Journeeman.

(A grounded phenomenological account of ASD + FND lived experience, balanced with adaptive coping frameworks and existential meaning‑making.)

Introduction: Beyond the Label

When I was a young man attending high school, I often found myself overwhelmed by stress and anxiety. The complexity of life felt dramatic and dynamic — the pressure to perform, to belong, to decipher what others meant, and to figure out what I needed to say and do. This intensity sometimes led me to self‑harm, hitting myself and feeling utterly overwhelmed. There were many times I simply started crying because everything felt too intense and too hard to accomplish. I experienced significant anxiety, and at a very young age, I was diagnosed with hypertension and depression.

Even then, I struggled to understand meaning and what people expected of me. This developed into a complex adult life where I spent years doing what others told me to do, or what they expected of me, largely because I didn’t know what I ought to do or what I could do. This uncertainty about my own life and sense of direction was so profound that I often took external advice as if it were divinely ordained. For instance, I was told I should become a minister, preach the Bible from the pulpit, and belong to specific denominations, accomplishing certain tasks. However, these paths were not a natural fit for me at all; they left me in a constant state of overwhelm, feeling out of control and unsure of where I belonged or what my purpose was.

In other instances, as a young man, I recall being directed to do various things by authority figures and even people I trusted. Only later did I discover that their advice and direction were not good for me, nor conducive to my flourishing. As I got older, I spent more and more time hiding behind books — encyclopaedias, theology texts, and science books. In the pre‑internet days, these factual subjects offered a refuge, a place where I could deal with clear facts rather than the confusing complexity of people and social interactions. Ironically, this only accentuated my stress and anxiety, impacting my whole being and overall wellbeing to a profound degree.

This personal journey is just one facet of a much larger reality for many autistic adults. While the common perception of autism often focuses on social or communication differences, the truth for many of us is far more intricate. Our lives are not defined by a single diagnosis, but by a complex interplay of neurological, physical, psychological, and environmental factors. This article will explore that wider picture, looking beyond the label of ASD to the reality of living with its associated health complexities.

It is also important to state at the start that from my experience, navigating ASD and related health needs across different systems has often been inconsistent and, at times, deeply challenging. In medical settings, support can vary significantly depending on the awareness, time, and capacity of individual practitioners. Some clinicians have been genuinely helpful and responsive, while others have not fully recognised or accommodated the complexity of ASD and FND, particularly when issues present in less visible or more layered ways. In mental health contexts, support often arrives after significant distress or trauma has already accumulated, rather than preventing escalation earlier.

In education and institutional environments, there is often a strong emphasis on performance, conformity, and behavioural expectation, which can be difficult to sustain when sensory, cognitive, or emotional load is already high. In legal and policing contexts, my experience has included situations where appropriate adjustments or supports were not consistently provided during processes where they are required, which has had a significant impact on my ability to engage effectively and safely within those systems.

More broadly, social environments can be cognitively and emotionally demanding in ways that are difficult to make visible to others. The combination of subtle social signalling, rapid interpretation demands, and sensory load can create a level of overwhelm that is hard to explain unless it is directly experienced.

At the same time, it is important to acknowledge that these experiences are not uniform across all services or individuals. I have also encountered professionals who were thoughtful, skilled, and genuinely supportive, and these experiences have made a meaningful difference. However, the overall pattern I have encountered has been one of inconsistency, where adequate understanding and accommodation of neurodivergent needs depends heavily on context, awareness, and individual capacity within the system.

Yet, there is hope and there are ways forward to a life lived well with ASD and FND.

The Wider Health Landscape: Beyond the Diagnosis

When I share that I have autism, it’s not uncommon for people to respond with something like, “Oh, we’re all a bit autistic, aren’t we? We all have autistic tendencies.” While I understand the impulse to relate, these comments often stem from a misunderstanding of what autism truly is.

It’s easy to ignore such remarks, but the reality is that autism is not just one thing. It is a complex, layered integration of features and differences that affect the human body, mind, and psychology. For many autistic individuals, ASD presents both positive attributes and extraordinary challenges — challenges that are often amplified because society is not geared towards neurodivergent ways of being. Many people with autistic traits can be perceived as naïve, making them vulnerable to being misunderstood or even taken advantage of.

