Social interaction is hard for everyone. The body language, the vague cues, that nervous confusion as to whether sarcasm is in play, it can all be very stressful. This is even more so the case for autistic people like myself, who have to do it all while not actually understanding the rules of the game.
Throughout my life, I’ve always struggled to make friends. At primary school, I vividly remember describing my best friend as ‘everybody’ because I was unsure of which friendship group I belonged in. At high school I spent the first two years being bullied for being ‘different’ and in the last three years, just like we all were, stuck in the mundane solitude of lockdown. When sixth form came around, I was lucky enough to go to a college full of lovely people who were accepting, but due to my college’s enormous size of 3,500 students – which made it really scary to work out who to be friends with – and due to the intensity of the Oxford application process (as I’m sure we can all attest to), I kept my head down and got on with the work.
As a result, arriving at Oxford has given me my first chance at making meaningful, close friendships. I’m lucky enough to have made some, and I’m so grateful for the people who are now in my life (shoutout to Lincoln Nation!), but I have learned a lot along the way. Over these two terms I’ve made a lot of social progress, yet there’s more I will have to make, as well as more everyone around me needs to do to accommodate the needs I do have.
I have been, and occasionally still am, very nervous in social situations , and am so grateful to everyone who’s tried to accommodate me. However, there have been those in my past who have taken this too far. Throughout life, people have often referred to me as ‘sweet’, ‘cute’ or ‘adorable’ which I get is an attempt to be complementary, but it can feel like I’m being babied because of the innocence I can appear to have. While it’s meant well, it makes me feel worse as it can highlight my differences, rather than make me feel included. This can also happen when jokes are told or references are made either to pop cultural or mature issues that I know less about due to my relative isolation when I was younger. Often, when I try to ask what something meant in either of these situations, I am met with “oh you wouldn’t know”, “you wouldn’t understand”, or even, “you’ll get it one day”. I perfectly understand that explaining some film reference I haven’t seen defeats the whole point of the joke. Equally, it’s certainly not the job of a friend to be a sex-ed teacher, or to constantly point out whether people are drunk or not. But my lack of awareness of these issues can make me feel different. This babying of me can also be unhelpful, as if I do or say something wrong, people are less likely to call me out for it (which is what good friends should do), which can harm me in future situations. One of my favourite things about my current closest friends is that they are willing to say to my face that I’ve messed up, should the situation arise. However, some accommodations obviously need to be made. Additionally, my learning curve is still continuing, and there are also things I’m going to have to get comfortable doing.
One accommodation I’m always grateful for is people being understanding of the fact that while I’m an extrovert and enjoy socialising, it can sometimes get to a point where I’ve just had enough and need some time to myself. This last happened a couple of Saturdays ago. I’d spent all day with different friends socialising, firstly doing some work with my fellow politics students, then a nice long walk, and finally dinner in a pizza restaurant to celebrate a friend’s birthday. As lovely as all these events were, I eventually ran out of steam, and ended up in my own world by the end of the dinner. Thankfully, a friend noticed I was struggling, and asked if I wanted to leave early with him, as he had to go anyway. That was so incredibly helpful and made me feel seen and heard when I was really struggling. As much as I love people…I just need a break sometimes.
The second thing that can really help is people communicating where I stand with them more clearly. Apathetic colleague, acquaintance, friend, good friend, best friend, lover. Six very different levels of connection between two people, and yet to someone who’s not used to friendships, the differences are very blurry. It can be very hard for me to tell what people in my life actually want from me, and whether they see me the same way that I see them. It works both ways, sometimes I can assume people want to be better friends with me than they actually do; other times I can assume people don’t like me when they actually want to be friends. Sometimes, because I can’t pick up on body language as easily, I can’t tell if someone is unhappy with a conversation, but if I’m told, I will do my best to make things better! For example, a friend once said that all I did was talk about me, without giving them a chance to enter conversations. I was horrified, yet realised they were totally right; I was unfortunately doing this. Having heard that, I have made a significant effort to make things better. People communicating that they’re interested in a friendship can be a huge confidence boost to me, as I’ll feel more comfortable initiating events myself. I can’t expect people to organise stuff for me my whole life, that would be ridiculous, unfair, and impractical, but it certainly is helpful if indications go beyond mere body language. Learning to communicate better has done wonders for me. When four days went by without me seeing one of my best friends, I assumed he wasn’t interested anymore, only to realise that as he’s more introverted than me, sometimes he needs extended time to himself, something I can understand.
The final thing I need to learn is confidence. Due to my masking (as we spoke about last week) I’d always been scared to be myself, which has meant I’ve hidden my interests, my body (not wearing short-sleeves or shorts even in the sweltering heat), my true opinions on things, and my entire personality, all for fear that I will be judged by others. Putting this mask on can make life much harder for me, but I’ve always struggled feeling confident without it. My mask has a negative effect of shutting people out and not allowing them to see the true me. While that was a necessary survival mechanism, it’s hampered my friendships. Thankfully, this is getting better. This term, I’ve become more comfortable wearing what weather dictates – rather than what hides me, and I’ve finally opened up about my interests, best shown by the little Eurovision party I had last Saturday where I could be my authentic self and share something I enjoy.
Social interaction has posed many challenges in my life. While lots has gotten better, there will always be some accommodations that I may need. I still have a long way to go, but things are improving. As always though, one size doesn’t fit all. These are my experiences, and everyone is different.