Support needs don’t disappear with age

At 32, after a decade of (from the outside) being a functioning member of society, I can’t suddenly have support needs - right?

When I wrote to you last I shared a story about leaving a family get together early. I received this comment in response, which made me realise I omitted an important detail. That is: I needed Andrew’s help in both deciding, and actioning my need, to leave early. 

I can’t know what would have happened if Andrew weren’t there, or I hadn’t felt comfortable confiding in him and asking for help. Maybe I would have found a way to make that decision for myself and communicate it to everyone clearly and concisely.

But history tells me otherwise. You see, I don’t have a great track record of honouring my needs. A consequence of being autistic and ADHD, and not knowing that’s why I felt different and struggled with things others didn’t seem to, was the integration of the core belief that my needs are wrong. 

Someone who is aware of their needs might be able to identify those needs, acknowledge and validate their feelings about those needs, make a plan to meet those needs where they’re not being met (or make a conscious decision to override their needs in a specific scenario where they wish to put others’ needs first), and take action accordingly to protect themselves. For many, this process might even become automatic.

Now that I am learning to do this, I see how it creates a core belief, or in my case re-programmes a core belief, that one’s needs are important. 

But for someone that has not been aware of their needs from a very young age, it becomes second nature to assume that either you don’t have any or, if you do, they’re wrong and should be suppressed. Subconsciously this reinforces the core belief that my needs are wrong, and everyone else’s needs are more important. 

With this lived experience as context to my family get together, it makes sense that I might not have been able to meet my need to leave early on my own. I’m learning, but it takes a lot of time and positive experiences to reprogram my belief that my needs matter and that if I prioritise them the people around me won’t leave. 

For a while since I discovered my neurodivergence I was trying to work on these things myself, without help. After all, a big part of asking for help is expressing your vulnerability - and as someone who has spent their life trying to hide their challenges, opening them up to another person feels entirely unusual and uncomfortable.

But the thing I realised is that the struggles I have were always there, and they will always be there to some degree. In the same way I needed support when I was a child, and a teenager, and a young adult, I need help now as an adult, and I will need help when I grow older. My support needs will not simply disappear with age. They may change over time, but they will not suddenly become redundant. 

Even though I have one, I don’t need a piece of paper from a psychiatrist to tell me what my support needs are. There is no doubt in my mind that I need support; it is only internalised ableism, hibernating in me as a result of society’s judgments of disabled people, and a history of not so great experiences, that holds me back from seeking it out. 

I can’t help but feel like part of the reason why I struggle to accept that I have support needs in the first place is because I’m 32. If it was common knowledge when I was a child, or in my adolescence and twenties, that I was autistic and had ADHD I suspect the response to and ongoing support for my situation would be different. But at 32, after a decade of (from the outside) being a functioning member of society, I can’t suddenly have support needs - right? 

I am at an age where I should have my life together. I should have learned how to look after myself. I should have found a job I can maintain. I should have worked out the perfect balance between work, family, and social life. 

The magic word: should. ‘Should’ is the word we use to comply with the expectations others, or society, hold for us - knowingly or unknowingly. These expectations can become our own until we pause to examine where they came from. It sure is an effective coping mechanism to bully ourselves into doing things the way others do them so we don’t stand out. 

But there is another word beginning with ‘s’ that I believe goes hand in hand with ‘should’. That is: ‘shame’. What are we telling ourselves when we say we ‘should’ do something? Or be a certain way? Or respond like that? We’re communicating internally that the way we naturally want to respond, to feel aligned with ourselves and our needs, is wrong. And what happens when we believe something about us is wrong? Well, we believe we have one or many shortcomings which, especially when highlighted by others around us, becomes a breeding ground for shame. 

Shame is claustrophobic, heavy, and all- encompassing. It seeps into our bones as if they are sponges. Underpinning our interpretation of new experiences, shame lingers and compels feelings and behaviours that reinforce its existence. 

But what hides in the dark looks less scary in the light. I’ve found that through seeking support from people I trust I am shining a light on the shame I hold for having these needs. It’s not easy to pick up a torch, shine it at yourself, look for the difficult feelings lurking in the shadows, and then show them to people you love. But on the other side, if those you trust pull through with care and love, this is a way to juxtapose shame with compassion. 

Compassion for the shame. Compassion for your inner child. Compassion for the you that is grown but vulnerable. Compassion for your Self. 

And why is compassion important? Compassion is sympathetic concern for the sufferings or misfortunes of others. Self-compassion is the same but experienced towards ourselves. It is a route towards acknowledging, accepting, and validating the needs we have suppressed. 

But when the ‘shoulds’ ring loud in our minds, how can we cut through and act out self compassion? Well, I’m not sure there is one straightforward answer. But there is one question I come back to when I notice I am trying to persuade myself that I should do something - like when I tell myself ‘I should be able to push through and stay another night’. That is: ‘what do I need in this moment?’. 

It’s simple. It’s uncomplicated. It’s not about anyone else. It’s simply about reflecting on what you need in that moment.