Prior to receiving my official autism diagnosis and even for some time after, I would refer to myself as "Apparently Autistic".
Why do I struggle in social settings? Why do I see things in black and white? Why can't I empathise with others? Why do I say silly things? Why can't I make eye contact? Because I'm autistic, apparently.
I didn't want to be autistic and I spoke about this a bit more here. It's only been recently that I've been saying "well, actually, I am autistic" and realise that yes, I always have been.
Some Backstory of The Young Old Autistic Man
Back in the early 1990’s I remember being tasked with clearing away rubbish and leaves from outside of my classroom. The Year Five and Six classes were kept outside of the main school building and situated in a portacabin. The cabins, placed on the edge of the school yard would occasionally accumulate trash and debris from the trees that surrounded the school. Every so often the teacher, a tall man with a thick black beard, would select two children, most likely randomly, to go outside and tidy up. This one particular day, it was my turn. I donned my coat and, with another student, Phil, we started tidying up. The slate grey Lancashire sky promised rain, a light wind made the empty crisp packets dance away. Phil and I were talking about whatever it is kids in those days talked about.
After a few minutes we fell silent, then Phil told me:
“You know, I’d be your friend if you wasn’t so weird.”
Not much I could say to that. "Thanks", "Sorry" or "Oh, OK" was probably all I could have thought of.
Flashforward some years later and I was in a pub with my colleagues from the shop I worked in. All chatting, about whatever it was young lads chatted about in those days. Girlfriends, football, the TV, beer and work, probably. People would make jokes and others would laugh. Then I said something and the group fell silent. Whatever I said was not only unfunny but it didn't make sense to the others. It was a tangent too far. A link that only I could see and only I understood. My comment was followed by someone responding:
“Fucking hell, I’d love to know what goes on in that head of yours”.
The point being, inside my head was a different landscape. A landscape that they could not, and did not recognise.
At University, my imposter syndrome was in full force as was the inability to make anything more than a small group of friends. I always felt on the outside of friendships. I would frequently say things that killed the conversation. I would tell my then girlfriend things which I had been told by friends in strict confidence. When I was pulled up on this I genuinely could not see what I had done wrong. Was this a social cue that had passed me by? Did I just want to talk about it? Or could I just not keep a secret? I didn't know and I am yet to figure it out. Also, I am not, and have never been, a good liar. This could be due to a lack of socialising that meant I never learnt the rules or the etiquette of keeping secrets and telling fibs.
The friends I did have preferred to spend time with my little brother. They would go out with him and I would be at home with the dog and my books. I always seemed to have few friends and spent lots of time on my own. At Leeds Festival one year, it was late at night and I was pretty drunk. Someone ran up to me and tapping me on the shoulder called me by my brother’s name. A simple mistake but one I think is quite telling. He was well known, people preferred him, people liked him, no one has ran up to anyone shouting my name. This was because my little brother is not only a lovely bloke but he is also not weird.
I've also never been able to tell when a woman was flirting with me unless they literally sat on me. The Wife said she basically had to provide a dissertation with supporting evidence and peer reviewed research to reassure me she was in fact interested in me, it's been 18 year, I still don't fully believe her. I presumed no one would flirt with me or what me. I mean, why would they? I wasn't deserving of it anyway. In our younger days, The Wife has pointed out when someone has been flirting with me and finds it amusing to watch me being utterly oblivious to another woman's intentions. Thankfully, The Wife isn't the jealous type but says even if she was it wouldn't matter as I would never notice if someone was attracted to me nor would I approach them if I was attracted to them.
There were also subtle differences between me and pretty much, everyone else. For example, when most people read a work of fiction they can picture in their mind's eye the world which is being described. I have never been able to do this. It's a condition called 'aphantasia' and is very rare (1-4% of the population according to this article). I have been told it is like they are watching a movie version of the text. It is probably why people get wound up when the televised or cinematic versions of beloved books do not match up to what they have imagined. That is not a problem for me. I don’t see it and my apathy doesn’t really allow me to get too wound up about this. There is some research that suggests there is a higher prevalence of aphantasia among autistic people although more research is needed.
On to another trait. I tend to read mainly non-fiction, and there is evidence people with autism show a significant preference for reading non-fiction stories over fiction (Barnes, 2012). I enjoy facts and the explanations of why people have acted in the manner that they do. What brought a person to the trenches? Why did Hitler do what he did? What made Stalin such a moustachioed, paranoid madman? What is the romantic history of Barry Manilow? (and no, I'm not a fan of his music). One of 'Are You Autistic?' questionnaires I did asked, ‘Is your mind like a steel vice for facts and information?’ I initially said no. On reflection, I know a lot of things and most of it, people would class it as, useless. Many have commented that I do actually have a very broad and unusual level of general knowledge.
All this being said, I used to convince myself that it all classed as being perfectly 'normal'. I know lots of people who say things without thinking, who miss subtlety and nuance. Who do not recognise when someone is flirting with them. It is not as if the whole world is super aware of all of the actions and intentions of others. A lot of men are brought up to avoid their emotions and the emotions of others. Again, no one sits a boy down and says: "this is how such and such makes you feel". I am clumsy but so are a lot of others. I just lacked an emotional intelligence that others had because I was brought up in the Eighties and Nineties. I was trying to convince myself that autism was just a convenient excuse.
So, what part of all of this is autism and what part of this is just me being… well, me?
The answer is both. I am autistic and that plays a part in me being me. I am now much closer to coming to terms with my autism. The more I read, reflect and research it the more I get the 'yeah that makes sense', 'how did I miss this?' or 'yep, that's the autism' moments. I can see via the autistic content creators out there that my traits fit into the category for autism. I am one of them and it is often satisfyingly validating for me.
I always had the question, "why am I like this?" Well, now I know. It's because I am autistic.
My autism is not a convenient excuse for my thoughts, feelings and behaviours but it's a fair explanation. I struggle with things because I am autistic. It means I can identify the support and tools I need to keep working on myself in order to heal, process things and one day even thrive.
What Are Your Thoughts?
What are your experiences of recognising you were on the spectrum? If you were late diagnosed what makes you look back and say "oh, yeah that makes sense now"?
Let us know in the comments or the Contact Us section.
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