Living with Autism: A Different Lens

What is Autism? According to the National Institute of Mental Health, autism spectrum disorder is a neurological and developmental disorder that affects how people interact with others, communicate, learn, and behave. For me, my development was at a general pace or faster (in current contexts—that’s a different blog for another day), but that is what makes it a spectrum. Everyone experiences it differently.

I was diagnosed at three and again at eighteen. I did not fully understand how it affected me at the time—not until my university years. All I have ever felt aware of was that I was a tad different, and I have always lived the privilege of accommodation—the life where I had extended time to test and was in a separate class from others like me. Despite being different, I often had more capabilities than my peers in my classes in elementary and middle school. I spoke more and had the advantage of conventional beauty. These are things that place me between my peers, both in the classroom and outside of it.

Kids picked up on it quickly. In the earlier years of elementary, no one seemed to bat an eye. I still wonder how I got diagnosed in the first place. Initially, I went to the primary source herself—my mom. She had no clue and told me the preschool teachers picked up on it. It is questionable to me, to say the least, but then I take a look at my family’s photo albums, and three-year-old me is staring out into the abyss while everyone is gleeful around my birthday cake. That aligns well.

Once the boys chasing girls at the playground phase came about, I immediately became dreadful. Overstimulating. Surprisingly, I did not face more consequences for reacting so strongly, as I was often the only one to fight back. I chased back and threw things. All because little me did not know how to express the feeling of overstimulation.

That quality is one of the main traits of autistics, as it stems from sensory issues most autistics have. It ranges from multiple things that affect the general five senses—current sounds, textures, emotions, and even the environment around me, all of which contribute to how I experience the world. The sounds of bustling crowds or the texture of cardboard or styrofoam often overwhelm me, making it difficult to focus on anything else. Something significant that is overlooked is emotions. When faced with high stress I shut down, leading to a burnout or a nonverbal shutdown. It is as though the world becomes too much to bear in those moments.

High school was a general burnout as I had moved states at an odd time and did not know how to process what was going on. From seventh grade in suburbia Indiana to eighth grade in the middle of nowhere Tennessee. Part of me did not understand what was going on. Truthfully, I believe I was genuinely in a four-year-long burnout due to the intense reaction to change. Another common sign of autism. My burnout included an intense version of escapism: gathered information, found a strong interest in Korean and 20s to '60s American culture, and dipped my energy into my Polish-German ancestry.

Right as those four years ended, I gained an interest in autism after receiving my second diagnosis at eighteen. Myself specifically. Missing pieces of a puzzle, I found and put them in their place. It clicked. Wondering how I managed to function in the limbo of neurodivergent and neurotypicals. Looking back, I’ve come to understand that being neurodivergent isn’t something to be fixed, but a core part of who I am. Through exploration and self-awareness, I have learned to embrace my differences and navigate the world with a sense of purpose.