Episode 43

Special: How well do you actually know your improv teammates (offstage skill building)

This is a special extended (podcast-only) episode of Your Improv Brain on neurodivergent inclusion in the improv community. These episodes will focus on inclusion, nervous system regulation, and help neurodivergent improvisers understand themselves and help non-neurodivergent improvisers work better with their teammates and students.

This is the first one. Hi!

Think about the best improv team you've ever seen. That team where everyone seemed to know when to step in and when to hold back. That connection didn't come from scenework. It came from the offstage work of actually knowing each other. Jen talks about what it feels like, as an autistic person, to carry the belief that you're a burden in every space you enter. She names where that feeling shows up in improv (hint: it's rarely onstage), what autistic improvisers bring to a team, what's genuinely harder for us, and what teammates can do to include everyone equally. The episode ends with a team inclusion exercise called "What I Need From You" and a solo version you can try on your own.

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Key Takeaways

  1. The burden belief often starts early in life and gets carried into every space, including improv, whether you realize it or not.
  2. For many autistic improvisers, scenes feel safe because they have structure, but unstructured social time (group chats, hangouts after shows, pre-rehearsal mingling) is where the burden feeling lives.
  3. Autistic improvisers bring different pattern recognition, a willingness to name injustice, and perspectives that make scenes richer and teams stronger.
  4. Autism is a communication difference, and non-autistic people do not have a more correct way of communicating; both are valid, and the effort to bridge that gap should come from everyone.
  5. The fastest way to confirm someone's burden belief is to only engage with them when they're useful and go silent when they need support.

Chapters

00:00 — The best improv team you've ever seen

02:06 — This episode is about the offstage part

02:31 — The video that stopped me scrolling

03:35 — Who this episode is for

05:18 — Where the burden belief comes from

07:57 — Where this shows up in improv spaces

10:17 — The evidence problem

12:22 — What autistic improvisers bring to a team

13:47 — Communication differences

16:46 — What you can do as a teammate

21:17 — Team exercise: What I Need From You

22:46 — Caveats for running the exercise

24:08 — Solo version

26:00 — Closing

Resources

The video I watched: https://www.facebook.com/reel/2189375501869990

Downloadable content

Download the Free Post-Show Reflection Guide: Sent to your inbox when you subscribe to either newsletter (and added to the footer to each message if you're already subscribed).

Get a booklet with six exercises to help you get reps in challenging scenes called "Exercises to Ruin You"

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About

This podcast was created, written, and is hosted by Jen deHaan. You can find her bio here.

This episode was and edited and produced by StereoForest.com.

This podcast was made in British Columbia, Canada by StereoForest Podcasts.



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Transcript

WEBVTT

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So think about the best improv team you've ever seen.

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This is the team where every scene felt easy to watch, where everyone seemed to know

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exactly just like when to step in and when to hold back and what each person on that team needed, what they were all thinking.

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They all seemed to be in each other's brains.

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That team had something going on offstage that in my experience was never discussed enough in improv classes, in improv training.

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And that's that those teammates really knew each other.

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Like really, really knew each other

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They knew how each person's brain worked on that team.

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They understood how each person communicates when they're comfortable.

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and what they look like when they're struggling and what kind of support actually helps them versus what just adds more pressure to their lives and to their improv.

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But how did they even get there?

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Because just socializing more isn't enough if you have a diverse team

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That understanding that those teams had made every scene better because the work of connecting was already done before anyone ever stepped out and initiated.

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Most improv training focuses on what happens inside the scene.

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That's agreement and listening and heightening and support moves.

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And all of that matters.

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And all of it gets easier when you know who you're doing it with.

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This episode is about that offstage part and it's personal.

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I'm Jen Haan and this is a special extended episode of Your Improv Brain dropping once a month.

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where I break down concepts and topics in improv related to inclusion, the nervous system, and neurodivergence.

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I watched something recently that just stopped me in my tracks.

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Stopped me scrolling at least.

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A man was describing what it feels like to be autistic and carry the belief

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Every single day, wherever you are, that you're a burden.

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That the studies on autistic kids literally describe us as a burden to our own parents

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that the effect of your presence in any group, any situation, is generally negative.

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And research on first impressions of us is statistically negative

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that you make people tired, that we're work.

