Autistic Joy
The are many terms used to describe the various experiences of being autistic and recently, I’ve been hearing the term, ‘autistic joy.’ Sometimes I struggle to understand whether phrases like this are the title of a researched phenomenon or are being used colloquially, to describe a general state.
Words matter to me, so I’ve looked at how other people define autistic joy and tried to associate it with my own experiences.
I seem to find two pathways to autistic joy: one is through achieving a mental state of flow and the other achieves the same, but through the flow state of complete relaxation.
Of course, this is my subjective perspective and not to be cited as fact. I’ll start explaining what I mean by autistic joy through relaxation.
I keep returning to an evening many years ago, probably 20 years before I was diagnosed as autistic.
After a very stressful period at work, I went on holiday to Goa. On my first evening, I walked through the gardens of the hotel for my first view of the beach. There were food shacks built on the sand, made of woven bamboo and sweet-smelling grasses, with one side open to the sea. I sat in a rattan chair, ordered some food from the menu and took in my surroundings. As I leaned back, the back legs of the chair sank into the sand until I was at a perfect angle. Over the next hour, I watched, the sun set over the sea and the sky became inky black, studded with more stars than I had ever seen. I was aware of the tension draining out of me. Nobody knew who I was, and there were no calls on my attention - I just sat and became part of the scenery as night fell around me.
This is what I associate with autistic joy, in terms of letting go, arriving at a very rare state of relaxation.
I know there can be many different ways to achieve this level of calm, but I have never heard it described viscerally; I have only read about it as a concept. So here's my description of what autistic joy feels like, to me.
It's when my mind clears of all the extraneous sharp bits that intrude into the periphery of my senses - every little distraction of light, noise or movement. And my body becomes free of aches and pains; I don't feel the scratch of labels, the pressure of chairs, the discomfort of heat or cold. All of those things just melt into nothingness.
There’s also the joy of hyperfocus – of arriving in a similar state, by deep concentration. People now talk about Monotropism – a term devised by Dinah Murray and Wenn Lawson, now being explored by Dinah’s son, Fergus Murray.
My awareness tunnels into the thing I'm concentrating on and suddenly I can see that thing clearly - each corner, every detail, every line and where it leads to. So if I'm concentrating on a piece of work, it flows like a river and nothing else exists.
The aspect that links these two states of autistic joy, is the lack of self-consciousness. A lifetime of masking has meant but I am very rarely unaware of myself in the context of my environment and other people, but these two states of flow are totally immersive and leave no room for the intrusion of the world around me. To feel that is joyous.
To read more about Monotropism have a look at these two blogs by Helen Edgar
