What You "Aut" To Do

Intro~

This episode of RAW-tism is about how our society’s lack of productive mental health resources causes more situations that promote autism stigma.

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Unwritten Rules and Autism

A significant difficulty for autistics living in this society is all the unwritten rules of society. People just expect you to learn what you ought to do without anyone explicitly telling you. Sometimes, breaking these rules can lead to people thinking you’re unique and a free spirit. Other times, you’re seen as an insensitive asshole who should know better than to act that way. There are in-between, and some reactions rely entirely on what group you’re with. Even then, the group could be split, and suddenly you have to write a post on r/AITA (which is the subreddit thread “Am I The Asshole?”) so that you can get a clear answer about whether you’re a horrible person or if everyone else is just being awful to you.

I have an old poem I wrote before I had any of my diagnoses called “Helplessly A Horrible Person.” Here is a passage from it:

“Do you ever feel like you do not entirely control your actions? You know something is wrong and don’t want to do it, but you feel yourself going through the motions anyway while you’re screaming inside your head that you want to stop? I have felt that way too many times, and it hurts my soul. It feels like I have another personality that takes over and makes rash decisions I would never make myself. Not being able to control my words, thoughts, and actions is my worst feeling. I watch from behind the scenes as I push away friends, blow up at people undeservingly, manipulate others into acting toward my agenda, and fake issues to get attention. I do not want to do these things, and I wish I could stop it all, but it never works, no matter how hard I try.”

I used to feel so alone. I couldn’t understand why my mind acted out against me. I had no way of knowing that masking my autism was so devastating to my brain that it would lead to acts of self-destruction to release the stress I was under. It’s hard to imagine, even as the person who went through this—feeling so inhuman that you have to work toward destroying your own life just to prove that something you do matters. My heart aches to think back to how I used to be. It’s horrible that I believed in that normality. Now, I’m finally free from that mentality.

My autism diagnosis was one of, if not the greatest thing to ever happen to me. It changed my entire world. I know I have already discussed my diagnosis on this podcast. If you haven’t heard the episode “My Diagnosis,” please give it a listen. This episode focuses less on the technical, medical diagnoses and will dive deeply into the more vulnerable parts of me and my experience. I will give a trigger warning, though – there will be mentions of self-harming behaviors and suicidal ideation. If that is too difficult for you, I understand entirely. Feel free to skip past the next ad break, where I’ll talk about my experience with my queer identity. I’ll have the exact time in the description.

My meltdowns used to get pretty violent. The worst of it was ME pounding my fists into my head, banging my head against the wall, and yanking at my hair. I did all of this in response to the overwhelming emotions I had. I didn’t understand that it was caused by being overstimulated, stretched too thin, and surrounded by toxicity. Most of those in my life constituted the feeling that I wasn’t enough, that I did things wrong, that I was wrong. I would spend hours staring at the wall, dissociating and coming back to reality in recurrence, flabbergasted by the question of how I could fix myself. I never understood how the world worked or how everyone but me magically knew how to act. I know that I’ve used this analogy before, but it really fits the confusion of growing up with undiagnosed autism. It felt like I was playing a game where everyone had a rulebook but me. I would secretly wish there was a “Confused Girly’s Guide to Living Correctly” or something similar to teach me where I was going wrong.

I remember feeling like an alien in my own life. All my peers knEw how to talk to each other normally and how to relate in conversation. I was always trying too hard. Sometimes, I would be as clunky and awkward as a parent trying to relate to their teenage kids, like, “Hello, fellow students who go to school with me. It’s unfortunate we had that test, huh? That was downright not the bomb.com, am I right? What are you doing after school? I heard about a party, but it’s a school night, so I must be mistaken. Okay, bye. I will see you all later in the classes that we have in this building.” This would seem like a perfectly typical interaction to me. I would be so confused when I’d hear them later in the day talking about how weird I was. I was either completely silent, or I talked way too much. I was never perfect enough. Even my friend group in grade school only hung out with me because they were the odd ones out, too. It felt even worse when the other “nobodies” in my grade would talk bad about me behind my back. I’ve never understood how people could act one way toward a person and then talk about the situation with entirely different emotions. Being two-faced didn’t make sense to me because there was always the option, just to be honest. You don’t have to be around someone you don’t like, at least in most cases – let’s pretend that classes and group projects don’t count here.

Along this line, I was also terrified of losing friends. I would be clingy, possessive, and protective of what I felt I deserved after being a loyal and dedicated friend for so long. I was constantly taken advantage of because I was so desperate to be included. I did my friend’s homework, packed their favorites in my lunch to give them, and bought them the snacks and gifts they wanted. I don’t think they were aware of how they were treating me. They were kids just like me, but it really affected how I viewed myself in comparison to the rest of the world. I was a slave to the whims of others, never my own person, and never having my own ideas.

