over the last 14 months, i’ve been in a quiet period of self-realization, self-acceptance, and intense research as i’ve come to understand that i am most likely (read: definitely) autistic.
i’d endured 24 years of experiences i couldn’t explain and no one i knew could relate to: daily difficulties and sensory sensitivities i couldn’t understand, meltdowns, social stress and confusion leading to repeated fatigue and isolation at a level that (it seemed like) none of my peers were experiencing, ingrained people pleasing and an anxious fear of upsetting others, deep infatuations and lifelong interests that were always easier to rattle on about than making small talk or having unscripted conversation, lifelong echolalia (repeating words, phrases, sounds, or songs out loud and/or in your head), and that’s just the tip of the iceberg!
at 24, i held the unshakable belief that i was lazy, irresponsible, stupid, incapable of taking care of myself, unloveable, and inherently broken. despite being in the first truly loving and gratifying relationship of my life, i felt stuck and scared to keep living that way. some of these beliefs were things i’ve been called throughout my life. the others were conclusions i’d come to after figuring my friends probably weren’t having tearful fits of rage because they felt overwhelmed by figuring out what to eat for lunch sometimes or wondering how in the hell to stomach holding down a full-time office job when working retail part-time was already barely tolerable. i felt like an overgrown kid in a lot of ways and, frankly, didn’t trust myself or my instincts. the year after college graduation is a blurry yet painful battle of feeling completely and utterly overwhelmed by everything and like i was a complete failure.
last august, an acquaintance of my partner made an offhand comment to them about thinking i might be autistic. my partner told me about it and, at first, i was offended and scared. “oh no!!” i thought, “even someone i barely know can see that something is wrong with me!!!” i knew very little about autism and the full spectrum of ways it can present in people, especially afab people, so i took their off-handed comment to mean that they too thought i was all the horrible things i *knew* myself to be.
fast forward to now, over a year later: i’m in a period in my life where i am learning to be gentler and more forgiving with myself. i’m also learning that caring sooooo much about what other people think of me and whether they like me will literally kill me. my ability to hyperfocus on topics of interest means i have devoured hundreds of hours and pages of autism-related content, scientific research, and personal anecdotes and have been able to apply this learning to my own life. for the first time in my life, i can finally understand and therefore believe that nothing is wrong with me. i’m just an autistic person who was forcing myself to live like an allistic (non-autistic) person because i didn’t know not to. i’m learning that autism isn’t a dirty word, an insult, or something you need to say in hushed tones (though RFK and the tr*mp administration would have you thinking it is). autism spectrum disorder is simply a way to describe a different presentation in neurotype. it’s a neurodevelopmental disability that deserves patience and research, not dismissal and trivialization. i am now realizing that this is the first time that i’m openly and candidly talking about my self-realization as an autistic person to those who know me in person. yes, i’m saying it from behind my phone screen, but i’ve always felt more articulate through writing than speaking off the dome anyway. i want to be start being honest with friends and family and normalize the fact that autism is part of what makes me me. it’s not about wanting to be different for funsies or gain attention; it’s about feeling for the first time in about 15 years that i deserve to exist and to be happy, healthy, and seen.
a little less broken by marian schembari made me feel just that: a little less broken. her vivid descriptions of her upbringing, experiences throughout childhood, adolescence, and adulthood, internal world, and her outlook on life made me feel so akin to her. i would’ve been marian’s friend in a heartbeat had we been classmates. everyone should read this memoir, autistic or allistic. memoirs are so near and dear to my heart; i’m fascinated by how other people live their lives. i highly recommend this book.
maybe i should feel more nervous or apprehensive over sharing this much on an am*zon owned platform (mass exodus to storygraph??) but i’ve written this out now and just want to get this off my chest lol. so i’m pressing post. i’m thinking about maybe writing a blog post talking more about this, so i’ll share the link here if i actually end up writing it. much love to y’all, thanks for reading if you do ❤️