Goodness knows where this one will go, but please grab yourself a cuppa and settle in. I’m pulling on a few loose threads and seeing what unravels. If you’d rather listen, you can do so here or on your favourite podcast platform.
We’re going to be talking about autism and differences in relating to other people, and we’re going to be talking about psychological constructs of what healthy relating looks like in a hyperindividualist culture, we’re going to be considering withdrawal as a trauma response, we’re going to be talking about binary thinking and we’re going to be wondering what healthy looks like when you consider all of that. Easy breezy.
One of the topics that has come up many many times in my work as a clinical psychologist, predominantly to women, predominantly mothers, is the concept that we need to cope alone. This is in many ways one of the assumptions of our time - and not just our time, I imagine this has been going on since the late 70s or early 80s when we began to see the death of community being replaced by the rise of the individual. I’m thinking Thatcher and Reagan, I’m thinking girl boss, I’m thinking cancel culture. The assumption being unless you can cope, with anything, all of the time, then you’re failing. And if you make a mistake, then you’re out. So you’d really better cope. With anything. What this has meant for so many people is that there must always, then, be an armour. Vulnerability is not acceptable. Mistakes, even, are not acceptable. Resilience, coping with what life throws at you, perfection - that is everything. Preferably with a smile on your face.
So that’s part one in this mind model I’m mapping out as I write. Hyperindividualism, the importance of coping, the loss of community support. Where does that lead? Loneliness, isolation, greater mental health problems, anxiety. Which makes sense right, because we’re coping alone. So of course we’re lonely.
Part two of this mind map is some of the messaging that I’m seeing as becoming more prevalent when it comes to dealing with trauma, particularly relational trauma. What is relational trauma? Well, just like a physical trauma, it is a wounding but it happens within relationships. This could be a breach of trust, it could be being offended or hurt and the person not making amends. It is essentially a rupture that isn’t repaired. Or repeated ruptures that aren’t repaired. A wound that isn’t healed. When that happens repeatedly in a relationship, when we are repeatedly wounded, it makes sense to go elsewhere to be healed. And that is the messaging - if someone hurts you, walk away. And how do we do that? We hide somewhere to lick our wounds. Usually, alone. Or sharing it, perhaps, with people we don’t know on social media. More so, there is messaging about narcissism and cutting out narcissistic people. And here our first two steps join together because alongside hyperindividualism comes narcissism, right? They go hand in hand. And underneath narcissism - the narcissistic defense - is also, you guessed it, loneliness, vulnerability, remorse, deep wounding.
Part three, or maybe thread three of this unravelling, is some of the messaging about coping as an autistic person in a neurotypical world. Which is, in itself, often made up of repeated experiences of relational trauma. The sort of microaggressions of having been so frequently misunderstood and invalidated. The exhaustion of the double empathy bind. And there is a binary solution often being suggested which is either explicit (“autistic people are only really safe with other autistic people”) or implicit (for example language which casts “the neurotypicals” as a homogenous group). Again, the solution is often to draw inwards, to turn away.
Part/thread four is what I’ve spoken about here before, how many of our solutions to these sort of difficulties, based on the psychological models we use nowadays, are also focused on the individual. We, as individuals, need to combat our loneliness through questioning our assumptions about other people. Getting over our social anxiety by exposing ourselves to social experiences which (we hope) will prove that our assumptions were wrong. But then if we have social experiences which are harmful, what then? The cycle begins again.
The assumption that ‘I must cope alone’, that is so prevalent for so many people, maybe it can’t really be challenged unless we do it en masse. Because if we turn towards someone, and they don’t open their arms, then our assumption is strengthened. No-one can help me, I must cope alone. And if we are all primed to cope alone, then vulnerability, help-seeking - that can feel overwhelming. And if everyone is stressed out because they’re coping with so much alone, then it is really difficult to open up those arms to other people. Lovely little vicious cycle, right there.
I could add another part/thread here, which is about how often we make assumptions based on our early childhood experiences and have a fantasy that our needs will be met without us really having to say out loud what it is that we need, in a sort of infantile way. It is not uncommon for us to have a longing for some fantasy person to see the need inside of us and meet it without us having to say anything at all. It is also not uncommon for us then to be angry or frustrated that other people have not, somehow, read our minds and met our unspoken need. And that means that we all need to recognise that tendency in ourselves too, and find ways to be grown ups and assert our needs, loudly and boldly and that this in itself would go some way to normalising a movement towards not coping alone. I think I just did, in fact, add that part.
And what is the thread that runs throughout? If individualism, and hyperindividualism is harming us, then what heals us is collectivism. And to allow that in, we all, every single one of us, needs to be able to say, hey, actually, I’m not coping. Or maybe, I am coping but I’m not that happy. Or maybe, I am hanging on in there but I’d rather things were different. Or even, I am actually coping but I can see you’re not and I want things to be different for you.
Because we can’t cope alone. And we should never feel we have to. And when we have been harmed by people, it can feel easier to put up walls and stop seeing others as having the potential to offer us connection. But the antidote to relational trauma is healing in relationships. Finding people who can see past the walls, and having the bravery to let those walls down, even just a tiny bit. And trying, and trying again. Reaching out, and if you don’t find open arms, wandering around until you do find some. And then opening yours, in turn.