Posted on May 28, 2023
Yes, I’m aware the title is fairly obvious. Mental Health Awareness Week 2023 is over. But I’m inclined to wonder how many of the people, organisations, companies etc are still talking about mental health now that the week is over. Maybe this is cynical but I’d guess it isn’t nearly as many as were talking about it during the week. And that is part of why I wanted to post about it this week rather than last week (shout out to my therapist for talking this out with me).
During Mental Health Awareness Week, I was scrolling through the #MentalHealthAwarenessWeek tag on Twitter and found myself just seething at what I was seeing: the majority of posts were either very basic information about mental health (and I mean very basic), vague platitudes (like ‘it’s okay not to be okay’), and pictures of various royals attending various events. The theme of the week was anxiety but I didn’t even know that until I looked at the Mental Health Foundation website afterwards. And looking at all of these posts, I couldn’t help but think, ‘How is any of this helpful in any way?’
I started ranting and the Twitter thread got longer and longer but, before I posted it, I thought that maybe this blog was a better place for those thoughts. The audience is definitely smaller but Twitter is so full of potential pitfalls (we all know how toxic it can be) and it’s so easy to be taken out of context when you have such little space to try and express your thoughts. So I took a breath, didn’t click post, and then copy and pasted all of those thoughts over here.
My first thought when I checked Twitter and realised that it was #MentalHealthAwarenessWeek (I almost always have family stuff during that week, which completely absorbs my focus, and then I’m always more than a bit thrown when I realise) was “Ah yes, another year, another #MentalHealthAwarenessWeek where organisations and corporations pretend to care about mental health and mental illness by posting the most basic information and platitudes before going back to pretending it doesn’t exist. I’m so glad you guys can take the rest of the year off now because those of us struggling sure as hell can’t.” Again, that’s a very cynical view – I know that there are many people who do care and we don’t need to post about things on social media to prove that we are passionate about them – but I find it so deeply frustrating to watch people (and worse, an organisation or company) act as though they care deeply just because it’s the annual awareness week and it makes them look good to post about it. Because, as I said, many of us – myself included – don’t have the luxury of not caring about mental health and mental illness because we are struggling with it every day. Every week is Mental Health Awareness Week. I have personally spent over ten years living and struggling with the symptoms of several mental health problems, being traumatised by systems that are supposed to be helping, supporting, and protecting me (including the current government – HA); I do not trust them to care for me or even about me – I doubt I ever will – and that is NOT OKAY. That is not how healthcare and mental health support are supposed to work. I am very privileged – and feel extremely grateful – to be able to find care independently, but so many people are not in this position, resulting in many, many people not receiving the care and support that they need, something that is, again, NOT OKAY.
But back to social media and awareness days (as much as I could talk about it, this is not a post about how the systems in place aren’t supporting those of us struggling with mental health problems). It can be very upsetting to see massive, impersonal corporations tweet about ‘reaching out’ or ‘[listing] things to be grateful for’ and it feels very out of touch and performative and just pretty offensive. This is not what Mental Health Awareness Week is about, what it is for. At least it shouldn’t be. Personally I don’t think awareness days and awareness weeks are particularly helpful and, at worst, potentially problematic (for example, it gives people an excuse not to engage with these issues because they feel like they’ve done their bit during the one awareness day or week a year) but, if we’re going to have them, they should be an opportunity to share resources (ones that are actually helpful, not ones with advice we’ve all heard a thousand times), to have real discussions about the perceptions we have about the relevant issue and how said issue is handled by the associated systems (or not handled), to elevate and celebrate the activists trying to raise awareness, and so on. They should not be an opportunity for brands to seem socially engaged or for shops to make money from barely relevant and often obnoxious merchandise. These days could be so much more (this is a really interesting article on raising awareness, why certain campaigns fail, and how we can make them more effective); we could make them so much more.
As I think we’ve established, I am pretty cynical about all of this and do believe that many people will completely forget about mental health as a topic now that the week is over. But while I do think that there are many people who talked or posted about it just because it was trending on social media, I also know with absolute certainty that there will have been many people who didn’t comment and don’t comment for completely valid reasons: we all have our own battles to fight and we, as human beings, can’t fully commit ourselves to every cause (compassion fatigue is a very real thing). And then, of course, there are the awesome people who continue to share their stories, to speak out, to try and push the world towards change – doing everything from making art about it to campaigning for better systems to creating more representation in the media to supporting individuals with mental health problems, etc – regardless of what week it is. I have great respect for everyone doing this (and for all of these important causes but I’m trying really hard not to get derailed within this pretty specific blog post) and I’m so inspired to keep being loud about my experiences with mental health and doing everything I can to make a better, safer world for us.
