What We Do in the Shadows

Bringing liminal spaces and identities into the light

I can remember the first time I heard the word liminal

It was during the first year of my undergrad and I was listening to a lecture for the core unit, Introduction to Cultural Studies. As I listened to my lecturer talk about these spaces that exist on the margins of society, the outliers, the undesirables, the places and people and things that don’t fit, I thought, he’s talking about me and the spaces where I live.

I was nearly twenty years away from recognising I was autistic and ten years from even hearing the word neurodivergent, but I knew there was something in me that made it hard to fit into the places I was supposed to be. I’m sure this was exacerbated by growing up in a tiny village where I was one of three people who raced to buy the two copies of The Guardian that the village shop stocked (alongside towers of The Sun and Daily Mail). It didn’t take much to be different in this space, and as a twin, part of me was always seeking an identity for myself that was not dependent on another person or relationship (there are pictures of us as children where even my mum struggles to tell us apart and I haven’t a clue).

I was an unrecognised autistic, surrounded by societal norms and beliefs who didn’t understand why she kept getting it wrong. Why not embrace the differences and make them my own?

I made it into an armour that I wore for years.

I had often felt like I existed on the margins of social groups and experiences. Unsure of what was expected and, on the rare occasions I was invited in, waiting to inevitably be manoeuvred back to the edges. Over time I I learnt to make these places my home and, in doing do so found the magic that exists there. The liminal spaces are where the carnival pitches its tents, and all sorts of things become not only possible, but permissible.

The more comfortable I became in these spaces, the better I got at identifying them, although navigating them was always more challenging. I found them in queer spaces, in alternative pubs and clubs, in the local fringe theatre and art house cinema. I found the spaces where it felt safe to show up as myself, although for a long time there was always an element of masking. I even wrote my dissertation on ‘spaces in-between’ and how creative therapy can help us find the truthy that exists beyond, before and between language.

When I started my private practice, I was determined that it would be one of these places of possibility. I’ve written about why it’s called curiosity spot here:

Hello!

I made the transition into working full-time in private practice at the same time as I started exploring my own neurodivergence.

Being an inclusive and affirming space had always been an important part of my work and I had a good basis from both my academic learning and my work as a disability practitioner. But my understanding of what meant to be affirming kept expanding as I gained more knowledge. The more I learnt, the more I realised I didn’t know and so I put energy into unlearning unhelpful beliefs and expectations and replacing them with things more inline with my values.

This unlearning process is something that I often talk to clients about, especially those who want to explore their own neurodivergent activities. We have to make space for new knowledge and ways of being, by excavating out the old way (that were often not really ours to begin with). It can be difficult work, but it is worth it to make the space for sustainable change.

One of the reasons I speak so openly about my own neurodivergence and the experience of discovering it, is because I remember how lonely it felt when I was first exploring it. I was back to feeling like I was on the margins, outside, looking in at everyone else. I felt like I didn’t have a place.

It was only over time that I started to find the autistic community in podcasts and books, and here I rediscovered the magic of liminal spaces. Here I was reminded of all the things I knew (although my internalised ableism was trying to tell me didn’t apply to me) about what it really meant to be autistic. Not the deficit based medical model that had underpinned the diagnostic process I found so difficult, but the joyful celebration of the different ways our brains work.

It was in these spaces that I gave myself permission to embrace my new self knowledge and celebrate the joy I could find when I began to work with my brain, rather than seeing it as a problem to be fixed. I realised I had more unlearning to do, but I was eager to do it so I could fill up the space with all I was (re)learning.

It was these experiences that convinced me that it was important to be open about my own neurodivergence, to model what I had learnt in my own practice with clients and supervisees. To let others know that they didn’t have to wait in the shadows, but that it was ok to step into the light.

Do you hang out in liminal space?

Or do you create your own?

Tell me all about them.

If you’d like to know more about what I’ve learnt and how it manifests in my practice then I’m running a workshop in January on Neuro-Affirming Practice.