Thread by @StrivingAutist

I had no clue that I was an autistic person until my 50s. I have masked heavily my whole life. I was just seen *and othered* as weird, sensitive, creative, gifted, intense, nerdy, awkward, withdrawn, quirky, blunt, clumsy, etc., etc. ...

I have carried depression and anxiety, to varying degrees, as long as I can remember. Stomach and intestinal issues. Extreme sensory sensitivities. Special interests. A perfectionist with executive functioning issues. I cocooned myself in art, literature, and science. …

I went to college. 1 year in, I changed my major to art. I went to grad school. I held down jobs. In consulting, I disassociated my way through client meetings and presentations. In corporate environments, I chafed against meaningless hierarchies and inefficient processes …

and short-sighted focus of company leadership and management. Struggles with communication and inability to couch blunt honesty and in-depth inquiry in social graces, I hit walls. Ceilings. I did not realize that people do not actually want that kind of communication.

I hold a pattern of having 1-2 friends at any time, despite attempting more. Dating and relationship rituals are completely foreign to me. It takes me a long time to trust and open up. Those I am loyal to, I would literally take a bullet or step in front of a train for. …

And I expect the same from those I let in. I ask for too much, I am told.

But I digress.

I enjoy personality quizzes and such. Over the years I took various ones that continuously would score me on the autism spectrum. …

But I never took it seriously, because I only knew stereotypes like Rain Man. There was nowhere to look to gain understanding of what adult women with autism look like. No one would even have considered it.

Fast-forward to a series of traumatic family-related events, served up in a chopped salad of global pandemic. Bad went to worse to unrelenting and then to basically unbearable. I basically lost the ability to function, to communicate, to get even the most basic things done. …

I spent any energy I had trying to figure out what was happening. I lost verbal filters, unable to curb blunt messages or soften delivery. I had no ability to carefully compose facial expressions and pose my body in ways that would be deemed acceptable body language. …

I struggled to focus. My lifelong sensory issues exploded. My sleep patterns were completely disrupted. My digestive system was in a constant state of churn.
These are just a few things …

That start to capture what I eventually--after much research, exploration, and introspection--realized was autistic burnout. Test after test and everything I read sent the same message: autism, and high masking. The more I looked back at my life …

… the more I realized that my little (and not so little) "quirks" were actually autistic traits, unrecognized, and unnamed. Like I was made up of some mineral that science had not discovered yet. I know I was very fortunate in that my family supported my interests. I also was …

fortunate that in those areas, quirkiness was accepted or even expected, to a degree. The avid reader who stayed up late reading Shakespeare with a flashlight under the blankets. The art kid who'd rather take after-school classes at the local art museum than do typical …

… after school activities. I always liked heavy shoes, because they help me know where my feet are. Things like sports or dance were inconceivable. No one noticed much, since I was not interested in those things anyway. …

There's too much to sum up in a thread, but I've been on a journey of "holy shit" moment when I realize that something that I've done all my life, or experiences that I have had, are all reflections of autistic traits. I have learned so much here from voices of my #neurokin …

Post after post and thread after thread of experiences, outlooks, and struggles that I identify with in ways I have never identified with other humans before. And also a painful light shed on areas where I now realize I have struggled greatly …

Some people might look at me and say, subjectively, that I did not, or do not, need support. How is this valid? Who but an individual understands whether and how much they struggle, and how much it limits them?
I feel fortunate that after 4 tries I finally have found …

… an neurodivergent and autism-informed therapist. I am finally getting my first taste of support, learning where I need support, and (gulp) starting to learn how to ask for support. I know that many ways, I speak from a place of privilege. …

I am learning a lot, about myself + others. I will probably make mistakes. I will continue to learn. But it is still overwhelming to revisit my life thru a new lens. I am trying to figure out who I am. There is no way to do this, for me, without a degree of mourning. …

There are no do-overs, for anyone. I don't know when or to what degree I will come out of this burnout. I know a lot of the coping, masking, and filtering capabilities I may have once had are …gone. But I am here. I am trying to figure it out. …

And, so while as a kid I was pretty convinced the reason I was different was because I was a changeling, turns out I am #ActuallyAutistic (and perhaps #ADHD as well.)

I'm glad to have found y'all.

Wow … this thread is sort of jumbled (should've numbered), not well crafted, + I barely just finished it … but already feeling overwhelmed by the response!
Thanks everyone for the feedback and comments … I need to take a break, will be back to read and follow back. ♥️