Lyric Rivera on LinkedIn: Several years ago, I came out as nonbinary (someone whose gender identity… (2024)

I've been thinking a lot about "Autistic Meltdowns" recently, how they are similar to other types of overloads, what causes them, and what people need to prevent and recover from them.I've been reflecting on the fact that Autistic Overloads have their own name, pondering "why" our overloads have their own name when everyone occasionally gets overloaded.I've been thinking about how I (and many other Autistic People) start the day with my emotional load already "at capacity."I've been reflecting on how much easier my days are when I can start with "more space" in my container (compared to beginning when I'm already ready to overflow) and how our society's design contributes to my constantly being spread too thin.Would non-autistic people be overwhelmed more frequently (if they lived in a world not designed for them)?What changes could we make to our society to make it more inclusive for everyone?Full post: https://lnkd.in/ggwX4gTf

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I learned to repress (instead of express) because people reacted poorly to me whenever I tried to share what I wanted, needed, and felt.I swallowed my rage, discomfort, worries, and pain over and over again (because I was used to people around me not giving me space to express my feelings and needs).I learned to "bottle it all up" because I had no external outlet for my experiences.Everything that is unexpressed is "put away" or "on pause" and placed in a holding area (which has limited space). Raw and unprocessed emotions become flammable fuel for a mental explosion (if they're not "vented" before it's too late).As a multiply-NeuroDivergent Person (whose also Queer in multiple ways), I find myself "putting things away" frequently because much of my experience is beyond what others can understand (or have space for).For most of my life, I found I had a very "large container," allowing me to store pain until my container wouldfill up. Then, when too much pain accumulated, eventually, I would overflow (melting down), making room to swallow more sufferingFull Post: https://lnkd.in/ggwX4gTf

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Steve Silberman, ally of the neurodivergent community, dies at 66Silberman, author of "Neurotribes," has long advocated for autism and neurodiversity rights

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My understanding of my memory has evolved since learning about my NeuroDivergence.When I was first diagnosed Autistic (almost 8 years ago now), I thought all of my memory differences were due to me being Autistic (because I did meet Autistic People who had similar memory issues to my own).As I got to meet more Autistic People, I started to realize there are plenty of Autistic People out there who don't struggle with their memory nearly as much as I do (and some who have exceptional memories, allowing them to sequence and recall events with detail and precision I can barely comprehend).A few years after being diagnosed Autistic (with social anxiety disorder), when I was in my mid-thirties, I was diagnosed with combined type ADHD, which explained some of the short-term and executive functioning difficulties that I had been experiencing.More recently, after the loss of my grandfather in the hospitalsparking a whirlwind of repressed childhood memories, I realized there's probably more to my wonky memory than Autism and ADHD.I used to think that my short-term memory was useless, but my long-term memory was forever. However,I've recently realized that even my long-term memory is less solid than I used to believe it.These days (now that I have more coping mechanisms), I'm much less bothered by the things I forget day to day (thoughthe repressed childhood memories that keep bubbling up recentlyhave been distressing,to say the least).At this point in my life, I'm less concerned with finding a specific medical name for my experiences and more focused on learning about myself, my needs, and what I need to be happy, heal, and succeed.FULL POST: https://lnkd.in/guP9uYwz

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My memory is a bit wonky.I don't trust myself to remember things, especially in the short term.Growing up, I used to worry about my memory (because adults often told me I was "too youngtobe so forgetful").I wouldforget the show I was watching if the commercials came on, forget what I was trying to say to someone (mid-sentence), not remember something I'd been told, or that I was supposed to do something (like a chore, task, or to bring items home from school-like books or homework).When people gave (give) me verbal directions, I could not (cannot) remember the steps (even if there are few steps and the steps are simple).I got in trouble (both at home and at school) because of my forgetfulness.People around me seemed to have trouble believing when I told them "I didn't remember" things (and would often suggest that I wasnot listening,intentionally forgetting,orpretending to forgetthings on purpose), which made me feel ashamed and inadequate for my inability to "get it together."Back then, I didn't know my mind worked differently. Nobody did. This meant the expectations placed upon me (and people's reactions to me) were often unfair and unrealistic.Because I didn't know the bar was set too high, I beat myself up over my inability to mimic the memories of the people around me.I always feel that I am, or might be, forgetting something—and often, I do forget something (despite my best efforts).Full post: https://lnkd.in/guP9uYwz