One of the biggest things that was a humongous red flag looking back were my middle school daydreams. I felt so lost and unwanted at school that I would be in class and actively daydreaming about a school shooter coming in so I could protect my peers and die a hero. I thought that if I was killed that way, everyone would love me, and I wouldn’t have to live feeling the way I did. I’d finally escape the constant pressure to be something I couldn’t even identify and leave a hero. They’d remember me in the most positive way, and I would transcend my “wrongness.” Obviously, I now realize that I was hopelessly in need of therapy for practically my entire childhood. For example, who daydreams about being a victim in a tragedy because they think that’s the only way anyone would see them as important? That’s majorly fucked up.

Anyway, it’s time for the advertisement break, but before we get to that, I want to emphasize how much I love who I am now. I am living my best life, and I have no regrets because my worst experiences can be used to help those going through the most challenging parts of their lives. My trauma was a catalyst for my purpose in this world. I am an advocate for mental health, learning disabilities, and being your whole self. I thrive when telling people how much I’ve grown from the travesties I have undertaken. I live to make life a better experience for those who grace this earth after me. I am not bitter. I do not hold grudges. I am truly free.

I don’t expect everyone to let their past struggles go as easily as I do now. It’s what works for me, but everyone is different. All I can say is that you related to any experience I described from my childhood mindset. I sincerely recommend that you seek therapy or at least find like-minded peers so you feel less alone. I am not condemning anyone if they had similar suicide-by-tragic-accident daydreaming that I had. It’s not your fault, but I will say that you don’t want that to happen. You want to feel better, and that’s perfectly normal and okay. I promise you that. Even if you’re not that extreme in your suicidal ideation, it’s still imperative that you talk to someone. If they treat you negatively because you share your inner thoughts, they are not someone you need at this time. You need to be treated with respect and understanding.

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Queer Experience

Another thing that took me a lifetime to understand was the heteronormative society we live in and how that affected me. I was convinced that I was a cisgender heterosexual woman. That was all I was; it was nothing fancy. I did not find my place amongst the “alphabet mafia” until I was already waist-deep in a relationship with my now-fiancé, so I never got to have the experience of experimenting.

I realized many clues throughout my adolescence in hindsight. The biggest example is my best friend in high school. It was an all-girls school, so there weren’t really any options for straight relationships within the school’s student body. I will refer to her as Athena for her privacy and as a nod to our shared love of Greek Mythos. I met Athena on my first day of high school in our English class. I was immediately taken with her, and wanted to be her friend more than anything. She became my infatuation, which must have been incredibly uncomfortable for her. We were friends all four years, but she never invited me to do anything outside school. If we had projects to complete together, she’d insist on doing them in class and completing our homework separately. I didn’t have a very active social life, so I never got the hint that I wasn’t someone Athena would choose to hang out with. I was just a friend of convenience at school.

I was very jealous when she had her first boyfriend, but I assumed it was because I had never dated anyone. I spent hours at home thinking about all the reasons why they should not be dating. I went so deep down that rabbit hole that I would completely neglect more critical thoughts. When they broke up, I might have been a little too eager with that information. Athena only said something to me directly in senior year, when she basically asked me to chill and promised that I was one of her best friends. I blew off the handle, and insisted that I should’ve been her very top best friend. I wanted to be her one and only favorite friend in the whole world. I wanted her to put as much thought into wanting to be around me as I did with her. I was convinced that this was reasonable. I now know that I was basically a stalker who was in love with her. I had a notebook where I took notes on her family stories, and I watched her Snapchat stories with dedication, seeing all the times she hung out with our mutual friends without me.

Am I sounding creepy yet? Yeah, in hindsight, I was very much in that realm. I was so stuck on the idea that I could only be friends with females, so I wanted to be Athena’s most special friend. It didn’t even occur to me that I wanted a romantic relationship. Let me clear up one thing: I wasn’t lusting after her. This didn’t have anything to do with sexual attraction. I am and have always been on the asexual spectrum, so I have never really thought about wanting people that way.

“Help me, it’s like the walls are caving in

Sometimes I feel like giving up

But I just can't

It isn't in my blood”

“In My Blood,” Shawn Mendes, Shawn Mendes

I had no idea what was attracting me to her with such ferocity. I was desperate for her love.

“I'm desperate to forget you, the desperate things that I do, oh

Get so drunk I don't remember

You and I are not together.”

“Desperate,” Leah Kate, Super Over

(I have never drunk alcohol, but I saw an excuse to represent Leah Kate with some, and I will never pass that up.)

