Are routines possible with Autism and ADHD? How I built change into one routine

Originally published on Medium

Being autistic and ADHD is like babysitting 2 bickering kids with completely different interests.

They don’t get along.

ADHD wants to experience something different everyday. It complains “Do we really have to wake up at the same time everyday??” Autism glares and snaps back “Yes, we feel better when we wake up at the same time everyday.”

ADHD rolls their eyes at that. “Well if we feel better, then why do we spontaneously decide to skip our nighttime routine and undo all our hard work establishing a routine in the first place?”

And Autism looks away because darn it, ADHD is right. Why can’t we stay consistent?

And nobody wins. I can make one or the other happy, but both? Impossible.

Or is it?

I achieved one truce by building change into a routine. And that makes me hope I can do it again.

Let me explain.

One of my favorite routines is drinking boba tea at a cafe. I look forward to the familiar routine of ordering my drink, paying, sitting down, getting the drink, and enjoying it in a cute little cafe. It’s a familiar routine and feels good.

And when my ADHD gets the itch to break my routine, I make space for that. Tired of going to the same cafe? Let’s go to another one we like. Need more change? Let’s find a new cafe (after checking all the reviews and menu ahead of time). Tired of the same drink order? Let’s order our other usual drink. Need even more change? Ok, let’s order a pastry with our drink. Or let’s visit the cafe at a different time than we usually go.

These suggestions sound silly but they satisfy a need for both change and routine. For me, regular small change is easier to handle than one overstimulating large change that requires more recovery time.

So Autism and ADHD getting along is possible!

Here’s the not-so-great news. I wish I could say that this works for all my routines. But it doesn’t. My morning routine still hasn’t recovered from introduced change.

If I figure out how to create more routines that accommodate change without getting destroyed, I’ll let you know.

Until then, I enjoy this one boba tea victory.

Overthinking is trying to solve the wrong problem: How I (kind of) stopped overthinking everything

Originally published on Medium

Hi, I’m Aneisha and I’m an overthinker.

My husband watched me type this sentence then nodded and said “Yep, that’s very true” which ruins my next claim that I’m a reformed overthinker.

Okay, truth? I’m not as bad an overthinker as I used to be.

So how did I go from a chronic overthinker to a part-time one?

How I stopped (mostly) overthinking

I realized my overthinking focused on problems with no resolution.

My brain would think over a problem, sure it would eventually find the answer if it kept clicking to the next page in the mental Google search. And when it found nothing, it returned to the first page to restart. It didn’t make any changes, just kept restarting over and over.

And then my math tutoring experience inspired me.

As a math tutor, I saw that the students who were able to verbalize or write down the actual problem hidden in a difficult word problem were halfway to the solution.

But it’s not easy identifying the actual problem. The quicker students tried several different times before they figured out the real problem. Once they did, though, they could work step-by-step to find the solution.

I applied this to my overthinking problem. Maybe overthinking was a complicated word problem I didn’t understand yet. So instead of trying to solve the same problem over and over, I could try a different one?

And that worked.

An example of changing the problem

For example, I commonly overthink about why I have a hard time walking over to someone to say hello.

Before, I would think: Why can’t I just get up and say hi? Just go now. Okay, now. Okay, let’s do it, step by step. Just stand up! Darn. Too much time has passed, now it feels weird. I never found an answer to why sometimes I could do it and sometimes I couldn’t.

And then I changed the problem. Instead of seeing the problem as Why can’t I walk over to say hi? now it’s Do I want to go over and say hi? Simpler, right?

Sometimes the answer is no, I don’t want to. So I let myself not go and it’s not a problem anymore.

Sometimes the answer is yes so I can keep digging to find the answer. Why can’t I go say hi? Do I want to go now or later? If later, do I want to say hi one-on-one or with other people? And eventually I figure out the problem is (for example) I always see this person with my sisters but my sisters aren’t here right now. So how do I say hi alone? And that’s a simpler problem to solve than the more critical Why can’t I say hi problem.

I still overthink, though.