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I spent most of my life avoiding my feelings, pushing them down, and burying them deep inside me.When I was very young, I learned to disconnect from my feelings, and for most of my life, I prided myself on my ability to 'put feelings on pause' until later (short-term or for years).I thought it was a skill that I could "save feelings for later" and act like everything was great(even when it wasn't)and that it was a good thing that I could easily disguise, disconnect from, or tone down my feelings and emotions on command. I thought "having an off switch" and a good "game face" made me strong. For most of my life, my ability to "not feel" and "deny myself" allowed me to conceal the discomfort I felt as a NeuroDivergent Person living in a world run by and for people with minds unlike mine. I learned to always answer that I was "fine" whenever people asked me (even if I wasn't) because people never react well when you tell them anything else.As I grew older, I learned that simply "saying you are fine" is not enough if you don't also act like you're doing well, so I learned to fake joy and happiness in times of distress in the presence of others (or any time someone asked how I was doing or if I was "okay" or not).Eventually, I got so good at hiding my pain, panic, or distress that I became able to smile, laugh, and converse through full-blown, adrenaline-pumping panic attacks.For most of my life, smiling through my discomfort was easier (for me) than admitting to others, "I'm not okay," or needing help.I was ashamed of "not being okay" when everyone around me seemed fine.For most of my life (before being diagnosed Autistic at the age of 29), I was ashamed of my feelings and embarrassed to ask for help, so I would shut off my feelings whenever they were "too much" or simply unpleasant.Occasionally, I would pause feelings, and they would come back up later when I was alone (IF they came back up at all). However, I seem to be losing the ability to deny my feelings (or put them on pause) recently.Additionally, many of the emotions and memories I'd "put away" years ago seem to suddenly be bubbling up like an overflowing toilet, leaving me stuck wading through the "sh*t" I thought I'd never have to unpack or process.It's like my mind is a septic tank that's never been pumped or properly maintained and is now overflowing because there's no more room in it.Or it's as if I've been playing "mind-Tetris" for so long that I've reached the top of the screen, and there's no more room to fill in any more blocks.All the pain I used to be able to distance myself from now has nowhere to go.There's no "storage" anymore, so when I feel things, they hit me (more intensely than ever), rushing over me immediately.More on Substack: https://lnkd.in/guqh2vEt

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Why Your Anxious Neurodivergent Friend May Disappear Sometimes - My Autistic PerspectiveI do something to people from time to time. I don't mean to, but my mind tricks me, so I do it anyway... I disappear and drop contact, leaving people feeling like I don't like or care about them.I'm sorry to everyone I ghosted when I assumed you hated me.https://lnkd.in/gc8ZYB8Y

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When "Treat Others How You Want To Be Treated" May Be Harmful - Why treating people "how you want to be treated" isn't the answer when considering NeuroDiversity.I'm Autistic and ADHD (or AuDHD), but for the first part of my life, nobody knew this, not even me.Because everyone around me growing up (and for most of my adult life) assumed (falsely) that I was Neuro-Average, they often (meaning well) treated me "how they wanted to be treated," causing me great harm.When my teachers thought I needed to "learn to sit quiet and still" so I could "listen properly" like my peers (assuming we all had similar needs and capacity for stillness), I became ashamed of my need to move.Anytime I would do my best at something very difficult for me (that other people find easy), when people scolded me for "not trying hard enough," it made me feel as if my best was not enough - and I was not enough.Full post is available on Substack: https://lnkd.in/gKwG3rHV

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Do You Find Animals Easier to Relate to Than Most People?Non-human animals don't lie to you. They didn't "act sweet" to lure you in.As I navigated through my formative years, I encountered significant hurdles in forming deep connections with others. This was particularly true when their expectations of me surpassed my capabilities or when I struggled to comprehend them.I was a kind kid—sharp in many ways but also gullible (and vulnerable in others). I also fit the Autistic stereotype of being someone who takes things literally. This trait, which is still present in my adult life, was even more pronounced in my childhood.Outsiders describe me as "taking things literally," but I see this as more related to my visual thinking.Because I am a visual thinker, my brain translates people's words into literal pictures. This means that when someone speaks to me (or asks me questions), their words act like search terms that produce various results in my images, videos, and sound bites.When people speak to me (or ask me questions), they use words (like search terms) that bring up various results (images, videos, sound bites).Like Google, if someone enters a wrong term (or uses the wrong words), it can majorly alter the results returned (from a browser or my brain). In my case, this means that if someone uses words that don't accurately describe what they're trying to convey, the 'results' in my mind can be completely different from what they intended.Also, similar to Google (or any other web browser), different results come back whenever various words are fed in.I usually pick the first, number one, top result - which is only sometimes what the other person was looking for. When I get it wrong, I frequently am blamed for not picking the "correct picture" fast enough (even if the other person used "the wrong words" for me to understand them).Animals Are Often Easier Than People (for Me)Animals, in contrast, were a constant source of solace for me, easier to form bonds with than people. They were uncomplicated, direct, and provided a sense of security that was often absent in human interactions.Humans were complicated and didn't always mean what they said. Sometimes, a human would treat you "nicely" only because they wanted to hurt (or take something from) you.Full post is available for Founding Members on Substack (https://lnkd.in/gFFRcpU8).

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