New Direction

I was determined to update my blog at least once a month. Unfortunately, that hasn’t quite come to fruition. If I could use one word to sum up this year so far, it would be overstimulating. I started a new job in April, stepping into a completely unfamiliar working environment with new faces, new challenges, and, most significantly, a routine I had grown very comfortable with being turned on its head. My life was due for a shake-up and a change of direction. I certainly got what I wished for. From day one, I was uncomfortable, to say the least.

My first challenge came almost immediately: a training week in Devon. That meant a six-hour drive across the country to a place I had never been before. The longest drive I had done before was two hours to London, so it’s fair to say I was apprehensive. Add to that a week spent with strangers in unfamiliar surroundings, and well, I wasn’t exactly thrilled.

I’ll be honest: sometimes I question my autism diagnosis and convince myself that I’m only very mildly autistic. My partner finds this hilarious and takes great joy in reminding me just how neurospicy I am by imitating my most frequently used stims, reminding me of my weird special interests and generally pointing out my awkwardness. I really didn’t want to go on the course, but my bank balance reminded me that it was imperative. After all, there wasn’t exactly a queue of employers beating down my door to hire me. Opportunities had been few and far between, and at that point, it was very much a case of taking what I could get. The job was as an outdoor instructor at a kids’ camp, teaching activities such as archery, climbing, high ropes, orienteering, campfires, water activities and team building. The training week was essentially the company’s opportunity to sort the wheat from the chaff. It’s all very well impressing at a job interview, but if you can’t do the activities or handle large groups of children, you’re probably not cut out for the role.

I was convinced I was going to get found out.

For the couple of weeks between the interview and the training camp, I did my best to convince myself there was no point in going. I wasn’t confident I could make it through the week, let alone do the job.

I forced myself to go and drove the six hours from Canterbury to Torquay, successfully, I might add, without getting a speeding ticket. I’m still convinced that was more dumb luck than good driving. The centre was mostly full of young people; I was certainly one of the older ones. My roommate for the week was another young lad from my city (small world), let’s call him Dave. Dave had sleep apnoea. Unfortunately, for me, that meant incredibly loud snoring and a tendency to gasp for air in his sleep. It was quite the nighttime performance. I got virtually no sleep for the first two nights and eventually had to request a room change. I felt terrible having to explain to Dave that the reason was, essentially, that he was keeping me awake by sounding like he was fighting for his life in his sleep. Despite everything my brain had been telling me, I somehow made it through the training week. The socially awkward, autistic 36-year-old man who had been convinced the job wasn’t meant for him had, against the odds, survived. Fast-forward 4 months, and I’m still in the job. What an absolute miracle! I say that because after the first week, I was ready to quit. And the second and third weeks. In fact, I’ve lost count of how many times my head has conspired to get me to quit. Thankfully, I am a stubborn bastard, and admitting defeat is something I am not prepared to do.

I am used to feeling anxious, overstimulated, and out of place; these feelings are prominent in my life in every social situation, whether at work or when socialising outside of work. It comes with the territory of being autistic. However, this job has taken things to a new level of discomfort. A few examples include working 10 days in a row consistently during peak season, working 12-14-hour shifts consistently, and having activities and sessions I was running changed at the last minute without telling me (this one particularly irked me), as I had no time to prepare for whatever activity I had just been put on. I NEED time to prepare! I know that several other neurodiverse people at the company also could not cope with this.

I have never knowingly suffered full autistic burnout, but I think I was close. My partner pushed me to speak to management about the workload and hours, as it was becoming too much. She noticed a change in me: I was irritable and stressed, and my routine had been shattered. I was reluctant to go and admit to a team leader that I was struggling with the workload. My ego does not permit me to concede that I cannot cope. I resisted my partner’s advice for a while and soldiered on. It did start to affect our relationship. Our time together was shrinking; I was clearly running out of bandwidth, and social interaction outside of work was exhausting and increasingly difficult. I craved alone time and mourned the loss of my routine. Luckily, Naomi got through to me and made it very clear that if I didn’t speak up to someone, I was going to burn out in a big way. Naomi has experienced autistic burnout, and she explained to me in detail what it is like and how it can affect people. It could be years, and some people are never the same. This was enough to make me act. I spoke to a team leader I trusted about my hours and the rota, and that I was struggling with certain aspects of the job. The way the rota and timetabling worked was explained to me; she showed me my schedule for the next few weeks and reassured me that she would pass on my concerns to higher management.

I felt a mixture of relief and stupidity after that conversation. The team leader was very helpful, but why, why, why did I not speak up sooner? Story of my bloody life, I just try and plough through without any understanding of what's going on, how it all works or why things are done. If I spoke to someone sooner, it would have alleviated a lot of stress and anxiety. Unsurprisingly, over the next month, my work/life balance improved. I was able to make time for the things essential to my physical and mental well-being, like running and working out regularly. My relationship improved as I was able to spend more time with my partner and feel less stressed about work. I managed to survive the company's busiest period of the season.

A lot of staff did not make it through the busiest period, as the demands of the job proved too much for them, and I completely empathise with that. It could easily have been my story. I considered throwing in the towel more than a few times, but I stuck at it. Hands down, it’s the most demanding job I have ever had, and I’ve been around the block a few times; I feel old even saying that. I’ve had a lot of jobs for someone my age and, if I’m being honest, I’m still yet to find my true calling. However, I do feel like I’m on the right path, and my current role has taught me a great deal about myself. I’ve discovered that I’m far more resilient than I give myself credit for, that I’m capable of advocating for myself when I need to, and, perhaps most surprisingly, that I’m actually quite good with children and genuinely enjoy working with them.

For the first time in my life, I have direction; hopefully it’s the right direction. Time will tell.