I will take a moment here to say I take full responsibility for the fallout. Athena set up boundaries, and I tore them to pieces. I was young and ignorant. I didn’t understand healthy relationships and was toxic in how I approached things with her. After she confronted me, that’s when things started to go south. She started avoiding eating at our usual table, wouldn’t let me know where she would be if she got to school early so we could meet, and didn’t make any effort to keep me updated on her life. We became school acquaintances. From that point on until our graduation, she still treated me courteously.

She stopped answering me the moment our graduation ceremony was over. It was as if she blocked me on her phone and in real life. I was invisible. She claimed she was too busy over the summer when I’d see her at mutual friends’ graduation parties. We went to the same university, but she never answered my texts and played oblivious to my presence when we would pass each other on campus. The one time I called her out on it, she said she just didn’t see me. By the time September came, I knew I had lost her. I just didn’t understand why. I blocked her on everything for finality and started the grieving process. I am now keenly aware that I came on way too strong, and stayed that way far longer than she was comfortable with. I was in the wrong, and she had the right to cut me out of her life.

Athena, I know you will recognize your part if you're listening to this. I’m so sorry for how I treated you. It wasn’t fair to put the stress of not understanding my homoromantic feelings onto you. You did the right thing for yourself. I forgive you if you feel any guilt, although you don’t need my forgiveness. I still love you as a person from my childhood, and I am excited for you if I get whiffs of your accomplishments.

I know this was  long, but I promise sharing this story was necessary. The point is to show how the world telling autistic people how they ought to behave can lead to dangerous situations that are taken way too far when the autistic doesn’t understand their emotions. Athena could have been in mortal danger if I had volatile anger issues along with my meltdowns. Thankfully for her, I took my feelings out on myself, as expressed in the last section. This is part of why I advocate for better queer education as well as neurodivergence. Burying your feelings is a very unhealthy way to deal with life. People who are taught to do that have a much higher chance of becoming a danger to those around them. I could use this as a time to argue that we should have better mental health facilities instead of prisons, but that’s a topic for another time.

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Wrap It Up

As with anything I say, it won’t always apply to everyone within the demographic but is drawn from my experience and the experiences of those like me. The unwritten rules of society can be both distressingly confusing and dangerous to autistics. A 2014 study in the Washington Post found that 28% of mass murderers, serial killers, and other dangerous offenders are more than likely autistic. This is not to say that having autism makes you a danger to society any more than having blonde hair and blue eyes makes me a Nazi. I am of German descent, but I am very much not a Nazi sympathizer. Ugh, saying those words makes me feel icky. Okay, back to my point. Correlation does not necessarily mean causation. For those who don’t understand that phrase, it means that just because similar variables are leading up to an event doesn’t mean that those variables are responsible for the event. My favorite example is that the crime rate in most cities is higher when ice cream is more popular. Ice cream doesn’t cause crime. It just happens to be popular in the summer, statistically, when crime is highest.

The reason that I am bringing up the statistic comparing criminals to autistics is because of the circumstances that lead to their lives turning out that way. Having mental healthcare readily available and destigmatized is the biggest thing we can do to prevent violence in our country. I’m not saying we could eradicate violence as a whole–I’m not that confident in humanity–but I definitely think that we could solve problems within society that lead some people to have that change in thinking. I never had irrational moments that led to violence, but I did have massive meltdowns with lots of screaming and self-harm. That scared a lot of my peers, and might have even scarred them. Because I was undiagnosed with all my special brain quirks, I didn’t know how to take care of myself properly so I reacted inappropriately. I was lucky that I didn’t go too far. Some autistic people aren’t. They go to jail for violent outbursts or traumatize their children, and seem like absolutely terrible people to the outside world, just because they weren’t given the necessary coping mechanisms to live a safe and happy life.

Let’s give a simulated round of applause to Shawn Mendes and Leah Kate. 

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If you haven’t listened to their music, I highly suggest you check them out. The songs I sampled were “In My Blood” by Shawn Mendes and “Desperate” by Leah Kate. My favorite songs currently from them, respectively, are “Happy” by Leah Kate and “I Know What You Did Last Summer” by Shawn Mendes and Camilla Cabello. These songs are the ones that start playing in the back of my busy brain while I’m writing. I look up the exact lyric I’m thinking of to make sure I remember it correctly, and if it fits the topic well enough, I will add it. If anyone has any connections to the amazingly beautiful and talented artists, please hit me up. I would absolutely capital L-O-V-E ⸺ love ⸺  to have them on my podcast or just to have them listen to this episode. Ah, even the possibility makes me so excited.

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