Autism and ADHD

The Two Sibling Disorders

Two sides; the same coin

Neurodiversity is

Quite fascinating.

As someone who didn’t know anything at all about neurodiversity til the early 2020’s, I have learnt a lot but am glad to learn more. And I have someone special with whom I can learn: my fiance, who struggled with me and my autism for much of our relationship til I got diagnosed and things became better. For the most part. They discovered their ADHD well before I worked out my own vulnerabilities and brain-phenomena.

These disorders have many things which overlap, including fixations, sensory issues, and emotional phenomena, to name but a few. Most folks with ADHD are unfairly stereotyped as being loud, or blurting things out, or being unable to sit still, or being unable to accurately narrate any kind of past event in ‘the right order’ or having endless energy…but also being unable to concentrate, having a poor memory, and a horrible sense of time. And for some people, these things might be not only true, but can also be very detrimental to their entire lives: some folks are always late to work or appointments, or late with paying bills, or other such issues*.

*Wasn’t there some story, maybe on Reddit a while ago, where so-and-so’s girlfriend was always late to dates or events, and so the OP made up a method of telling her to arrive much earlier so that she’s arrive therefore ‘on time’? Some folks know they might get distracted, and maybe set alarms for an hour or forty minutes prior in order to be on-time actually.

“Oh but we’re all forgetful, aren’t we?” No, we’re not. What’s the ‘normal’ amount of forgetful? Where’s the line drawn and when is it crossed? Most folks don’t immediately forget what they were doing when they walk into a room every single day, or forget to shut off the car lights every single day, or purposefully misplace something so it’s in a unique place and they’ll surely remember it…except they won’t. “Honey, is there a draft in here? It’s freezing!” my fiance one day exclaimed in the middle of the summer, only for me to turn and regard them, their legs in front of the open fridge door, my eyebrows raised. I say this not to tease, but because we learn to laugh along with one another and their memory mishaps.

For what it’s worth, and I know it’s not a competition, but I know my autism is rough all the time, I simply for the life of me cannot imagine what it’d be like to have ADHD or ADD. Not having enough energy or motivation to do something til the last minute and not knowing why. Having the same things repeat in my head until I feel like I’m about to explode. Being so fixated on something (a task or interest) that everything else must be put on hold until my dopamine has reached its fulfillment. Or even worse, getting fixated on the dopamine from merely thinking about accomplishing a task, but never being able to do it because then it’ll be over. The dopamine can be lost momentarily on anything; a chore, a glass of water or cup of coffee….

And moreover, the worst thing for me to overcome is the black-and-white thinking of “It’s all a choice” or “It’s just lazy.” I think this way because sometimes I am stupid, and all the time I just cannot relate to the struggles of ADHD. I guess that’s my autism talking. Once you meet and love someone with ADHD, you work to understand them, accept them, and moreover accommodate for them. And of course supporting them—whether it’s helping them find something right in front of them, or being willing to body-double, or help get them back on track, and so much more. Never pressure, never rush, and also never force or shape unwillingly. But maybe that goes for any relationship.

If anything, opposites attract, and sometimes keep each other in check. My fiance, who struggles at times with things like eating, is grateful for my stringent stomach and our hard-and-fast mealtimes. I’ll hyper-focus on making sure they stay hydrated even though their cup is always full and two inches away from them. Me and my anxiety-riddled mind is super strict with time as well, and it always used to bother me how we’d always arrive late to things with either seconds to spare or no time at all. I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve ever been early to anything in all our eleven years.

And like autism, it’s most likely inherited. Oh, the stories my fiance’s told of my in-laws; how their father always loses his phone on the back of his truck, driving away (and often running it over). Or how, more frustratingly, their mother was always late to school, or appointments, or karate lessons, or somesuch obligation. “This task won’t take too long!” perhaps as they begin baking (it takes two hours, plus clean-up) or being unconcerned with a trip to the city (also two hours away, and by the way, it’s ten o’clock in the morning, and why aren’t you ready yet? We just told you one millisecond ago that we’re leaving ten minutes ago!).

Time blindness is a real thing, and it’s crummy to have. For me, time goes too quickly; for my fiance, time doesn’t pass at all until it’s three hours later. And yet, at the same time, in moments of immense impatience (boiling water for tea, heating the oven for tater-tots, etc.) things will take much too long. Irksomely so.

In terms of emotions, we each have our separate struggles on the spectrum. I have trouble with identifying and expressing; my fiance struggles with regulation, where they become overwhelmed with emotion (in joy or sadness or anger). In terms of things like rejection sensitivity dysphoria, I can take criticism hard at times, but don’t care if people insult me or whatever. But for my fiance it’s a huge struggle; one wrong comment or if there’s not enough enthusiasm for a thing they’ve done will make it feel like the world is ending.

