Unmasking Autism Diary #19: But, You Can Make Eye Contact
Read now (4 mins) | Authentic relating: from inside Angela's Autistic mind
October 19, 2023
Dear Diary,
I forget how I found out about my first, “Authentic Relating Games,” but I’ll never forget the intensity of that cold December night over a decade ago.
I love games, and I love authentically relating—what could possibly go wrong?
At the heart of Authentic Relating is a practice called, “eye gazing”: paired with another participant, you stare into their eyes and respond to certain prompts from the moderators.
I was crushing hard on just about everyone in the room that evening. I wanted to make a friend for life, to fall in love, to win at the game of relating authentically.
Our moderators were impossibly attractive. I was sure (but wrong) that Jeffrey and Melanie were in love. Both young, fit, intelligent, and oozing with confidence and empathy. Jeff and Mel spoke in soothing tones, suggesting we recognize the innocence deep in our partner’s eyes.
Maybe it was the lighting, or the glow from Melanie’s soft sweater, but everyone looked so goddamn beautiful. I didn’t quite know how to contain my heart in my chest—senses peaked, I was inching towards overwhelm just looking around the room!
The climax of the night was a long eye gazing session—I wanted to excel at this. I was told there was no way to do it wrong, as long as I was present in the moment, and connecting from the heart.
Jeffrey told us to take some deep breaths and ground ourselves.
I breathed in—and my throat constricted.
I softened my belly—and my knees went numb.
We practiced listening to the noise outside of the room—and the volume of the ringing in my ears increased proportionally to the searing pain down the backs of my legs.
The bottom of my feet felt hot…Or maybe it was cold? It was hard to tell what was happening, but for sure my feet were rejecting my body.
The time for eye gazing was here.
I stared into my partners eyes and noticed an intense ringing in my ears. My peripheral vision began to narrow, and it started to look like I was viewing my partner through a toilet paper tube. A pressure came onto the top of my head. At first, it was like a few books were stacked there, and then, it was more like an elephant had taken a seat on my crown chakra.
I was sure the discomfort was about to subside.
I focused my eyes on my partners pupils—and the room went black except for the spotlight. It was like a police helicopter light chasing me. My heart beat faster. I coached myself: ‘I am not going to have a panic attack. I am not going to have a panic attack.’
I tried to calm my breath and get my eyes to work again.
After what seemed like an eternity, the “game” came to a conclusion, and we shared our experience.
I shared that I felt like I was just in a high speed police chase in the dark, through the woods, with the large spotlight of a helicopter searching for me as I ran through the woods.
Others did not share the same experience.
Everyone was so nice and understanding, but no one got what I had experienced.
This all went down just before I was diagnosed as autistic, but after I suspected it. Still, until that point, I had no awareness of my own discomfort with eye contact.
After decades of masking, I was used to performing to try to fit in. I even signed up for another eye gazing experience that night, which everyone thought was a great idea.
As an Autistic, there was always a long list of things I was working on to “improve,” and so, eye contact was just added to that ever growing list.
But here’s what I’ve learned, 10 years into being diagnosed: my definition of “authentically relating,” is not the same as allistics’ (non-autistics).
Authentic relating for me, starts with someone else’s special interests.
If you are passionate and knowledgeable about something, I want to dive into that world with you. Tell me what you love and why you love it, so I can research it by your side, and then tell you about my special interests too.
This is why I love books and authors: Get specific. Niche down. Research. Be the best as what you do. Spread your knowledge.
We don’t all have to define “authentic relating" the same way, and that’s the beauty of neurodiversity—we can choose to celebrate it all.
Not making eye contact can make me feel closer to people.
Turning my head away from someone, or researching what they are talking about on my phone while they are talking, can make me feel closer to people.
Looking down and writing notes, or closing my eyes, can make me feel closer to people.
And staring into someone’s eyes—as it turns out—can make me feel disconnected, isolated, and freaked out.
CAN I make eye contact? Like many Autistic people I have learned how to do it, and that behavior has been reinforced by a positive feedback loop from allistic people.
Do I WANT to make eye contact? Nah…Usually not.
Instead, tell me about your special interest and let’s let the authentic relating flow from there.
***
The Dear Diary Project is a public journaling project where I’m publicly sharing my diary entries as part of my annual goals. No harm is intended by these posts. My goal is to gain clarity for myself and hopefully help others, especially autistic adults, who are trying to make sense of the communication challenges we face.
“Masking is a common coping mechanism in which Autistic people hide their identifiably Autistic traits in order to fit in with societal norms, adopting a superficial personality at the expense of their mental health. This can include suppressing harmless stims, papering over communication challenges by presenting as unassuming and mild-mannered, and forcing themselves into situations that cause severe anxiety, all so they aren’t seen as needy or “odd.”
—Unmasking Autism, Dr. Devon Price
*Background note: Most people only have a vague (often, highly stereotyped) version of autism in their minds and believe that autistic children need (traumatic) ABA therapy to "overcome" their disability and appear "normal." After receiving an autism diagnosis in her thirties, Dr. Angela Lauria realized that she too had been mostly unaware of what it means to be Autistic. Like so many people, she started her journey by first gathering information and resources from the omnipresent (and problematic) Autism Speaks, but eventually moved away from the 'autism community' in favor of the 'Autistic community,' where she found kinship with other Autistic individuals and learned to let go of pathologizing language like 'autism spectrum disorder' and 'Asperger's Syndrome.' This autism blog (and her autism podcast, "The Autistic Culture Podcast") is meant to share her lived-experience insights to support others on a similar journey of diagnosis, understanding, and community. Embrace Autism--differences are not deficits.