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.

 

Lenten Resolutions

by Aimée O’Connell

 

With the season of Lent just up ahead, I would like to offer Autism Consecrated’s take on Lenten resolutions. Boiled down, these would be something like this:

  • Learn about my neurobiological infrastructure
  • Live within my neurobiological means
  • Patiently, politely, cheerfully refuse* to exceed those means
  • Consecrate my neurodivergence to God, offering Him all that I am, that I may bear witness to autism’s belonging in the Body of Christ

(* This phrase, “cheerfully refuse,” is a direct nod to the title used by Leif Enger in his 2024 novel. That wording captures how I strive to face confrontation when trying to be faithful to my needs, and I express my sincere gratitude for his giving the world that phrase.)

Awhile back, I was asked in an interview what advice I might give to autistic individuals and families who are seeking to strengthen their connections to God and their faith communities. My response from then fits very well with the way I recommend forming our Lenten resolutions.

First: Understand what autism is, and what it is not.  Learn about autism from neuroaffirming sources and from fellow autistic people. 

Second: Consider that the autistic neurotype is part of God’s design, and contemplate the intentionality of that being part of our lives.  How have the autistic aspects of our lives shaped us, and how have they shaped the people around us? 

Third: Consider consecrating our autism to God, that He may lead us to where we will be most fruitful, exactly as we are.

Fourth: Be forthright with our needs. The more comfortable we are with our limitations, the more others will become comfortable supporting them. It takes mutual, voluntary humility to admit when we don’t know what to do but are willing to support one another in figuring that out together. 

Fifth: Never forget that God loves us and knows our limitations. So long as we sincerely desire to grow ever closer to God, we cannot let Him down or disappoint Him simply because we are neurodivergent or are struggling to keep up with the obligations and demands on our processing. 

Sixth: Keep the conversation going as long as it takes for the people in our parishes to better understand and support its autistic members of all ages, not just children.  And: Remember that starting a “conversation” does not necessarily require speaking or depend on traditional communication. It was St. Francis who said we do well to preach the Gospel at all times, but use words only when necessary… and it was the one-person-at-a-time example of St. Thorlak, not his words, which comprised his legacy and led to his canonization. Being authentically and cheerfully who we are, autistic and all, is mission work to the rest of the Church.

Once again this year, Autism Consecrated is offering Daily Intentions for Autism’s Belonging in the Body of Christ as a season-long deep-dive into various aspects of neurodivergence, seeking in prayer to build better understanding of and support for neurodiversity in our parish communities. These daily reflections serve as a prayer for the Church, but can also be a means of learning more about our neurobiological infrastructure, in line with the Lenten resolutions suggested above. The Daily Prayers for Autism’s Belonging are free for individuals and groups (including parishes) to pray, print, download and share.

Likewise, The Scriptural Stations of the Cross for Autistic People by autistic Catholic priest Fr. Mark Nolette are based on his firsthand experiences and a desire to unite the gifts and challenges of neurodivergence to the suffering and redemption of Jesus. This devotion may be accessed directly on our website or downloaded in print and audio formats (English).

And then, the Prayer to Consecrate Autism is also on our website, free to access and download and pray for ourselves or on behalf of someone close to us.

Let us all pray that the upcoming season of Lent will be fruitful for all of us, in the ways we need that most.

 

 

 

 

 

When diagnosis and treatment are not enough

by Aimée O’Connell, T.O.Carm., and Fr. Mark Nolette

 

Maybe you’ve sat with a doctor or therapist and gone over questionnaires. Maybe you’ve done your own research in books and online. Maybe it’s for your own needs, and maybe it’s for a loved one. But here you are, with the name of something concrete – Autism, ADHD, Anxiety, Depression, Bipolar, Borderline, OCD, or similar and related diagnoses – along with a list of best practices, a plan for therapy, maybe even a prescription. It is a relief to know what you’re dealing with, and to have an outline of how to deal with it.

 

Then, you’ve got your faith to get you through. You’ve got church, the sacraments, a support network of wonderful, caring people, and a wealth of spiritual reading and podcasts to encourage you. You might have a gratitude journal and some Scripture quotes at hand, and inspirational books by renowned authors who remind us that with God, all things are possible, and we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us.

 

So, why isn’t it working?

Why do we still feel empty?

 

Two possibilities: Burnout, and spiritual impostor syndrome.

 

“Burnout” here is not the idea that we need a vacation or that we’ve gone too long without having fun. “Burnout” here refers to neurological exhaustion, below the conscious level, which is not something we can manipulate with willpower or even completely prevent, if we are neurodivergent. Our bodily processing systems run 24/7, and anything we do that requires executive functioning (which is… everything) will add to the neurological processing load. Negotiating our sensory environments, both by having to filter out the excess stimuli imposed by our surroundings and by having to seek baseline stimuli in places we are forced to be still, contribute to that load. As our executive functioning begins to suffer, our capacity to be chipper and peaceful diminishes, and criticism from those around us increases. Burnout is whenever our load has been maxed out longer than we have been able to keep up. Basic neurological rest, a necessity for neurodivergent people, is portrayed as a luxury in the minds of most people, and not something we are typically allowed to do until after burnout begins.