As I said, I often forget that Mental Health Awareness Week is happening – the 16th May is the anniversary of my Dad’s death and it just takes up a lot of time and energy and emotion, as you can probably imagine – and I have a lot of big, tangled up thoughts about awareness days and weeks in general. The point that I guess I’m trying to make here is that I don’t like the (almost) performative activism it accidentally encourages and rarely helps the people that it’s actually supposed to. And I think we can do them better. I know we can. It’s just a case of figuring out how and making it happen, which I do appreciate is far easier said than done. But then, what isn’t? (Other than silence and we really don’t want that either.)
Category: about me, anxiety, death, depression, emotions, family, mental health, response, therapy Tagged: activism, advocacy, avodcact, awareness, awareness campaign, awareness day, awareness week, benefits, compassion fatigue, conservatives, grief, mental health, mental health activism, mental health advocacy, mental health awareness, mental health awareness week, mental health awareness week 2023, mental health foundation, mental illness, mhaw, platitudes, royal family, social media, support, the conservative party, therapist, therapy, tories
Posted on April 1, 2021
When my Mum was answering my questions in the previous post, she was inspired and suggested she interview me in return, with similar questions. I was up for that so here goes: this is the mother of a young adult with Autism Spectrum Disorder interviewing her daughter with said Autism Spectrum Disorder…
Briefly, what has it been like for you to get a late diagnosis?
In some ways, it was such a relief. I’d been struggling for such a long time and not having a name or label caused me a lot of anxiety and made it difficult to get any support. So in that sense, it was great. It obviously hasn’t changed the fact that I struggle but I have more confidence – it had been going on for so long and had become so complex that I did worry I was making it up and actually causing my problems – and the support allows me to work on the areas I struggle with, managing them, decreasing the intensity, and creating solutions.
But I don’t want to imply that it’s been a hundred percent straightforward because it hasn’t. For twenty years, I operated under the assumption and expectations (from myself and others) that I was neurotypical and would go on to have a neurotypical life, meeting the usual milestones. I’d always held myself to a high standard and that wasn’t really a problem until I was finishing school: learning was something I was comfortable with and excelled at and my social issues were just assumed to be shyness. But then life started to get harder, with bigger and more serious demands, and I struggled more and more but still held myself to the same high standard. I still do. It’s very deeply ingrained. So it’s really, really hard to accept that my life is never going to look like what I expected or like the lives of my peers.
Having discussed how I’ve been your advocate at various times and in various situations, where did that need come from? How has that made you feel both pre and post diagnosis? Are there particular times where it has felt more necessary than others?
I’ve definitely lost count of how many appointments we had with various people where I would explain what I was going through and how much I was struggling only to be told things like, “All teenagers struggle,” and “Well, you’re showered and dressed so you’re clearly coping.” There’s so much I could say about those experiences alone but after a while, those appointments made me so anxious that I just couldn’t talk. At all. I needed someone who could tell my story for me when I wasn’t able to and since we had (and do) talk about everything, you were always able to give all of the information and spare me at least some of the anxiety involved in those appointments. Pre-diagnosis, you were the only one a hundred percent behind me and I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without that. Best case scenario, I don’t think I would’ve gotten my diagnoses and the worst case scenario doesn’t bear thinking about. If I hadn’t had you in my corner, researching and reaching out and pushing for answers, I certainly wouldn’t have gotten this far. Post-diagnosis and in the time since, I think I’ve grown in confidence and have needed it less but there are still times that I’ve, at the very least, needed back up. There are many situations that I do now feel able to manage myself but in times of great stress or anxiety, having someone on my side, someone ready to step up and take over when I get overwhelmed or it all becomes too much, is just so important in moving life forward. I like to think that I get a bit further every time before needing you to take over but I am also aware that I may never be able to completely handle these kinds of situations when under great stress.
Having answered this question from my perspective, what about you? What would you would consider to be the positives and negatives of having Autism Spectrum Disorder?
I think I’ll start with the negatives first. That’s not a particularly optimistic start but the negatives do, at this point in time, feel more overwhelming and painful. The high levels of anxiety and overwhelming intensity of my emotions can make it really difficult to function day-to-day, plus both are incredibly exhausting. All of that is really hard. I also often feel very different from – and behind – my peers, which can feel extremely distressing. Not really in a competitive sense but because I really want to experience all the things they get to experience and often take for granted, knowing that I may never get to have those experiences.
