Beyond Labels: Navigating Life as an Autistic Alien Robot

Exploring the Intersection of Autism and Self-Identity

5 a.m:

• Coffee….check.
• Make the bed…check.
• Feed the critters…check.
• Cat Medicine…check.
• Start the diffuser and turn on tunes…check, check.

5:30 a.m:

• Analyze sleep and health stats…check.
• Read horoscope & daily affirmations…check.
• Shower…check.
• Check/Start/Finish laundry…check.
• …check, check, check, check, check.

I have been told over the years that I’m difficult to understand. That I am unrelatable and pathologically systemized. That the way I function isn't normal, healthy, or sustainable. That I am too structured, rigid, and possess far too high of expectations from the outside world.

I have heard more times than I can count, that this unconventional way of existing makes me incredibly unapproachable and intimidating, and often makes others feel uncomfortable, judged, or less worthy.

That isn't my intention, though.

Just as I know and can understand, it isn't necessarily somebody else's intention to cause me hurt feelings when I am being reminded yet again, of how unlikable I am or how incredibly misunderstood I am, for just being me.

Anyone knee-deep in the neurodivergent world is certain to have heard of the alien concept.

The idea of feeling like an alien being, living on a foreign planet amongst all of the other human beings, never truly understanding one another or authentically connecting.

I can recall as a little girl the alien concept, and how I would often feel like a different being from all the rest. It was an instinctual feeling that I just simply, didn't belong.

I fondly remember the many moments laying in my bed, staring up at the unassuming asbestos ceiling tiles, counting, tracing, and connecting the patterns of mysteriously crafted holes to nowhere spread throughout each tile. One part of my brain methodically and rhythmically stimming as I computed the ceiling codes, the other half drifting off into existential theory as to who or what I was, and the logical story that could account for or explain my lost, lonely existence on earth.

In retrospect, it doesn't surprise me that being extraterrestrial was high on my list of rational explanations when running through the logical solutions for this otherwise, unshakeable sense of not belonging.

30 years later, that feeling still exists.

Sometimes, I will nostalgically drift off into my weird, alien childhood fantasies, playfully reinventing theories as to my foreign conception, my purpose, and why the hell nobody has come to rescue me yet.

Let’s just say, if I received a confidential phone call from the government or one of those popular DNA testing, genealogy sites tomorrow, informing me that there has been an epic, genetic discovery linking me to alien lineage…I would not feel so much surprised as I would feel validated.

However, considering my now, grown-ass adult, lived experience today, I would explain my feelings of existence as being more alien-robot-like.

As I aged into adulthood, so have all of my alien-like traits and behaviors.

I don't mean robot, as in completely dissociated and lost in a world of derealization or depersonalization. I am not experiencing myself in a 3rd-person concept, feeling separate from my human being or empty.

Although given the right ‘shutdown’ experience…that does tend to creep in.

When I reference the term ‘robot’, I am speaking of the hardwired and unrelenting systemized, computer processing unit that's housed inside my brain.

The incredibly structured, compartmentalized, engine that is my brain.

Perhaps I can credit ADHD to the speed and chaos of the engine and processing, but even with ADHD medication to control the dysfunction, the computation is still there — it just slows down to a manageable speed that helps it from fritzing out in overwhelm. Assisting to create a more narrow, focused path for thought and processing vs. the standard ‘thought chaos’.

For more details about my ADHD vs. Autism traits — check my article:

A + B = C

My brain, in its most natural state, is always receiving, always analyzing, and always computing. Always assessing methods, ulterior approaches, timing, and outcome. Then applying and pre-planning similar techniques of routine for every moment moving forward to resolve the same results.

It can feel like hyper-vigilant navigation within a pre-meditated maze. Always operating 17 steps ahead, analyzing and calculating the route to successful completion, taking into account the potential errors that could arise and how to effectively conquer or reroute without interfering with the end goal.

If my ADHD is unmedicated, it tends to take this daily ‘maze quest’ and add a whole lot of whiz-bang pizazzzz. Same me, same daily maze, but jammin’ a LOUD, super rockin song set on repeat, and spinning myself round-n-round in dizzy, FUN circles as I attempt to navigate the final destination.

This affects nearly every aspect of my life. Constantly systemizing. Constantly compartmentalizing. Taking all incoming information, sifting it, labeling it, and placing it inside it’s rightful box for when it's relevant and necessary.

From daily operations and everyday functioning…to personal life, work life, and even relationships.

It quite literally is the foundational operating system of my life experience, incapable of being re-programmed, and what creates the divisive feeling of being a “Windows” operating system, navigating in a world of “Macs”.

If A + B = C….

I found a pretty interesting article from the National Library of Medicine that dissects further, the talent of hyper-systemizing and its relation to Autism Spectrum Disorders. The article also attributes sensory processing sensitivity and respective attention to detail traits as potentially influencing the early development and functional need for hyper-systemization.

IE: The idea of neuro-pathways dividing and conquering to assist the ‘Windows’ system for survival amidst a world of ‘Macs’.

Quoting the article above,

“Talent in autism comes in many forms, but a common characteristic is that the individual becomes an expert in recognizing repeating patterns in stimuli. We call this systemizing, defined as the drive to analyze or construct systems. These might be any kind of system. What defines a system is that it follows rules, and when we systemize we are trying to identify the rules that govern the system, in order to predict how that system will behave (Baron-Cohen 2006). These are some of the major kinds of systems:

1. collectible systems (e.g. distinguishing between types of stones or wood);
2. mechanical systems (e.g. a video recorder or a window lock);
3. numerical systems (e.g. a train timetable or a calendar);
4. abstract systems (e.g. the syntax of a language or musical notation);
5. natural systems (e.g. the weather patterns or tidal wave patterns);
6. social systems (e.g. a management hierarchy or a dance routine with a dance partner); and
7. motoric systems (e.g. throwing a Frisbee or bouncing on a trampoline).

Turns out, my all-consuming sense of systematic life-operation is not only common among autistic individuals but from my research, a tell-tale autistic trait that often comes with the territory. Who knew?

And for 36 years I just thought I was an intense, intimidating, unrelatable, and unlikable robot alien…

I guess that’s still debatable.

Moral of the story?

If you too are a natural systemizer, complex thinker, or an awkward, alien-robot human calculator and scheduler, your operating system isn't necessarily flawed. It isn't necessarily unhealthy, or unsustainable. In fact, it may be the core of who you are and necessary for your otherwise, misunderstood by the ‘Mac’, operating system.

Moral, moral of the story?

The more I research, the more I realize how actually autistic AF I really am. And, I still identify as an alien robot. Just a more confident one.

Thank you. Dot com.

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