I was diagnosed with a developmental disorder at age 48.
Since receiving that diagnosis, I’ve taught myself a great deal about this disorder and believe I’ve deepened my self-understanding.
When people hear “developmental disorder,” I imagine the images that come to mind are likely things like “someone who can’t read the room,” “someone who struggles with communication,” or “someone who’s often late.”
I often get asked, “What exactly is a developmental disorder?”
Today, I’d like to share some words and analogies I frequently use in response.
Communication is like a game of ping-pong.
If someone asks me, “What is a developmental disorder?” I’d answer, “It’s like not being able to see a ping-pong ball.”
Of course, that alone doesn’t make much sense, does it?
Whether we’re individuals with developmental disabilities or neurotypical people, we all live our daily lives engaging in a vast number of communications.
For example, Person A hits the ball: “Morning.”
Person B returns it a little too carefully: “Good morning.”
Here, I liken this kind of communication to “ping-pong.”
Through such ball exchanges, we communicate a great deal of emotion and information. Even from the examples above, we can see aspects of the relationship between Person A and Person B—such as who holds the senior position.
I do not take a stance that aims to divide people with developmental disabilities from neurotypical individuals, nor do I encourage conflict between the two.
With that said, and with a certain affection for neurotypical people, I will say this: neurotypical people often appear to thrive on this kind of “ping pong.”
In the society I live in—Japan—there is a social atmosphere in which “Let’s play ping pong” can easily turn into a strong form of social pressure. In such contexts, this tendency often increases the psychological burden on individuals with developmental disabilities.
Romance, office politics, power struggles – to my eyes, they all look like this.
But I believe people with developmental disabilities are those who can’t see the “ping pong” ball.
Of course, the way traits manifest varies among individuals with developmental disabilities. Some might see the ball clearly, while others might see it faintly. I don’t intend to claim that “all people with developmental disabilities universally fail to see the ball.”
Let me share a bit about myself. I was born with developmental disabilities, so I am one of those who “cannot see the ball,” but my case was somewhat unique. My parents were what you might call “toxic parents.” Furthermore, growing up in the 1970s, the concept of “developmental disabilities” was not yet widely known.
Therefore, I never gained the status of being a “child who needed support.” To avoid straying from this article’s focus, I won’t go into detail here, but essentially, I never had the chance to receive support from either my parents or my teachers.
I interpret my situation as meaning that, to survive in that environment, I had no choice but to develop the ability to read others’ expressions. That’s why I think I desperately “pretended to see the ball.”
As a result, I understand that my ability to “mimic” became extremely well-developed. This trait continued to torment me as I grew older, eventually triggering secondary impairments. But I’ll leave this topic here for now. I intend to revisit the subject of developmental disorders and “mimicry” in more detail later.
Let’s return to the topic of “ping-pong.” To be honest, I have almost no real-life experience playing ping-pong, so I can only imagine, but I sometimes find myself wondering:
“Is ping-pong where you can’t see the ball really fun?”
I sometimes wonder that.
As mentioned earlier, individuals with developmental disabilities also exhibit various specific manifestations, and their social positions and backgrounds differ.
Like me,
there must be others who,
knowing they can’t see the ball,
still cling to predictions based on the assumption it will miss,
repeating them over and over,
thinking, “With this stance, it should go here next.”
On the other hand,
some may have withdrawn from “playing ping pong” early in life, thinking,
“How can I play ping pong if I can’t see the ball?”
I’m now beginning to consider stopping pretending to see the ball.
I hope these words might serve as a small reference point in someone’s life.
That is all I wish for.
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