The difference? I indulge in overthinking now. I ruminate over an unsolvable problem, clicking through obscure mental Google search pages curious about what I’ll find.

A recent overthink? A fellow passenger introduced herself to me on the plane. It was a first for me and I had a nice time overthinking my feelings about it. Was it nice? Should I also do this? How common is it?

When encouragement isn’t encouraging: This neurodivergent woman’s internal motivation is loud enough

Originally published on Medium

Pickleball made me realize how irritated I get when people cheer me on during a game.

(I’m unsure if this is a me thing or a neurodivergent thing. Do you have the same reaction?)

I first noticed this while playing board games and video games. My husband wanted to be encouraging so he would say things like “You can do it!” or “You got this!” Positive, supportive comments that I’ve always heard other people say to each other.

But the encouragement didn’t help me do better. I hypothesized that the interjections were distracting me so I asked my husband to stop saying them. He could encourage me silently or congratulate me after I did the thing.

And then I felt like a horrible person. Other people seemed to thrive off encouragement. Why did it affect me differently? Maybe I’m unused to this because I never did organized sports as a kid?

And then, years later, I started playing pickleball. I’m not great at it. I can return the ball but my serve is consistently inconsistent.

I seem athletic until my awkwardness emerges. I think this inconsistency confuses actual athletes so they give me unsolicited advice on how to improve that I accept with an outward smile. But inwardly?

Internally, I fight my old people-pleasing urge to follow their advice and perfectly play, knowing my actual skills will be the same once they stop watching me. I remind myself that it’s better for me to take it slow and build a solid foundation for better future performance. I don’t do miraculous training montages. It’s a slow journey.

Also, we’re playing for fun. I’m not aiming for professional level skills.

When their advice doesn’t work, teammates and friends focus on another tactic: encouragement.

They cheer me on personally, by name. After I mess up, they say “Good try!” or “Almost!” After I do well, they cheer “Good job!”

And that’s when I realize: I’m not getting used to it. The personal encouragement is actually irritating me the more I hear it. (The few comments that don’t make me cringe are observations or surprise like “Wow! The ball made it over.”)

I don’t think my irritation is the encouragement’s intended goal.

Imagine this specific situation: I served the ball but it’s out. My team loses the point. I realize I didn’t swing from my feet like before and that’s why this serve failed. Next time, I’ll stand like this I think and shift my feet, trying to memorize the feel of the stance. Then I shake off the disappointment and prepare to return the next serve, ready, excited to play. And then I hear:

“Good try!”

I try not to make a face and show my immediate reaction of Please don’t do that. I breathe a couple deep breaths and bounce to release my suddenly tense muscles. I half smile in case someone is looking at my face so I don’t look mad.

Because I’m not mad. It’s just…How do you tell someone that what they think is helpful is actually doing the opposite?

And then I start thinking: Am I playing that bad? My teammate deserves a better partner. Oh my god, should I be encouraging my teammate? Is it too late to say “Good job?” My playing becomes a performance.

I don’t like when that happens.

I appreciate the intent behind this encouragement. I want to be a good teammate so I remind myself to vocally support others during games. I’ve thought hard about why I react so negatively to in-the-moment encouragement and I think it’s because my motivation is internal not external. I’m my own biggest cheerleader and we like our cheers silent.

But after the game? After we end for the day and gather to drink water and rest? I can take in all the feedback and encouragement then.

How I learned to accommodate my sensory needs at mealtimes: Tips from an autistic “picky eater”

Originally published on Medium

I’ve never thought of myself as a picky eater; there was always a reason to refuse a certain food. It was either too squishy or too bland, too cold or the wrong color or smell. All these reasons made perfect sense and were problems that could be fixed, right?

Apparently not.

I, the undiagnosed autistic, was the problem that needed to be fixed. The proposed solution? Force me to sit at the table until I ate the cold Ravioli or black eye peas on my plate. Well, I was (and still am) stubborn. I sat there until the adults realized I wasn’t going to eat more than the small bite I had choked down. And yet, I worried about getting my daily serving of fruits and vegetables. My interest in the human body and health inspired me to want to eat more “healthy foods” but…I didn’t.

