If it doesn't grow here, it doesn't belong...

Trying to make sense of Autistic justice and how my brain processes unfairness

When my husband and I were in marriage counseling in 2012, I kept coming back to the same thought. Over and over again, my husband met the truth of my affair with compassion, not anger. And each time, I found myself more and more confused by this. It got to the point that we kept butting heads, because I simply could not understand why he would not get mad at me. Why he wasn’t screaming and ranting and throwing the affair in my face. Why didn’t he want to fight it out? Have his say? Shame me and point to it in every conflict as proof I was unworthy of him.

It wasn’t until recently, as I have sat with my Autism diagnosis, that I began to understand why it bothered me so much that he didn’t react to the pain I caused in the way it seemed everyone else would. And it has a lot to do with how I view justice. I have always been extremely sensitive to things that feel unfair—whether it be towards me or something I see in the lives of others. While I can see some areas with a bit of gray, justice is NOT one of them. If something feels unfair, I don’t just experience it in my mind. It is visceral and thick and heavy. I feel it all throughout my body. Something rises up from the pit of my stomach and threatens to overtake me. I didn’t know that this was something that people with Autism typically experience. Having a name for it makes so many things make so much more sense:

“Autism justice sensitivity refers to a heightened sense of fairness, equity, and inclusion, coupled with a strong need to address and correct injustices​. In essence, it means being extremely attuned to when something is not fair or right.” (https://www.simplypsychology.org/autism-justice-sensitivity.html)

With that definition in mind, as I look back to the time in counseling when Kris and I couldn’t see eye to eye on his reaction to my infidelity, I suddenly understand why I was so adamant that he be angry and treat me with contempt. I deserved it. While my need for justice runs deep and outward, I realized this week that in that situation, the reason I could not comprehend why he wasn’t mad at me and wanting to punish me was rooted in a need for justice to be done. I had deeply harmed the one I love, and because of that, punishment was due. A price was owed. And I kept waiting for Kris to punish me. But he simply wouldn’t. And the conflict we ran into in counseling was that I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I lived in constant fear. Because justice was warranted and he wasn’t behaving as I believed he should (even if it was to my own benefit), I was terrified that one day he might wake up and realize just how much punishment I deserved.

I remember thinking, as we sat in therapy and I wept over this issue, that if he wasn’t going to punish me, and God wasn’t going to punish me, that SOMEONE had to. So it may as well be me. I took justice into my own hands and piled shame and punishment on my own head. Between the Autistic deep need for justice and a misunderstanding of God’s love, I simply could not understand why Kris wasn’t angry. Why he wasn’t wrestling with what I had done in the way that really anyone else would naturally. As we worked to untangle that, we could see that God had imparted a gift to Kris—the ability to see me, truly as God sees me. As a lost soul who had wandered off and gotten stuck in mud, a child wallowing in the pig pen.

It was only after this realization that I was able to understand the work of the Cross. That the punishment I was trying to inflict on myself because Kris and God were failing to do it had already happened. Jesus climbed up on the Cross and took the punishment so that I didn’t have to. Because He loved me that much. He found me worthy, even while I was still in the middle of the mess I had made of my life.

It’s interesting to look back at that time now through the lens of my demand for justice, because I realize it doesn't just affect how I view my past—it impacts how I navigate my present. It explains why I have such a hard time with people who are not authentic. There is something so disruptive to me when Christians especially proclaim the word of God to everyone else but fail to apply it to their own lives. Relationally, I cry out for justice. I want someone to put as much time and energy into a relationship as I do. That only feels fair. And if someone isn’t going to reciprocate in a relationship, I pull back. I pull away. I feel a need to protect myself, because I simply can’t abide the injustice of imbalance within relationships. I am not sure I can force my brain to think about this any differently. And so it makes it difficult to maintain long-term relationships. If someone isn’t going to give back reciprocally, then I simply don’t have the energy to invest pieces of myself.

I’m still figuring everything out. I may never fully understand my own brain. But I’m okay with that. Because God is teaching me that there is nothing wrong with my brain. He created it. He designed me this way. Maybe the rigidity that comes with a mind like mine is off-putting to some. But to others, to those I allow in and hold close, this sense of justice and need for fairness allows me to step into the pain of others. To hold them while they weep. To champion them if they have been wronged. To comfort them in their struggle because I understand deeply what it feels like to be wronged.