Onto the positive things… Admittedly this perspective is harder because I am in a period of feeling that my ASD takes more from me than it gives back. Hopefully one day I won’t feel this way. But for now, positives… Although the strength of my emotions can be overwhelming, I definitely prefer it to the idea of ambivalence or apathy. And while the negative emotions are awful, the positive ones are like nothing else in life. I imagine it’s like going from grainy black and white to high definition colour: when I’m happy or passionate or excited, I feel like I’m glowing brighter than the sun. I don’t know if that makes sense but it’s how it feels. I can also get completely immersed myself in something: it doesn’t even feel like I’m focussing because I don’t feel like I’m in control, but I think people would call it deep focus. I can work on something for hours and fours. For example, I once started working on a song at eight in the morning and when I next looked up, it was dark and my hands were shaking because I hadn’t eaten for over fourteen hours. I hadn’t even noticed the time passing. And I guess another positive is how seriously I take things – my relationships, my commitments, my words, and so on. Nothing is flippant to me. I mean, I can be funny and silly but I take life seriously. Everything that I invest myself in matters so deeply to me and I never want to give anything less than my best. All of these things do have negative side effects if they go too far – which they often do – but overall, I consider them to be positives.
How do you think things would’ve been different if your ASD had been recognised when you were younger?
I mean, who knows? I don’t think we can ever really know the answers to questions like these, although I’m fascinated by the ways life might’ve turned out had this happened or that not happened. I’m not sure, to be honest; there would obviously be so many differences. But the biggest one that sticks out for me is that I wouldn’t feel so stuck between a neurotypical world and an autistic world, especially identity wise. I often feel like I have two sides to myself constantly pushing against one another and like I’m trying to find a place in the world where I don’t just have to be one part of myself, where I can be all of myself. I mean, I know everyone’s trying to find their place in the world and that most people don’t often get to be their whole selves but I feel very conscious of the two worlds that I don’t quite fit into and end up feeling like I don’t fit anywhere. So I think the obvious thing for me would be that I think my identity wouldn’t feel so fractured because growing up knowing I was autistic would’ve meant that my personality and my identity evolved with that already present, rather than trying to fit everything together later on, if that makes sense.
How do you feel about taking various medications and going to different forms of therapy for years now? How do you think those have affected you?
It’s an ongoing, exhausting part of my life and I do sometimes wonder whether any of it has made any difference. But then I think about it properly and despite all the awful medication experiences, there have been some really great ones: I wouldn’t have made it through my BA without the Phenelzine, wouldn’t have made it this far through my MA without it. And sometimes it feels like therapy only uncovers more problems but then I remember how many empowering conversations I’ve had with my therapist, how many strategies I’ve learned to help me manage not only my struggles but my life in general. There have been more ups and downs than I can count but I honestly don’t know where I’d be without them.
What do you think the hardest part of living with ASD is?
This is a really difficult question to answer. Part of me wants to answer with ‘living with ASD’ but that’s not helpful. There are so many things I could say: the anxiety; the fatigue; feeling like I blend in enough to fit in casually but feel too different to fit in on a deeper level; my limited ability to be independent; sensory sensitivities… The list goes on. But I think, overall, the hardest part is feeling like the life I want to have is never going to be possible for me and I don’t mean in the being-a-musician-is-a-risky-career-path way; I mean that, as an autistic person, I will not be able to do the things required of me to do music. It’s a terrifying prospect because I cannot imagine my life without music at the forefront. There seems no point to living otherwise. I know that sounds overdramatic but given the intense emotions I experience as part of being autistic, that is just how I feel. To an overwhelming degree.
How do you feel your life as an autistic person is different to those of your neurotypical peers?
I can absolutely recognise that we do go through a lot of the same things, albeit often in different ways and according to different time frames. But then there are definitely significant differences between my life and the lives of most of the neurotypical people around me. I feel like my life is smaller, limited. I’m sensitive to food, loud noise, large groups of people, and I struggle with low energy levels, which all make it difficult to keep up socially, so I often feel like I’m on the outside. I also find myself constantly comparing my level of independence to that of my friends: so many of them – if not all of them – have moved out (even if they’ve moved home during the pandemic), lived with friends or alone, have jobs, operate as independent adults. And I’m just not able to do that. Every day, I have to ration my energy down to the smallest sliver and it’s just not physically possible for me to do any of those things with the amount of energy I have to allocate out to all the tasks required in a day. And that’s as things are now, living at home, let alone if I was living alone and taking care of myself without any help. These things are some really big issues for me and I do find that I isolate myself sometimes so that I’m not being constantly reminded of them.
