There’s a trope in superhero origin stories. There’s that scene where the hero is tormented by their powers before learning to control them. For example, Superman not being able to control his x-ray vision. Seeing nothing but peoples insides. But eventually he masters his “gifts” and harnesses them for good. Now imagine if he never gained mastery over those gifts. What if he couldn’t control when they were a boon and when they were a torment?

Many folks who are Neurodivergent (ND) will talk about how it gives them superpowers. It’s a way to put a positive spin on our disabilities. And yes, there is truth to the superpowers metaphor for some us. But it’s still a positive spin that doesn’t always reflect reality. This notion of ND superpowers is also controversial in the community. While some are able to harness things like hyper-focus into an asset, others face such severe challenges that they see it as anything but positive.

I myself have referred to autism as giving me superpowers while leaving me vulnerable to kryptonite. While it’s a nice metaphor it isn’t accurate. Superpowers are internal while kryptonite is external. Why not just avoid kryptonite? This is where the metaphor starts to break down. Kryptonite is rare and some of my triggers are all too common. It’s how the outside world gets perceived by my internal wiring that’s the issue. It’s how what in one context is a superpower, in anther context can eat me from the inside. I don’t believe my autism has gotten better or worse over the years. Over time I’ve changed the way I interact with the world. Context and intent make a difference in how the world impacts me.

As an example, my hatred of bars and night clubs isn’t due to my autism getting worse, it’s about the change in my interaction with those environments. When I was in my early 20’s I went to crowded, bright, noisy clubs to drink and dance. Giving into the sensory overload was part of the experience. Plus one for autism. I didn’t have to get high to experience a trip at a night club. But as I got older it became more about hanging out with people. When you try to focus on people and conversations, a crowded, bright, noisy bar is a special type of hell. The environment didn’t changed. My autism didn’t changed. My intent and my context for being there changed.

There’s another place where the kryptonite metaphor is faulty. If you remove the kryptonite, Superman gets better and goes off to save the day. A common element of many NDs is the concept of meltdowns and shutdowns. And you don’t just recover when the trigger is removed. Basically, when you become so overwhelmed by external factors and triggers you enter into one of these states. How meltdowns/shutdowns manifest depends on the individual. My meltdowns are infrequent these days, but tend to look like misplaced anger and frustration. Shutdowns are more common for me. When I go into a shutdown I retract into myself and become almost non-verbal. Once I go into a shutdown I have to ride it out. Once the trigger is removed I will sometimes go into a state of euphoria that looks like recovery. But it doesn’t last long and full recovery can take days. This is one of the things that gets missed by most neurotypicals. The long recovery times.

And recovery times aren’t limited to meltdowns and shutdowns. Masking to fit in can take a large toll as well. Over the years I’ve created a facilitators mask. While building out a full workshop leans into my strengths, facilitating a workshop goes against my true self. I’ve learned how to do it. And do it well. Part of me even enjoys it. But there’s a price. Part of that price is that I lack focus for two to three days afterwards. Some of that time is mental recovery, but much is spent running over every detail of the workshop. I can’t turn it off. I don’t want to get into debates about masking, but it’s worth noting that wearing a mask is a type of trauma for most NDs. You’re putting your mind through something it’s not wired to do. When an athlete pushes their body to the brink they need a proper recovery cycle. When wearing a heavy mask for a prolonged period, I also need a recovery cycle.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to put a positive spin on things. If we only ever dwell on the negative life can seem pointless. Yet, only looking on the bright side of life does a disservice, as it tends to romanticize disability. Life shouldn’t be an endlessly depressing Morrissey song. Nor should it be a jaunty Monty Python one. But it might just be a 1980s sitcom theme. “You take the good. You take the bad. You take them both, and then you have, the facts of life.”