By Willow (willowashmaple.xyz)
Sunday, Oct. 6, 2024
CW: mental health
About four years ago, I suddenly acquired self-awareness. Maybe, at age 45, I finally "grew up." After all, I have kind of been a perpetual tween, both in a good and a bad way. From what I have seen recently on autistic Instagram and Threads world, this does not seem to be not so unusual: many autistic adults, in the process of "unmasking," discover that even in their 30s and 40s, their level of ability to live and move in society is quite analogous to those of teenagers.
To me, the floodgate of sudden self-awareness came in the midst of a severe anxiety episode during the uncertain and chaotic days of the COVID-19 restrictions and the 2020 presidential election. Then I began having frequent flashbacks of my childhood antics and youthful (that extended well into my 30s) misbehavior. They were truly cringe-worthy and embarrassing, to say the least. I now live mostly with shame, guilt, and regret, and very little else.
As a child, before there was a wider awareness of autism and other neurodivergent conditions, I was my parents' and teachers' worst nightmare. As they'd often say, I was utterly incapable of empathy, had no concept of right and wrong, and was never able to consider the feelings of others. They were perplexed: I appeared to be a "genius," "gifted," and "smart." I was not a stereotypical "retard" they could send to a mental institution or to the special ed. They were clueless as to what to do with me. I was extremely defiant to authority, yet I was cunning enough to stay out of trouble and make myself look good to strangers.
I hated the world I lived in, and I hated every single human that dwelled in it. I could not understand them, and I loathed how I was "unfairly" singled out to be blamed for just about everything that did or did not happen in their little world. I hated how I was bullied by some kids while being merely tolerated by a few others, while the majority simply avoided me like a plague.
So as a little child, I began developing a very intricate world of fantasy. I also found comfort in books. I was hyperlexic and had an extremely high IQ. By age 5 I was reading at the high school level.
I remember vividly some moments when I was perhaps 5 or 6 years old, after having either read someone's book on the afterlife or maybe seen something on TV, I would ponder about life after death -- not something a normal 5-year-old would think even for a moment. This was a mish-mash of different ideas about the afterlife: some Christian ideas of heaven and hell, some Buddhist beliefs about them, some world mythologies, and New Age and spiritualist thoughts on the spirit world, it was not particularly consistent or coherent at the time.
Combined with my emerging obsession with world geography at the time, I soon became drawn to different ways people around the globe believed about God and the cosmos, and how they practiced their faith traditions.
In retrospect, these events naturally led to my curiosity and interest in subjects such as theology and comparative religion and ultimately became Christian by the time I was in middle school.
Yet, I struggled. I could not fully "get" the idea that one could relate to God as though God was a person. To me, God seemed more like a universal principle or cosmic law. I envied those Christians who would say something like "God spoke to me" or "I felt the presence of the Lord and I experienced Him." For a few years, I chased such experiences (my Pentecostal-Charismatic phase) by attending a suburban megachurch, and traveling out-of-state for so-called "miracle crusades" and "Bible encounters," and in general, immersing myself in the subculture of the American Charismatic Evangelicals (this was also when I was very much into what may be termed today as "Christian nationalism"). But I only came out empty, experiencing nothing supernatural, and realizing how shallow and crass they were.
I genuinely wanted what they appeared to have. I wanted to experience the supernatural. I yearned to be like a normal person, be successful, be prosperous, and have the best life God intended me to have. What a disappointment it turned out to be.
There was a time in my life when I behaved for all practical purposes like an atheist. I threw myself into political activism to find a sense of meaning and purpose, as well as to find a community. I finally thought I could become like a human until I realized I could not. I burned myself out.
Lately, I keep wondering if I might be a malignant narcissist. I've met enough neurodivergent people in recent years and even they seem to have some degree of empathy. But my brain sees a human being and it does not recognize them as a living, breathing person with their own feelings, thoughts, and lives. My brain perceives them as a mere object instead. Sure, on a purely intellectual level, I know that's not the case. Over the years, I've learned at least how to fake it. But it takes a lot of daily conscious efforts on my side to remind myself that I am looking at a person with their own feelings, thoughts, and lives, not at a bothersome object that is in my way.
If you've just read the foregoing paragraph, your first impression should be something like, "What a dangerous, deranged psychopath!" I cannot blame you at all. Yet, here's the thing: I did not turn out to become a mass murderer, a dictator (even though from time to time I really wanted to become one), a con artist, or any sort of criminal figure. Why?
I thank my very early exposure to religion and ethics before I became a teenager. Without this, probably I could have become a delinquent teen and lived a life of crimes.
During the last two years, in particular, there have been a lot of discussions about how generative artificial intelligence (generative AI) needs strong guardrails so that it won't spit out unethical and dangerous materials that could do harm to society.
To me, religion -- despite my apparent inability to actually experience God -- has long functioned as such "guardrails." Basically, I used religion and its rules to train my brain to act ethically (and to avoid self-destructing). The byproduct of this was that uninformed observers, who had no clue what was really going on in my mind, thought I was very godly and pious, but honestly, I wasn't.
There are a lot of people in this modern world who say that one does not need religion to be moral or ethical. Some even claim that religion is actually harmful to this end. I say these people are kind of naive and assume that everyone is naturally empathetic, loving, and kind if they were left to their own devices. If that were truly the case, religion probably did not develop in the first place. All the prophets, sages, and holy teachers were needed when the ancient people would otherwise be killing one another, driven by vengeance, greed, and fear. Their teachings then developed into an elaborate code of morals, virtues, vices, and ethics, backed by an institution that perpetuates such a code and passes it down to the next generations. (For those who believe in the theology of original sin and total depravity, which is not my theological position, this point may be a strong case for their doctrines -- and why they support a "Christian nationalist" government established to restrain the evil and to guide the unbelievers and force the "reprobates" to live a moral life for the benefit of society, but I digress.)
So don't just dismiss or ridicule religion as something to be "evolved out" of. There are people who truly benefit from it, and the world is a better place because of vibrant and strong faith communities.
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