Okay so I’m not diagnosed but I have always done the arm flap and been made fun of for it throughout my life. I still have to stop myself from doing it as an adult when I know I am not in a safe or “appropriate” environment and it breaks my heart a little every time. Jesus I’m gonna cry I love that this Muppet exists.
You don’t strictly need a diagnosis to find coping mechanisms that help you with whatever unspecified thing your brain is doing. That’s why I’m a proponent of just letting “weird” people do their “weird thing” that doesn’t harm anyone. I don’t know what goes on in their head. I’m not entitled to know. They don’t need a name for it. The guy restlessly walking up and down the train platform doesn’t need a doctor’s note for me to just stand clear of his way and allow him to do his pacing.
This! For example, I am not diagnosed with ADHD, but I know several theraupetic techniques for ADHD people help me manage rest and activity, so there’s that.
The diagnosis is always a variant of “they need some help feeling normal”.
For a substantial number of people, a full blown psychiatric diagnosis is way less useful than convincing everyone else to extend what counts as ordinary. (See: gay, trans, etc.)
Hell, for some things I’d happily settle for “harmless”. One or my stims is mouthing along to the lyrics or riffs of whatever song I’m listening to (whether because I’m actually listening to music or because my head has a 24/7 radio that tends to play a single song on repeat for hours before some random distraction makes it switch tracks), which looks like talking to myself.
I could deal people mistaking me for schizophrenic or whichever term they once heard once in some recklessly sensationalist TV incarnation of freak shows, if they didn’t also immediately associate that with “probably violent and dangerous”. I’ve been told that it’s really creepy and makes people uncomfortable. I don’t wanna scare people or make them uncomfortable.
And so I keep it in. I’ve gotten really good at that. Pretend to be normal. Fitting in, neat and proper.
I wonder why I’m all out of energy when I get home.
Okay so I’m not diagnosed but I have always done the arm flap and been made fun of for it throughout my life. I still have to stop myself from doing it as an adult when I know I am not in a safe or “appropriate” environment and it breaks my heart a little every time. Jesus I’m gonna cry I love that this Muppet exists.
You don’t strictly need a diagnosis to find coping mechanisms that help you with whatever unspecified thing your brain is doing. That’s why I’m a proponent of just letting “weird” people do their “weird thing” that doesn’t harm anyone. I don’t know what goes on in their head. I’m not entitled to know. They don’t need a name for it. The guy restlessly walking up and down the train platform doesn’t need a doctor’s note for me to just stand clear of his way and allow him to do his pacing.
This! For example, I am not diagnosed with ADHD, but I know several theraupetic techniques for ADHD people help me manage rest and activity, so there’s that.
The diagnosis is always a variant of “they need some help feeling normal”.
For a substantial number of people, a full blown psychiatric diagnosis is way less useful than convincing everyone else to extend what counts as ordinary. (See: gay, trans, etc.)
Hell, for some things I’d happily settle for “harmless”. One or my stims is mouthing along to the lyrics or riffs of whatever song I’m listening to (whether because I’m actually listening to music or because my head has a 24/7 radio that tends to play a single song on repeat for hours before some random distraction makes it switch tracks), which looks like talking to myself.
I could deal people mistaking me for schizophrenic or whichever term they once heard once in some recklessly sensationalist TV incarnation of freak shows, if they didn’t also immediately associate that with “probably violent and dangerous”. I’ve been told that it’s really creepy and makes people uncomfortable. I don’t wanna scare people or make them uncomfortable.
And so I keep it in. I’ve gotten really good at that. Pretend to be normal. Fitting in, neat and proper.
I wonder why I’m all out of energy when I get home.