Neurologically Sustainable Discipleship

The Lenten resolutions previously posted here center around understanding and honoring our physical, neurological needs – and recognizing that ignoring and pushing through these needs is not only detrimental to our mental and physical health, but also to our relationships to others, and our relationship with God. The human body is designed to shut down processes of social engagement and higher thinking when in survival mode, and survival mode gets triggered when our sensory, cognitive and emotional processing is overwhelmed. If Lent is a season for identifying what impedes our relationship with God, then it is appropriate for neurodivergent Christians to seek ways to live sustainably within our neurological means, and to recognize the spiritual cost of habitually exceeding our limits. Lenten “sacrifice” for us may mean giving up trying to push through or stay silent about our needs for the sake of not making waves.

When we care for our sensory needs and treat ourselves with compassion rather than pushing ourselves beyond our capacities, we not only maintain our own health, but we set an example of compassion for others to follow.  This runs counter to many slogans and messages dominating popular culture.  How many times, for example, do we hear some variation on “no pain, no gain”, or the theme that growth only happens when we leave our comfort zones?  This might be true in athletic and military training, but for autistic people, pain is a signal we are obligated to heed rather than ignore. Pushing past our limits leads to meltdown, burnout, and sometimes, literal injury. With many neurodivergent people also experiencing joint hypermobility, migraine headaches and heat sensitivity, to name just a few, pushing through pain is an actual risk and liability. It is just as important to learn how to explain our limits with grace and humility as it is to be active, and to know how to plan ahead so that we can give our best to whatever we expect to do.

Autism Consecrated is designed to be a living example of how autistic people can sustainably engage in ministry and discipleship [which is to say, neurologically sustainable for our autistic needs]. We integrate the accommodations and flexibility we need into all that we do, taking into account the ways we comfortably communicate and receive and respond to information. For instance, our auditory processing gets easily overwhelmed with phone and video calls, so we communicate exclusively through email and text. Seeing words in type and having unpressured time to reflect helps us effectively respond to questions and comments we receive. Large gatherings overwhelm our sensory processing, so we limit our outreach to one person at a time. It is a natural outflow of our respective vocations as a priest-hermit and Lay Carmelite to offer our time in prayer for specific intentions brought to us, and in general, for better understanding and belonging of autistic people in the Church; in this, we also pace ourselves according to our energy levels and processing loads, simultaneously finding sensory refuge in the spaces we have devoted to prayer.

(Read more about how this apostolate is influenced by the Carmelite charism here.)

Going further, we have intentionally designed Autism Consecrated to operate with as few resources as possible. We are 100% volunteer, and we rely on word of mouth and the Holy Spirit rather than investing our energy and money in marketing and promotions. We are not about numbers. We don’t get anywhere near as much attention as larger, incorporated ministries do, but that leaves us more energy to be fully present to those who reach out to us, and to maintain our commitment to intercessory prayer.

Finally, we strive to promote belonging for autistic people of all ages, not just children. There are thousands of autistic teens and adults who are spiritually hungry and need accommodations, but the majority of resources out there are geared toward autistic children and are rooted more in behavior management than spiritual development. We want autistic teens and adults to know they too are seen, heard, valued, and that their spiritual needs are of equal importance.

Being able to offer God’s love to even one spiritually hungry person, and being in a position to pray for autism’s belonging in the Body of Christ, is more than sufficient to fulfill our mission day after day. We pray our example may show autistic people of all ages that neurodivergent discipleship is very possible.

 

Autism As Mission

We have written previously that autistic people are less likely to attend Mass than non-autistic people (e.g., our 2023 post, “Raise Your Hand If You’re Not Here”).

Our Daily Prayer for Autism’s Belonging for the Second Wednesday of Lent reads like this: “We pray for our autistic members who are not able to participate in Church liturgies and activities. May our autistic members be genuinely missed when absent. May we prayerfully consider what the barriers might be to their participation, and what the community can do to help address and relieve those.”

Which barriers might come to mind?

  • Sensory load
  • Health (both mental and physical)
  • Energy level (vs. exhaustion)
  • Quality of sleep (vs. chronic sleep deficit)
  • Executive functioning
  • Access to transportation

While each of these is relevant, if we are to be completely honest, we need to go further and acknowledge that – consciously or not – the community’s attitude toward neurodiversity is often the biggest and most difficult barrier. People may say outwardly that they welcome and encourage people of all abilities to come to Mass, but there remains a deep interior skepticism that autism is anything more than pop psychology’s attempt to stylize laziness and apathy toward decorum. These attitudes are not only grossly incorrect, but also do nothing to build up the Body of Christ. If anything, autistic members are isolated and wounded by this barrier more than all the others combined.

Ask any autistic person: If we were able to overcome such barriers as these through our own efforts and willpower, we would do so. Trying harder is not enough – and not within our grasp. Telling ourselves not to feel [exhausted, overwhelmed, anxious] is as useless as telling our cars to keep going when the fuel gauge reads “empty.” Our capacities and limits are what they are, and pushing past them is harmful, period. Those who encourage us to do so are operating on faulty, outdated, and disproven information.

Some have become so accustomed to the idea that merit is earned by acting well that they confuse patience and compassion for “special treatment.” But accommodations for autistic people are no more indulgent (or optional) than the “special treatment” shown by, say, bandaging and resting a sprained ankle… or by using supplemental oxygen when scuba diving.

Autistic people really do want to be present and participate. If we can’t remove the barriers for ourselves, what can we do?

