The Oughtism of Autism (5 min. read)

That’s not the way the world works. Don’t be naive. 

When I was thirteen, I identified that I was a painfully idealistic individual. And it wasn’t my age or lack of life experiences that made me idealistic—it’s just who I was, and still am, at my very core. 

To me, my perceived idealism was a source of my disconnection from people. I looked around at the world and saw so many things far from ideal, so many things where the norm wasn’t near what I thought it “ought to be.” 

It was why, when I raised my voice saying I didn’t understand how alone I felt in high school, confused by the social hierarchy of fake friendships and judgmental whispers, and was met with “well, everyone feels that way,” all I felt was deep confusion—and further disconnection. 

If everyone could see the strange, empty cavern that was these forced connections, how could they continue on and play the game? Why didn’t they want to change and find ways to make more meaningful connections? 

Why was I seemingly the only one who wanted to say the hell to social hierarchy and throw cliques in the trash can—and instead make connections and friendships based on what everyone seemed to know real friendships should be? 

Why was I the only one who wanted to pursue what ought to be? 

Fake friendships aren’t the only source of my bewildering confusion toward other people’s lack of desire for what the world deems ideal. 

I struggle to understand how who you know and ass-kissing can get you farther in the workplace rather than merit and quality work. I struggle to understand how people can become complacent in their romantic relationships and accept certain treatment. I struggle to understand how it is within humanity to fight wars and kill millions of people rather than sit down at a table and find common ground in empathy and shared respect for differing beliefs. I most certainly struggle to understand how another person can believe they are inferior based simply on the color of their skin. 

The thing is, I see that this is the way the world is, and I don’t get it; most of all, I don’t get why somehow I’m the naive, unrealistic one for wanting it to change—especially when everyone can see the chasm between what is and what could be. 

I’m not dense—I understand that humans are flawed, and that we are never going to walk around in a utopian world where everything is ideal. The Giver is one of my favorite books for a reason—without pain there is no joy; without color and nuance, there is no beauty to behold. 

And I grew weary, even when I was young, of people telling me I was the naive one. That people could and would take advantage of me because I seemingly chose not to see the darker nature within human nature—that my head was so in the clouds of idealism I lived in a La La Land away from reality. 

I remember watching House of Cards, and learning about Machiavelli’s concept of the ends justifying the means. And I knew in my gut it was really—painfully, relevantly real. 

But how was I the naive one for wanting different? How was I the one with my head in the sand, choosing to see that the future could be different—better—if we as a human race could choose differently? 

This was one of my greatest sources of mental deterioration prior to my diagnoses. 

What was wrong with me? Why and how was everyone so okay with everything in the world? Why was I the only one horrifyingly disturbed by the difference between what was and what could be? 

When I learned about AuDHDer’s heightened justice sensitivity, a weight was released from my chest; when I learned that neurotypicals could actually do things with impure intentions in a Machiavellian world—whereas I, an autist, loyal to the truth and incapable of being anything but pure-intentioned—finally, the dominoes of understanding fell into place in my brain. 

Within my autism, I experience unparalleled amounts of oughtism. 

I see the way things ought to be in comparison to what they are. 

And in my black-and-white, logical brain (the look on my assessor’s face when she shared her results—that my logical intelligence was in the 99th percentile—lives on the back of my eyelids), if there is a standard we can achieve, it just makes undeniable sense to strive to achieve it. 

And that doesn’t make me naive, crazy, or overly idealistic (because heaven forbid we have high standards for the society we live in). 

It makes me powerful. 

It makes me an agent for change.

Change the world needs the farther we slip into a polarized, judgmental, angry, emotionally suppressed, substance-numbed world. 

So if you’ve ever been told that you’re idealistic, too kind, or that your head is in the clouds—keep it there. Because the world needs it. The world needs your beautiful, wonderful brain that sees the sense in bridging the gap between what is and what could be. 

Embrace your oughtism—because it’s empowering. 

Oughtism is exceptional in a world of complacency. 

Autism is exceptional.  

Does this speak to you? In what ways does your oughtism show up within your autism? Let me know below, and don’t forget to click SUBSCRIBE before you go!