Eight Ways Autistic People Socialize, According to My Psychologist
Knowing these things has made it a lot easier to recognize myself as autistic.
Yesterday, I met one last time with my clinical psychologist to learn whether I meet the diagnostic criteria for autism.
Over the course of our 45-minute session, my psychologist walked me through the DSM-5’s diagnostic criteria for autism. She added in her personal reflections on how these criteria tend to manifest in late-diagnosed autistic adults, the population she specializes in assessing—especially when it comes to socializing.
I took notes. Here’s what I learned.
But first: a quick primer on diagnostic criteria
To receive an autism diagnosis in the U.S., an individual must meet specific criteria laid out in the DSM-5 — that is, the fifth iteration of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. (Neuro-affirming psychologists may view autism as a “difference” rather than a “disorder,” but they are still required to use the DSM to make formal autism diagnoses.)
The DSM’s autism criteria are broken into two categories: Category A, and Category B. Autistic people must meet all the criteria in Category A and at least two of the four criteria in Category B.
Category A is all about social differences, which the DSM pathologizes as “deficits.” There are three social categories listed out in the DSM, and autistic people must have “deficits” in all of them: social-emotional reciprocity, nonverbal communication, and developing, maintaining, and understanding relationships.
Category B is about sensory and cognitive differences: engaging in repetitive, self-stimulating behaviors; strongly preferring sameness, routines, and predictability; having intense special interests; and being particularly responsive (or particularly unresponsive) to sensory stimuli.
In my experience, it’s a bit easier to tell if you meet the criteria in Category B. Yes, it can be tricky to identify your stims if they’re not overt or stereotypical, but the other three criteria are reasonably straightforward—and again, you only need to meet two of the four.
Category A is where so many adults seem to get tripped up—and it’s what my psychologist spent most of her time talking about. So that’s where we’ll focus today.
1. Autistic people can have lots of friends.
The common wisdom is that autistic people have difficulty making friends. That’s not quite true, according to my psychologist. From what she’s seen, autistic adults are often fine at making “friends”—but these rarely become close friends who have an intimate understanding and acceptance of the autistic person. This can lead autistic people to feel profoundly lonely despite being viewed by others as social.
2. Autistic people can struggle to maintain friendships.
This is for two reasons. First, friendships typically require socializing, and this can be really energy-consuming for autistic people. It can be easier at the moment to just skip a hangout or not answer a friend’s phone call. Second, autistic people are often unsure of how, exactly, to maintain a friendship. They can’t necessarily intuit how often to reach out, how much to talk versus listen in a conversation, or when to offer a comforting shoulder versus suggest advice.
3. Autistic people don’t always have problems socializing.
Plenty of research now finds that autistic people are quite good at socializing with other autistic (or even neurodivergent) people. The breakdowns seem to happen primarily when people of different neurotypes are in communication with each other. In other words, if you identify with the autistic profile but feel pretty comfortable socially, you might noodle on whether your closest friends are neurodivergent, too.
4. Autistic people tend to be matter-of-fact communicators.
There’s a stereotype that autistic people are cold or unemotional. That’s not true, but neurotypical people might jump to that conclusion because autistic folks tend to be direct and transparent in their communication style (at least, when they’re not masking).
As my psychologist put it, among autistics, “to be kind is to be clear.” For non-autistics, by contrast, “to be kind is to be soft, fluffy, talk around things, imply things.” In other words, when autistic people are trying to show that they care about a person, their instinct will be to communicate clearly and directly. But neurotypical people can incorrectly assume that the opposite thing is happening—that is, that autistic people are choosing to be blunt, even brusque. This can be seen as rude when the intention was quite the opposite!
5. Autistic people may need a common interest to forge close friendships.
Again, this is for two reasons. First, it’s just more fun to be friends with someone who shares your interests!
But second, having a shared interest makes it easier to socialize. As an example from my own life, I have a friend who shares my passions for human development and parenthood. I know that when we get together, we will talk for hours about parenting neurodiverse kids: what research we’ve come across, what strategies we’ve employed, which professionals we’re consulting and podcasts we’re listening to, etc.
I am never anxious ahead of time about what we’ll do during our visits. I’m not even apprehensive about the idea of talking at length, which isn’t always my idea of a good time, because I know that 1) the subject matter will be interesting and 2) I won’t accidentally upset my friend for talking “too much” about my area of interest.
6. Autistic people tend to adopt different personas.
Many autistic people learn early in life that showing up as themselves isn’t always well-received. So they develop a coping mechanism: masking. High-masking Autistics tend to show up as different people, depending on the environment. They play a part, squashing down their authentic ways of being and replacing them with a character.
This can lead autistic folks to prefer socializing with one person at a time rather than bringing all their distinct friends into a group. When everyone is together, the autistic person has to figure out which mask (or combination of masks) to wear, and there’s always the chance that one or more people will feel like their autistic friend is “different” or has “changed.” Of course, this is true—but it’s not that the autistic person is deviating from their “true self.” They’re just swapping one mask for another.
7. Autistic people tend to communicate better via written language.
When communicating face-to-face, there’s just way too much sensory input to keep track of. The autistic person is noticing their own body language, intonation, word choices, and facial expressions. They’re noticing all of that in the other person, too—and they’re taking in all the other sensory input in their environment, which is less likely to be quiet and controlled, given that it probably wasn’t selected solely by the autistic individual.
And then, of course, most autistic people have also internalized that they communicate differently than others. So there can be an added anxiety around “getting it right.” All of this sensory input and internal pressure can lead an autistic person to feel overwhelmed, which can make it very hard to process information in real-time and respond thoughtfully and coherently.
8. Autistic people tend to have lower social needs.
The last thing my psychologist emphasized is that while autistic people do tend to spend a lot of time alone, this isn’t necessarily primarily because they are lonely or struggle to make friends. Rather, autistic folks tend to need less social time to feel “filled up.”
For instance, when she asked me how many times I would ideally spend time with a friend each week, I said once—maybe twice. To be fair, I do like talking on the phone more often than that, but only with a couple of people who communicate in a neurodivergent, “info-dump” type of way—and only when I have the freedom to end the call abruptly if I’m burned out and need some recuperation time.
Similarly, I can spend a full day by myself and be happy. I do like the occasional human interaction—maybe a quick chat with a barista at my local coffee shop. But I’m happy to spend the rest of my day in physical solitude. To be clear, I still like to communicate throughout the day via text or chat with my loved ones, and I can enjoy working asynchronously on projects with other people. But most of the time, I don’t feel much need to share a physical space with them.
When my psychologist shared her reflections with me, I found myself nodding, smiling, and even laughing. Yes, yes, yes, I told her. That makes sense. That’s right. That’s… me. (And she confirmed it; I got the diagnosis.)
I’m curious: which, if any, of these eight things resonates with you? Please let me know in the comments. I really love reading and responding to them!
