Is there a version?

[This is adapted from a blog post of the same name available online at http://theeverythingiknow.substack.com. The blog is subscriber-only, but subscriptions are free.]

During the first UK-wide coronavirus lockdown, there was a television programme called Staged. It involved David Tennant and Michael Sheen, amongst others, playing fictionalised versions of themselves, talking to each other over Zoom – as was the way of things at that time – navigating pandemic life. It was funny and wry. A second series followed, and then a third, but the third wasn’t broadcast on the BBC, so I didn’t get chance to watch it when it came out, post-lockdowns. Finally, though, it made its way onto iPlayer (the BBC’s streaming service), and I was able to watch.

And I had something of an epiphany. 

The first episode is called ‘Is There A Version?’ – and without spoilering the entire episode, it in part revolves around director Simon trying to finagle his way back into Tennant and Sheen’s lives and careers. Simon learns that one way of getting what he wants is the phrase ‘is there a version?’ – as in ‘is there a version of this where x happens?’ (where x is what the person wants to happen). People find it very hard to say ‘no’ to that question, as the open-endedness of it gets them thinking of ways to compromise or work things out – which means Simon ends up getting his way, for the most part.

It’s simplistic, and is played for laughs, but still it got me thinking. I’ve been wondering a lot lately about what we call ‘thinking outside the box’, in trying to make life not only easier but happier and more joyful for our neurodiverse (two confirmed neurodivergent members; two for whom, to use an expression, the ‘jury is out’) household. Is there a version of our lives in which that happens?

Something about which I think about an awful lot is this: conflicting needs / conflicting access needs. Is there a version of society where we can all have our needs met – at least, some of the time – or perhaps some of our needs met all of the time – without any of us having to make too many uncomfortable compromises? If we really ‘think outside the box’?   

Thinking ‘outside the box’ for those who don’t know the phrase, is about looking at problems in a fresh way, in a way where novel and unusual solutions are just as welcome as those which seem more obvious. It was popularised by someone called Mike Vance, a former Disney employee. I remember being shown the ‘nine dot problem’ (a logic / geometry problem where one has to draw lines through a square of nine dots without going back on the lines or removing the pencil) in secondary school, as part of some kind of scheme to try and get teenagers to consider entrepreneurship in adulthood, and one explanation of the phrase is that Vance invented it based on that problem. Wherever it comes from, even though it’s a bit corny I do find it a useful way of opening up to possibilities that might seem a bit strange but could just work.

Is there a version of our lives where we can think ‘outside the box’ to do more than just survive – where we can thrive?

I’ve been thinking back a lot recently about the early stages of the pandemic and that first lockdown. I remember one professor of epidemiology at the time describing the choice between lockdown and ‘let it rip’ as ‘a wicked problem’ (to oversimplify, a problem where all the solutions cause harm), and in a way it was, meeting many of the criteria to be described as such. But there was also a lack of thinking outside the box around the whole thing. 

One of the things that comes to mind is how the government either said children should stay off school (with a number of kids in school – meaning teachers and other school staff had to teach in-person and online simultaneously) or go into school en masse. It was like nobody asked, “is there a version of pandemic schooling where we can keep a majority of children – and their parents – safe and educated in-person as much as possible?” I’ve often wondered where the ‘outside the box’ thinkers were. What about shaking up the school calendar so that children attended school during the warmer months, when it was easier to control the spread of the virus, by, say, having windows and doors wide open, and even potentially having lessons outdoors, possibly underneath tent canopies depending on the weather, and having their breaks during the winter months? (I suspect many ‘outside the box’ thinkers are neurodivergent, in fact, but that’s beyond the scope of this piece.)

The critic we all have – that nay-saying voice inside us that always tells us why something wouldn’t work – immediately jumps to find reasons why that couldn’t happen, whether it’s the above example with covid and schools, or just any place where we employ ‘outside the box’ thinking. Don’t get me wrong, that critic has a place. I think scepticism has a value, especially in the age of disinformation online, it’s important not to take everything at face value. But is there a version where we can do ‘the thing’ (whatever it is) and satisfy our critic? Is there a version where we can look at possible pitfalls and overcome them, rather than using them as a reason to shy away from making the changes?

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The other day I took my youngest to the library. Without going into details, due to a litany of issues, by the time we arrived we’d already had two changes to plan, then at the library there were another two, and then in leaving the library there were yet more. The final straw came when I dropped her doughnut – the doughnut I’d bought her en route home to try and make up for the shitshow of an afternoon that we’d had  – on the floor whilst trying to reply to an important text message related to one of the many changes. 

Looking back at this through a lens of trying to cater to our neurodivergent needs and nervous systems, I wondered if it might have been better for us to have just left the library the moment we happened upon the second change of plan. But my critic said ‘no’. No, my youngest wouldn’t have seen two of her friends, and not only would that have been unfair on her, but also unfair on her friends.

I’ve noticed a trend recently within some of the neurodivergent community for cancelling plans at the very last minute because someone no longer feels comfortable with it all, often just minutes before they would be due to leave for said plans. It is obviously of the utmost importance to look after one’s own needs (or the needs of one’s children). However, I also think there has to be a better way. Those are conflicting needs – the person on the other end, the cancellee  (as in, the person on the receiving end of the cancellation), has needs too – is there a version where everyone gets their needs met?

So my critic had a point – they often do – no, just leaving, just saying to our friends ‘sorry, but we have to leave’ wouldn’t have been right. But was there another version? A version where we saw our friends but didn’t have to undergo the absolute sensory assault that ensued from our library visit? Was there a version where … perhaps we invited our friends to come and grab a doughnut with us? Maybe that wouldn’t have worked – perhaps our friends were unable to afford such a treat – but just even considering that ‘version’ leads to thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was a version of that afternoon that not only didn’t involve meltdowns but in fact, allowed us to be social, too, and not trample over our friends’ needs for their social schedules not to be changed?

Once one starts thinking like this, it’s quite hopeful, but also quite hard. Instead of either doing something or not doing it being a strict dichotomy, there are options that open up. This is really optimistic, but it also opens up a requirement for us to do more thinking and more work. Quite a lot more of both, in fact. In our personal, family lives and in our communities. 

For example, is there a version of our living areas where we can have something like ‘continuous provision’ (put simply, toys, books and learning activities available and on display for children to access easily) in limited space and it look aesthetically pleasing and welcoming? Is there a version of a children’s learning/social event (e.g. a home education meet-up) where we can meet the needs of our high energy kids who struggle with their attention if they’re in a school-like setting and honour the needs of the children who need peace, quiet and stillness in order to enter that monotropic state of flow? Is there a version of our family life where I can give the teenager time alone to focus on their sixth-form work and my younger child time where it’s just me and her in the home to work on home ed projects? Is there a version of our town and wider locale where we can show our children how to be respectful to the elders of our local community, the people who run the spaces in which we meet, and meet the needs of our children to be able to run around and make noise? And so on, and so on. It requires some hard ‘out of the box’ thinking, for sure, and a willingness to do the work.

But is there a version of our lives where we do this thinking, and this work?

I think there is. What do you think?

“Is there a version?” by Ruth Moss is licensed under CC BY-ND 4.0.