Being an AuDHD Oxymoron

Attention Deficit and Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) is one of the most common neurodevelopmental conditions. Autism is equally prevalent. Both are often addressed in conversations around inclusion and accessibility – but what happens when both affect you at the same time? Here, I try to explain the paradox of being ‘AuDHD’.

Not long ago, coincidentally around Neurodiversity Celebration Week, Everything Everywhere All At Once swept the Oscars. This was apt, not only as Evelyn Wong was coded with undiagnosed ADHD, but because the film so perfectly told the story of what it is like to be ADHD.

I say ‘be’ because unlike an injury or a sickness where it is easy to comprehend life beyond the impairment, I cannot comprehend not thinking in an ADHD way, seeing the world through the wall of noise, where you can pick up the smallest sensory change in the distance but not hear the person sat next to you, when you’re so distracted you can escape to other universes inside your mind.

When the sensory input is absolutely Everything. Everywhere. All. At. Once.

And I wouldn’t change a thing, although I must say it would be nice to tune out some of the background noise that my brain just can’t filter out, even just for five minutes so that I can answering a few emails. But would that be worth sacrificing all the other details? People with ADHD often are highly social, compassionate, self-depreciating, have a strong sense of fairness, and are persistent, spontaneous and most of all resilient – because we have to be to survive in a neurotypical world that wasn’t designed for us.

ADHD is characterised by numerous differences in brain structure, some subtle, others less so. In the ADHD brain there is dysregulation of the dopamine system, which affects motivation, and a weaker pre-frontal cortex, which controls executive functions, decision making, and working memory. On the flip side, the Default Mode Network is more active in the ADHD brain, which is thought to be involved in self-awareness, consciousness, mental imagery, and social cognition – such as understanding the mental states of others.

Being ADHD is challenging, especially in a society that stigmatises the neurotype. I was never the hyperactive child, but instead a constant daydreamer with drive to keep learning. These are all characteristics of ADHD, but the lack of understanding of how hyperactivity can be internalised as daydreaming meant I was not ‘disruptive’ enough in school raise concerns. My drive to learn new things all the time meant I could sail through education with ease, until one day I couldn’t. With no skills or support in place and no understanding of why I was suddenly struggling with motivation and procrastination in early adulthood, I burnt out quickly. I lost a job, would forget to pay bills, crashed two cars, and was a ball of unending stress. Realising I had ADHD gave me the ability to forgive myself and ask for help.

@izzitmichaela on Twitter: ‘I spent some time doing research on ADHD coping techniques and did you know that Arcadia trees can warn other trees of danger by emitting a cloud of ethylene gas.’

But the journey of self-discovery doesn’t end there. Due to the dysregulation of the dopamine system, ADHD is often treated with stimulant medication. I still find it slightly wild that the treatment for a neurotype with ‘hyperactivity’ in its name is to prescribe amphetamine – which remains illegal for neurotypicals – regulating the nervous system and calming the near constant barrage of intrusive thoughts and distractions, enough that I can usually fall asleep with ease.

Even with the medication I was still having some issues. I wasn’t as fatigued, I could mostly focus on what I needed to, and felt quite motivated, yet I was still getting overwhelmed easily. Turns out, for me and for a large proportion of ADHDers, medication comes with an interesting discovery. If you calm the chaos of the ADHD brain, you’ll often find that the chaos was compensating for Autism.

The final piece of the puzzle fitted neatly into place. I was also Autistic, and now the sensory overload of Everything. Everywhere. All. At. Once. became the biggest challenge yet. How can you find strategies that work when ADHD requires novelty and constant stimulation but autism requires the opposite. Those with this combined neurotype – AuDHD – will often go through life unconsciously trying to balance this until you eventually hit autistic burnout, often in early-adulthood.

But, just like my ADHD, my autism in hindsight was obvious. I now have a list of things that when viewed individually are just personality traits and attributes of myself, but when viewed collectively clearly signify Autism. The highlights include:

Incredibly high levels of empathy; always wearing shorts; loving salt and vinegar crisps; near perfect pitch; often walking on balls of feet; high pain tolerance; preferring to sit on the floor compared to a chair or sofa; advanced reading skill as a child; skipping my own birthday plans to be alone in the Arctic (this was a very impulsive decision but I would fully recommend Svalbard to anyone, just be wary of the polar bears); really vibing with Thomas the Tank Engine as a young child; really vibing with Pokémon as slightly older child and even now as an adult; T-Rex arms.

