Autism 101: Navigating My Disability in the Workplace
I wasn’t supposed to be where I am today. When I was diagnosed with autism, certain expectations were placed on me. I was told I could never pass college-level courses let alone earn a 4-year degree. I was told I would have a nervous breakdown that I would never recover from. I’d be bedridden for the rest of my life if I tried. Unable to function without help from others.
I said “screw off” to everyone who told me that. I started community college when I was 19 and graduated magna cum laude. Then I transferred to BYU-Idaho, where I earned my BA in English with an emphasis in Professional and Technical Writing. I earned both degrees in a six-year time span while working 20–30 hours per week.
I worked in retail while I earned my AA. I was in customer service where I was called every name you can think of, none of which were nice. I worked retail for two years. While at BYU-Idaho, I was a research assistant to a professor in the English department. The textbook he wrote is now available through Routledge, and my name is in the acknowledgments.
I was interviewing for several different positions during my last semester before I graduated with my BA. But then COVID hit, and every opportunity went out the window. I couldn’t go home to Texas, so I went into survival mode and worked as a custodian while I launched my freelancing services.
I edited books and started writing blogs as a ghostwriter by day and cleaned office buildings by night. I was just barely getting by, but I was doing better than many during those first few months of COVID.
After freelancing for nearly two full years, I realized that jobs were once again opening up in my field, so I started applying for jobs again. After about a month of looking, I found my current job.
I work 8:30–5 M-F at a digital marketing agency where I write content for various clients. I absolutely love my job. It makes me feel like I’m making a difference in the world.
To this day, I still have naysayers. They try to discredit the work that I’ve done. They say my degree “doesn’t count” because it took me two extra years to finish it. That taking medications means I CAN’T function without help. That I’ve faked my way to where I am.
For the sake of my young cousins who are reading this, I’ll censor my thoughts on that. You see, when you’re disabled and told you can’t do anything in life, you can either accept that or make the decision to DARE GREATLY. I know Brene Brown wrote a book with that title, but it’s also from a speech by Teddy Roosevelt called The Man In The Arena.
In that speech he says, “…but if [she] fails, she at least fails while daring greatly instead of being one of those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.” I first saw the Man in the Arena on a poster at the law firm where I worked when I was 22.
It was a hard summer because we were balancing out my medications, and I was always anxious. (Thank God for my psychiatrist who put me on the perfect cocktail in 2021.)
When you’re disabled and told you can’t do anything, every step you take is a risk. You never know whether you’ll pass or fail. But I was willing to risk it because, otherwise, I would never know what I was capable of.
I’ve made it further than I ever dreamed that I could because I’ve dared greatly. But I also live with my disability, and I will never pretend that it’s not hard because it is, and I believe I would be doing a disservice to the autism community if I tried to make it look easy.
On a daily basis, I risk getting overstimulated. I sleep 9–10 hours every night. I go to bed early and sacrifice me time to make sure I’m rested enough for work every day.
But I still get overstimulated sometimes. And that leads to stuttering, speech loss, delayed response times, and a host of other symptoms that I hate experiencing.
But I experience some form of them every day because of the way my brain is wired. Because I have a neurological disorder.
Whenever I apply for a job, I always select the “I have a disability” box. The employer knows that before they ever interview me. But I never disclose my disability right away. I keep it to myself entirely until I feel more comfortable.
Then, I tell my direct boss. The person I answer to for my job. I might also tell my supervisor or manager, depending on the chain of command. But I don’t tell anyone else in the company.
Why not?
Because when people hear that I have a disability, they see me differently, even if they don’t mean to. I get more pitying stares. I get asked what I need. I get told what a great job I’m doing. I know they don’t mean it in a negative way, but it makes me feel like a charity case.
I want to be seen as a hard-working professional who can carry her weight and perform her job well. I know I do that well. I was trained for it, and I work hard to do it every day.
My boss knows I’m autistic. I told her pretty quickly because I was worried my speech would go out. She promised me that she wouldn’t look at me differently and that she would not believe that it would affect how I can do my job. That is absolutely all I could ask for. All I want.
And let me tell you, she does just that. I’ve only had a couple of bad days, and she’s been phenomenal both times. I know I can go to her if I need help or an accommodation.
I also reached out to my old boss at my custodial job and asked him what it was like to work with me while I couldn’t speak. I lost my speech for an ENTIRE WEEK in September 2020.
He said he felt bad for me because it can be hard enough to communicate how you feel or what you need when you CAN speak. He recommended that leads/bosses/managers always give the benefit of the doubt and do whatever they can to make a disabled person’s job easier.
So, what happens when I have a bad day at work and I’m with coworkers or management who don’t know that I have a disability? I’m really quiet. I smile and laugh. I say things like “mhmm” or “oh?” Short phrases that I can usually get out.
If something requires a more detailed response, I’ll use Slack or text to communicate. I can almost always communicate via typing or writing when I can’t speak. I don’t lose the ability to think or process information. I lose the ability to express that information verbally.
I also compartmentalize. I’ll reserve my greatest effort for work and let go in other areas. My texts to friends will have missing words. For example, I’d say “I’ll get that right over to you” in a message to a coworker or my boss.
But when texting a friend, I’d say something like “I send to you soon.” This allows me to function and communicate with everyone at different levels until the overstimulation goes away, and my brain is restored to its normal levels of functioning.
I get nervous that people will be able to tell that something’s wrong. But as my therapist repeatedly reminds me, I don’t owe anyone an explanation as long as I do my job well. And my job is thankfully one of my favorite things in the world: writing.
So, that’s what it’s like to work with a disability. It’s not easy, but nothing in life has EVER been easy for me. I’ve learned who I am and how strong I am by daring greatly and reaching for heights I didn’t know I could touch. It has been worth it, and then some, to be where I am today, working in my career field.
To all my disabled friends, please don’t let anyone underestimate you. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you can’t do something. Only you can know what you can or can’t do by trying to do it. And if you fail, at least you fail while daring greatly.
To all my friends who don’t have a disability, do your best to treat everyone the same way. If you find out that someone you work with has a disability, don’t do them the disservice of treating them differently. Show them respect by treating them like a fellow working professional. It will mean the world to them. Trust me.
Thank you for reading this post. That also means a lot to me. My goal with my blog is to raise awareness for disability and help everyone understand what it’s like to be me and how I function through my disability in a non-disabled world.
