Sometimes a break is more than just a break.
The value of hobbies, special interests, and other recreational activities is often viewed through the lens of respite from more serious pursuits, and with good reason. Going to the bowling alley after work every Friday is a good way to relieve the tension of the work week. Going to the movies over the weekend gives many people a chance to leave their cars behind for a couple of hours. Attending sporting events, hiking the trails in a public park, taking part in Pokémon card tournaments, eating out at restaurants, and other such extra-domestic and extra-workday engagements give people a “space” that bridges the private and public worlds while offering some distance from the pressures that can come with both.
These aspects of recreation and leisure already go beyond “taking a break” and reach into the domain of mental health. And for people with autism spectrum disorders (ASDs), who often struggle with issues that threaten their emotional and psychological equilibrium, access to recreational opportunities takes on a special importance.
When it comes to autism advocacy, a great deal of focus tends to be placed on what everyone agrees in calling “the necessities.” Education, employment, housing, and health care are cases in point. Vital as these are, we should not forget to leave room in our advocacy for the inclusion of autistic people in public recreation and leisure. In fact, one might argue that the degree to which a society integrates autistic people into these realms is a singularly important test of its acceptance of this population.
Beyond the mental health benefits of leisure/recreation opportunities — for both neurotypical people and people with ASDs and other disabilities — there is also a social component, which has two aspects:
- Socialization, the benefits of which are obvious, and
- A wider and more culture-oriented sense of acceptance.
Let us take each of these in turn.
Rogers (1961/1995) laid the foundation for much of contemporary psychology by his characterization of an effective therapist-client relationship, which he claimed could be applied to any other type of human interaction (p. 37). Like the contents of any other school of thought, Rogers’ principles are subject to limitation. But they do offer guidelines that can be helpful in terms of the ASD population and society’s relationship with them.
The first characteristic of a healthy relationship is this:
I have found that the more genuine I am in the relationship, the more helpful it becomes. This means that I need to be aware of my own feelings, to the extent possible, rather than presenting an outward facade of one attitude while holding another at a deeper, unconscious level. Being genuine also involves the willingness to be and express, in my words and behavior, the various feelings and attitudes that exist within me. It is only in this way that the relationship can have reality [.] (Rogers, 1961/1995, p. 33 — italics included).
This principle seems especially relevant for the ASD population. People on the spectrum tend to benefit from straightforwardness in relationships and from minimizing the need to discern social subtleties.
Outside of the home and family life, recreation and leisure are the areas in which authentic relationships of the kind that Rogers extols are most likely to occur. Certain layers of public propriety and professionalism are required in other areas of life. But in leisure activities, people feel freer to be themselves.
Now, let us look at the cultural aspect, which pertains to the second characteristic of a healthy therapeutic relationship:
I find that the more acceptance and liking I feel toward this individual, the more I will be creating a relationship (…) of warmth and safety. (Rogers, 1961/1995, p. 34).
Speaking as though addressing a client directly, he continues:
It is only as I understand the feelings and thoughts which seem so horrible to you, or so weak, or so sentimental, or so bizarre (. . .) that you feel free to explore all the hidden nooks and frightening crannies of your inner and often buried experience. (Rogers, 1961/1995, p. 34 — italics included).
Those of us who are in the workforce are often reminded that we do not need to like our co-workers. We need to respect them and to collaborate with them, but outside of work, we don’t need to have anything to do with them. Often enough, we hear people speak of their co-workers along the following lines: “He’s a fine asset to the company, but I’m glad I don’t have to see him when I’m off duty.”
But we don’t “hang out with” people unless we truly want to. Whereas willingness to be associated with someone professionally signifies mere tolerance, joining someone in activities chosen rather than necessary is a sure sign that the person is valued and embraced.
Let us now take this from the individual to the societal level.
The realms of recreation and leisure, apart from the economic benefits they certainly possess, enjoy a privilege all their own. Other areas of public life are utilitarian in nature — that is, they involve tasks done for the sake of something else. Work is for the sake of a paycheck. Financial stability is for the sake of meeting one’s needs. Having a home is for shelter against the elements. Nutrition and exercise are for bodily wellness. Leisure activities, on the other hand, are those in which we engage for their own sake, without any further end in view. We watch baseball games because we enjoy baseball. We make use of nature trails because we love the beauty of nature. Similar statements may be made about all recreational activities.
Let us imagine a group of outsiders looking at our society from a bird’s-eye point of view, from which they can see its various elements at a glance. If they see autistic people integrated into the workplace and other necessary spaces, they can rest assured that these individuals are being given the minimum in terms of what they need. They can rest assured that the usefulness of the ASD population is recognized and valued. Beyond these, nothing can be inferred with certainty.
But what if the same bird’s-eye view reveals autistic people in public recreation spaces? What if our visitors see that people with ASDs (and other disabilities) are given an active part in those areas of life that are freely chosen rather than imposed by necessity? Then they can have greater assurance that this is a society that truly embraces such individuals as its own.
If one is looking for support from more controlled studies, research indicates that such inclusion benefits people with disabilities and the general population. A relatively recent study published in the Journal of Outdoor Recreation and Tourism explores this issue in relation to physical disabilities and broader disabilities. An abstract and other details of the study can be accessed here.
But if this topic resonates with readers who are not inclined to go to such depths in their exploration thereof, perhaps these readers would accept a simpler challenge.
Do you have co-workers on the autism spectrum? Invite them to a social outing sometime. You might be pleasantly surprised at how much this will add to the experience.
Daniel Crofts is a 41-year-old man with Asperger’s syndrome. Mr. Crofts has an MA in English/Literature from the State University of New York College at Brockport and experience in freelance journalism, substance abuse prevention, online higher education, and service to children, youth, and adults with disabilities. He works as a direct support professional for Arc GLOW’s IGNITE program, which provides college experience to young adults with disabilities. He is also the author of the memoir Nine Lives of Autism and the novella Here There Be Gnomes: Chronicles from the Little People of Genesee County, NY. He may be contacted at danielcrofts31@yahoo.com.
References
Rogers, C.R. (with Kramer, P.D.). (1995). On becoming a person: A therapist’s view of psychotherapy. Houghton Mifflin Company. (Original work published 1961)
