The Spaces Between Us
The 'Haunted Swing' illusion involves an individual placed on a swing. If the room is moved, even if the swing and the platform on which it is placed aren't moved, the individual would still perceive bodily motion, despite not having moved themselves.
Imagine a situation when you've always been on this swing, and you don't know life to be any different. You're not moving, but everything else is moving, and there is an overload of sensations. You devise habits to comfort you, to ground you. You design strategies to perceive and deal with the world, because this is your normal. You're neurodivergent.
08:14 am.
5 more stops left before I have to get off.
I close my eyes, and rock from side to side.
I can feel the speed of the train in every inch of my body. I feel the hard seat cushion pressed against my bottom, my backpack feels uneven and on my lap. I feel the rims of the sketch-pads which I placed in my bag, carefully next to my laptop this morning.
4 more stops left.
I smell coffee and hair gel on the man sitting to my right, I hear the crinkle of the paper every time he writes a new number in the sudoku. I hear the girl punching her fingers aggressively against her phone, typing something.
3 more stops left.
The sounds. The smell. The sounds. The smell. It try to focus on the motion of my own body. I suddenly feel something on my left shoulder. It's the lady's hair touching me. I lean away from it. It is still on me. I lean away more and my right shoulder touches the man who looks up at me from his sudoku.
I still feel her hair, I still feel the man's shoulders. I don't know what to do, and I rock from side to side and I start tapping my feet. Everyone is looking at me. I can feel my heart race faster.
2 more stops left.
I get off the tube.
8:40 am.
I stand, clutching my bag to my chest and rocking from side to side. I have to take the next tube. I can feel the cold wind, and I can feel all the layers of my clothings. I can hear the couple arguing about walking the dog. I feel a buzz in my pocket. I take my phone out and I am comforted when I see Charlie's name pop up with her message-
CHARLIE: Hiii A, have you reached?
ME: No.
CHARLIE: Aw, did you get off the tube?
ME: Yes.
CHARLIE: That's okay. You'll reach on time and they are going to love you. You're the best graphic designer I know.
ME: I am the only graphic designer that you know.
CHARLIE: That doesn't mean I am unaware of just how good you are.
CHARLIE: I am so so proud of you.
CHARLIE: When is the next tube coming?
ME: In 2 minutes.
CHARLIE: Text me when you get there.
ME: Okay.
As the train doors slide open, I tentatively step in. There aren't any seats available for me to sit. I turn around to leave the train but more people pile on making that task no longer possible. I find myself a corner where I won't be touched. I am now wearing my backpack on my back. I can feel the straps on my shoulders. I concentrate on the strap and rock back and forth a little.
9:00 am.
ME: I reached, Charlie.
CHARLIE: Good luck, A.
The rest of my trip to the office seemed like a blur as I run through previous interview experiences in my mind. It always ends with me in a cafe with my sister, Charlie eating cake. I know she loves me. She understands me.
"Can you explain your design process?"
Since the moment I wake up every morning, I notice colours, I enjoy watching them swim in front of me. I love experimenting with different colours both through physical means and through software. I experiment repeatedly until I am satisfied with the product.
Before I complete my first sentence, I usually get interrupted with the next question. I want to scream. I hear the next question, but I have to run through this answer in my head before I can process my answer to the next one.
"How will you build a relationship with the client if you're struggling to communicate?''
I am a good listener. I will understand and internalise their brief to produce visuals which best suits their needs. I can do this well because I have a special interest in colours and I have an extensive knowledge about media and psychology.
I know the answer to every question that they could ask me. But I experience an amplified version of the world. It takes me a little longer to process everything and I can't answer very quickly or answer in the right tone or volume.
I still feel pain, hurt and anger every time I get rejected. I also feel happy, loved and blessed every time I see my sister. I might not be able to express it eloquently, but that doesn't mean my emotions are non-existent.
In this fast, fast paced world, do I not get a small space to exist?
With this question in mind, I say, once again, "Hi, I'm Andrew. I am a graphic designer and I have autism."
A review published by the UK government last year revealed that less than 3 out of every 10 people with autism are employed. This results in the talent pool of the autistic workforce going untapped. By not recognising just how valuable the neurodiverse workforce is, we are eliminating contributions that could revolutionise productivity nationwide. The term 'disability' probably doesn't refer to any one person, but refers to the society when it isn't able to accommodate every single person within it.
Disclaimer: None of the details in the above story belong to anyone I know. The names (and other details) have been changed to protect confidentiality.
