Why Autistics Crave Clarity — My Personal Journey

“Why?” is a driving force in my life. This is an inexhaustible, immersive, whole-body-and-mind consuming impetus that keeps me engaged and willing to move into areas I sometimes wouldn’t think I’d find myself.

It can get me in a lot of trouble as well. Simple, probing questions aren’t always well-received by allistics. My questions are frequently seen as challenges to their knowledge and authority. It’s as if their emotions rise to step in front of their intellect (take a back seat, intellect) as some sort of shield to defend themselves to an affront of which I had no realization I inspired. I then have to try to navigate around this shield or dissolve it in some way. This isn’t always possible using logic — often, not in the slightest. Where all I wanted was “why is it like that?” or “why do you think that?” or dare I provide a counter-argument to their seemingly illogical statement, wow. Shield comes up glowing and fierce, when I truly just was comparing what I knew to be true against the backdrop of their seemingly inaccurate statements.

This isn’t to win an argument — not in the slightest. And it certainly isn’t to make them feel any less at all. There is no competition. I have no horse in the race. There is only my working hard to see where my knowledge is wrong and needs to be adjusted or where theirs is wrong based on what I’ve experienced or otherwise am educated. I truly want to learn, to discover truth in all its glory — even, and especially so, if I am wrong.

I recently had this happen with someone, and it left me scratching my head and thinking about it for the next two days as to how I could have responded differently that wouldn’t have brought up this person’s shields. I won’t reveal that particular scenario, because it’s too close to home, but I’ll recreate a brief example of one of many from my distant past:

Let’s say I’m putting a box on a conveyor belt. The supervisor comes by and says to turn the box a particular way that was inconsistent with how the company originally trained me to rotate the box. My brows came together and I asked, “I was told to do it this way. Why…”

The supervisor didn’t even let me finish before stating, “Just do it!”

I wasn’t planning to *not* do it. I simply wanted to know why I now have to do it differently than how I was trained. My brain would go into overdrive to understand how this change would affect the speed of my process and those downstream of my station. My brain usually processes this in seconds, but if I am at a loss on how it improves or I blatantly see that this subtle change actually slows things down or makes it more difficult for all involved, then I have an impasse in me needing resolution. Had something changed in management? Was the original way studied and found to be less efficient? Was this new way more beneficial in some way that eludes me? Will this change be changed again shortly after I’ve gone through the full adjustment to implement it?

And then there is the inevitable question: Was this particular supervisor simply wrong? This happens a lot with language-based instructions between people in general, but more so between allistics and autistics. I frequently have to double-check their use of words (and my own) to make sure I understand properly or whether or not they misspoke. This process of double-checking for clarity is even seen as an affront to many people.

A consistent work process is essential to any efficiently running system. Having seemingly arbitrary changes implemented not only upsets my established resonance with work flow, but also has an immediate anxiety grip for me and others on the spectrum. This is compounded when you know that the person or persons involved have been proven to be…less accurate or more emotional in their processes than the physics of a situation calls for. Simply saying, “just do it” or something similar doesn’t help us increase our estimation of their capabilities or the value of their directions.

So, where does this leave us? I now am fortunate to have two friends who act as interpreters for our own conversations — without judgement or emotions getting in the way — and for helping me interpret what I just experienced with people who are not on the spectrum. My friends are a tremendous resource for me and help to resolve and clarify language deficits and social incompatibilities — where previously I had to muddle through and, more often than not, pretend I fully understand what someone is conveying.

I don’t think allistic people realize how much time ASD individuals actually spend trying to resolve errors in isolation. I mean hours and days and even weeks in the effort to understand where something went wrong and why and how better to approach it next time — which then doesn’t usually work because the variables have changed by the time you return to a similar situation.

I have found allistics, generally, unable to understand why I want such depth or clarity for any particular interaction. Either that, or they are unwilling to spend the time and effort to help me in this education.

And it is education. It’s a learning process that just doesn’t stop. I have never been satisfied with simple responses that don’t contain truth or that don’t provide rich enough data to satisfy and establish trust in them. It isn’t that I’m asking for a lengthy dissertation, but would prefer that if I ask a question about something, my question gets looked and responded to on face value. There isn’t subtext involved — how the hell do these people operate with everything they say and do has subtext behind it all!

I digress.

I have been told that I’m a very patient person by many people over my lifetime. I think this directly comes from trying to parse through the onslaught of data coming through my senses, but also wanting to deeply understand people, situations, and the world around me. That can’t be rushed. I have been on the receiving end many times from people who don’t have patience, and I know how harmful it can be for some individuals who aren’t given the time of day they would to their dog or cat.

I won’t stop asking why — especially with people I don’t know or who have proven themselves to be less accurate about things than is comfortable for me. I know of no other way to make sure some harm or ignorance isn’t going to be passed along through my own expression. “Why” is my shield, I suppose. Though it may cause much more stress at times than I anticipate, it makes me feel more secure about a process or sharing truthfully something to others who otherwise may be affected in ways I also cannot anticipate.

Even with my close interpreter friends, I’ll ask why in a lot of different ways. The difference with them is that they accept my thirst and need to be accurate or have a depth of knowledge that goes below the surface. If as a group, we all don’t know enough info, we gladly go through our phones to search for the answer. That process alone is comforting. They have my back.

And I have theirs.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I truly appreciate your effort. Please clap, comment, or share with people you think might benefit from my writing.