call me by my name

processing the pain of miss*diagnosis when deep down i also know my experience cannot be reduced to external metrics that change every 10-20 years

There are times I’ve wondered if I should call myself Black as a mixed person, since there are people within the Black community who feel offended by people like me calling themselves Black when we also have a white parent. At the same time, I’ve also had the experience of people being offended when I didn’t call myself Black.

“So you think you’re better, huh?”

“Do you hate your Black side, then?”

There are times I’ve wondered if I should call myself trans, as my struggles aren’t the same as those of trans people who have transitioned medically. I sometimes still present very femme for someone who is transmasculine. Should I just call myself non-binary? To be honest, I don’t have a consistent answer to these questions.

Sometimes, I agree with the people who distance themselves from me: “Yes, it really is unfair. I truly am taking up too much space. It truly isn’t the same experience.”

Other times, the non-conforming part of me fights back: “But aren’t we all different? Is there any group that can claim to be a monolith? Wouldn’t that be fascist?”

What I call myself can be different from what others call me. I’m used to being seen as delusional for saying that how I feel on the inside isn’t exactly what I appear like on the outside. With not getting the autism diagnosis, I’m having a very similar experience. Again, my inner sense of self doesn’t match external judgments.

It hurts.

I’m grieving.

Having a look at the many times the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) has changed since its creation in the last century is soothing:

• DSM-I (1952)

• DSM-II (1968)

• DSM-III (1980)

• DSM-III-R (1987)

• DSM-IV (1994)

• DSM-IV-TR (2000)

• DSM-5 (2013)

• DSM-5-TR (2022) (Text Revision)

There are people who treat the DSM like it’s a bible. Only if you fulfill the criteria of the DSM, you can be considered autistic. I have a different opinion. Mental health professionals are also just people. It’s people who have created the DSM, not some divine all-knowing creatures. The criteria is also very much open to interpretation, as all language is. I was quite good at the theory of mind tests, but that could be because I have pattern recognition skills. Psychology and human behavior are amongst my special interests (to the point where people have told me I would be a great therapist multiple times throughout my life, because I’m very good at helping people process their emotions, recognizing the core of a problem, as well as finding solutions to relationship struggles), but the psychologist didn’t even believe me that I have any special interests at all. It’s not like I’m learning an eight language, just for fun, because I’m sooo passionate about learning languages. Oh, and let’s forget about my deep passion for social justice that even makes me risk my own life and spirals me into depression sometimes. Yup, I’m definitely not autistic, because I wasn’t fascinated by fire hydrants as a child. Having gone through the process, it does feel a bit arbitrary. A lot of it came down to not being believed about my experiences.

I’ve lived in my body my entire life. I intimately know myself. I know how much pain aggressive lights cause me, how lost I feel without my headphones and rain sounds when I study. How much I crave symmetry and asymetrical paragraphs trigger me. Ever since I can remember, I remember feeling like an outsider and struggling to fit in. I’ve been excluded from groups more times than I can count. I’ve struggled in dating contexts a lot due to miscommunication and sometimes projection onto me as a needy person, when in reality I’m a highly freedom-loving person who craves solitude even. I just easily write very long text messages and this can be misunderstood. I consider myself hyperverbal, because keeping myself short is a challenge. Bored by small talk, I would often find someone at parties I could have an intimate one-on-one conversation with. To anyone who has the patience to listen, I can talk to for hours just passionately sharing deep thoughts. I cannot tell you how many times I was the last one to laugh at a joke, if at all, because I just didn’t get it. Or how often I needed my siblings to explain a meme to me. Oh, and as I’m writing I’m actually standing up in-between, jumping around, shaking my head, repeating what I’d just written and talking to myself. Only afterwards being like: “Oh, maybe I do stim. Does this count?” Yet, the opinion of a stranger + my younger sis + my mom with a horrible memory (love her, but yeah, she barely remembers my childhood) was weighed as more important than my own experience. I feel like I opened up to someone who just performatively listened to me, but had already made up their mind that they’d put me right back into the “disordered personality”-box. What hurts is that I had hope. For a short second I truly felt like I would finally be seen in my complex and deep neurodivergency. Instead, I got to see bias again. An old friend.

I feel exactly like this hedgehog. Can you please assign the right emotion? [schmecksy] [curappy] [hangry] If you did, you’re definitely NOT autistic.

Autism is a spectrum. You can be autistic, even if you don’t stim. You can be autistic, even if you can maintain eye contact. You can be autistic, even if you [insert a single criteria that can never truly encompass the entire spectrum of diverse experiences]. Yet, I have deep and persistent imposter syndrome, which has just been worsened: “You truly shouldn’t be taking space away from non-verbal autistic people who have more severe symptoms and support needs. Stop complaining. You’re just lazy. Now, buckle up, work harder and earn enough money to sustain yourself in a capitalistic world without ever asking your family or anyone else for financial support.”

Posts like this spiral me, because I do wanna trash the DSM. Not a fan. Isn’t there another approach that we can have around people with cognitive disabilities and neurodivergence? Is it truly necessary to divide suffering people into in and out groups and make them fight for resources amongst each other?

Comments like this uplift me again.

I’m not interested in taking resources away from anyone or taking up all the space inside of a community of disabled people. I’m not interested in being the biggest victim and I also don’t actually mind being wrong. I could be wrong. Maybe I truly am not autistic. Maybe I have to find a different language to describe my experiences that doesn’t offend anyone and still validates me. I’ll have to get more creative, which is what I desire anyways. Creativity is what has healed me, when systems have failed me. After the diagnosis of not being autistic I spiralled so much that I wanted to stop writing Mixed Magic altogether. I felt so exposed and vulnerable. However, I know that a lot of people see themselves in my writing: outistic and neuroblend, mixedBlackand, transgenderfluidor. It’s you that I continue writing for. I write for the people who don’t fit into any boxes, not even the box for the people who don’t fit into any boxes. For those within yet ouside the spectrum. Our experiences are valid.

Our pain matters,
even if it doesn’t have a name.

I might get a second opinion on the miss*diagnosis. Not because I’m so keen on being miss*diagnosed, but because it just feels unresolved. Also, my insomnia is no joke ever since the escalation of the genocide committed by Israel against Palestine. Let’s see, I’ll give it one more try, before I give up. Insomnia comes with a lot of other conditions too. The most important thing is that I learn to sleep again.

I’ve been reading myself good night stories. It could become a ritual.

Meanwhile, just call me by my name.

Love,

Imọlẹ

PS: If you can, use Ecosia, instead of Google. I do too. For the Congo! ❣

PPS: It’s a tiny action, but it’s not nothing. Stay informed. Plug in. Gently. ❤