From This Day Forward: Laying The Foundations

There was a period in the 80s when it was deemed trendy to have a gay friend.  Announcing it was a naïve brag shared among the ignorant masses – a fast-growing and somewhat dubious club of which I was a member.  I had a very close gay friend, previously manager of the Co-op, ostracised from Tiree, whom I paraded like a trophy to all and sundry in Edinburgh for almost six months. We thought we were so forward-thinking, so out-there and so tolerant, my friends and I.  The 1980s was a hugely defining time but it wasn’t the hard-won result of decades-long campaigning by then-called LGB groups that turned the spotlight on all things homosexual; it was AIDS, a relatively unknown and highly contagious killer disease attributed entirely and erroneously to the gay community. 

The prolificacy with which the disease spread publicly announced that this minority group was not quite the minority the world at large had been led to believe and in turn created a swathe of openly empathetic support groups, gay pubs, clubs and celebrity endorsements. There were only two camps.  Those with tolerance and those without. Most of us had no real concept of how precarious life was for the gay community at that time.  And not just because of AIDS. I didn’t – still don’t – personally know anyone who succumbed to AIDS but I knew and witnessed many who were targeted, beaten, and hospitalised for being gay.

An embarrassing number of us believed gayness itself to be a trend of sorts. It’s both sobering and cringey to mentally revisit this era now. Debates raged over the definition of ‘normal’.  Straights would cite the animal kingdom as the yardstick of normality; “you don’t see gay animals,” was an oft-repeated argument (honestly, my head is in my hands to think of this argument now, I’m mortified for all of us). Even those settled at the thin end of the wedge joined in; “Oh, please. Suddenly everyone’s gay these days.” Hardly. Today, only around 9% worldwide identify as gay, bi or pansexual.

The huge surge occurred because the floodgates had been opened but lots of people didn’t see it that way. Some suggested it was a lifestyle choice. There was a supportive swell of intelligence and articulation out there, good people fighting to inform and educate; my peers and I didn’t form part of it but we went along with it. It was finally okay to say, although not everyone did – or does now. 

Today that trend is neurodiversity.  We’re rolling our eyes again. All of us - medics too. Many NHS Boards in Scotland have stopped accepting ADHD referalls and those that continue average a two-and-a-half year waiting list. The exponential growth of autism and ADHD cases in the UK alone far less worldwide is overwhelming for those who aren’t routinely overwhelmed, and the bombardment of social media postulating by pseudo experts and self-diagnosed individuals isn’t helping.  Particularly those who persistently list what the majority of the world may have as a trait and attempt to attribute it wholly and specifically to autism or ADHD.  Our disdainful intolerance of it all is a clear demonstration of how far we still are from understanding this prickly area of mental health.

The rise in mental health awareness in the UK can be attributed to several factors, two of the most noteable being Prince Harry’s interview of 2017 in which he discussed his personal struggles, and the fallout and consequences of the global pandemic of 2020.  The post-pandemic drive to reduce the stigma of owning up to mental health difficulties triggered a tsunami.  Pandora’s box had been prised open and there would be no closing it.  

Of all the areas of mental health finally being given a platform, neurodivergence is the one average-Joe seems least willing to engage with. Once again, many see it as a trend that will run its course. We’ll eventually stop talking about it and get back to normal, just as we did in the '80s. Many baulk at the terminology, seen as pretentious to those of us more at ease with the ‘eccentric,’ ‘slow,’ ‘weird,’ ‘odd,’ ‘not all there’ and ‘special’ tags of yesteryear.   Neurodiversity is not a new phenomenon. It’s always been there.  All that’s happening now is that fully grown adults who have always known or felt they were ‘different’ are finally free to own it.   

It's a little different for the younger generation. Whilst diagnosis of both autism and ADHD in children is on the increase, there are still parents reluctant to draw attention to something that may result in their child being labelled, targeted and bullied. And then there’s the worry of the labelled becoming the label; being handed an excuse to give in and give up.  Well, I'd argue that children and adults with undiagnosed autism and ADHD are labelled in one way or another from the moment they display their first symptom.

I was the most anti-label person out there, being one of those post-war second-generation hardy types raised to get on with it, come what may.  And I, too, am tired of the continual barrage of divergents eagerly stepping onto the podium to announce their idiosyncrasies, peculiarities and superpowers through every media available to them.  But it’s not going away.   Any day now, worldwide statistics on this minority will settle somewhere between eight and twelve percent, which will be up ten per cent on pre-pandemic assumptions.  Tiktok and Insta will calm down and we’ll all eventually learn to live with each others’ differences.

You would be forgiven for pausing at this point to wonder where all this has come from, all this talk, and more to the point, where it may be going. You may even be questioning what it has to do with Tiree or Yellow Hare, not that it needs to have anything to do with either since I’m now in Edinburgh.  As it happens, there is a link. And the link leads back to one of the reasons for giving up Yellow Hare.

