Why I'm Not an Expert

Voice recording of my blog post

For a long time I called myself an 'anti-expert'. I was partly inspired by Adam Grant's book Think Again (I highly recommend) and the dangers of considering oneself an expert, including subscripting to the idea of 'best practice' rather than 'better practice'. And I was partly inspired by all the coaches online branding themselves as expert while, in my opinion, knowing very little. The world of 'expertise' just didn't appeal to me.

It's probably also self-protective. I didn't want a person to start working with me because they see me as a mental health or autism expert, expecting me to have all the answers and know everything there is to know. What an impossible and scary standard! 

And finally I wanted to signal that we're peers. Fellow humans. I'm super flawed and I kinda love that about myself and hopefully that means you'll feel safer being a flawed human along side of me. I don't want to be an authoritarian therapist. I want to be relatable. 

However - not gonna lie - when I see a therapist I don't want them to be clueless about the topic I bring, especially if it's autism - so you probably don't want that from me either. Fair enough! 

In a previous blog I wrote about what to expect working with me. I know a lot and I'm always seeking more knowledge but as Socrates is credited with having said: The more I learn, the more I know that I know nothing (or something to that effect). That's me! I was so much more confident when I first graduated as a therapist with a bachelors in science behind me and the older I get and the longer I do this, the more humbled I am and become by the sheer volume of things I don't know and probably won't ever learn (much to my annoyance!!). 

I'm not fluent in all autism research. I simply don't have the time or energy to keep up on everything. And what I do know I'm either sceptical of or open to having changed. 

When I was a first year student during my bachelors in psychology, our lecturer told us that you cannot change your personality. If you did the Big 5 personality test (the only scientifically valid personality test we have) your results would be fixed for life. Of course I did mine and turned out I was highly neurotic (as an autistic person who didn't yet know I'm autistic, that seemed a rather obvious result, especially as someone dealing with self-hatred, a mean inner critic, constant overwhelm and constantly worrying and feeling depressed because I felt like an imposter human and stupid for not being able to figure out people or the rules of life). 

Fast forward 10+ years and not only do we know that personalities aren't fixed (due to neuroplasticity) but also having worked hard on improving my inner chat and self-esteem and knowing I'm autistic and  thus being able to make adjustment to how I understand and navigate the world according to my brain type rather than a belief that I'm somehow an imposter human or stupid), neuroticism is now my lowest score. 

And in 2018 when I did my masters in psychology, focusing on autism, and I told the autism course director, a professor in psychology and Stanford graduate that I wanted to focus on autism in women, she told me that women don't get autism, they just have anxiety. 

So, what we think we know about science might be wrong. We can see that clearly in how many mistakes that's been made within autism research over the past few decades.

And back to my sentence that the Big 5 is the only scientifically valid personality test - even that doesn't matter because if you're into Enneagrams, Tarot cards or astrology and that makes sense to you and it helps you navigate life, then it's valid in my opinion. 

To be fair, I do know a lot. And I know a lot about why we might be wrong in what we think we know. There's also an overwhelming amount of stuff I don't know and some of it I don't even want to know. So, if you're considering working with me because you think or expect that I know all the ins and outs of autism and the latest research on gut microbes or that I'm fluent in all things sensory profiles then I'll disappoint you. 

I'm not an expert (but a dear friend convinced me to drop the term 'anti-expert' as it gives flat earther and anti-vaxx'er vibes) but I am a really good therapist, as long as we're in agreement of what a therapist's job is (you might want to read my Disclaimer blog). I'm also good at questioning presumptions and coming up with interesting (if I have to say so myself) theories about autism and mental health that shines a positive light on things. 

For example, there's a rise in the use of antidepressants during winter. No surprise there, perhaps. But did you know there's a rise in bipolar disorder diagnoses in spring? 

For a few years now I've prescribed to the idea that S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder, aka 'winter depression') isn't a depression but a natural state of 'wintering'. Like bears who go into a deep slumber in winter, humans would have (when we lived in caves and had to navigate a harsh environment) had to slow down in winter too. They'd have to preserve energy because food was scarce and the cold could kill them. It was dark and hard to navigate in the woods with no artificial lights and limited firewood. It made sense that the body and mind agreed to slow down, feel unmotivated to hunt and gather, to relax and sleep a lot and to just rest. But in a productivity-mad, Capitalist society these kinds of innate human behaviours will get us labelled as lazy, or indeed, mentally ill. 

Even if someone with S.A.D. feels suicidal and thus it looks more like a mental disorder than a natural state of being human in winter, might these suicidal thoughts be based on feeling unproductive, lazy, unhelpful, unmotivated, uncreative, stuck, sad and just an overall rubbish human? Might we, due to feeling tired and unmotivated, fall out with our partners more or feel like failing parents due to societal messages about how we're supposed to be, like always engaged and supportive? Much like we think we're failing neurotypicals when we don't know we're actually autistic and we interpret the world based on these flawed assumptions about our neurotype? 

Might winter depression not be depression but a natural state of being a human in winter?

Similarly, if there's an increase in bipolar disorder diagnoses (when being hyper-happy (manic) is paired with a depressive mood) in spring , might that also be a natural state of being human, suddenly fuelled with excessive energy and giant beliefs of our capabilities to motivate us out of our slumber and caves, in times past, to find food again, to hunt, to gather and to live out in nature again after months of living a very still life?

So many women are mislabelled as having bipolar when they're actually autistic but being autistic without knowing it and being autistic in a neurotypical world can be a rather depressing experience with constant melt- and shutdowns (which can look like depression to the untrained eye) and at the same time autistic people have an ability to tab into joy in a way neurotypicals struggle to - what's sometimes referred to as autistic joy - which to a neurotypical will look excessive and manic just because they can't access that part of their mind/soul.

To me it makes sense that many (not all) people with a bipolar diagnosis are actually just autistic people dealing with the hardship of living in a world that isn't designed for them, while also finding the world immensely wonderful and magical at times hence going from one polar opposite in moods to the other. Not because they're mentally ill or disordered but because they're doing their best in a very stressful while also amazing world. 

I fear I've gone on a side-quest in my blog post - all part of being autistic! A part, I for one, love and embrace. 

If this is the sort of non-expert expertise you'd like more of, feel free to get in touch and book a free introduction chat HERE or by clicking the photo below. 

P.s. I'm dyslexic so there's bound to be grammar and spelling mistakes in everything I do. Once upon a time I felt very embarrassed about this, spent hours editing, asked people to spell-check and edit my writings or just didn't show anyone my writing. Writing on a book about autism and getting to the chapter about masking/unmasking I realised that shying away from making grammar and spelling mistakes was a way to mask my dyslexia. So, if you spot mistakes, I hope you can read generously and still make sense of my words, and that you'll smile with the knowledge that you just saw and allowed me to unmask in your company. Thank you.