Understanding Autism: The Agony and Ecstasy of Inertia and Flow

When I was growing up, my parents loved to take my brothers and me for walks in the countryside, often involving climbing hills. We were not always overjoyed by this, particularly the hill climbing part. But whenever we started flagging, one of my parents’ favourite motivational phrases was, “It will all be worth it when we get to the top!” They were usually right, though I would never have admitted it at the time. It was not just the fantastic view from the summit of the hill that made the effort of climbing worthwhile, but also the sense of satisfaction of getting there.

Indeed, their efforts must have paid off, as when we were teenagers and on holiday in Austria, we were all delighted to discover that at key points in the area's mountains, there were rubber stamps in boxes that you could apply to your walking map to earn points and eventually medals. Soon, my brothers and I were persuading my parents that we could climb just one more hill for a few more points!

The sensation of having to overcome pain and reluctance before achieving a sense of bliss is something that still resonates with me almost every day. Like many neurodivergent people, I can reach a state of flow or hyperfocus where I become totally absorbed by a task and lose track of time until it is completed. Not only is this great for getting things done, but it is also enormously enjoyable. Nothing is more satisfying for me than when I am writing, and the words seem to flow out of me almost of their own accord.

But it is not as simple as just turning this state on and off at will. Coupled with my ability to achieve flow is an extreme reluctance to get started on almost any task, even ones that I know I will enjoy or are essential. This inertia is also common to many neurodivergent people and is one of the aspects of my autism that I had no idea about at all until after my diagnosis and discovering the online autistic community.

The reasons for this inertia can be many and complex. For me, a major one is anxiety. I can mentally catastrophise about just about anything before I do it, even if I have done it many times before. The same brain that serves me so well when I get going loves to find a million things that could go wrong and then persuade me that they are all certain to happen. Just as I feel almost a spectator to my consciousness when in a flow state, so too do I feel helpless as all the negative thoughts swirl around my head. Logic takes a back seat in these times, and the fact that I have done something successfully many times before and enjoyed doing so means nothing in that moment.

I think there is also an element of my brain struggling to switch tasks and needing time to adjust. I have never been great at multitasking, and I am far more likely to be ground down by many minor issues than a single big problem. So, turning my brain to start something new is always a problem.

Finally, there is my ADHD fascination with absolutely everything. It is not that I am uninterested or get bored; it is that I want to investigate almost everything that I see or hear further. Internet rabbit holes have been a fact of life for me for many years. So, even a tiny distraction can become a fascination that steals hours of my day without me even noticing.

Some of these reasons may appear contradictory, and indeed they are. When you are autistic and ADHD, life sometimes feels like an endless succession of contradictions. You depend on routine to cope but crave novelty, for example. It drives me just as witless being like this myself as it would to live with someone else who behaved like that!

But once I get going on a task and achieve flow, it is nothing short of bliss. It is like hitting a ball out of the sweet spot on a bat again and again or finally getting your timing spot on in a dance or a video game. So why is this promise of nirvana not enough to help me overcome my chronic overthinking and get going?

I suspect it is because we have poor memories of feelings. I have heard from many mothers that the pain of giving birth is such that at the time, they vow to have no more children, but this feeling quickly fades as they experience the joy of their child growing up. While I would in no way compare my struggles with the pains of childbirth, I do wonder if there is a similar issue with my inertia and flow. The memory of the end is not strong enough to overcome the barriers that need to be faced to get there.

I feel much better mentally and even physically when I am in flow doing something that I enjoy and am good at. As is the case on most Saturday mornings, I was reluctant to open my laptop and start writing this article, but now, as I approach the end, I am having the time of my life. But next weekend, it will be just the same!

Like so many aspects of my life, the only solution I have come up with is to stop fighting and start accepting how I am, to try and learn to work with it rather than bashing my head against a brick wall. I suspect that I will always infuriate myself in many ways. But maybe that is just part of being neurodivergent or even just being human.

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