Belonging Out of the Mask

After a year of taking every quiz online, reading books, watching so many videos, and more, I am finally ready to say it…

I’m autistic.

I first realized I might be autistic in December of 2021. When I tell people in my everyday life (something I actually don’t do a lot of), sometimes they say, “Oh you just saw too many TikToks.” To that I say… wtf? I didn’t even have TikTok until very recently, and secondly, what an invalidating thing to say! One friend made a comment about how it seems like everyone is autistic now.

Besides that weird wave of invalidating and abelist bullshit, realizing I am autistic, and have been my whole life, has been freeing — and also brought up a lot of grief. I always thought that if I just did the right amount of therapy, did the perfect journaling prompt, found the right supplement, and did the best self care, I wouldn’t be “this way.” I subscribed to the idea that I was broken, which is dehumanizing and heartbreaking, sure, but also gave me hope of being fixed. Someday, through the right self help and healing, I would no longer be plagued by irritation and overwhelm and depression. I would be cured!

Realizing that I was not broken waiting for my cure has been freeing in the sense that I can stop waiting to change, stop waiting for the savior, the steps. I will always be someone who experiences overwhelm at places like concerts, parties, doing things like driving or going to crowded malls, etc. This meant that I could finally start to identify and eventually meet my needs, instead of just try and figure out not to have needs (AKA how to be “normal”).

This also brought a lot of grief. I have had to say goodbye to the image of me as a zen and mindful woman, goodbye to being effortlessly sociable and at ease with others, as being adventurous and spontaneous! The overwhelm, overstimulation, challenges with execution function, the meltdowns and shutdowns, all of this were things that were a part of me.

While learning how to meet the needs and challenges of the “not so fun” parts of autism, I also have learned about the amazing things too! I have spent time engaging in my special interests, and have learned and created so much. I use my sensitivity to be a great friend and to practice my perception. A mentor of mine is also autistic and has a theory that neurodivergence and being a psychic or mystic go hand in hand, a theory I love!

I have learned language that is shared within the community that accurately describes my experiences in a way that I couldn’t before! Instead of sharing with my fiancé (yes I got engaged!!) that I’m “anxious” about an upcoming party, or that I’m anxious during it, or that I’m tired after, I can more accurately say that I am overstimulated, entering a shutdown, or feeling burnt out. I can refer him to videos of fellow autistics who can describe these feelings and sensation in a way I didn’t know how before.

I know how to identify my needs, partially due to all the people online who share about theirs — this is where those TikTok accounts come in handy! I know better how to meet my needs, and how to specifically ask for what I need from others, instead of assuming they’ll know or asking too vaguely.

I have been slowly practicing unmasking, first just with myself, then with my closest friends and partner. I even try it out now at work! Baby steps. I have learned that I am accepted and loved not despite of my autism, but because of it. A helpful tool for this is to use a paper and write two columns: the trait that seems like a burden and how that trait is actually amazing. For example, a trait that can feel like a burden is that I don’t do well in groups of people. The awesome part is, I am great 1:1 and can create and hold space for 1–2 other people in a way that is intimate and loving.

In fact, I found out that many of my connections deepened when I let them in on the real me. It turns out, I can be good at masking, and this works great for people like coworkers and casual friends, but it isn’t helpful with true intimacy. The closer I got with people, the more they knew something was off. They could tell I wasn’t being that open, that I was deflecting being vulnerable by being supportive of them (at least, the good friends noticed, others definitely took advance of this). I wouldn’t share my real opinions, I would mirror everyone in a way that left me feeling hollow and fake when I was alone. I would feel the painful hum of embarrassment whenever I talked for too long. I thought this was keeping me safe, but it wasn’t. It was keeping people away, and I realized that people in my life didn’t truly know me — and I was feeling like I didn’t know me either!

I still have a long way to go, a lot of masks to take off, a lot to learn about myself. But this year of exploration and discovery has been transformational. When I first realized I might be autistic, I didn’t want to use the word to anyone. I told my partner and my best friend, both of whom were dubious at first. Now, over the last year, the more they observe the way I can share seemingly random facts about random topics (my most recent: kombucha and raccoons), the way I can spend hours looking for rocks outside (true story), the way I avoid eye contact with strangers (or make it very intensely with people I love), the way I rub fabric that gives me a satisfying stim when I’m anxious, or the way that I need to read every street sign, or get caught up in the details of a story that didn’t really matter, they can see it. They have both shared that they didn’t “see it” at first, but the more they learned about autism, and the more they observed me, so much made sense. And they both love me fiercely and sweetly, just as much, if not more, than before!