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And I sat there after watching that, crying a little, and thought, yeah, I know that feeling.

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I carry it into every improv space I enter, just like I've carried this feeling of being the burden in every other space I've been in for all of my decades on Earth.

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So you might be able to tell that this episode is different.

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Think of it as a special or monthly extended episode on inclusion in the improv community.

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This episode is for every improviser, though, everyone who does improv with other human beings.

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If you're autistic and you do improv, I want you to hear this experience described out loud in case you share it.

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Or if you're on a team with an autistic person or have teammates with CPTSD, ADHD, depression, or any kind of social or communication difference.

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If you teach improv or if you run a practice group, I want you to understand something that your teammates might never tell you.

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Because I've never told anyone about this feeling.

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And if you have autistic people, especially in your classes, your teams, and your spaces, they could very well be holding this.

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I'm going to talk about what it feels like to carry this feeling and quite possibly reality of being the burden.

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Where it shows up in improv spaces specifically, what autistic improvisers bring to a team, what's generally harder for us autistics, and what you can do as a teammate for autistics.

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or anyone else that shares these differences.

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I'll also share an inclusion exercise at the end that can help any team build this kind of understanding better.

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I want to say this up front.

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I have this.

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I'm working through it.

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I'm sharing what I know and what I've lived, and I'm still figuring it out

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but talk to other people about this because my experience is just one experience.

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So the word burden sounds pretty dramatic until you've lived it.

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For a lot of autistic people, this belief starts early on in life.

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You grow up getting signals that your presence in a space, from classes to one-on-one relationships, friendships, anything.

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requires extra effort from the people around you.

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That you're harder to be around.

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That the way you communicate, the way you process, the way that you exist socially costs other people something.

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Just for having a difference, not a disorder, not necessarily a disability, for a wiring difference.

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Where this comes from, here's my own example.

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I learned that I was a burden when I was bullied during middle school because I was the weird autistic outlier kid who couldn't conform.

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I thought that I was quirky weird in a good way.

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But the kids, other people didn't agree with that.

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They still don't

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I was a burden, I was a risk to the friends that I made in elementary school who all left.

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They all disappeared when the bullying began.

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I told myself that made sense.

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Why would they want that bullying too?

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My parents then had to drive me to school because the school bus became dangerous, since it was disruptive or dangerous in and around the bus

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That's a burden.

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The cops had to step in and tell my parents after after three years of bullying to start homeschooling me for safety.

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I knew I was a burden because of that, because it was the reason they weren't doing it already.

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Driving me to a safer school further away from my remaining years of education.

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Not being able to afford a new car because of that change.

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You hear the complaints, you know why those complaints are there, you can put those things together.

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So the pattern is pretty clear by that point when you're pretty young.

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And you internalize that.

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It gets really wired in because it happens so early in life when you're really impressionable.

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And you bring that thing.

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with you everywhere, whether you like it or not.

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Sometimes you don't even realize you're carrying it.

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So it's very hard for anyone to talk you out of this.

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And I still feel it in subtle ways, no matter where I go, whether it's work or life or hobby or friendships, you're the one that is just harder somehow.

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whether it's right or wrong.

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The one that people generally at some point just want to let go, but also don't want to be like the person who did that, you know, if that makes sense.

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In improv, this shows up in a specific place.

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And I want to name it with specificity because I think a lot of people assume it happens on stage in the scene, but for me, it doesn't.

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This is what happens outside of the scene.

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So scenes generally feel safe to me.

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A scene has a structure.

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There's rules that I understand.

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I have a role that I have to do.

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I can be someone else too.

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If I'm given a clear function outside of the scene, like I'm running a practice or leading a gym or

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planning stuff for teams to function, that also feels fine to me because I understand the expectations of that role and I can operate inside of those expectations, even if

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they have a social element.

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Another example of that is this show itself.

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So the burden feeling lives in everything around that scene.

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when there isn't that kind of structure anymore.

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So the social space before and after a rehearsal, the group chat or or text

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or in-person stuff, the hangout after the show, that unstructured time where there are no clear rules for how to participate or exist.

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And that's generally where I go quiet, or a lot more quiet.

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That's where I defer, where I hold back ideas, because I'm not sure if anyone wants to hear them, and nobody has given me that clear signal when it's my turn.

