Autism, Empathy and Loss

The myth that Autistic people lack empathy has become common and widespread.

There can be a gulf in understanding the differences between neurodivergent people and neuro normative people because of the way that we view the world very differently. As there is more movement towards research involving Autistic people on a more collaborative basis or by being led by Autistic professionals, it is clear that the stereotype that Autistic people do not understand or lack empathy is not true for many of us.

I am Autistic, ADHD and identify with the Pathological Demand Avoidance profile of Autism. This means every experience and situation I live through will be viewed through that particular lens and means that what I feel, or my ability to show and process those feelings, will be vastly different to the experience of someone who is not neurodivergent. If the way I act or speak is compared to the way neurotypical people may show their feelings, I could at times be considered cold, unfeeling or lacking empathy. This could not be further from the truth.

I freely recognise that I do sometimes have trouble in my social relationships because of these differences. I often find other Neurodivergent people are easier to relate to and I have easier connections with them because there is a shared understanding of the way our communication differs and there is often less emphasis on certain behavioural or social expectations. Empathy does not have to be spoken to be felt or shown. It may be expressed in a heart reaction on a post, a gift, sending a meme or a gif, a shared story in which similar feelings were felt, in doing something that shows you care or many other ways that we communicate our shared understanding for the big feelings someone may be experiencing. All these ways are equally valid as any spoken attempt at showing understanding or expectation of tactile contact. I, for example, find it far easier to communicate and process using writing. However, there are times when I still struggle with that so often that empathy will be shown through small gifts, offers of help or sending funny pictures to try to cheer the other person up.

This topic is particularly poignant to me at the moment because I have just experienced the loss of a very special companion, one of my cats, who was my constant joy and reassurance for the last five years. I had four cats and love them all but this cat, Loki, was the one to whom I had bonded extremely closely and I feel his loss keenly. The connection I have to my animals is deeply profound. They are more than pets to me. They are my family as much as my husband and children are and are viewed with the same deep-seated affection and occasional exasperation as I show all my loved ones. When I love, I love deeply. Unhesitatingly. Unconditionally. As a result, this loss has made me feel truly bereft.

This extends beyond my loved ones into different areas of my life that may not be apparent to outsiders. One of the reasons I advocate for the neurodivergent experience is because of the deep empathy and understanding I have for many undiagnosed or late-diagnosed folks who have walked a similar path that I have. In the pain I feel for children who struggle in various environments due to misunderstanding or lack of empathy shown towards them for the way their neurodivergence presents.

If I lacked empathy, I would not feel these huge extremes of emotion. The joy and warm comfort of love, the utter soul-deep hurt and despair of losing one of those personal connections, the need to try to change the way Autism, ADHD and PDA are viewed so we are not seen as lacking, to try to make things a little better for my younger neurokin following behind me.

Sadly, loss and grief have been familiar companions in my life, not just losing beloved animal companions but also people. From the expected loss of family elders to the untimely death of my son, at times the only way I have been able to protect myself, to carry on, has been to outwardly shut those emotions in. From the outside I may have seemed less affected, or ‘She can’t feel that bad if she’s doing X’, but inside those emotions whirl like a maelstrom. They are often so large that I fear showing them because of the reactions and judgements of others. Sometimes these feelings are so overwhelming I cannot recognise or name them accurately. This means my outward presentation may be far removed from what’s happening inside. Masking for me is not borne out of a desire to fit in but a desire to protect myself. Sometimes they are too strong and burst out of me in a tsunami of often conflicting feelings. Being ADHD, many people often believe I am emotionally open based upon surface observations but often those feelings have unimaginable depths they cannot see.

Sometimes when I observe these emotions in others, I may seem lacking in understanding because I may respond in an unexpected way. For example, if someone is sad I may show empathy by trying to problem-solve first rather than saying ‘I’m sorry you feel this way’ or hugging them. This does not mean I do not recognise or do not understand their plight but that my natural empathetic reaction means I want to help them stop feeling that way by removing what’s making them feel that way.

Moving away from the stereotypes that have been held surrounding Neurodivergent people is a necessity in paving the way for better relationships and communication across the divide between us and those who may not appreciate that the unique ways we feel and express are equally valid to what is considered socially correct. Neurodivergent communication is often far more subtle and deep than we are credited with. There is much emphasis placed on Neurodivergent people to ‘learn the language’ of the neurotypical majority so we can fit but think how much more affirming it would be for us for those folks to learn and appreciate our language, our communication and connection without expecting us to change who we fundamentally are.

Not a deficit, not broken, not locked in our own worlds or uncaring.

Accepted as the whole people we already are.

Accepted and celebrated for our unique views and experiences.