Victoria Wolfgang

Proudly autistic/ADHD, yoga teacher, neurodivergent wellness coach, artist

@Diary.of.a.yogi

My passion for movement and animals began as a child. I was an excessively clumsy kid and am still mildly uncoordinated at times despite my athletic skill. I now know that this clumsiness was due to sensory and motor challenges related to undiagnosed autism. My natural attraction to and passion for movement practices acted as early intervention therapy that helped improve my motor control and other cognitive functioning by directly targeting my vestibular system.

I actually broke my arm three times before learning how to properly fall. Despite these setbacks I excelled in mixed martial arts styles and horseback riding at an early age perhaps out of a sheer obsession with the sports and with horses.

Unfortunately, life at home and at school was much more challenging. While I was well provided for physically, I experienced a lot of emotional neglect and some abuse related to my parents' alcohol addictions. Autism is highly heritable, and many undiagnosed autistics self medicate with drugs and alcohol to lessen the sensory overload and social anxiety. Looking back, I see that they were doing their best to raise me while battling their own mental health struggles with far less tools or support than I have now.

At school, I was shy, quiet, and reserved. But this was a persona I had carefully crafted in order to deflect any negative attention away from myself so that I could escape into books or fantasy worlds of my creation. I got excellent grades even though I struggled with dyscalculia in mathematics, so when one teacher pointed out my less social behavior and frequent "zoning out" as grounds for an evaluation it was quickly dismissed. At home, I was a different child altogether. I talked exclusively in monologues, unloading countless thoughts that I'd held in throughout the day, and talking about my special interests (animals and anime/Pokemon) as long as the adults would tolerate.

This social chameleon-like skill is the reason why so many girls with level 1 autism (formerly known as aspergers) are not spotted or diagnosed. We can be experts at camouflaging our autistic neurology in order to fit in with different groups of people. By mimicking, memorizing scripts, and studying human behavior, we are able to intellectually compensate for the social skills that other children develop intuitively. However, the cost of blending in or "masking" as it is known in the autistic community is the enormous amount of energy it takes, often leading to unexplained migraines, depression and anxiety, meltdowns, chronic fatigue and other seemingly mysterious health issues. This is due to the increased mental strain and stress on the nervous system required to maintain the mask.

As I got older, the difference between my peers and myself grew more painful. Longing for a reprieve from the loneliness at home I desperately desired to be included and liked. But I was confused and overwhelmed by the complex small-talk rituals and social nuances of the clicks forming around me. Many of the friends I had managed to make began to distance themselves or disappeared overnight, and to this day I can only assume I blurted out something inappropriate, or missed some essential cue that sealed my social demise. I don’t pick up on sarcasm easily because it requires a more nuanced understanding of tone, context, and subtlety, while austistic communication is more direct and literal in interpretation. Other kids quickly noticed this and would target me with jokes to be entertained by my reactions which frequently involved tears when I could not comprehend. This provoked disgust towards my emotional sensitivity and I began to believe I must be stupid, despite my academic performance.

Television and magazines taught me that women who fit society's extremely narrow and unrealistic beauty standards were admired and valued. As a thin white girl with facial symmetry and earlier onset puberty I was privileged to fit many of those standards, and so my subconscious solution to my loneliness was to construct an unthreatening, constantly smiling and apologizing persona, and to begin viewing my appearance as my only ticket to love and affection. This didn’t do much for my social life, but greatly damaged my self-esteem and led to bouts with bulimia and some emotionally abusive relationships.

In high-school I eventually took to eating my lunches in the bathroom stall to avoid the humiliation of having no one to sit with, or worse— thinking someone was being friendly and oversharing about myself only to find out later that they were making fun of me. I opted to go to community college for my senior year, skipping prom and graduation celebrations. I told my parents I wanted to get a head-start on college credits, but in reality I couldn't bear the thought of facing my classmates again.

Throughout these struggles, my movement practices remained my one true escape and source of unrivaled joy. I immersed myself in psychological states of flow where I was fully present with my body and everything else faded away. My mentors and teachers along the way, plus a few treasured compassionate friends, and one very special cat staved off the loneliness enough to keep me going.

Things began to improve for me in college. My continued love for riding horses and learning about animals brought me to Sweet Briar, a private women's college. Though adjusting to the transition was disorienting at first, it ultimately brought relief when I was no longer subjected to the unpredictable behavior of alcoholism and realized I had more autonomy and the option to opt out of social engagements. I majored in biology intending to pursue a career in wildlife behavior and conservation, but later added a double major in psychology after growing fascinated by the mind-body connection. Looking back, I realize my voracious appetite for learning about human behavior had a lot to do with filling in the gaps of my own social understanding.