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So that's where I worry about participating wrong or being too much or being kicked out.

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And sometimes I'll even opt to leave first.

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I do that a lot.

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Like to give you an example, I'm perfectly comfortable trying new things in improv.

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Like I'm not a singer.

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Musical improv is not my comfort zone.

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But I'm infinitely more comfortable singing a full song in a scene than trying to carry on a conversation in a group text chat.

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Hell, I'm here outside of the scene talking about all of this to an improv community.

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People, I have I have no idea who's listening to this or who downloads these things.

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But I feel safer because this is a planned asynchronous monologue.

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There's a clear structure I can learn about in advance or make it myself, right?

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And then there's the evidence problem.

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That's when you carry this feeling, you start watching for proof.

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And the thing is, you find it everywhere.

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You notice

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You can have things happen or disappear and nobody looks for you.

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You notice when other people have that happen and the whole group immediately checks in on them and is all around them.

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You notice when people stay connected to you while you're useful to them and then vanish when that usefulness changes or ends.

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I've had certain groups and relationships drop contact the moment I was no longer filling a specific function for them.

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And this this goes beyond improv.

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I've left spaces that I was in for years giving free labor to humans who don't even notice when I leave.

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And I get that because I often come in.

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and I try to prove that I'm really useful just to make a friend or provide that value in the first place so they keep me, and it's a bad habit that I'm trying to break.

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But it's a very common experience amongst neurodivergents.

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It's hard not to draw that conclusion, even if it wasn't true in that particular case.

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And for a lot of us who just do social and communication differently, we're fine amongst ourselves

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Right?

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Like autistic people communicate and socialize just fine with each other.

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But we're different to most neurotypes.

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And we oftentimes don't see those issues until it's too late

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Or we deeply, we don't want to see it again until it's too late.

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That's very true for me

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Those experiences add up to an autistic person who is very experienced in actually being a burden, just like the papers say to parents of autistic children.

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We are very astute at patterns.

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It's good for improv

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But it makes it very hard to believe someone when they say like, we want you here for you, if their behavior tells a different thing.

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Story.

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I want to talk about this honestly, just like the guy in the video I watched that I mentioned at the beginning of this.

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Here's what I know from my own experience and from watching other autistic

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improvisers we see things differently we literally see things differently the connections we make between ideas the details we notice in a scene

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the patterns we pick up on, these come from a brain that processes the world differently.

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That can be useful in improv.

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Scenes can get richer when the people in them are seeing different things than their teammates.

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We often see injustice that other people miss.

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In a group dynamic, on a team, in how a practice is run or a theater is run.

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We notice when something is unfair.

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That can feel uncomfortable to hear, but if it's heard with open ears as honest feedback, it can also make the group or the theater, the environment better.

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Being just and fair can matter.

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And diversity makes a team better.

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Having people who think and communicate differently expands what a group can create.

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And then when a team includes more than one autistic person or other forms of neurodivergence or disability or social or cultural differences,

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Those members can support each other, and that matters more than most people realize.

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So what's harder?

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Communication is the big one.

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Autistic people and holistic people, that means anyone who's not autistic, even other neurodivergent brains, communicate differently.

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Autistic people process social cues differently.

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We read intent differently.

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We have different nervous systems and differences in our brain wiring as well.

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All those neurons and synapses are literally different.

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We vocalize things differently, different volume, pitch, and tone.

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If we sound like a neurotypical, that's because we learnt to, often with a lot of effort and damage along the way.

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What something means to me might be completely different from what you intended, and vice versa.

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And that vice versa is important because autism is a communication difference.

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A non-autistic person, an holistic person, does not have a better or more correct way of communicating.

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And our communication method is not the burden.

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Both are correct

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They're different.

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The problem lies in that most non-autistic people do not make an effort to understand our way of communicating.

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Because we are statistically less numerous, we often carry the burden of learning and then trying to use the dominant mode of communication, which is rarely, if ever, reciprocated

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So what now?

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This requires meeting somewhere else than we are today in many cases.

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It requires effort, though, like remembering and listening and pausing, those things that we learn in improv.

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I work hard to pause and remember that the person I'm talking to might be saying something in a way that means something different from how I'm receiving it.

