Behind the Smile: Navigating Emotions as an Autistic Person
When I was 10, one of my friend’s mom passed away. It was a terrifying moment. Her mom was the same age as my mom. We were young. Our understanding of death was not deep, of course. But every kid in the neighborhood had a feeling of deep sadness and fear.
It was a summer evening right after the funeral, and we were spending time together outside. It wasn’t the usual cheerful time. Inevitably, we talked about the topic of the day. I don’t remember what was said, but I remember when one girl asked, “Laura, are you not sad about it?”
I was shocked. Of course, I was sad. And downright terrified. “But you’re almost smiling”, she added. “No, I’m not.” Or was I?
In my sophomore year, I started dating my number 1 crush. He was the love of my life and we were going to grow old together. For a few weeks, anyway.
When we broke up, I was devastated. But I would not show it to anyone. I put on what I thought was a brave, happy face. “I didn’t really like him that much. It was a fun few weeks, but I can do better.”
That last part was certainly true, even if I didn’t know it at the time. Except I was dying inside. One of my classmates said to me with a smirk, “You look like you want to jump off the building. You’re not fooling anyone. He dumped you, and you’re UPSEEET.”
But…but…I’m smiling, I thought. Are you even looking at my face? This is a smile. Seriously.
Somehow, that wasn’t fooling anyone.
When I turned 18, I decided I wasn’t going to throw a party. I hated the sensory nightmare that came with them, anyway. The idea of hosting one was making me want to throw up.
But two of my friends thought that was not a reason for me to not receive gifts. So they bought me a gorgeous set of earrings and a necklace. The instant I saw it, I adored it. I immediately started picturing all the outfits it could go with. Of course, I thanked my friends, telling them how much I loved the gift.
They glanced at each other and then one of them said, “If you really don’t like it, you don’t have to pretend. We have the receipt and we can change it. Just tell us what you’d like so we can pick better.”
But…but…I DO like it. A LOT.
“You don’t look happy,” they said. “Really, it’s ok, we don’t mind. Tell us what to choose instead.”
I insisted I liked it, and they eventually let it go. No, they were not convinced.
Flat affect refers to when a person shows no emotions. No facial expressions, no gestures, and no shift in the tone of voice. Flat affect does not mean a person is emotionless. Quite the contrary. Like me, they can feel powerful emotions, but none of them transpires.
There’s also a less severe form called blunted affect. This time, the person may show some emotions they feel, but not as intense as they should. Flat and blunted affect are common in autism, depression, schizophrenia, and more.
Some autistic people have the opposite “problem” — they show too many emotions. They are quick to cry, yell, and laugh out loud. All the feelings, all out in the open.
They’re open books. They are often called inappropriate. Or they get taken advantage of because everyone knows in an instant when they’re upset, uncomfortable, or content.
I honestly don’t know how many autistic people experience both. To my knowledge, there are no statistics. But I know I’m part of the “lucky” elite.
Most moments in my life when emotions were involved can be summed up by these three stories.
Happy or sad and desperately want to show it? Flat (or blunted) affect. Angry, terrified, sad, and desperately trying to hide it? Your face will be an open book everyone will read within seconds.
Despite a lot of moments like these, it wasn’t until Zoom meetings became the norm a few years ago that I realized just what these people meant.
Looking at my expression during meetings — even those with friends — I noticed my facial expressions barely changed. It did look like I was almost smiling, even when sad things were discussed.
I had learned to “smile” as a kid when my emotionless expression was often called “impolite” by adults. I don’t remember my exact age, but I know for sure I was younger than 10 when a teacher told me “Smile more. Nobody will like you if you keep that straight face all the time.”
So, like most autistic people do, even when they’re unaware of their autism, I learned to put on a mask. My mask was a friendly expression, not laughing, but certainly not completely flat. Most of the time, it seemed to please those around me. Until I was supposed to be sad when my strategy backfired.
In time, especially over the past few years of living life in online meetings, I learned to control the emotions I show a bit more. I still find myself smiling in weird moments or bursting into tears when no one else does just because somehow, in that particular moment, my emotions decide to explode.
But I taught myself how “really smiling” feels like on my face. How to look a little more sad when the situation (and my emotions) requires it.
All that has, unfortunately, also substantially increased my anxiety around many social situations. I will be living in the moment, enjoying myself, only to suddenly feel a jolt of fear go through me. “You’re showing no emotions. They think you hate them. SMILE.”
The bottom line? Don’t judge a person by their facial expression.
And for us autistics? The thing that helped me was coming to terms with my blunted affect. I learned to communicate it. Oftentimes, when I feel safe, I simply tell people about it. Some will be curious, others won’t care, and others will think I’m weird.
They’re probably all correct, and it gives me the freedom to just be. And as cliché as it may be, I think that’s all that really matters in the end.
This article is part of my Autism Tales series, where I try to explore, through personal stories, what autism looks like in day-to-day life. Please remember that autism is a spectrum, and it might present completely differently in your life or the lives of those you love.
