From Powerlessness to Empowerment — Part 3/3: The Found Adult and the Recovering Child
This is the third and final installment of a trio of blogs from Sarah Douglas. These articles form an intimate and thoughtful autobiographical account that traces what Sarah calls ‘a Neurodivergent meandering of trauma and hope’.
I wasn’t diagnosed until well into middle age – 42 for autism and 52 for ADHD and although I spent many years confused, lost, and becoming increasingly mentally unwell, I now feel so much gratitude that it has happened at all. I have minimised, grieved and regretted the far too many wilderness years before understanding that I was autistic and have fervently wished that I had been able to access stimulant medication from a much earlier age, but I think that being able to get a diagnosis at any age is very much a privilege. Although neurodivergence is becoming more understood and accepted in some sections of society, outdated attitudes still prevail throughout social, educational, and medical structures. The appallingly long waiting times for assessments and the likelihood that women, non-binary, and non-stereotypically presenting men may well still be denied a diagnosis, attest to this. I know that late-diagnosed women like me are often referred to as the ‘Lost Generation,’ but I can’t help thinking about the multiple generations of neurodivergent folk who did not have the knowledge and opportunity to understand themselves, so even though it’s happened for me later, I’m grateful that I will hopefully still have time to authentically thrive.
A lot of different supports, therapies and not a little serendipity have combined to get me to this place. I was fortunate to have met my counsellor, who is an autism specialist, at a conference and it is no exaggeration to say that her validation, acceptance and understanding of me saved my life. To be believed after so many years of being crushed under the weight of the gaslighting lies spoken to me by others, was extraordinary. By learning about who I was and what being autistic meant for me, I gradually started to begin the very new process of inviting in power to fill the space where self-loathing and powerlessness were being dismissed from. I wasn’t just rediscovering an old friend that had been neglected and uncelebrated for so many years, I was finding me for the first time in my life. My found adult reached back to the lost child, and we began to walk hand in hand, often with big me holding little me in those dark, lonely places. It gave me the courage to report my historic rapes, to access support from SARSAS and to become involved in participatory autism research as a lived experience advisor on much needed areas of mental health, suicidality, self-harm, and IVP/sexual abuse; one study of which the excellent Dr Amy Pearson will be speaking about during this online summit. I’ve even embarked on my own MRes research into spiritual abuse and have co-authored a book on autistic relationships with the frankly, wonderful Dr Felicity Sedgwick and become something of a conference speaker…and…I guess that I can now add to this list, a blog writer!
I have also found community. My tribe of misfits and outsiders are so precious to me, and I cannot tell you how much joy there is to be able to be myself, and to socialise and communicate together in our uniquely neurodivergent ways. An example of this is my discovery of RockFit, which is the dance fitness to metal/rock music (yes, you did read that correctly) brainchild of Hannah Hawkey, or Red Leader, as we prefer to call her. RockFit is the most genuinely inclusive and supportive family that is far more than prancing around to Queen or Korn. It is a place where wins, griefs and insecurities are shared, and differences celebrated. There is no shaming, and, in a world of tick-boxing diversity bullshit, it genuinely welcomes and accommodates everyone.
With this newfound power has come a desire for a channelling of the righteous anger (and my God, it IS so righteous – being a Practical Theologian, I know about this stuff) into working towards social change for marginalised and traumatised groups. I now volunteer for SARSAS, am part of their autism and LD advisory group and help co-facilitate peer support groups for survivors. I have been fortunate enough to have met Viv(acious) Gordon and her team of revolutionary creative activists and have been a part of their extraordinary UpFront Survivors pilot training course for survivors of CSA. Through this I have met Nell Hardy, who has just a few days ago, performed her raw and challenging play about spiritual abuse, “I, Lord”, of which I was involved in the pre-production design workshops, and Jane Chevous, who passionately advocates for and support survivors of CSA and spiritual abuse.
Intersectional, growing community gives survivors of abuse, coercion and control a strength and a collective voice that is so much bigger than the sum of our individual parts; it provides space, validation, and support for our painful stories to be heard and for us to cry out our injustices from safe environments that honour all of our traumas without hierarchy. It will never be ok that up until a few years ago I was utterly broken because of what abusers and a hostile, neuro-normative world did to me, and I know that recovery from this is never complete. I still cannot write or talk about any of this in a way that is not self-protectively matter of fact and I will always have to contend with various disabilities and work hard to stay mentally well, but I have shifted into a place where I feel that nothing has been wasted and I am looking forward with hope, purpose, and excitement to the future. So together, to quote Viv, I shout, “Fuck the Fuckers!,” and dare to thrive and proudly exist as an act of resistance to work towards a better future for all of us.
