About a year ago I came to realize that I am Autistic. I’ve hesitated to share this much but since I feel like I’m finally living my life I say, fuck it. I dipped my toe in the Sharing Articles About Autism waters and today a friend commented, so now you think you’re autistic, which prompted me to, as they say, come out today. Like, all the way. I love my friend so I decided to disregard the initial tone with which I read her question(?) and simply answer.
Yes. I think I’m autistic. Kind of like how I think I’m me. Kind of like how I think I’m on planet Earth. Pretty sure. Not so much think as figured it out. Hello Mary, (re)meet Mary.
Professionals had pretty much convinced me I’m all sorts of things. Depressed. Bipolar. Borderline. Difficult to treat. Essentially, broken. Funny how their treatments led to lots of prescriptions but not much fixing. Yet, my own flailing attempts to keep myself alive led to answers that reached my cells. My life map led the pros to all those labels of pathology, but it led me to find this keystone bit of information. My brain is wired differently! It all makes sense now! In one day, I felt decades of self-hate leave my being. That’s how my cells told me. However I’m wary enough to know that almost 50 years of masking (oh, and being a chick), plus pursuing professional confirmation equals me leaning into a huge punch of invalidation and effort I can’t afford to waste. I don’t do that anymore. I’m too old for that shit.
Once I connected all the dots and unraveled almost 50 years of masking (then started rebuilding this mess), I finally felt whole. Feel whole. Weird and Whole. So much so that I’m coming out today. Yeah, I think I’m autistic, and thanks for asking. Look out, world.