalidation of people’s lived experiences might well be one of the biggest causes of psychological distress in our society.

Is mental “illness” actually the brain trying to protect itself?

Up until about a year ago, I still sat firmly in the camp that, while I viewed myself as multiply neurodivergent, I was mentally ill. Over the past year I have been unlearning this lesson, and realising that mental “illness” is completely unquantifiable, and instead, I was suffering because I had been repeatedly traumatised, and then lived in a world incapable of accommodating the particular neurodivergence I had acquired. Psychosis.

People hold on tightly to the idea that they are mentally “ill”, and understandably so. The deficit model of mental health has been pushed on us quite successfully, but what if it’s not the person who is ill?

Consider depression. A person experiences a traumatic event (remember, what is traumatic to me, might not be traumatic for you) and starts to feel as though nothing goes well for them. They withdraw from their environment and isolate. Is this an illness, or is this the human brain doing it’s best to protect itself from trauma?

Now consider that the cultures with live with, particular in western society, actively punish people who have experienced trauma. There is a lack of welfare benefits, inadequate and under resourced wellbeing services, and let’s not forget that humans are effectively judged by whether or not they make the right amount of profit while performing a neurotypical display so as to not make others uncomfortable.

To me it seems clear where the suffering is actually stemming from, and it isn’t the person.

However, let me be clear, this does not mean that people should stop taking their medication. I take medication, and it helps a lot. Attention Hyperactive people take meds to help them focus and perform daily tasks.

What I am saying is that while medication can be an important part of wellbeing, we need to recognise that this pathologisation of our human experiences has (for the most part) normalised our suffering.

In the same way that Christianity told factory workers during the industrial revolution that being in poverty guaranteed them riches in the afterlife; pathologising neurodiversity has told us that we are the broken, rather than letting us turn the lense on an oppressive world.

Sadly, many institutions (medical included) have a tendency to serve the overall economic climate, rather than the people they are supposed to help.

So where do we go from here?

We need to build on the neurodiversity movement and paradigm. We need to recognise that despite our suffering, we are not the sick ones. What is sick, is the society we live in. When enough of us stand up and say no, society is forced to change. We need to recognise the rampant oppression and abuse of power, and seriously consider it’s role in the development of so called psychiatric “disorders”.

In short, brains do what they can to try and protect us from suffering, sadly, society continues to inflict pain.

It’s time to drop the disorder.

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