This leads us to a deeper understanding of what it truly means to live with ASD: exploring the wider health landscape and how autism impacts a human being like myself.

Understanding Comorbidity: The Interconnected Reality

In medical terms, this broader impact is often described as comorbidity — the presence of one or more additional diseases or disorders that coincide with a primary diagnosis. For autistic adults, this means that ASD often exists alongside a range of other physical and mental health conditions.

It is crucial to understand that these co‑occurring conditions are not necessarily caused by autism itself. Instead, autism may exist within a complex web of neurological, physical, emotional, and environmental factors that interact with each other, shaping a person’s entire life experience in ways that go far beyond the core characteristics of ASD.

Research increasingly shows that many autistic adults experience a higher burden of co‑occurring physical and mental health conditions compared with the general population. For many, the challenge isn’t just one diagnosis, but the accumulation and interaction of several: sleep disturbances, anxiety, gastrointestinal problems, neurological conditions, metabolic issues, cardiovascular concerns, and the effects of trauma can all overlap. This creates a health journey that is far more complicated than any single label suggests.

The Weight of Complexity

Living with this intricate network of co‑occurring conditions is not merely a matter of managing separate health issues — it’s about navigating a deeply interconnected reality where each condition can influence, exacerbate, or be exacerbated by others. The cumulative effect can be profound, impacting everything from daily energy levels and cognitive function to emotional resilience and social engagement.

The sad reality is that this complexity carries significant weight. Research indicates that autistic adults experience increased mortality risk, which appears to be influenced by multiple interacting factors including co‑occurring health conditions, mental health challenges, and barriers to appropriate support. For some autistic people, this increased vulnerability includes higher rates of self‑harm and suicide risk, often stemming from the overwhelming burden of managing multiple chronic conditions, compounded by societal misunderstandings and inadequate support systems. Acknowledging this stark reality is essential if we are to truly understand the depth of the challenges faced and advocate for the comprehensive care and support that autistic individuals deserve.

Living with the Complexity: The Lived Experience

The reality of navigating multiple co‑occurring health conditions is deeply personal and often intensifies over time. For me, ASD co‑exists with a complex network of health challenges — from physiological issues like gastrointestinal problems, cardiovascular concerns, respiratory difficulties, and metabolic imbalances, to neurological conditions and psychological struggles such as anxiety and the effects of trauma.

This intricate web of diagnoses means that my experience of the world is profoundly shaped by more than just the characteristics of autism itself. Each condition has its own cause and demands, yet together they influence my daily life, my healthcare decisions, my emotional well‑being, and my very experience of living in the world.

As I’ve aged, managing these intersecting health issues has become increasingly challenging. There are days filled with significant physical discomfort and profound exhaustion, pushing the boundaries of my capacity to engage with public life. This doesn’t mean I’m unable to engage, but it does mean that participation requires careful management, significant energy, and constant awareness of my body’s needs.

Perhaps one of the most significant impacts has been on my trust in the social world. Due to what I’ve experienced over the years — both through the direct effects of my ASD and its comorbidities, and the ways people have interacted with me, sometimes in upfront and dishonest ways — I no longer trust the social world. It’s not a choice I make lightly; it’s actually against my nature. I want to believe in people, to hope for what is good and true and beautiful. However, the cumulative impact of these health challenges and difficult human interactions has made it incredibly hard for me to function well within social groups. My journey demonstrates that understanding autism without acknowledging this wider health landscape provides only an incomplete picture of the reality for many autistic adults.

Addressing Misconceptions: ASD Is Not “One Size Fits All”

It’s vital to understand that when I share my personal experiences with ASD and its associated health complexities, I am not suggesting this is the universal experience for everyone on the autism spectrum. ASD is not a single, monolithic condition; it is a syndrome — a complex arrangement of characteristics that expresses itself in incredibly diverse ways through individuals.

The spectrum ranges from those who experience profound challenges and may require significant support, to individuals often described as “high‑functioning.” Many on this end of the spectrum can appear to navigate the world seamlessly — going to work, building families, and presenting a very capable exterior. Internally, however, their world can be far more complicated than that of neurotypical individuals. They often have to manage a greater degree of internal complexity, sensory sensitivities, or executive function challenges that are not immediately apparent.

