Welcome back to Reading the Research, where I trawl the Internet to find noteworthy research on autism and related subjects, then discuss it in brief with bits from my own life, research, and observations.
Today's article is on depression, which plagues up to 85% of autistic people depending on which statistics you're looking at. We tend to suffer higher stress levels due to being different than the norm. It might be the experience of being quietly excluded from groups in church, school, or work, or camouflaging one's autistic features so as to better fit in at the expense of one's energy and sanity. Or it might be a chronic biological issue that leads to increased stress and suffering, such as gastro-intestinal dysfunction or food allergies. It might simply be chronic sensory overstimulation.
Most likely, it's a combination of these things, plus more I haven't named. The autistic experience is rarely a simple one. Regardless of what causes it, autistic people suffer higher rates of depression. I am no exception. My diagnosis was dysthymia, which is a low grade, but long lasting, depression. It can last your whole life, and... in my case, mostly has. I can look back upon at least 20 years of my life and say, "yeah, I was probably depressed." There were several periods in college where I am fairly certain I dropped into major depression instead of my typical dysthymia. Between these facts and my degree in psychology, I consider myself a valid source on the subject.
There are a lot of factors to depression, both factors you control and ones you don't. The article talks about a factor you do control: mood regulation via choice of activity. It's Oxford, so their unnecessarily fancy word for it is "mood homeostasis."
In plainspeak, they're talking about self-care. When people feel sad or lonely, the typical response is to do something comforting or pleasant to help counter that mood. That something might be reading a favorite book, going for a walk in the sunshine, calling a friend or family member, lying in front of a warm fire, or something else entirely.
Now, I say "the typical response," but self-care is actually only somewhat innate. It makes logical sense to do something nice for yourself when you're feeling down, but not everyone takes these actions. This is possibly because they never learned how to practice self-care, or were even actively taught that it was a waste of time. But another explanation might apply, too.
You see, depression can leech the enjoyment out of things you previously enjoyed. Major depression does this. So you might go to read a favorite book and find the experience hollow and unenjoyable. As a result, you might be disheartened from trying that activity again, even though it might be enjoyable the next time. With enough repetitions of that phenomenon, across many activities you used to find fun, you might simply stop trying at all.
And that might explain me. I spent a large portion of my life not really knowing what things were likely to make me happy. I would sometimes ask, somewhat sarcastically, "what's fun?" Even now, I don't really have things I wholeheartedly consider fun. Tasty food is about the only reliable pleasure in my life, which is likely part of why it's so hard for me to lose weight. Reading books, taking hot baths, sitting in front of a fire, spending time with friends, playing video games, listening to music... all of these can be wonderful, but so often aren't.
Self-care skills can be taught, and lists made of activities to try when feeling depressed. This can help overcome the lack of instinct to engage in self-supportive activities. But of course, with the coronavirus threatening our safety and wellbeing, options may be limited. Where I live in the US, there are no options to go to a sit-down restaurant with a friend for lunch. Most public parks have closed off their parking lots. Some people may not even feel safe going outside.
So there are external factors as well as potential internal ones, when it comes to self-care.
(Pst! If you like seeing the latest autism-relevant research, visit my Twitter, which has links and brief comments on studies that were interesting, but didn't get a whole Reading the Research article about them.)
Today's article is on depression, which plagues up to 85% of autistic people depending on which statistics you're looking at. We tend to suffer higher stress levels due to being different than the norm. It might be the experience of being quietly excluded from groups in church, school, or work, or camouflaging one's autistic features so as to better fit in at the expense of one's energy and sanity. Or it might be a chronic biological issue that leads to increased stress and suffering, such as gastro-intestinal dysfunction or food allergies. It might simply be chronic sensory overstimulation.
Most likely, it's a combination of these things, plus more I haven't named. The autistic experience is rarely a simple one. Regardless of what causes it, autistic people suffer higher rates of depression. I am no exception. My diagnosis was dysthymia, which is a low grade, but long lasting, depression. It can last your whole life, and... in my case, mostly has. I can look back upon at least 20 years of my life and say, "yeah, I was probably depressed." There were several periods in college where I am fairly certain I dropped into major depression instead of my typical dysthymia. Between these facts and my degree in psychology, I consider myself a valid source on the subject.
There are a lot of factors to depression, both factors you control and ones you don't. The article talks about a factor you do control: mood regulation via choice of activity. It's Oxford, so their unnecessarily fancy word for it is "mood homeostasis."
In plainspeak, they're talking about self-care. When people feel sad or lonely, the typical response is to do something comforting or pleasant to help counter that mood. That something might be reading a favorite book, going for a walk in the sunshine, calling a friend or family member, lying in front of a warm fire, or something else entirely.
Now, I say "the typical response," but self-care is actually only somewhat innate. It makes logical sense to do something nice for yourself when you're feeling down, but not everyone takes these actions. This is possibly because they never learned how to practice self-care, or were even actively taught that it was a waste of time. But another explanation might apply, too.
You see, depression can leech the enjoyment out of things you previously enjoyed. Major depression does this. So you might go to read a favorite book and find the experience hollow and unenjoyable. As a result, you might be disheartened from trying that activity again, even though it might be enjoyable the next time. With enough repetitions of that phenomenon, across many activities you used to find fun, you might simply stop trying at all.
And that might explain me. I spent a large portion of my life not really knowing what things were likely to make me happy. I would sometimes ask, somewhat sarcastically, "what's fun?" Even now, I don't really have things I wholeheartedly consider fun. Tasty food is about the only reliable pleasure in my life, which is likely part of why it's so hard for me to lose weight. Reading books, taking hot baths, sitting in front of a fire, spending time with friends, playing video games, listening to music... all of these can be wonderful, but so often aren't.
Self-care skills can be taught, and lists made of activities to try when feeling depressed. This can help overcome the lack of instinct to engage in self-supportive activities. But of course, with the coronavirus threatening our safety and wellbeing, options may be limited. Where I live in the US, there are no options to go to a sit-down restaurant with a friend for lunch. Most public parks have closed off their parking lots. Some people may not even feel safe going outside.
So there are external factors as well as potential internal ones, when it comes to self-care.
(Pst! If you like seeing the latest autism-relevant research, visit my Twitter, which has links and brief comments on studies that were interesting, but didn't get a whole Reading the Research article about them.)
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