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That cognitive effort is real.

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It takes energy.

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Energy we often have to spend a lot more due to a million different reasons.

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But I do it because I know the differences exist.

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even when I can't always identify them in the moment, and I usually don't have another choice.

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Autistic people don't all have the same challenges.

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Some autistic people also have learning disabilities.

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Some don't.

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ADHD brings its own set of social and communication differences and is often, as it is for me, comorbid with autism, and that presents other challenges still.

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Cultural and language differences add another layer.

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Emotions and interoception can be challenges for some people too.

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The point is that difference in general requires more effort from everyone involved, not just our side.

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And the answer is never to just default to whatever the majority does and expect everyone suddenly to just keep up, join in, or succeed, thrive.

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Which brings me to what you can do.

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So this is for the neurotypical teammates.

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If you're on a team with an autistic person or another human in general, here are some specific things you can do to improve communication and include everyone on the team equally.

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I want to be direct about this because good intentions without like a specific action doesn't change much in a community.

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So the first one is pretty easy.

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It's just check in.

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I guess maybe it's easier said than

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Done.

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Anyways, reach out to your teammate outside of like the improv logistics.

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Ask how they're doing

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If someone goes quiet, notice that.

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If someone disappears, follow up, check in.

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You probably already do this for some of the people on your team, but make sure you do it for all of them.

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I have a couple people from the improv community who have continued to check in from time to time on me.

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It feels really nice

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One person does it somewhat regularly and one of them just does it about once a year.

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And even that once yearly check-in means a lot to me

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Don't assume silence means comfort.

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Your teammate might be holding back because nobody has given them a clear opening to contribute.

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In unstructured social time, there are no rules about like when to speak.

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And for someone who relies on clear social structure, it might feel like a burden or that they've

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being shown that they're wrong, right?

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A lot of times in the past, that can be kind of paralyzing in this situation.

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So help create those openings if this is easy for you.

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Ask a direct question or give them a specific role or a specific prompt.

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And know that this is true in a text chat just as it is in person

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And if and when that person does like drop into the conversation, know that this could be very difficult for them.

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So timing for us is really hard.

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And knowing if we're on topic or speaking about the same thing can be really hard.

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I worry about that.

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all the time, especially in casual conversations, even in text.

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I have deleted so many group text messages because I'm not sure after the fact, a nice second guess.

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Anyways, if this is easy for you, have their back.

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just like you would in a scene.

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Ask a follow-up.

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Include them in a way that you would for anyone else, even if the conversation sort of pivoted a bit.

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We know that awkward silence in our bones.

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So have our back if you can.

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Know the person beyond their function.

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If your autistic teammate runs practices or

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organizes things or takes notes or does other work for the group, that's wonderful.

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But also know them as a person

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Value them if they stop doing that thing.

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If something hard happens in their life, say something.

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Don't let them just go when they're not useful anymore.

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The fastest way to confirm the burden belief is to only engage with someone when they're being useful and go silent when they need support or disappear.

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Learn what they specifically need.

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Everything I've just described is general guidance based on my personal lived experience and observations.

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Your teammates' experience will look different from mine for sure.

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So ask them.

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Use the exercise I'm about to share, or even better, just have a conversation and get to know them as a fellow human being

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The best thing you can do is find out what your specific teammate needs and respond to that.

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General frameworks are just a starting point.

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I'm just giving you a starting point.

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Individual conversations are much, much.

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better and again I want to stress these things are generally pretty good to do with any teammate autism aside and this experience is not specific only to autism

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The autistic person is not making things harder, and this thing I'm describing is not a disorder and it's not a deficit.

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This is happening because most communication in general does not include us today.

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And it should, provided we are a teammate with an entirely valid way of communicating.

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Because most of the time you won't know who's autistic or not, and improving communication in general is a benefit

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Aerodivergence aside.

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So here's a team inclusion exercise.

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And I'm gonna call it What I Need From You.

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This inclusion exercise works for any team, any experience level, and any combination of neurotypes.

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I'll add some notes at the end to kind of help you decide how to run this one.

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So make sure you you listen to that part too.

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So with your team, this can happen before a rehearsal or practice or after.

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Each person takes a turn sharing two things.

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One thing that helps them feel safe and connected in an improv space, and one thing that they find difficult or a challenge.