This internal complexity, even when not outwardly visible, takes a toll. It can impact health and well‑being in various ways, even if it doesn’t manifest as the same constellation of issues I’ve described. Therefore, it is important that one person’s ASD and how it expresses itself is never seen as the definitive example of autism. Rather, my experience — or any individual’s experience — is a micro‑example of a macro‑diagnosis that is highly complex and dynamic. Recognising this diversity is key to offering genuine understanding and appropriate support.

Encouragement and Moving Forward

After exploring the profound complexities and challenges that can accompany ASD and its co‑occurring health conditions, it’s important to shift our focus towards hope and resilience. While the information shared above details a lived experience that can seem overwhelmingly negative, it is crucial to view this not as the conclusion of a life, but as a testament to navigating a challenging reality.

If you find yourself on the autism spectrum, or if you are dealing with functional neurological disorders, anxiety, depression, or any similar condition, I want to offer you some hope. Over my own journey, I’ve discovered insights that have helped me in deeply meaningful and engaging ways.

1. Manage Your Social World, Don’t Just Endure It

First and foremost, don’t be afraid to manage your social interactions. If you are constantly struggling with the pressures of the social world, it’s understandable to feel overwhelmed. While you can’t ignore social connection entirely — doing so can have its own negative consequences — it is possible to manage it.

This means learning to choose who you spend your time with, and discerning who your true friends are — those good people you can be around, even if certain relationships aren’t beneficial for your specific needs. It is not wrong to say, “I’d rather not have this person in my life.” This isn’t about personal judgment or rejection, but rather about validating your own needs and protecting your well‑being. Recognising and honouring your limits is a sign of strength, not weakness.

2. Lean Into Your Passions and Creativity

Secondly, follow your passions. As an autistic person, I have found that certain things deeply inspire my existence and give it purpose. Find what makes you tick, what excites you, what gives you healthy engagement with creativity, and what provides a sense of achievement. Lean into these areas — don’t be afraid to embrace your specialties and the subjects you are passionate about.

However, there’s a crucial warning here: this should never be done to the exclusion of everything else. Rather, your passions should serve as an aid to help you make sense of the struggles life presents. You can’t completely hide away from the responsibilities and obligations of life, especially if you have the capacity to manage them. Upholding these responsibilities can be difficult, and you need an outlet. One of the best outlets I can encourage you to have is to stay connected to your passions and creativity. In my opinion, they are as important as medication and medical advice for maintaining well‑being.

3. Set Your Boundaries: Guarding Your Inner Peace

Thirdly, and perhaps one of the most important lessons I’ve learned, is the critical need to set your boundaries. If you are going to navigate life successfully, you absolutely must have boundaries — lines you establish for yourself, beyond which life becomes too complex or too unsafe for you. Think of them as a personal fence line that communicates to others how close they can get before you no longer feel comfortable or secure.

Setting boundaries is not about aggression, being confrontational, or lashing out. It is about using the powerful, useful words: No and Yes. Ensure that your No genuinely means No, and your Yes genuinely means Yes. You do not always need to provide an explanation for saying No. Sometimes you might choose to, but if you are simply not comfortable or do not feel safe, “No” is a complete and valid response. In essence, the ability to set clear boundaries is what separates the overwhelming chaos of the world from a degree of inner peace as you confront life’s complexities.

4. Give Yourself Permission to Have Fun

Fourthly, and crucially, give yourself permission to have fun. Do things that you genuinely enjoy. Go on an adventure, even a small one, that feels safe and brings you pleasure. Listen to music that inspires you, close your door and blackout curtains, lie in bed, take a deep breath, and fall into a sleep that truly refreshes you.

Don’t excuse what you have to do to survive — actively seek out joy. Have a laugh, listen to a comedian, read something that makes you smile, write, paint, or engage in whatever creative outlet helps you find a more positive place. If you have someone who makes you laugh, spend time with them. If you need to go for a walk and feel the sun on your face, do it. Whatever is required to help you have fun — heck, give yourself permission to embrace it. Joy and light-heartedness are not luxuries; they are essential components of well‑being, especially when navigating significant life challenges.

