I recently read Different, Not Less, a collection of mini-autobiographies written by adults with autism (and often ADHD as well) curated by autism activist and public figure Temple Grandin, as part of my internship assignments. I wanted to share my thoughts on it here as well, though, as I think this is book is vital reading for anyone who works with the neurodivergent community.

The people selected for the book were largely older adults in their 50s and up who were diagnosed later in life with autism (or Asperger’s, as many of the individuals were diagnosed when Asperger’s was still a category). Most were able to live independently, although each had their own struggles with relationships and family stemming from their autism. Each individual also forged a different career path that managed to work with their unique ways of functioning and seeing the world. Occupational successes were a primary focus of the narratives as Grandin is a huge advocate for autistic folks finding work that suits their needs.

I’m glad I read this book, especially as someone who is neurodiverse myself, as it really hammered in the fact that not all AuDHD folks function exactly the same way as I do. There are struggles I have that other people have, such as issues reading social cues and the relational turmoil that comes with that problem, but there are struggles other people have that I don’t have as much, such as trouble with speech. One thing I realized during reading is that autistic folks generally are “early bloomers” or “late bloomers” when it comes to speaking, and both are valid and need to be supported in their own unique ways. One individual mentioned trouble with “fast conversation” in particular, while another noted difficulty reading tone of voice and facial expressions. Another interesting thread was the fact that many of the folks who contributed to the book felt “fiercely independent,” which, in the context of music therapy, may mean some people might not feel they need help or support. I feel in these cases, it’s especially important to not patronize or “speak down” to these individuals, as being in therapy in the first place may already feel like a blow to the ego. I mentioned earlier that relationship problems were a common factor in most of these folks’ stories, as autism can make it hard to read people and recognize how others are feeling. Many had romantic relationships and marriages crumble over the course of their lives, if they found love at all. Music therapists will need to be prepared to deal with heavy subjects such as divorce and loneliness when working with older autistic adults, as this seems to be a frequent phenomenon.

I think this book is important to read for music therapists because the common archetype associated with autism (and ADHD, one of its “sister” conditions)  is the quiet little boy, and these stories prove that this is simply not always the case. There are grown men AND women living with autism and learning to thrive in the world with autistic traits. Nearly half of the contributors were female, and most were older. This book shows that there isn’t one way neurodiversity presents in people. The word neurodiversity contains the word “diversity” for a reason – there’s an entire spectrum of challenges AND superpowers that come with the condition. Emphasis on superpowers as well, as many of the folks ended up not only finding work that was compatible with their unique wiring, but finding work that their individual quirks and differences helped make easier. I feel like a music therapist can work with their autistic clients’ strengths to better prepare them for functioning in a world that isn’t built to accommodate them.

Sensory issues came up fairly frequently. One woman described hating the feel of water on her head as a child, so her mom would have to show her pictures of other little girls getting their hair washed, and that helped her face her discomfort. That same woman, along with a few others, described being sensitive to sounds. A man, the one who made a living repairing bikes, found that restaurant work was very overwhelming to him from a sensory standpoint, which is why he leaned into bicycle repair in the first place.

Some additional commonalities include an attachment to animals. Many of the folks profiled in the book felt disconnected from people, but could relate to animals much easier. A lot of people reported feeling a kinship to their horses. (There’s an inside joke in the neurodivergent community that “horse girls” are just autistic young women with a special interest in horses, and this book made me think that might actually be true!) A lot of autistic individuals seem to enjoy fixing things as well, possibly because it’s not a very “people-y” activity and the superpower of hyperfocus is beneficial for this. One man made a living fixing bikes in college, for example. And music was another recurring theme. While not all of the individuals in the book were musicians or even mentioned music, it did come up frequently enough to stick out in my mind. One man got so interested in music that he’d lock himself in a closet with introductory methods books and teach himself every instrument he could get his hands on. Another person even got interested in choreography and started teaching dance to people with disabilities. She described dance as the way she learned to express emotions, which felt parallel to the way I learned to use music to express emotions.

The individuals profiled in the book all had different reactions to learning of their condition. Many actually grieved their diagnosis, taking some time to reach a point of acceptance, but some felt it was a relief to learn that there was a tangible reason why they felt “different” their entire life. One person wrote “I knew I wasn’t just an individual ‘weirdo’ – about 1% of the population are ‘weridos’ with me!” Another person said it felt like she’d been given a “Martian superpower” and she realized that throughout her life she had been using her unique perspectives and viewpoints to help people. Some grieved the fact that they’d learned of their condition so late in life, wishing they would have gotten proper support as a young person. A lot of the writers went on to become autism advocates and some even work with autistic folks themselves, like the aforementioned choreographer.

This book was very eye-opening and empowering to me as a neurodivergent individual, and I feel better prepared to serve clients like the ones in the book and their individual needs. Emphasis on “individual,” as all of the folks profiled in this collection are very different. I don’t have any older autistic or ADHD clients at the moment, but as someone who very much wishes to work with this population, this is the kind of knowledge I will need to best support these potential clients. Temple Grandin really emphasizes the independence and individuality of these folks, and while I know their stories aren’t representative of everyone in the neurodivergent community (some people can’t safely live independently, for example), it’s good to see people with autism and ADHD living, thriving, and succeeding in a world that tends to paint people with these conditions as helpless or props them up as “inspiration porn.” The neurodivergent community is so diverse and expansive, and this book really humanizes a sector of the population that is often misunderstood. I highly recommend this book to others in the music therapy field as well as professionals in different fields who also work with autistic/ADHD clients.