Trust that we serve God best as our authentic selves, needs and all.

Diverting our energy from trying to live past our means starts by trusting God’s wisdom. Our capacities and limitations were designed, with purpose, by Our Creator. Trust that God intends some members of the Body of Christ to process at a different pace, to be deeply affected by what we see and hear and taste and ponder, and, yes, to need patience and assistance from others as a result of our body’s design. Trust that God calls even those of us whom the world writes off to be disciples. Believe that the fruit of this discipleship is cultivated in part by the extra time, extra space and extra understanding which will allow us to be present and contribute.

It requires this same trust to ask and expect the community to help us in our needs, and that is how offering our autism – by just being our authentic selves –  becomes mission work, even when that  mission brings us to confront the situations which  find us:

– misunderstood, unseen, or unheard by our community

– unaccommodated, despite repeated asking

– unable to participate, especially when large groups are our only option

– asking more questions than people would like

– overwhelmed and dysregulated, even when we are doing the best we can

In other words, the mission of being autistic includes challenging the way our communities respond to differences and disabilities, and living in such a way as to break the stereotypes perpetuating the misunderstanding and isolation which keep us from fully realizing our vocations as disciples.  When we focus on suppressing and hiding our autistic traits, we miss out (and so does the entire community) on what happens when we put that energy instead into being who God made us to be – which St. Catherine of Siena says will set the world ablaze with God’s grace!

Lord, let us be a sign by which stereotypes can be challenged. May our communities appreciate why we wear ear defenders and tinted glasses to Mass, and why we might sit in a separate place with additional sensory supports.  May our fellow parishioners experience God’s grace when lowering the lights, reducing the volume, and providing space which helps autistic people engage much more fully in worship. May our autistic discipleship be a source of grace and blessing to our communities.

Lord: Hear our prayer!

 

A Word On Our Daily Prayers For Autism’s Belonging in the Body of Christ

Those who are praying along with our daily intentions this Lent will notice that each day’s prayer examines an aspect of neurodiversity which many may not have considered. We are seeking to shift the stereotyped sense of autism as problematic symptoms and misbehavior toward a deeper realization that autistic expressions are very human, very functional ways people respond and attempt to cope when our processing system is flooded. Most people know what it’s like to feel overloaded. The difference is, autistic people’s processing systems reach capacity at a higher frequency, and overload when we are asked to keep pushing. Our bodies absorb every bit of data from our surroundings at once, filling all available processing slots quickly to capacity without the benefit of extra time to sort it all out. As with the famous chocolate factory scene from “I Love Lucy”, we do what we can to keep up, but pretending we are fine only makes things worse. Unless that conveyor belt slows down or we get the support we need to finish, we know how this is going to end. Except – for autistic people – we’re not laughing. More like, it is devastating, each and every time. It is exhausting. It is humiliating to have to ask for help, all the time… and, it’s even more so when we are met with those who think the way to help us is to shape our behavior for us. “Try harder! You can do it if you really apply yourself!” – No. We can’t.

But here’s what we want to convey: Any person’s capacity to participate in anything – including social activities, learning environments, and worship services – requires the ability to process information and engage with others. When our sensory systems are bombarded with more input than we can process, autistic or not, our bodies shift from relaxed participation to high alert.  If we do not take time and space to catch up with what we are already processing, our fight/flight/freeze reflexes start acting like circuit breakers, systematically shutting down extraneous processes (such as social graces, small talk, and creative thinking) as a last-ditch effort to keep our processing afloat. Most of us can recall a time when we felt frazzled by too many people speaking at once or too many demands coming in at the same time. If someone approaches us right then with a bit of unrelated conversation or unsolicited advice, we can well imagine what our response might look like… and, most neurotypical people would make plenty of allowance for why this is reasonable. Why, then, is it unreasonable when autistic people experience this (which we do)? Hint: It’s not unreasonable. It just happens more frequently, and more intensely, because our loads are constantly full, and traditionally, people have been told to “help” us by making us struggle. These prayers are intended, in part, to show the other side of this.

The crucial point to remember: Neurodivergent minds are flooded with simultaneous processing tasks, all the time. The way we look, sound, act, and cope, is a reflection of how well – or not – we are able to keep up with those processes at any given moment.

Corollary: The degree of assistance, patience, and accommodations we receive from others around us helps determine the ease with which we can participate and engage with others.

Autistic people deal with this all day, every day. It is not something that can be trained out of us. We can’t be cajoled into doing better. We look and act the way we do because we are at capacity, all the time, even when other people are not.

Why do we take such deliberate care in phrasing our intentions? In hopes of helping the wider Church see that autistic traits are not moral failings, and are not conquerable with the right attitude. Autistic traits are expressions of the same Body of Christ in which we are all members. Our experiences are more intense, and our capacities are reached sooner and more frequently than neurotypical members. The point to remember is that our needs are the same human needs as the rest of the Body – not subhuman needs, as original models of autism would lead us to believe, and not willfully lazy, self-absorbed, oppositional, or anti-social.

The extra time, extra space, extra patience, and gentler environments which autistic people utterly need to participate in ordinary things of life are arguably conditions which benefit anyone. Who among us does not feel a bit of relief when someone shows us empathy and helps us out when we are struggling? Which then begs the question: why are so many people so reluctant to allow these things? Why is slowing down, making things easier, and softening the sensory environment seen as “giving in” instead of giving the Body an oasis of desperately needed neurological rest, where all of us – including and especially autistic people –  can heal?

 

Lord, Hear Our Prayer!