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Keep it short and specific.

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This could sound something like, I feel safe when someone makes eye contact with me before a scene.

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And I find it hard to jump into group conversations.

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That could be one share.

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Or they might share, I feel connected when we check in about our energy level at the start of a practice.

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And they might also share, I struggle when plans change at the last minute.

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So no one needs to respond to these things or fix them.

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No comments during this first round.

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You're just hearing each other.

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And after everyone has shared, the group can ask clarifying questions if they want to

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The goal here is to give everyone a structured moment to just say what they need.

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No fighting for space, no guessing who wants to talk, no like awkward moments.

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Is this a good time to share something personal?

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Just the structure handles that for you.

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Now for some caveats.

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I'm sure some of you are thinking of them already.

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This might be too difficult for your team based on the existing dynamics like how long you've known each other and how much trust is already built up.

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You might have to put some time limits on these, like they're short and specific, or you might want to run it after a practice.

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because this might be too draining to happen before.

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So have a plan if anything touchy or heated comes up

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It very well could.

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If there's like an existing known issue, it's fair to set that specifically aside for this activity also.

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Don't surprise the team with this activity.

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Don't just say, hey, this is what we're doing today.

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Let everyone know this in advance, that this is the plan, so they can have some time to think about what they're comfortable sharing.

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And absolutely, if you only take one thing away, defer to a coach if you need to and make adjustments to fit your individual reality as a team.

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For example, like you could make some adjustments like do it in character or generalize the ideas to challenges from outside improv in general social settings as an entry point and then go from there

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as it works out.

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Please again work with a coach if you're not sure about this one.

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The solo version, this can be helpful for you independently.

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Before you walk into your next improv space or whatever you're doing in improv, class, practice, show, take five minutes and answer those same two questions for yourself.

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Write them down, write them in your phone, on paper, whatever, or say them out loud.

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One thing that keeps you safe, and one thing that you find difficult or just a challenge.

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You don't have to share this with anyone.

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The point is to just get clear with yourself about what you need because a lot of us have never actually named it out loud.

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You like you carry this burden feeling.

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You might have spent some time trying to figure out how to need less than figuring out what you actually do need.

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And this is a small step forward in reversing that thing.

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I found that taking time to just think about what is challenging for you can really make a difference.

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Like labeling emotions, for example, can be difficult for some of us.

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We know that we feel something, but we aren't sure like what that is, what's bugging us.

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I've been in some situations where the plans constantly changing was

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what was making me feel negative about that whole activity.

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And just figuring that specific thing out made me realize it wasn't like the people or the activity.

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It wasn't something wrong with me.

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It was just this very impersonal thing.

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Like I wasn't the burden.

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So this is minor, but it will

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Probably seem very obvious after the fact, but it can really put your brain in a different place about everything else if you just write it down or figure it out.

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out and after doing this solo you want to share it with someone like a trusted coach or teacher or teammate try that out maybe you might be surprised so as I said at the start

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I'm still figuring all of this out.

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That's true.

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I carry the burden feeling and I watch for the evidence in patterns.

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I go quiet when I don't know what the social rules are.

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I'm not sure at this point in life, with all the reflection and analyze and therapy and learning that I've done about this thing, what can possibly change.

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But I'm hopeful that it will improve, but I'm not setting any expectations.

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I'm done with that.

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And I'm focused on learning how to just stop masking or camouflaging and just be myself.

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And I do know that for me, naming it helps.

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Knowing where it comes from helps.

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And being on a team where even one person checks in and sees you and treats you like a person that they actually want around as like

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that you're a human that they want in their life, that changes what's possible on stage and off.

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If you're the autistic teammate, I hope some of this felt familiar in a way that was useful.

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And if you're on a team with an autistic person, which you very well might be and you might not know, you have more influence than you think.

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So use it.

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Even if a lot of the improv I do is on my own, I truly choose and enjoy that thing.

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But sometimes the odd improv human does reach out and remind me that I'm also a human, and hopefully worth being here.

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I love that as well.

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And for that reason, I'll stay over here in this quiet but safe and fun improv lane.

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I'll stay.

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I'm dedicating this episode to those couple humans who are around for whatever reason they are.

::

Thanks for listening and bye for now.

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