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Autistic Scientists vs Moody Artists

8 years ago1,780 words

I was recently wondering whether I had autism, as I feel out of place, think oddly, and struggle socially, but some reading suggests that perhaps that's just because I'm a moody artist.

When I saw my friend last week, she spoke of how she thinks she might be on the autism spectrum, and I can understand why she'd think that; her mind handles numbers in a way I find fascinating (it borders on synaesthesia, with each number having a distinct emotional flavour, from what she's described), and she's distressed when her routine is disrupted. But - despite what she's said about struggling with emotional expression - she's got a profound sense of empathy that's deeply intertwined with her intelligence, meaning it isn't a clear-cut case of obvious autism. I've read that autism and Asperger's manifest differently in females - with more empathy than in males - but, well, she's high-functioning at the very least.

This made me wonder whether I had autism myself, though; certainly people - most on the spectrum themselves - have messaged me in the past to say (often quite bluntly, as is their style) that I probably was, based on the way I express myself online and the way in which I struggle in the social realm.

The biggest reason that I wonder this is because those with autism write of feeling like an alien from another world, out of place in this one; definitely something that I can relate to.

I know however that many paths can lead to the same destination. I feel alienated not because I'm oblivious to social cues (if anything, I'm overly sensitive to them, which isn't good either), but largely because life experiences have led to me becoming isolated, which makes it difficult to connect with others as I can't relate to their experiences or interests. And I simply lack experience socialising; there's no way to be good at something without practice.

One of the many reasons I met so few people along my journey though was an innate sense of idealistic pickiness that still hinders me; I wonder if it could have its origins in autistic thought processes. Essentially, I'm a sensitive idealist who hates to hurt, but I feel as if most people I've encountered value acerbic cynicism and cruel apathy; while I wish to be open and kind - despite my myriad imperfections and failures - it seems like so many people I've met, online and off, would rather wear a tough mask and snipe at others to defend their own insecurities (or for whatever other reason). I came to avoid people just because I didn't want conflict, I didn't want to get hurt, or quite frankly I couldn't truly respect or enjoy interacting with someone who made no efforts to adhere to the 'good' values I myself held so dear.

But isn't this roughly true of most people? Don't we all seek out those whose values are loosely in line with our own? Or is it really just me? I know that some people - I always imagine them as the sort who'd either write or read 'social justice' blogs or join debate teams - have chastised me for this, as if seeking out interaction with those who are different to us, who we disagree with, is in some way 'better' than gravitating to the comfort of like minds (as it would show tolerance and foster growth, whereas agreeing with kindred spirits is described in crude terms like ∞ "circle jerk" ∞; this despite ∞ psychology ∞ suggesting that we're usually drawn to those whose values are in line with our own, as they make us feel 'normal' and 'correct' knowing we're not alone in having those values).

Interestingly, ∞ this article ∞ - which I clicked on randomly and didn't expect to be relevant from its title - talks about making friends with those who disagree with you, and how while this can be useful for 'reducing biases' and seeing the world more objectively (is this something we should all value, though?), it's unlikely to work out well in practice because it's difficult to befriend people who disagree with you in the first place.

I wrote a short post about this - wondering whether I have autism due to my lack of interest in those whose values clash with my own - on the mood-recording app I use. Someone left a comment, which said, and I quote: "Little interest to get to know others who differ does not scream empathy."

I - unwisely, driven by the irritated limbic brain - replied: "Well thanks for the hurtful comment... I don't show a lack of interest in people to their faces, I just don't seek out people I feel I won't click with."

And their reply: "My intent was helpful and frank my comment was neutral your interpretation was hurtful".

Such a thing made me... exasperated, and I think it demonstrates what I was talking about in the first place. Of course, I wanted to say something like "I hope you don't think you're brimming with empathy if you'd say something like that!", what with the whole point of empathy being seeing from - and valuing - the other person's perspective, which this person obviously didn't do... but thoughts of this stranger's imagined irritation at such a comment swam around in my head, preventing me from saying it.