 

In short: For neurodivergent people, depression and anxiety (and other mental health crises) are more often symptoms of burnout than standalone diagnoses.

 

To use an analogy, physical pain is often a symptom of something more complex at work. We can diagnose pain and treat it, and even take steps to prevent it, but if there is something beneath that pain – like, say, cancer – then treating the pain alone will not solve the problem, and our health will continue to deteriorate.

 

Here are some specific reasons why focusing only on depression, anxiety, and other mental health crises, is problematic when burnout is at play.

 

  • Most therapy techniques and self-help books on depression, anxiety and mental illness, including spiritual books, describe and employ behavioral approaches which require conscious control over our emotions and motivation – giving no thought to the health or capacity of our neurological infrastructure.

 

  • Any coaching, advice, therapy or self-help/spiritual book ought to account somewhere for the fact that moods, motivation and executive functioning depend on the health of our neurological infrastructure. Some do get there eventually, but usually it’s after a lot of focus on and unpacking surface symptoms, behaviors, and “attitudes.” Meanwhile, our neurological burnout continues unaddressed and depletes us (or adds to the deficit) even further.

 

  • Expecting anyone to feel gratitude, maintain motivation, or make resolutions when our neurological infrastructure is maxed out is unrealistic, a recipe for failure, and potentially harmful.

 

  • Neurological exhaustion is treatable with significant lifestyle adjustments and accommodations which need to be available at all times, not just until “things get better.”

 

To date, I know of no Catholic or any spiritual resources specifically addressing neurological exhaustion and burnout, or its effects on our spiritual lives. (Please, tell me if they are out there and I have missed them!) Which then leads to the next point: Spiritual impostor syndrome.

 

Neurodivergent people have very likely grown up being corrected and taught how to act in ways that are prescribed to and imposed on us, not spontaneous or authentic. We learn social scripts, and how to suppress big emotions, and how to behave well enough to be accepted by others. The cumulative effects of masking are just now beginning to be researched, and the impacts are dire. Human beings are not meant to follow scripts, nor are we meant to do things to earn other people’s approval – but this has been the thrust of most therapies and therapeutic techniques, even those best-intentioned, and it is what most people think of as “the right thing to do.”

 

A lifetime of masking our authenticity and working for other people’s approval takes a big spiritual toll. “Impostor” syndrome is what happens when scripts are “imposed” on us by people in charge. Their love or affirmation of us is entirely dependent on whether we follow their scripts. These scripts do not reflect our true needs, but nearly always reflect the “needs” of the people in charge to control and manipulate us. As a result, even when we follow the scripts and earn the approval of these people, we feel empty and hollow. We feel like impostors. If this was our experience as children, we are very likely to imagine God as also imposing scripts on us that have no relevance to who we really are and that His love and acceptance of us are wholly dependent on our following the scripts.  It’s what happens when the scripts become God.

 

How, then, do we take ourselves to prayer before God? Can we trust that we do not have to earn His love, too? Can we face God after we have unknowingly cooperated with our own shunning, cloaked in the idea that our neurological needs and expressions need correction (or that our traits are loathsome, bothersome, too much, not enough)? How can we forgive ourselves, and those whom we trusted?

 

How can we trust God?

 

Sometimes we might also need to ask –

 

Where has God been in all of this?

Why did God make me this way, only to let everyone tell me I’m defective?

Haven’t I suffered enough? Haven’t I already died to myself, over and over and over, ad nauseam?

If I am beautifully and wonderfully made, why am I still not good enough?

 

Any true “therapy” that deals with “impostor” syndrome begins with a fundamental sense of being loved by God that cannot be contained by or flow from any script. It is analogous to what happened to Saul of Tarsus on the road to Damascus. In the light of the love and grace of God, the scripts lose their power as their inadequacies become evident. The person who has been so touched by God will then need some time to rethink and reprocess his or her whole life in the light of the knowledge of being loved by a gracious God!

 

No spiritual resource on depression, anxiety, mental illness or even neurodivergence can be adequate by itself without looking squarely at these questions and entrusting the answers to God’s merciful love.

In the meantime…

Yes: We are loved by God.

Yes: We are beautifully and wonderfully made.

No: People may not have steered us in the right direction, as far as how we can thrive as neurodivergent people. That is only just beginning to come into the mainstream narrative. Good intentions are still good, but methods can also be re-examined and revised based on what we know better now.

 

No: Our moods or executive functioning capacities are not indicators of our spiritual skills, or our goodness as human beings, or our belovedness by God.

 

Yes: Gratitude journals are good things. But, No: They are not the hinge on which our mental health rests. When we are neurologically rested, we have the capacity to be grateful for many things. When we are neurologically exhausted, we need to focus first on restoring our neurological health, and then we can both think about and authentically feel gratitude. Imposing it on us, however it may be packaged, makes us… impostors.

 

To be continued.