A friend of mine sent me a message last week asking how I felt about prophetic visions. I told her that I was open to them, as I believe God speaks through everyone in different ways. I myself have experienced prophetic visions. Maybe not in the sense that the prophets did, or this friend does, but in the sense that when I am listening to music, or I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t sleep, or sometimes just random moments in the day, God will put a name in my mind. I didn’t always understand or act on this. But in the last 14 years, this is a spiritual gift He has been unfolding in me. I have learned that when a name pops into my mind, God is asking me to reach out to that person. I don’t always know why. Many times, I have no idea until they tell me later, that what I sent and when I sent it was a gift from God. That is what I think prophecy can look like at times.

The prophets of old were given a message from God to give to His people. At times, God gave a message to a prophet and tasked them with going to an individual to speak the truth. God does this with me time and time again, usually in the form of a song. I couldn’t even add up the amount of times I have been obsessing over a song and I hear a name, I feel it etched on my heart. And I fixate on it until I am obedient and I reach out to that person. Sometimes it is sending the song I was listening to, and sometimes it is simply a text message to say, “Hey, I was just thinking about you and wanted you to know I love you.” To some, this may be small. But to the person who was desperately clinging to hope and on the verge of giving up, it means everything. I don’t say this boastfully. May I never boast in myself. But I know without a doubt that this is God, and it is my responsibility to steward the gift He has grown within my heart. May I always be obedient in this!

So, this friend, with my permission, told me about the prophetic vision she had. She said that God had given her the vision of my brain, and there were wildflowers bursting up from it. She didn’t know what it meant, but she felt it was a message God had for me. I immediately understood it. Especially in terms of my recent AuDHD diagnosis. This burnout season I am in did not happen by chance. I do believe God has been working behind the scenes and orchestrated this time so that I could uproot all that doesn’t belong in my brain. To make room for new things to grow.

Maybe it looks like new habits: slowing down, taking my time, giving myself more grace, learning to love my brain with all of the oddities and off ways I process the world. I have spent so much of my time feeling shame for how I interact with others and how I view myself. I have heaped insults down on my head and carried guilt that I can’t seem to understand things the way everyone else seems to.

And once all the unhealthy patterns are uprooted, it leaves a blank canvas. A brain that is still and bare. And in place of the perfect rows of roses I tried to line my mind with, new growth can spring up. And I do not think wildflowers were a coincidence either. The beauty of wildflowers can be found within their name: wild. They are not uniform or perfect. They can often be viewed as weeds by those who like to keep their lawns pristine. But that isn’t what is going to come forth from my brain. What will grow will be wild, but it will thrive! That’s the thing about wildflowers. They do what they are made to do—grow wild and thrive!

The vision of the wildflowers instantly brought me back to a lesson I learned in my own backyard. When we moved to our home in 2022, I had these perfectly manicured flower beds and beautiful plants growing on my deck. It was clear that the prior owner took care and tended lovingly to her garden. That first year, I felt so bad that I wasn’t able to keep many of the plants alive. Not only that, I didn’t like how clean everything looked. Don’t get me wrong—I hate weeds! Especially Johnson grass that likes to grow in the beds. But everything was in its place, perfectly spaced, perfectly pruned. I realized that first year that I was never going to be able to keep up with these beds. The beautiful Brazilian Jasmine vining on the trellis was the biggest disappointment to lose. It didn’t come back the next year.

But that first year here, I made a new friend at church. And that particular friend is very passionate about native gardening. If you aren’t sure what that is, it’s basically just growing things that are native to your area. And this friend took one look at my beds and said, “Challenge accepted.” She weeded the beds, brought over volunteer plants from her garden and my foray into native gardening began. And in the last two years, I have learned what will and will not grow. I have said time after time that “If it won’t grow in my garden, it doesn’t belong.”

So when my friend shared her vision with me, I immediately thought, “If it won’t grow in my brain, it doesn’t belong.” For years, decades really, I have worked so hard to grow things that simply can’t grow in the conditions provided. And that’s okay. Maybe it’s better that wildflowers grow, that new truths be planted in my brain. It’s time to stop trying to force plants that don’t want to grow to stay. It’s time to uproot, till the soil, and let the wild things grow. If it doesn’t grow here, it doesn’t belong. This sketch is what came to my mind when my friend told me her vision. She indicated she had seen far more wildflowers sprouting, but I’m in the beginning stages of this new growth, so it’ll take time for the garden to fill out. I also felt the need to add the tree and root system to the sketch; it isn't enough to just grow something new on the surface. The roots have to grow down deep.

"If it doesn’t grow here, it doesn’t belong." (A visual representation of finding my own wild growth and acceptance.)

Jamie

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