To those who know me and the many others who only know of me, I’m a fairly chatty, social individual who, back in the day, partied like there was no tomorrow. I was always very good at playing whatever part was required of me, especially if there was alcohol involved. Because alcohol was a prerequisite for this bang-on-trend, not-informed-by-a-friend, properly tested, diagnosed, registered and often mis-understood autistic adult and former undiagnosed autistic child.  Mine is of the type most easily disguised, and I am a master of that.   Autism Without Disorder of Intellectual Developments. Quite a mouthful, but I like it.  Similar to the likes of Chris Packam, Cat Burns and Anthony Hopkins.  All of us perfectly well-adjusted, rational individuals with a few quirks.

What follows is a very simplistic run through of the jolly peccadillos I was born with, mostly hidden in plain sight:  Reading the room. Nope. Never could do this and it’s one of two things that has caused me the most angst internally.  Brutal honestly.  My default is to speak without camouflage. This is the second thing that causes the most angst.  I can give a good impression of thoughtlessness but that would be a false impression. I do think before I speak and don’t understand when what I say is regarded rude, inappropriate or outrageous when I sincerely don't mean it to be.  Anxiety.  Some think I’m of a nervous disposition. Hand on heart, on the outside I’m one of the calmest people I know, very little phases me, but social anxiety often manifests as nervous energy. Getting the joke. I don’t. This is a wee bit like reading the room. I frequently take people far too seriously when they are joking. Reading between the lines. Struggle to do this. I don't even see the lines. Engaging in small talk. I can do this for about five minutes with strangers and maybe fifteen if we've known each other a while.  After that I’m out.  Attention to detail.  I’m bloody brilliant at this and no one is taking that from me. Being flexible with time. Aagh… stop moving the goalposts.  If we’ve made an appointment, we’ve made an appointment.  Saying what I see. I compliment people easily and naturally. This is frequently misinterpreted. If I say I think you have beautiful eyes, I mean I think you have beautiful eyes. There's no hidden message in there. Keeping a secret.  No sir. I can keep a secret forever if I know it’s a secret.  But if you tell me something and assume I’ll know it’s a secret, more fool you.  Holding eye contact for too long (over-compensating).  This is slightly embarrassing because I’m totally unaware of it but apparently it’s a thing, and I do it. A lot. Not showing true emotion. This has nothing to do with concealing anything; it’s about the inability to match inside my head with outside my face.  For example, showing no emotion when relaying traumatic events or smiling when giving bad news. Stimming.  I spent my childhood and early adulthood rocking to and fro to calm myself, sometimes violently. When I moved to Tiree, folks would look at me and ask if I was all there, which was the best way to get me to stop. Party, party, partying! Oh, this I did soooo much of – right up until fairly recently, like a total pro… always out of my face and the life and soul of it.  I don’t think I once turned up to a party completely sober back in the day. Couldn’t have done it. Chatting on the phone. What - small talk AND not being able to see faces? Are you freekin’ kidding me?? I developed an intense phobia about this many years ago and I’m working hard to undo it. Not a team player. Well, come on… sometimes you need to read the team, right?  Mirroring.  You don’t know it but I’ve been mimicking you; I mentally interpret how you deliver speach, your nuances and your mannerisms, and play them back to you as me.  It’s why we get along so well.  It’s basically you liking yourself.  This is verging on creepy so we won’t hang around here long. I’m pretty sure all autistics do this (she said rather defensively). Fixating. This is pretty straightforward.  I find a project that demands my full attention and see no need to properly eat, sleep or socialise until it’s done to perfection. This is manageable for small projects that are time limited.  Yellow Hare was a big project and eternal.  There was always something to perfect, 24/7, all year round.  I realised in the summer of ‘24 that I couldn’t step away and that I’d probably never be able to. It left no room for anyone or anything else and I began to feel trapped by it. That’s when I accepted I had to let go. And yes, there were other things that contributed to our decision to close but this was the catalyst. 

Other, less affecting peculiarities – aversion to bright lights, allergy to perfumes, no tolerance for whistling – barely merit mention but nonetheless combine to form a pattern.

Crucially, none of my peculiarities – oh, alright then, traits - are in any way life-threatening or debilitating, intrusive or shocking.  And I'm intentionally focussing on me in this context because I don't want to misinform other people's experiences. But it would be a gross inaccuracy to suggest that my autism diagnosis has made no more difference to my life or well-being than yours. Knowing that I am autistic will have made no difference to you at all, I’m quite sure, however well you know me, but it most certainly has had a profound impact on me and how I view the world and navigate it.  And that’s the bit that matters to those who want or need to know, be they children, adults, or parents of children who seem different. Knowing makes all the difference between confusion and understanding. It comes with a manual that you get to use or ignore. Just as you get to decide who knows.  It isn’t branded on your forehead.  

Attitudes are changing. Everywhere you look, health professionals, celebrities and TikTok pseudo physiatrists are pleading for us to look out for one another; for children to ‘own who you are’; for men to speak out; and for us all to be more open about our mental health. So please don’t blame all those people now coming out of the woodwork for complying. 

And please don’t think this is how it’s going to be on Yellow Hare’s blog site from now on.  I plan on being funny now and then. No promises but I will try. Just wanted to clear the decks, get this out of the way and reboot.

One last thing.  A word to the wise – I am drawn to like-minded people. If you are a friend of mine, or we have shared some interesting conversations over the counter at Yellow Hare, take a look in the recesses of your mind, see if there’s anything lurking ….

Kate MacLeod November 2025