Are your relationships with your neurotypical friends different to your relationships with your autistic friends?
I think there probably are – to a certain degree, at least – but for the most part, I think it’s not that different to how we relate to each different social group we interact in. We connect with different people for different reasons so while the underlying connection to my university friends is music, the underlying connection to my autistic friends is based on our shared experiences as autistic women. But all of those connections are strengthened by other things, other commonalities and time spent together. So while I initially connected to my autistic friends because we are all autistic – and those similar emotions and experiences and struggles are an important part of our relationship because we can connect to and support each other in a very specific way – our friendship has grown a lot from there, just as every friendship grows.
How do you feel parents can be most supportive to a young adult with ASD?
I have a couple of things I’d like to include here, things that have been invaluable to me over the years:
So there we go. If you guys have any other questions for me or my Mum about living with and managing my ASD and mental health problems, please get in contact and we can always do another of these posts. I hope it was helpful!
Category: about me, anxiety, autism, chronic fatigue, diagnosis, emotions, food, medication, mental health, music, therapy, tips, treatment Tagged: advice, advocate, advocating, anxiety, asd, autism, autism diagnosis, autism spectrum disorder, autistic, autistic adult, cfs, chronic fatigue, chronic fatigue, diagnosis, emotion, fatigue, focus, friends, friendships, hope, hopeless, hopelessness, independence, late diagnosis, low energy, medication, mental health, mental illness, mother, mum, neuroatypical, neurotypical, parent, parenting, parenting autism, parents, support, therapy, treatment, what is
Posted on December 6, 2020
A couple of weeks ago, I got to speak on a panel at a conference run by UniversitiesUK about how COVID-19 is affecting the mental health of students in higher education and it was a really cool experience. So, now that the whole process and experience is over, I thought I’d write up what happened and why it felt like such a special experience.
A few months ago now, someone from UniversitiesUK contacted me after reading this blog, specifically the post I wrote about my first week back at university and doing it in the middle of a pandemic. She asked me if I would be interested in being part of the conference and speak on a panel about how to support autistic students in coping with all the changes to their education experience, drawing from both my experience of doing a BA pre-pandemic and doing an MA during the pandemic. I said yes straight away; I was excited by the idea that my experiences as an autistic person could help others, both autistic people and those in universities trying their best to support autistic students. So often – at this point in my life anyway – it feels like my Autism hinders my life, so it always feels like a big deal when it’s the cause of something good or provides me with an opportunity to have a positive impact.
Before the conference, there were a handful of online meetings where, first and foremost, I got to meet the other panelists: Jonathan Vincent (Senior Lecturer at York St John University and Autism Researcher), Eilidh Cage (Lecturer at University of Stirling and Autism Researcher), and Marc Fabri (Senior Lecturer at Leeds Beckett University, Autism Researcher, and Project Lead for IMAGE). They were all really lovely and working with them was a really positive experience for me. It was a bit of a challenge to figure out how we were going to deliver all of the information we felt was important to share without overwhelming the attendees. Between our meetings we collaborated on a powerpoint presentation and then met up again (online obviously) to refine things and make sure we weren’t missing anything.
On the morning of the panel, we met early for a quick technical rehearsal, since we were using a different platform than the one we’d been using for our meetings. All went smoothly but just as we were signing off, we got an email from Marc, letting us know that unfortunately he wouldn’t be able to be there. So there was a bit of a last minute scramble to figure out how best to share his contribution with the attendees, despite it being his field of expertise and not ours. I’m grateful that that didn’t fall to me, having no experience in the area of employability of autistic graduates.
I’ve never really done anything like this (the closest experience is probably being a guest at a conference where I briefly shared a project relevant to the talk that I’d worked on) so I admit I was pretty nervous when all the conference attendees started logging into our breakout room. But despite my anxiety, the whole thing went well, even though we did go over our allotted time. And that was with only the three of us!
It was really interactive so there were polls and questions for the attendees to respond to, plus the chat where they could ask questions, although we did have a Q&A set up for the end of the presentation. We went through the panels, taking turns to speak about what Autism is, the disclosure numbers in Higher Education, research into into how autistic people often struggle with uncertainty and change…
And then it was my turn (although I had spoken a bit during previous slides). My first slide was about my experience of how COVID-19 has affected me as an autistic student and the challenges I’ve been faced with. I’d put together what I felt were the most significant examples:
All of our strategies that have been built over time no longer apply and there has been no time to develop new ones.
