I wear my sunglasses at night

"I wear my sunglasses at night so I can, so I can..."

Everyone knows this line from Corey Hart's famous 1983 song aptly titled "Sunglasses at Night." Though no specific instances of hearing this song as a boy come to mind, having a mother who graduated from high school in 1985 meant that '80s music was ubiquitous in our household, so it was probably played many times on the radio or the record player when I was growing up. In recent days, I've been thinking of these words in a new way.

Even before receiving my official diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder, I would sometimes find myself wanting to "retreat inside my own head," so to speak. This would usually happen when I was particularly upset about something. In an attempt to close myself off from the world around me, I would don sunglasses and/or industrial ear protection and just go about my business. Once I no longer felt filled with too much of what I describe as "negative energy," I would remove the shades and/or the earmuffs. It didn't matter where I was - I would do this at home, at work, and even at church. I expect that this behavior seemed odd or even unsettling to those around me, but it helped me to feel safe and comfortable, and allowed me to interact with my environment on my own terms.

In fact, it still does.

While I can no longer be seen wearing shades and industrial earmuffs, I do still find ways to create that sense of existing in my own sphere despite being surrounded by other people. Usually, this takes the form of queuing up some media on my phone and inserting my AirPods Pro. It seems simple - after all, isn't that something that people do all the time when they don't want to be disturbed? Sure it is. But for me, it's so much more. For me, it's a source of great comfort, a way for me to maintain some semblance of control over my plane of existence.

You see, I get it. I know that I'm just one of eight billion members of my species living on this planet we all call home. I know that only around two percent of the population is autistic, and I know that I can't expect the other ninety-eight percent to bend over backwards to make my life comfortable. Instead, the onus is on me to adapt to a neurotypical world. If that means waiting for the elevator, even though the stairs would be faster, because someone else is on the staircase, so be it. If that means wearing earplugs, even though it's quiet, because my phone's running out of juice and I have to take my headphones out, oh well. (That actually happened to me at work the other day, by the way, and was the inspiration for this post). Heck, if that means wearing sunglasses indoors - or at night - then by Zeus, that's what I'll do.

I've only known about my condition for a short time, so I'm still learning how to live life as a neurodivergent person. I hope that I can do so in such a way that will make me an asset to every community of which I'm a part.

There's still a lot more to be said on this and related topics, and I'd like to revisit them soon, but for now, so long.

-A.A.