5. Embrace Your Limitations: A Path to Self‑Acceptance

Fifthly, and perhaps most importantly, give yourself permission to acknowledge and accept your limitations. Autistic individuals, those with functional neurological disorders, and indeed anyone with neurological differences often face inherent limitations. Fighting against these is like fighting an unwinnable war against yourself — it’s a waste of precious energy.

This doesn’t mean you can’t strive to push your boundaries or work on areas of challenge. It means accepting that certain limitations simply are. Imagine asking someone who has had a leg amputated to stand up and walk like everyone else — it’s a ridiculous and cruel demand. They face the world with the limbs they have, or with the wheelchair they use. Similarly, we must give ourselves permission to face the world with our own limitations. It is okay to have them. It is also okay to test and see if you can expand your capabilities, but ultimately, you are free to accept where your limits lie.

For example, I know I cannot spend too long in large shops with fluorescent lighting — my eyes start to unfocus, I lose concentration, and I become overwhelmed and paranoid. I have to leave. Especially now, after my experiences in the justice and prison system, I cannot cope with many social situations. I give myself permission not to. I have paid enough for society’s inability to accommodate and its fracturedness. So give yourself permission to live with your limitations. It is an act of profound self‑compassion and a necessary step towards true well‑being.

6. Have a ‘Wise Person’ in Your Life

Sixthly, because I know I am biased, like everyone, I need help to recognise when I am not doing well or when something in my life needs attention. This is even more important given my ASD and other health challenges.

I do not always perceive the fragility of my body and mind, and I can push myself to the point of breaking, only to find that I need days to recover from what a few hours of strain created. That wise voice — what I call ‘your own Jiminy Cricket’ (from Disney’s Pinocchio) — is an invaluable resource. This voice may help you recognise when you need to step back, become more aware, or simply move forward with encouragement.

While this is often described as an inner voice, I suggest that for executive functioning, it is sometimes necessary to have a real person — or the insights of others — sitting close to your thinking. Through their care, perspective, and steadiness, their wisdom can become part of your own capacity for judgment.

This is not always easy, as it requires lowering defences and trusting another person. However, it can be an invaluable resource and a deeply meaningful connection. This support may come from one person, but more often it is found across several people within specialised fields as well as trusted personal relationships. Different people bring different strengths and perspectives, enabling clearer thinking and better decisions.

Conclusion: Finding Meaning and Purpose

I am not a proponent of the idea that one should “love oneself.” To me, that concept feels like an impossibility; love is something given to another. However, I am a firm believer in the importance of respecting oneself and honouring who you truly are. Allow the existentialist in me to flow — my existentialism and my faith are completely connected. As someone who believes in God and holds a deep Christian faith, I believe it is a good thing to pursue what is good, true, and beautiful in life.

Now, I am not at all suggesting that this is the only way to be, or that you must follow this path. Far from it. What I am saying is that this is how I have found meaning and purpose in my life, and how I have found encouragement for my own soul. My suggestion is simply that focusing on what is good, true, and beautiful is a worthy pursuit for anyone, regardless of where you are on your journey. Whether you are navigating life with ASD, a functional neurological disorder, or any other challenge, or if you are neurotypical, focusing on what is good, true, and beautiful is, in my experience, the most meaningful way to live.

Support and Resources

This article honestly addresses experiences of deep distress, self‑harm and increased health risk, which may be difficult or triggering to read. If you or someone you know is struggling with overwhelming feelings, thoughts of self‑harm or suicide, please know you are not alone, and help is available. Reaching out for support is not a sign of weakness — it is an act of courage, and entirely consistent with the themes of self‑respect, boundary‑setting and self‑compassion at the heart of this writing.

In Aotearoa New Zealand:

• Suicide Crisis Helpline 0508 828 865 (0508 TAUTOKO) — free, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week
• Lifeline Aotearoa 0800 543 354 — free, 24/7; or text 4357
• Mental Health Helpline 0800 611 116 — free, 24/7
• 1737 Need to Talk? — call or text 1737 at any time to speak with a trained counsellor, free of charge

If you are reading this from outside New Zealand, please contact your local crisis support service, mental health helpline or health care provider.