Compare my childhood diet of fast food and sweets to my current diet of mostly produce and whole foods, and my favorite food being a tie between Mexican and Thai. Is that surprising from a “picky eater”?

It surprised a great uncle at a recent graduation celebration. I had commented how much I had in common with a cousin’s very particular food preferences, then the conversation veered into favorite foods and I mentioned that I loved Thai food. I felt the surprised energy from my great uncle. I could guess the question: How does a picky eater like such “unusual” foods? I want to share my full answer in case it helps someone else become more comfortable with their food and sensory preferences.

The simple answer
I work with my sensory needs, not against them.

The problem defined
Understand this: I love food. I love to eat.

What my childhood self didn’t know yet was why I hated cheese and milk and ate my cereal dry, why I ate my mashed potatoes with corn, and why I only ate my mom’s crunchy spaghetti because any other spaghetti made me want to throw up. I didn’t understand yet that certain textures made food more palatable for me and the typical American diet did not prioritize those textures (unless you count my favorite snack: chips).

My childhood self couldn’t explain that I disliked most fruits because they tasted like water to my sugar-addicted taste buds (especially when eaten out of season). I didn’t know that good fruit could be crunchy, my favorite texture. My young self couldn’t explain that I disliked most vegetables because they were usually canned or overcooked. I didn’t know vegetables could be crunchy, savory, sour and delicious. All I knew was hard green beans and mushy carrots and too-fluffy boxed mashed potatoes.

Change your food perspective
Once I could go shopping and buy my own ingredients, I cooked the meals I liked. My go-to meal was canned black beans with canned tomatoes and white rice, the perfect combination of flavor and texture.

The biggest change? I made Mexican friends and they changed my social and food life.

The first time I ate a freshly cut avocado imprinted on my mind. My sisters and I were at a friend’s house on a hot summer day. She was hungry and decided to make herself a snack so she got an avocado and sliced it open, seasoning the fruit with a bit of salt. She offered us some. Hesitant, I tasted a little and wow, it actually tasted good! Later, I learned to see fruit as dessert, to see vegetables as part of a meal, not just unpleasant medicines we must consume. And the spices! My sensory-seeking tastebuds wanted more.

My food education continued with Vietnamese and Thai food charming my tastebuds. Rice just happens to be my other favorite food and I was ecstatic to discover rice noodles.

Figure out your sensory preferences
The different foods and cultures introduced a new way to view food. The most important step, though, was figuring out my sensory preferences. That meant paying attention to the foods I disliked and noting their common unpleasant characteristics. Is the texture a problem? The flavor? The color/presentation? The smell? Or maybe the food itself is fine but something affected it, like the storage method.

After this analysis, I know how to alter a meal to my liking. For example, in elementary school, I liked sandwiches but the bread became disgustingly soggy by lunch time. Packing the meat and vegetables separate from the bread and assembling the sandwich at lunch solved this issue.

Is there a food you want to eat but normally dislike? Analyze its sensory profile and experiment with altering those characteristics to create a more palatable dish. Can you add or subtract something? Another simple example: Adding corn to mashed potatoes adds texture to a usually too-smooth side dish.

Looking back, I’m impressed that an 8 year-old me figured out little tricks like adding corn to potatoes without fully understanding my sensory needs (or how the industrial production of food affects its quality). If I was older and educated, you could’ve called me a foodie, maybe even a connoisseur.

Definitely not a picky eater.

Attorney Woo is the k-drama version of my autism: Reaction from a k-drama sometimes-fan

Originally published on Medium

I’m not a typical Korean drama (k-drama) fan. I tend to get hyped by the plot summary, watch one episode, and then stop when the drama overwhelms/annoys me. One of the first k-drama I recall watching from start to finish was “Crash Landing Onto You” from Netflix.

Which is why I am shocked to tell you how much I loved The Extraordinary Attorney Woo.

As usual, the show’s premise, an autistic female lawyer, intrigued me. But would it actually deliver? And another potential issue: the actress in the main role was not autistic herself. Was I going to see an exaggerated portrayal of an autistic woman?

