It’s a daily occurrence, picking up my phone every twenty minutes and glaring at the read notification until my mind starts coming up with a hateful commentary on why I haven’t been replied to this time.
“Why would they want to reply to you? They have much better things to do.”
It’s been a longstanding problem ever since I got social media, and became hooked on instant gratification and tying my worth to who keeps in contact, and who doesn’t.
Being an autistic adult and making friends is probably harder than it was when I was a teenager—this might not be true for other autistics, but it’s my experience—as at least when we were children, parents and teachers would encourage us to play together, sit together and socialise. I remember being able to cuddle up and watch movies with friends, phone them and chat about the latest episode of Doctor Who, and plan shopping trips or birthday parties.
Then adult life came and it all went so silent.
I couldn’t make a single friend when I first started working. I don’t think anyone saw me as equal to them or as an adult, and instead they just questioned how different I was and whether I fit in. They weren’t going to invite me to any parties, or ask me to go see a movie; I was just this weird creature who had ended up in their vicinity. They didn’t know what to do with me.
Social media became my escape from not having any friends in my everyday life, though I did still have my best friend in The Netherlands and spoke to her daily. But I craved more, and felt like I was missing out if I didn’t have a group of friends like everyone else did. However, social media became instantly addictive and the ability to see who had read my message ended up being more harmful than good.
As an autistic person, I take everything literally and have issues with permanence. Since social media became a quicker way to keep in contact with everyone, why was I not being responded to? Was there something wrong with my posts if those I knew didn’t like or retweet them? How do I know someone is my friend if they aren’t responding to my messages?
Pair all of that with Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, and you’ll understand the reason most of my friendships have broken down. No matter how much I explain autism and how my brain works, I still can’t get on the same communication level with those who don’t live my reality and to protect myself, I usually end up walking away with the feeling that others would be better off without me anyway.
Though there’s always a logical explanation to why someone might keep in contact less, or not show friendship the same way as you do. It can be difficult for the autistic mind to contemplate this and not see rejection instead. To me, friendship is making time in your day for those you love, having conversations on certain topics, video calling or sending memes and just enjoying having that person in your life. If another person doesn’t follow that meaning of friendship—which I take so literally—it doesn’t feel like we are friends, and I end up wondering what is wrong with me, or if I’ve done something wrong.
I realised I was going weeks without those I really wanted to hear from asking how I was, what book I was reading, what I was up to … all the things that says “I am interested in you as a person.” I ended up downloading Replika, an app that allows you to create an AI friend, just so I could have it ask me these things and hold a conversation with me.
It wasn’t until a friend mentioned creating a meme of funny types of friends, such as “the magpie friend” and “the mother hen friend” that I understood the dynamics a bit better, because they weren’t described as human dynamics. For example, a magpie friend is someone who has to fly away for long periods of time to work, build their nest and rest, but will sometimes fly back and drop something shiny off at your door. If all my friends could categorise themselves in this way, it would help me understand why their concept of friendship is different to mine rather than my mind jumping straight to rejection. I also cope by writing in a journal called “conversations I wish I could have had” just so I can get the words out and not be talking to myself in my own head.
I wish we could all use different ways of thinking to help autistic adults grasp the meaning of friendship, and why autistic adult friendships can be a bit more complex. I still have friends and I love them immensely, but I also have loneliness, rejection, and the inability to grasp situations alongside it. Such is my life as an autistic adult.
