As a neurodivergent adult, meeting up with friends can be challenging. The ‘simple’ act of getting into a car, driving to a new restaurant, finding parking, walking to the restaurant, figuring out what food to order when the music is blaring too loud – while trying to make small talk with people I may or may not know – is not simple at all. There’s a tremendous amount of invisible mental work that needs to happen for me to successfully accomplish each step.
This is what neurotypicals don’t experience. It’s easier for them to exist in the world, in a world designed for them.
Finding safe spaces
There are things I can do to help me feel safer. Routines and familiar environments help me to keep me calm and grounded. When I’m out of my routine, even if it’s for something I want to do, like meeting a friend at a new café, then my anxiety levels spike. It becomes a lot harder for me to remain calm when unexpected things happen, like a sudden thunderstorm on the road causing the traffic lights to stop working.
Those are just the external barriers. If I’m having a chronic pain flare-up, then I won’t likely have the energy to leave the house, let alone go somewhere new. My internal barriers can also come in the form of some kind of sensory discomfort. A toothache is enough to make me very irritable, and not fit for polite company.
Believe it or not, it’s not all bad news. When I feel safe with close friends, I thrive in their company, and they thrive in mine. I have a deep well of creativity and empathy to draw from. I am excellent at listening, and solving problems when necessary.
Three things I’d like neurotypical adults to know:
1. Please don’t pity me or my children – support us instead
Being invisibly disabled is a daily challenge, especially when I’m raising small children who may or may not be similarly challenged. What we don’t need is your pity. That comes from a place of superiority, and that’s no basis for a friendship. What I would like is plenty of compassion and understanding.
If you’re not sure about something – ask! Instead of automatically not inviting me for gatherings, you can reach out and tell me about it, and I get the chance to say yes or no. That’s the definition of inclusion. Giving me a chance to participate, and giving me to chance to opt out. Even better, if you design a gathering by including me in the brainstorming stage, then I stand a much higher chance of being able to attend. If I can’t attend, I’m happier visiting one-on-one anyway.
2. I do want to spend time with you, but that’s not always possible
It is important not to take my periods of absence personally. My chronic health issues flare up and down. If I cancel, it’s because I honestly truly cannot make it, and I will always do my best to reschedule.
3. I appreciate attainable ways for me to interact with my close friends
These could include:
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Sending low-pressure voice notes
This feels like an authentic and mindful way to truly connect with my friends. Especially during school holidays, phone calls are too difficult because the minute my kids see me on the phone they panic and want my attention.
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Arranging playdates at my house or theirs
Playdates are a fun way for mums and kids to connect with one another. It’s often a lot easier to do this at home, if I’m up for it, or to go to friend’s house. I never, ever expect friends to provide food for me unless they insist, and always come bearing fruits if I don’t have the energy to cook. Hurray for Grabfood!
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Meeting at a nearby playground
If the weather permits, meeting at a local park or playground is a fun way to be out in nature and connect with friends – as long as we pack snacks, and there’s a clean public toilet around!
My many challenges since childhood have shaped me into a compassionate person. I understand what it feels like to struggle, and to need support. I know how important it is to be patient with a friend who is going through a hard time. What I do bring to my friendships is this – deep loyalty, love and support. I don’t do small talk, but I will look after your children so you can go to your doctor’s appointment. I’m terrible at big parties, but will listen to you when we catch up for tea or coffee.
Here’s hoping that this look into my life helps you better understand and navigate friendships with your neurodivergent loved ones too, #makchicmumsquad.
By Noor Abdul
Noor Abdul is an #actuallyautistic advocate and a proud mother to a vibrant autistic daughter and a cheeky allistic daughter. She is passionate about raising awareness around disability and celebrating neurodivergence. Living joyfully with her daughters is her daily act of breaking intergenerational cycles of ableism.
For more on her journey, read her earlier article: My Story: My journey to my own autism diagnosis after my daughter’s diagnosis.