I decided: Let’s watch it. If I hate it, I’ll just stop.

Watching the show
I start episode one. Immediately, Woo is introduced as a genius. I sigh. Can’t this autistic character be just a regular person? (And then my k-drama background reminds me that k-drama doesn’t do regular characters so this plot choice isn’t too unusual.)

I keep watching and notice her comfy, roomy outfits in comparison to the more fitted outfits of the other women. As someone who prioritizes comfort over other things, I appreciate the costume designer’s choices.

But wait…wait, why isn’t she masking around these new people in her new job? And WAIT is she stimming? In a professional setting?? I shake my head. This is not believable at all. (I pause the video to google the actress and learn she at first refused this role and the reason for her eventual approach to playing the character.

Hmm, I like her perspective. Alright, let’s keep watching.)

Woo doesn’t make direct eye contact with people. I just stopped forcing myself to make eye contact around family and friends. Is that what I look like now?

I finish episode one and text a second message to some friends: “Finished episode 1 of extraordinary attorney woo and it’s official — I’m obsessed. It’s so good!”

Why this k-drama sometimes-fan loved the show
What kept me watching? This k-drama has a perfect blend of genres. I love a good mystery/law show but they can be too dark. Excessive drama can be overwhelmingly annoying. The show balances these characteristics to deliver seriousness, cuteness, and intrigue. Bonus points for delivering a story that baffles my trained pattern recognition and keeps me happily unable to predict what comes next.

I also see myself in Woo. She does an awkward walk that reminds me of my own awkward, happy walk that feels like I’m floating but looks the complete opposite. I see myself in her awkward eye contact and awkward hugs, in how deeply she cares about people. And my favorite part? She likes herself, stands up for herself, and she is herself in all situations.

That’s the kind of character I want to spend my time watching.

From one quiet black girl to another: You’re not alone

Originally published on Medium

When I see another quiet black girl, I’m surprised at first. Usually, I’m the only one in a room. After that, I think:

Welcome!
I’m just like you!

(Well not exactly like you, of course. But similar.)

Was your upbringing like mine?
Loud aunties connected by blood or culture talking over your low voice then commenting on how much you didn’t say?

And what’s wrong with quiet anyway!?

Is your personality like mine?
So many thoughts in your head sometimes
you miss the outside activity and don’t react
and people misjudge your silence for defiance?

Are you a chameleon too?
The only one brown person or one of a few?
Your silence makes you blend in easier somehow
But they still want more
More noise
As if quiet and capable are mutually exclusive.

Hey, quiet black girl.
I don’t have to hear you to see you.

I’m just like other girls: A girl doesn’t need to be the only “cool girl” in the room to matter

Originally published on Medium

I used to be “not like other girls.”

“I’m not a girly girl,” I’d think. “I’m a tomboy.” (This was a term learned from my mom, a self-proclaimed tomboy when younger.) And I had evidence.

My sisters and I didn’t act like other sisters I saw. We didn’t steal each others’ clothes and return them messed up and act like that was normal (which sounded horrible). Instead, we negotiated a trade that included terms on the date and condition of the returned items. I preferred hanging out with guys and felt like I didn’t quite fit in with girls like the other girls around me did. I felt more comfortable in jeans than a skirt and didn’t want to spend hours on makeup.

But I was okay with that. Different was cool. All the YA novels I spent hours reading had prepped me for this situation. I was obviously destined for a big future, something possibly dystopian and dangerous but ultimately rewarding. After all, only cool girls were different so I didn’t worry.

But eventually, after what felt like the millionth “I’m not like other girls” plot device, logic kicked in.

If many of us girls are not like other girls….. then who are these other girls? If we all identify with the girl who isn’t like other girls, then…. Do those “other girls” even exist?

Way later, I learned about autism and found out many of my traits are shared with other autistic girls. I wasn’t sure how to feel about my personal traits being so common that I saw them reflected again and again in videos and blog posts.

I wasn’t that different after all.

What a strange feeling.

I wasn’t unique? I was just like some girls?