My second slide was about what I’ve found to be helpful or what I would find helpful during this time, considering all of the uncertainty and anxiety. They’re actually all ideas that would be helpful generally but since many autistic students are struggling even more than usual, these things are all the more important.
(This wasn’t all on the slide, by the way. The headers were on the slide and the rest were my notes for expanding on those headers in order to provide as much clarity and insight as I could.)
I shared this slide with Eilidh and she described what she’d found to be helpful with autistic students, going on to share some of the research she’d done into some of the causes of autistic students dropping out of higher education (obviously done pre-COVID but still very relevant – many of those issues, such as lack of understanding, still exist regardless of the pandemic). But it was really interesting to see how much our experiences of what has been helping overlapped.
The Q&A section was a bit scary, given that I didn’t know what the questions might be and so couldn’t prepare for them. I didn’t want to say something and then realise later that it was bad advice. But it actually went okay. I got a couple of questions but there was one that really stuck out to me. One of the attendees asked me about the situation of many autistic students wanting to remain online – in environments where they were comfortable, without the anxiety of potentially confusing social interactions, not have to deal with the exhaustion that days at university can cause, and so on – even once it’s safe to return to university as normal. She wanted to know, from my experience, whether that’s a good idea. I can certainly understand that. But in the long run, personally, I don’t think it’s a good approach. Every autistic student is different, of course, and will have different needs but I think that the experience of university is a really important one. It definitely was for me. So I think it comes down to supporting these students through the process of either joining or rejoining university. Depending on the student, this could involve visits when there are as few people around as possible, one-to-one meetings with lecturers or tutors as a first step to going to classes, doing certain classes (perhaps the smaller ones) in person and doing others online in a blended set up, encouraging them to do as much as they feel able to (and depending on the student, pushing just past the point of comfort if that feels possible) but allowing them to leave if they feel it’s too much, and just slowly building up to the full experience, as the specific student feels able to. It reminds me of the Māori word, ‘Takiwātanga,’ which translates into ‘his or her own time and space’ (devised by Keri Opai). So hopefully that was a helpful answer.
It was a really, really great experience. The feedback I’ve had has been really positive and I learned a lot too; the whole experience was really rewarding. I’m so grateful to UniversitiesUK for inviting me to be a part of it. I would love to do more events like this in the future. I felt like I was actually helping people, something that’s always been important to me regardless of my Autism. And on a more personal note, having spent a lot of time feeling helpless (as well as being a person who often needs a lot of help), it was so empowering to turn something that can be so debilitating into something positive and useful.
Again, I want to extend my thanks to UniversitiesUK, Jonathan, Eilidh, and Marc (although he couldn’t be there on the day) for making my first conference such a positive experience.
Category: anxiety, autism, covid-19 pandemic, mental health, research, tips, university Tagged: asd, autism, autism research, autism spectrum disorder, autism support, autistic, autistic adult, autistic student, change, conference, disability support, eilidh cage, jonathan vincent, lockdown, lockdown 2.0, lockdown 2020, marc fabri, online classes, online learning, online university, pandemic, pandemic 2020, pandemic anxiety, panel, support, uncertainty, universitiesuk, university, university support

Hi! I’m Lauren Alex Hooper. Welcome to my little blog! I write about living with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), ADHD (Inattentive Type), and Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS), as well as several mental health issues.
I’m a singer-songwriter (it’s my biggest special interest and I have both a BA and MA in songwriting) so I’ll probably write a bit about that too.
My first single, ‘Invisible,’ is on all platforms, with all proceeds going to Young Minds.
My debut EP, Honest, is available on all platforms, with a limited physical run at Resident Music in Brighton.
I’m currently working on an album about my experiences as an autistic woman.
Hi! I’m Lauren Alex Hooper. Welcome to my little blog! I write about living with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), ADHD (Inattentive Type), and Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS), as well as several mental health issues.
I’m a singer-songwriter (it’s my biggest special interest and I have both a BA and MA in songwriting) so I’ll probably write a bit about that too.
My first single, ‘Invisible,’ is on all platforms, with all proceeds going to Young Minds.
My debut EP, Honest, is available on all platforms, with a limited physical run at Resident Music in Brighton.
I’m currently working on an album about my experiences as an autistic woman.
Finding Hope