That sort of attitude was so common on my old website though... The idea that cold Logic was paramount; that 'sugar-coating' one's words was dishonest, a sin; that conflict provoked growth, and its absence was stagnation; that the way to help others was to tell them they were wrong.

A couple of you mentioned having these kinds of thought processes in comments on other posts here (I've read all the comments, but sorry about not replying; depression gets in the way, unfortunately), which got me wondering whether I ever did myself. I have faint memories of correcting people, though I wonder whether that's just because my father did that to me all the time, and I picked it up off him?

I was certainly always deeply distressed by conflict of any kind though, so the idea of dealing with people who actually valued disagreement upset and scared me, since in their mind they weren't doing anything bad or wrong at all... so it's not as if I could simply say "I don't want that, it hurts" and they'd say "oh, sorry" (from what I recall, one of the worst offenders from my old site replied to my acute distress at him arguing with me by arguing about why I should like him arguing with me... lovely).

Anyway. Though I'm hoping to eventually become a psychologist one day, I don't actually do much reading about psychology stuff. To change that, I've been reading articles on the website Psychology Today. My university lecturers dislike it since many of its writers seem to be insufficiently qualified or something (and from what I've read so far, most aren't engaging writers), though it's an easier read than the mind-tangling intensity of actual scientific journals, and I suppose it'll at least introduce me to interesting concepts even if I couldn't use it as a source in an essay.

One of the first articles that I saw on it the other day was ∞ this one ∞, which talks about a diametric model of the brain which posits that at one end of a spectrum, a deficiency in the understanding of others' 'mentalisms' - that is, internal, psychological behaviours - results in autism spectrum disorders, while an exaggerated affinity for others' mentalisms is what causes psychotic disorders such as schizophrenia. Essentially, while autistic people struggle to comprehend other beings as being as alive as they are, those with psychotic disorders ascribe agency where there is none, giving voices to objects or imagining being watched, conspiracies, that kind of thing.

Further, ∞ this article ∞ suggests that people with autism (calling them 'autistics' - as that article does - dehumanises them!) are 'undomesticated' humans, while ∞ this followup ∞ suggests that those with psychotic disorders are hyper-domesticated. Both use physiological observations to support their case.

∞ This article ∞ suggests that academically-oriented intelligence correlates with the mentalism-deficient autism-like traits, while creativity correlates with the hyper-mentalism psychotic traits. This fits well enough with the archetypes of the Spock-like scientist and the turbulent, moody artist. Mood disorders, it says, are massively more common in those who spend their time on creative pursuits, particularly poetry (interestingly, I've been considering writing poetry as my depression intensifies, though I haven't yet because I doubt it'd be any good).

This is all very interesting, but then I wonder what it says about me (don't we all?). I know that it's natural for everyone to believe that they're above average in every desirable trait, so I'm aware that that cognitive bias is in play when assessing my own abilities. But I've been admired for both my intelligence and my creativity over the years, and I think that the things I've built would serve as adequate evidence that I'm at least vaguely competent in both areas (though sadly I've never been able to pour enough hours into any one field to achieve remarkable mastery).

This 'balance' is largely responsible for me feeling like I don't know where - if anywhere - I actually fit in. I was drawn to creative pursuits, but so many of the people I met in creative communities were quite vitriolic; I suppose that'd fit with the correlation between psychotic traits and creativity? But the people in the more technical fields are more likely to hold the 'conflict is good and feelings are bad!' attitude, an environment in which I worry I'm too sensitive to thrive.

I relate more to the image of the moody artist than the cold, cerebral scientist, and my social anxiety stems from a particular sensitivity to what others might be thinking... I'm unlikely to be autistic, but I wonder whether some variety of aberrant psychosis would explain the alienation? I wonder then whether scientific psychology is the right line of work for me after all. Hmm.

I'm not well-informed enough to know whether this diametric model of autism-vs-psychosis holds water, but I found it interesting, anyway.