It took some time to adjust to being typically atypical. Once I adjusted, I wondered again about the “other girls”.

Who are they? Just “girly girls”? But, like, isn’t everything a girl does girly so technically every girl is a girly girl and not that different? And maybe the “other girls” actually want to be different too and possibly a YA dystopian heroine? (Just joking about this but it really seems to be a stock character trait in the genre)

Do they want to be “not like other girls”? Do they want to be just themselves and not lumped into a stereotypical category?

Because you can, you know.

You don’t need a neurodivergent brain to do it. We’re not actually limited to just one cool girl in the metaphorical room.

Let’s all be cool regular girls together.

Information overwhelm is real: How a neurodivergent woman manages this ancient problem

Originally published on Medium

I check my Instagram and notice a budgeting page is starting a new podcast. I’ve followed this mom’s business journey for over a year now and silently cheered as her hobby became a thriving business. Her budgeting system was the first that made sense and actually worked for my brain.

Was I excited to listen to this podcast? Yes. Did I still get information overwhelm? Also yes.

Time for some deep breaths.

Information overwhelm is my constant awareness of the never ending waitlist of information available to consume. It’s knowing there are books and videos and people I will never read or watch or learn from. My YouTube “watch later” playlist is a perfect example: I keep adding videos that I know I won’t watch.

And as the list grows, so does my distress.

Information overwhelm started in childhood. I stood in the library one day and stared at the shelves of books. I realized for the first time that I will never open some of them. I would never even hear about many of these books.

When I learned Spanish and American Sign Language, I gained a whole new world of information. And a new realization of how many non-English language books and media I will never know about. My personal “Watch Later” waitlist grew.

Again and again I have this realization: There’s so much I can’t consume!

To stop the overwhelm spiral, I borrow perspectives from the past.

Ancient peoples experienced information overwhelm too. This is strangely comforting. No matter when in time people exist, we feel like there’s too much knowledge to take in. Even without internet and computers and mass printing, we felt this.

This is how I stop the overwhelm: I quietly paraphrase this ancient reminder while taking deep breaths: “Of making many books there is no end…” It helps. The overwhelm is downgraded to marvel at the volume of information our human creativity produces.

This is what people do; we create. Create for ourselves, for others, and for money. I can allow the overwhelm to, well, overwhelm me. Or I can accept I won’t get to everything and just marvel.

I choose to marvel and delete my Watch Later list. (Don’t worry, it’ll be full again in a month.)

Are conscious stims better than unconscious ones? An autistic adult wonders

Originally published on Medium

My goal is to write clearly about chosen topics but this topic might be less clear because I’m connecting a theme across multiple subjects. So bear with me, okay?

Thank you.

In 2021, I learned about stimming from autistic content creators and authors. I let myself stim more at home and around people that already knew me and noticed my well-being improved and my anxiety decreased.

Around the same time, I started doing qigong videos and learned a bit about traditional Chinese medicine (TCM). Qigong helps move energy through pathways (meridians) in the body. It’s similar to acupuncture but, instead of using needles to move stagnant energy, you use movement. One movement I love is shaking my hands. It’s similar to what I naturally do to ease transition to a new task or to reduce overwhelm.

Also around this same time, I read about how movement helps children focus on learning. Doing some exercises before a lesson improves their performance.

Even more recently, I listened to a presentation about “S’cool moves” — movements taught in school to improve focus. Here are the movements that stuck out to me:

• Rubbing specific spots on your hands

• squeezing your arms

• pretzel arms

Interestingly, I do these things when bored and needing stimulation or just for fun. These are movements I noticed other autistic people do, too.

So the questions that get louder and louder the more I learn about how movement benefits us mentally, physically, and emotionally is:

What’s the difference between doing these movements unconsciously as stims and consciously as productivity tools? Why is one set of behaviors something to eliminate and the other set encouraged?

Why aren’t people who stim congratulated for being intuitively in tune with their body’s need to regulate? Why not encouraged to further their education in self-regulation?

(Note: These are rhetorical questions. I can think of some answers to these questions but want to share the connections I’ve made.)