For hyperfixations, sometimes this can vary across individuals on the neurodiverse spectrum. Folks who’re autistic like me generally have one big fixation for their whole lives; folks with ADD or ADHD might have fleeting fixations on one thing, but then a new fixation will takes its place and it’ll’ve been like the previous thing just never existed. I do not know if this goes hand-in-hand with pure dopamine, but for example: some on the ADHD spectrum might become quite excited about, say, a task or a course or passion and focus and work on it so much but…given enough time, interest and motivation for that thing will just dissipate. I cannot imagine anything more frustrating, especially if you’re diagnosed or self-suspecting and know why this happens.

Going your whole life without realizing you’ve got ADHD must be really hard. My fiance asserts that they figured everyone in life struggled with things they did all the time: not feeling hunger or thirst, always leaving things til the last minute, being unable to sleep unless due to utter exhaustion, having time blindness, or not being able to hear others unless they are actively speaking to them and uninvolved in their phone or a book or whatnot*. Me, though? I was the opposite, and knew that there were things going on in me that didn’t affect others. But I didn’t know that low self-certainty or CPTSD or anxiety or autism were what was going on…

*Sometimes I know that, as far as my fiance’s concerned, if I’m talking with or to them and they’re visually plugged into their phone, they simply cannot hear me. Or if I ask them to look something up, and they pull up a browser, generally I know that if they don’t reply within a few seconds, they got sidetracked. “Sorry, what was I doing?”

As much as we fit well together in a lot of ways, this doesn’t mean that our disabilities don’t clash at times. I and my autism despise surprises or spur-of-the-moment things, especially if they mess with my own internal clock or mind-set of how things ‘ought to go.’ I remember early on when we moved in together that I couldn’t understand my fiance’s ‘inability’ to get up early and eat breakfast. It’s be, oh, ten o’clock in the morning and I’d’ve been awake for six or seven hours at that point, anticipatory anxiety making me riddled, and I could be very impatient. “This isn’t how things ought to go; what’s going on?” It turns out that they didn’t have the motivation to wake up—especially once they left their job. “Why should it matter when I get up?” they asked, and I reflected on a lot of things.

It turns out that my own internal conflict and lack of understanding were internalized ableism, mostly instilled by my own parents (and my in-laws too, who didn’t understand the symptoms my fiance displayed in youth). I figured, unfairly, that they were lazy, or depressed, and that ‘doing nothing’ all day was just…well, a waste. And why do we think this way? I know that Dr. Price has written a book on laziness and how it doesn’t exist, and sure enough I understand that better than I did four years ago, but…internalized ableism instilled from our fearful and anxious parents is no joke.

Me thriving on order and routine as opposed to my fiance being unable to stick with routine, no matter how simple it may seem—unless there’s a dopamine factor, like working and earning money, or cleaning appliances to make coffee or a dessert. Once they explained what was going on, and I could actually listen and comprehend, it made them feel better, and our relationship better. And explaining our neurodiversity is not an excuse at all, but rather just that—an explanation. “I don’t have the spoons” or “it’s a fork* for me and I cannot do it” makes all the more sense once you know what those things are.

Executive function, at least for me, relates to brain-fog and how well my brain can do things like work properly, monitor and control my emotions, and essentially mask all my symptoms and traits of autism. Poor executive function for me looks like a day where I get overstimulated too easily, am more prone to shutdown, and can become angry, irritated, and the insistent need to withdraw. Poor executive function for my fiance might look like having a very strugglesome day with memory, being too easily distracted, and also having a rough time with emotional regulation. The worst part is that despite crafting a life where we can live maskless, and even with medications, we’re always going to have battles with the lack of executive function.

…and to think one of my therapists once asked, “How can you know what it might like to have a normal brain?” once I’d explained how medications make me feel and function.

*’Spoons and forks’ relate to representations on executive function. The notion of spoons was developed by a woman with lupus, explaining to a friend at dinner about how energy for folks with disabilities (invisible or seen) varies differently from neurotypicals or non-disabled folk. Something might cost a certain amount of spoons, or we’re just out of spoons completely. A fork, however, is a task or thing which drains spoons, or takes them away. A fork for my fiance is, for example, doing the dishes; for me, it might be taking out the trash and having to battle bugs and sweat and whatnot.

In conclusion, these two disorders couldn’t at times be more different depending on the individuals, but they also couldn’t be too unsimilar. All we need is understanding, openness, introspection, and spaces where we can be ourselves. I’m more than thankful to my fiance who has helped me become better and more accepting, and to be less foolish and more wise. We can comfort one another when it comes to challenges and struggles, but bond over what makes us similar and different too. There’s nothing to be afraid of when it comes to vulnerability and introspection.

Thanks as always for reading! Til next time.