While navigating the stress associated with completing dual bachelor's degrees I discovered yoga for the first time. Consistently practicing yoga improved my social anxiety, emotional regulation, and ability to manage my nervous system and I began working at an LGBTQ non-profit in Washington DC after graduation. Meanwhile, I earned my RYT200 (Registered yoga teacher) and CPC (certified professional coach) credentials. In 2020 I resigned from my full-time position as an HIV research specialist to open my own business, then completed my 500 hour Functional Ashtanga Yoga Training with my yoga mentor, Michael Joel Hall in 2021.

I maintain a dedicated Ashtanga yoga practice because it motivates and inspires the movement enthusiast and scholar within me. Ashtanga gives me daily direct feedback about my mobility and strength goals and keeps my body fit so that I can continue engaging in numerous physical hobbies while minimizing injuries. It keeps my mind calm and sharp as it strengthens mental focus and emphasizes breath, philosophy, and the importance of self-study beyond the mat. And it easily induces a state of flow because of the nature of memorizing and repeating a specific sequence. This mirrors what are called katas or forms in martial arts, as does the emphasis on the teacher-student relationship that has been so profoundly impactful for me since I was a child.

The transition to running my own business was empowering but eventually burned me out, due to the increased social demands both in person and in the digital world. But it ultimately led to my official autism/ADHD diagnosis, for which I am incredibly grateful. Finally I had found the missing piece of information to explain my struggles and the invisible mental suffering I have experienced in social interactions and behind the scenes from childhood to present day including mild facial blindness and slower processing of auditory information. It also explained many of my unique gifts including my intensive dedication to my special interests, my auditory tactile synesthesia (feeling sounds as sensations in the body, which makes dancing and concerts profoundly consuming and pleasurable experiences), and mirror-touch synesthesia (feeling similar tactile sensations in one’s own body while watching another person moving or being touched). This condition is also linked with greater emotional empathy, and I believe it's why I am such a fast learner of new physical skills, and an excellent yoga teacher and coach, despite my social difficulties in groups and my aversion to small-talk. As a result, I’ve finally begun to understand which parts of my personality are authentically me, and which parts I constructed as part of my neurotypical mask. It is difficult to convey in words the level of relief, self-acceptance and validation that has brought me after spending most of my life believing something was terribly wrong with me.

I refrained from speaking about my autism for a long time because I was afraid of discrimination by potential employers and invalidating comments from people who do not truly understand autism, how diverse the spectrum is, or how empowering rather than limiting a label can be when it grants someone who has always felt alone and defective access to a community of like-minded people with similar life experiences. Getting the right diagnosis REALLY matters. Like most girls with level 1 autism I was misdiagnosed with anxiety and mood disorders, and that exacerbated some of my struggles.

But, I know how important it is for society to see autistic people not only as disabled and suffering, but as thriving, valuable contributors to their communities when they are supported and their differences are celebrated rather than treated as dysfunctional. I know how important it is for medical and mental health providers to see examples of what was once called “high functioning” autism in women, so that young girls can get the support they need, and a correct diagnosis, rather than suffering unimaginable pain and exhaustion in silence, then gaslighting themselves to believe they’re imagining it. And I know how important it is for those same young girls, and boys, and queer kids (because there are higher rates of autism among the LGBTQ community) to see people like me proudly claiming that label and living a fulfilled life despite the challenges I still face.

Today I am passionate about continuing to devote myself to studying and sharing the ancient insight practice of yoga to anyone who is curious about its many benefits and motivated to learn, and to helping other neurodivergent people on their wellness journeys to find self-acceptance. I am keenly aware of the need for the majority of mental health practitioners to update their knowledge of autism and how it manifests in “high functioning” adults because they are often struggling immensely behind the scenes with incorrect or incomplete diagnoses. There is also a huge need for neurodivergent therapists for neurodivergent people and I am considering pursuing further education to personally contribute to this cause. I am happy to report that my parents are both sober and we have reconnected and rebuilt a relationship after years of estrangement, for which I am deeply grateful.

Before I die I want to write a memoir about my life experiences and a book that connects the insights of science and spirituality, including updated research on neuroplasticity and body centered psychology, as well as wisdom from ancient eastern philosophies including yoga and buddhism. I believe humanity would benefit from gleaning wisdom from both as I have, rather than treating them as antithetical.