I’m a doctor and a frontline worker. My scrubs don’t fit me, and my stethoscope is always at home. I haven’t seen a ‘patient’ in more than five years!
I am an “Ability Consultant” (often called a “Disability Consultant”). People wonder why I insist on the naming difference: The reason is relevant to everyone (whether they identify as having a disability or not).
I’m not here for people to tell me about their problems. It is not my job to fix my clients’ problems. I am an Ability Consultant. I’m here to help my clients solve their own problems. I openly tell people that I don’t care what ‘condition’ is causing their problem (sounds insensitive). I care about what the problems are and what (skills) are needed to overcome the challenge (now and in the future).
I am a problem-solver, skill-builder, and a mentor. I have zero interest in focusing on the ‘disability’ and total interest in developing the ‘ability’. The only time I’m willing to spend talking about what my clients ‘can’t do’, or what’s bothering them, is the time it takes for me to find that out so that we can move on to them saying “I can, I am, and I’ve sorted it”.
Usually, I work with neurodiverse individuals (Autism, ADHD, and learning disabilities etc). The world doesn’t always accommodate my clients’ needs: Every day, they’re forced to adapt to a society that expects interactions, communication and relationships to work ‘a certain way’. Failing to adapt means a reduced quality of life.
The COVID-19 pandemic (that continues to unfold) has redefined who my potential (and actual) clients are. The huge changes sweeping through communities, combined with the requirements (not optional) to interact, communicate, work, learn and socialise differently, just reclassified the large majority of our population as ‘potential clients’: Everyone is needing to adapt.
I am autistic and have spent most of my lifetime adapting; by definition that makes me an expert at ‘adaptation’. Like many neurodiverse people, I’ve made some comments flagging how this pandemic is giving neurotypicals a ‘little taste’ of what it’s like for us neurodiverse individuals every single day. Those comments are true, but I don’t want anyone to have a ‘taste of their own medicine’ right now; instead, I’m deeply concerned about the impact of that reality.
Anxiety and depression are far more prevalent in neurodiverse cohorts than the general population. Research attributes this ‘over-representation’ of emotional distress (predominantly) to the sustained challenges neurodiverse individuals face trying to:
- integrate and function in systems not tailored to their ‘natural wiring’;
- communicate their needs and have those needs met; and
- build meaningful relationships to maintain social connection.
My own challenges in those areas has driven me to make attempts to end my life many times, and it is that lived experience that has me terrified about the impact of this pandemic; COVID-19 has exposed ‘the majority’ to these three critical threats to mental wellbeing that usually impact predominantly on minorities: The risk to health extends far beyond who catches the virus because the flow-on impacts threaten everyone’s health.
Being open about how much I have struggled with a life-long requirement to adapt places some burden of responsibility on me to provide insight into how I’ve survived, succeeded, and found joy amidst significant struggles. I’m strong, smart, determined and pretty resilient; those aren’t the critical ingredient that has allowed me to rise again (particularly when I thought I couldn’t).
Kindness has been the ‘critical ingredient’; it’s the yeast to my life-loaf. When I teach my younger clients about the concept of kindness, I tell them this:
“Kindness is doing something that helps someone else and improves their situation. It’s something you do even when you don’t have to, and without expecting anything in return. You can choose to be kind. Anyone can do it.”
The acts of kindness that have been the most powerful, for me, have all served to help me:
- integrate and function in systems not tailored to their ‘natural wiring’;
- communicate their needs and have those needs met; and
- build meaningful relationships to maintain social connection.
These acts of kindness aren’t the ones that usually cost a lot of money, but they are the acts that have consistently operated to reduce the risks to my mental health resulting from being wired slightly differently and needing to constantly ‘adapt’. They’ve been simple; a smile, a wave, some encouragement, patience, acceptance, or inclusive behaviours. These are acts of kindness anyone can choose to give, and they will be crucial for our society to come through this period of challenge, discomfort, and adaptation us unscathed as possible.
Kindness improves the ability of people adapt, to function, and to maintain good mental health. Just as people are choosing to maintain physical distance to ‘flatten the curve’ and reduce how many people catch the virus (a physical impact), each one of us can choose to look for opportunities to be kind to each other. None of us will ever know how many cases were ‘prevented’ through our choice to engaging in distancing measures; we also won’t know who we were kind to at just the right moment to provide hope to someone who was struggling.
I want to add one critical item to the list of things you must do during this pandemic. It is the most valuable piece of health care advice I think I’ll ever give.
Please look for every and any opportunity to be kind to someone else. Please choose to be kind.
The Good Doctor 