Then he would know.
I think knowledge for knowledge’s sake is a perfectly okay reason to want to know about yourself. I am going to spend the rest of my life with myself. I want to know everything there is to know. I need to know what I’m working with to be effective.
And then there’s the community aspect.
But for me personally, I manage well enough socially that it’s rather a moot point. My biggest social problem is social anxiety. Something interesting happened this morning where my PTSD was triggered and I had to drive to a conference and traffic was awful and I was running behind. A triple whammy of anxiety. By the time I arrived to the conference, my anxiety was about a 9/10. It seriously sucked.
I said to myself aloud, “I can handle anxiety” and I went in and did the thing. It was hard for me to get started, but I ended up talking to a couple people, including one who worked with refugees in shelter, and I asked her (very relevant to the conference) questions about how the rate of chronic homelessness was so low at her agency, since ours is currently so high, and we really hit it off.
I’m socially awkward sometimes, it’s hard for me to introduce myself to new people, I often get completely drowned out in group settings, but not everybody has to be the life of the party and I get on well enough.
The reason I went to get evaluated for autism is that my husband was learning more about a phenomenon called autistic burnout and it exactly described my experience at the time and I was really suffering. The features described were increased sensory sensitivities, sudden loss of function and something else. I’d been struggling for seven months and I told my husband, “It’s like I am acting severely depressed, but I’m not depressed at all.”
He’s the one who pointed out what this looked like. That was after I had to take three days off work because my body felt like it was shutting down. It was like I had to reboot myself. It was utterly bizarre to experience and I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s happened twice in the last few years, over a series of months.
The reason this matters is because autistic burnout is not depression. You don’t get better by doing things, you get better by not doing things. You have to structure your life very carefully to gradually work up to full functionality. White-knuckling it makes it worse.
Who knows, maybe I had ADHD burnout, though that description did not comport with my experience.
I wanted to know, though.
I think knowing can be an end in itself.