As a kid growing up in the 1960s and 1970s, transistor radios, reel-to-reel tape recorders, and eight-track decks were all the rage. Black and white TVs were in many homes, and I can remember the excitement of getting our first colour TV to replace our black-and-white one.
In elementary school, I was a member of the school’s audiovisual club, where I assisted teachers in setting up film projectors and sound systems. I was skilled in identifying and solving technical problems and found purpose in helping teachers. Many staff members often called me for help. I enjoyed being able to resolve the technology issues.
I was deeply interested in electronics and technical gadgets. In part, this interest and skill helped me define who I was. At that time, I saw this strength as a joy; it gave me confidence and a sense of pride.
I can also recall being watchful and paying attention whenever a repair person came to the house to fix something. I remember one of these individuals distinctly, with his large eyeglasses and a pocket protector on his shirt, where he had placed his many pens and pencils. I wanted to emulate that person. And I especially wanted to get one of those pocket protectors.
Throughout elementary school, I found delight and purpose in being a member of the audiovisual club. However, as I transitioned into high school, I began to feel apprehensive about openly displaying this strength. Peer pressure about what was cool started to exert influence. The cool kids formed cliques, defining what was popular and acceptable in order to be part of the in-group. The understanding was that the geeks did things like join the audiovisual club, and the cool kids did not.
So how did I respond? I began to hide this enthusiasm because I feared being rejected and not fitting in. I wanted to be like the “in-group”, so I stopped volunteering and helping. Although I don’t remember anybody teasing me for being an AV club member, I wanted to prevent that from happening. I saved the problem-solving and repair work for when I was alone. Unfortunately, it was usually in isolation.
This trend continued through high school. To fit in, I avoided showing certain aspects of myself. I hid my true interests and passions. Peer pressure and self-pressure all contributed to this decision. I did not want to be the geek, the odd one, or the outcast, so I began to rely on more talents, which helped me fit in.
I learned to play the bass guitar and joined a rock band, which I thought was one way to be a part of the in crowd. I tried to capitalize on my athletic ability and being a good soccer player. I tried to become the friendly, agreeable guy everyone liked. I gravitated towards displaying traits that I thought would be acceptable to give me an in with the popular peer group.
These actions required a significant amount of effort on my part. I began to worry about what other people thought of me. I became a people pleaser and a conflict avoider. I did not always feel safe at school, even though I looked and acted as if I were. I did not share how I really felt, and I started to bury my emotions, feelings, and thoughts. In essence, like so many others, I was twisting myself into something, to get something, yet I was losing touch with myself.
Away from school, I found time to explore my unique interests. However, my identity and purpose were increasingly concealed, and my honest feelings and thoughts were repressed. Yet away from school, I allowed myself to tap into my passions and interests. Unfortunately, it was usually in isolation.
It has taken a long time to recognize that by hiding my authentic self in high school to fit in, it contributed to feelings of insecurity around other people. Like many teenagers, I was so busy trying to fit in that I was out of touch and unaware of how God had created me with a beautiful skillset and character. I was unaware that to feel confident with others, I first had to know myself and trust myself.
But today I see things differently. I now feel an increasing peace and comfort with who I am. This is mainly due to just accepting myself. As I grow in self-acceptance, I take more comfort in traits that others may perceive as quirks. And more importantly, I am beginning to celebrate my idiosyncrasies.
I have realized four things. Unique skills are not quirks, but rather strengths because they help define who we are, they are part of our identity, and provide a unique way for us to contribute. Secondly, everyone has peculiarities. In fact, it is our uniqueness that drives our interests, passion, and life purpose. Thirdly, although some may see our distinctiveness as odd or disqualifying, embracing them allows us to flourish, be creative, contribute, and innovate in unique ways.. And finally, because our uniqueness may not always align with others’ expectations, we may continue to feel pressure to conform. However, we need to resist the pressure and step into our full selves and thrive.
A fascinating book on neurodiversity, entitled “Unmasking Autism,” by Dr. Devon Price, helped me better understand my experiences in high school. Dr. Price defines masking as “the process where autistic and neurodivergent individuals use a combination of camouflaging (like faking eye contact) and compensation (like creating filler conversations to mask difficulties) to hide their disability and avoid the negative social consequences of being visibly neurodivergent.”
I am only partway through the book, but I have already had numerous insights. One huge aha moment came when Dr. Price shared, “In order for autistic people to take our masks off and show our real, authentically disabled selves to the world, we first have to feel safe enough to get reacquainted with who we really are.”
I have now come to understand that I was masking in high school. The book has profoundly resonated with me. Having had ample time to reflect on my early years has also brought clarity about my life’s journey. Dr. Price’s information is encouraging me to be authentic and not to be apprehensive about what other people think.
Interestingly, my skill is now deeply appreciated by my family and friends. Whenever they have tech issues that they cannot solve, I get a call and a request for help, just like my time in elementary school. And I absolutely love it. If others think of me as a techie nerd, it no longer bothers me.
I am thriving and enjoying life. Celebrating the whole of who I am. I am unmasking and trusting myself, finally accepting my authentic self, quirks and all.