Confused? Good. Forget everything you’ve ever heard or read about Autism.

There is a saying that if you meet one neurotypical you’ve met them all, but if you’ve met one autistic, you’ve met one autistic. Where the neurotypical brain will develop within the context of a culture it is in, leading to similarities across a culture, the autistic brain will develop vastly differently depending on the environment it is in. As a result, no autistic person is the same. I’m still learning about my own autistic traits and have a lot more to unmask even from myself, but there are some commonalities across the board.

Firstly, we are not broken. Whilst some traits of ADHD and Autism are disabling and will always be disabling, so many other traits are only disabling when they do not conform to societal expectations of behaviour. Some of us can hide these traits and conform to these expectations – by masking – but this takes significant energy. Often, we do this unconsciously as a survival mechanism, but this is unsustainable and cause us to burnout – a large factor as to why only 16 percent of autistics are in full time employment.

An example of these expectation is to maintain eye contact in conversation. For neurotypicals eye contact shows you are listening with interest, for autistics it can trigger a fear response. And for ADHDers, trying to maintain eye contact often reduces the ability to hear what the other person is saying. Then add in the fact that Autistics tend to be very literal and say what they mean, using precise language to convey a specific meaning. However, to neurotypicals where body language and subtext is key, its often not what you say but how you say it. Naturally miscommunications will occur frequently even if everyone involved felt like they were perfectly understood.

There are so many of these subtle communication differences between neurotypes. And its the lack of understanding that people think and communicate differently across neurotypes that causes many problems rather than the type of communication itself.

The current thinking is that, due to having higher occurrences of some genes – most of us have at least a few of them – Autistics tend to have more connections within the brain, but fewer connections between different parts of the brain. This can result in a more specialised way of thinking and processing information, which can be both a strength and a challenge. For example, an autistic person might be incredibly skilled at noticing patterns and making connections in a specific area of interest but struggle with tasks that require a more generalised approach. Neurotypicals, on the other hand, might be better at juggling multiple tasks and seeing the big picture, but struggle with detail-oriented work. These genes are thought to be responsible for other neurodivergences such as ADHD, Dyslexia, Tourettes, OCD, and Epilepsy, through allowing the brain to have more neuroplasticity during development. Environmental inputs then have a greater influence on how different parts of the brain develop, in comparison to neurotypical brains.

Autistics tend to have more of a ‘bottom-up’ thinking style, which means we focus on details and individual pieces of information before we start to see the big picture. Neurotypicals, on the other hand, tend to have more of a ‘top-down’ thinking style, which means they start with the big picture and work their way down to the details. ADHDers may see the details and the big picture, but not necessarily the steps in-between.

Think of the idiom ‘Cannot see the forest for the trees.’

Autistics might focus on the individual trees and how they’re all different, not seeing the forest, while neurotypicals might focus on the overall shape of the forest and how the trees fit together. ADHDers may lack the ability to focus on the details of the trees and how they fit together, but they can mediate between the two approaches and apply that to the final goal of forest management. No approach is better or worse – they’re just different ways of processing information – and we should celebrate all of them to better achieve the sustainable society we are striving for.

@AutSciPerson on Twitter: ‘If you’re autistic, there is a high chance you’ve minimised your thoughts, your ideas, your needs, your challenges, your accomplishments, your creativity, your enthusiasm, your sadness, your frustration, your energy, your compassion, your value. All of you deserves to be seen.’

So, in that spirit, I’m Joey. My neurotype is AuDHD. I am an adrenaline junkie who will jump at sudden loud noises. I have a fight or flight response to emails but can get up and speak in front of a crowd of any size. I started university studying a B.A. in Performing Arts and Film Production and ended up with a MSc in Global Environmental Change. I have zero perception of time but get frustrated when others are late. I probably won’t pick up on subtext but will make many (fantastic – although I was told to write this by my wonderful colleague Elle Bartleet) sarcastic jokes.

And inside my brain lives an incredibly social golden retriever that has had far too much sugar and a cat who really likes to be alone. I am an inherent contradiction. My stims range from cracking my joints, through pacing, to singing. My special interest is everything because everything is linked.

I highly recommend the resources and links below if you want to learn more on ADHD, Autism, and Neurodivergence. And please reach out if you’d like to connect –      Community is key.