Published on 12, July, 2020
Am I grieving?
Being diagnosed with autism at the age of 30 was a defining moment in my life, but not in the way some might expect. Instead of unlocking a world of understanding, it felt like I had uncovered a Pandora's box of lost opportunities, missed connections, and the harsh reality of a childhood and education that slipped through my fingers.
As I reflect on my life, I can't help but feel the weight of a lost childhood. The struggles that seemed insurmountable, the friendships that never formed, and the feeling of being on the outside looking in – these are the echoes of my early years. Autism wasn't a badge of honor; it was a veil that clouded my perception and left me isolated.
My educational journey was a rocky road paved with misunderstandings and unmet needs. The challenges I faced were not acknowledged or addressed appropriately. Instead of support, I received confusion and frustration. The diagnosis at 30 brought with it a bitter realization – the education system had failed me, leaving scars that time couldn't erase.
The response to my diagnosis surprised me. Instead of empathy, I encountered a barrage of well-intentioned but misguided narratives. Non-autistic people, perhaps seeking comfort in their own understanding, spread the nonsense that autism is not a disability but a superpower. It's as if they believe we should be grateful for a condition that, in my experience, has been more debilitating than empowering.
"Appreciate having autism; it's a gift," they say. But what about the struggles, the isolation, the daily battles with a world that I can't fit into? It's not a gift; it's a complex and challenging aspect of my identity. To dismiss the difficulties as mere negativity denies the reality of my experience.
The rhetoric surrounding autism sometimes takes on an exclusive club mentality. As if we should be honored to be part of some elite group. Terms like "aspie" are thrown around, treating us like cute, endearing pets. I am not a novelty. I am a person with real struggles, aspirations, and a desire for understanding.
Being diagnosed with autism at 30 was a revelation that forced me to confront my past and reimagine my future. It's not a superpower; it's not a gift. It's a part of me, with its own complexities and challenges. So what now?
This is such a good summary of my own experience - got my diagnosis just before I hit 40, and have been spending a probably unhealthy amount of time wondering where I'd be if I got diagnosed earlier.
I also don't subscribe to the "superpower" line - I see it as there being are some things I'm good at, some things I'm great at, and some things that I'm terrible at, which is something that I'm sure 99% of the population can make.
Sure, my "things I'm good at" come with some life advantages (e.g. ask me to build a spreadsheet and you'll get the best-looking, most functional, colour-coded thing you could have wished for, which helps in my professional life and has led to career progression) but my "things I'm bad at" list includes things that have a negative life impact, e.g. keeping a conversation going after the first 2 minutes of small talk, meaning I'm often seen as aloof.
I wasn't diagnosed as a child because, academically, I was smashing it. No one could see the challenges I had on the inside and, being a kid, I didn't know that wasn't what everyone faced; it's only lately the challenges have begun to bite (having an impact at work for the first time), and that's what caused me to seek a diagnosis.
The way I've been dealing with the 'what might have been' thinking is to allow myself to think about the less-rosy scenarios of what might have been too. If my social awkwardness had been coupled with lower academic achievement, I'd have found school / university life and my early career far harder. That doesn't make me grateful for my autism, but does allow me to make an element of peace with it.
This really resonates with me - thank you. I loved school, and then it all started to go wrong from sixth form, when I was expected to be more independent in a world full of uncertainty and hypocrisy. So many people have misjudged me as aloof when all I've wanted to do is get on with people.