Autism.
It’s a word that means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. To some, it’s a disability, to others, it’s a condition, I’ve even met people who call it a superpower. To me, it’s a mixture of all three. In terms of it being a disability, it certainly seems to disabalise my ability to register sensory stimuli. In terms of it being a condition, it conditions me to avoid social situations in order to avoid negative experiences. In terms of it being a superpower, whilst I’m no Albert Einstein, writing formula after formula up on a ridiculously big blackboard, my tendency to passionately throw myself into every special interest I develop has allowed me to gain expertise in fascinating (yet random) areas. I’ve been told a lot of times by a lot of people that my passion is my greatest strength. But whether it’s a disability, a condition, or a superpower, autism is a part of me…a significant part.
But it’s a part that went undiscovered for sixteen years.
Like many females on the autistic spectrum, or ‘aspergirls’, I wasn’t diagnosed with the condition for quite some time. If you’ve looked into the condition before you might have heard or read that it’s more common in men than women…but this is wrong.
Autism isn’t more common in men than women, it just isn’t diagnosed as much in women, and it’s this well-known lie that continues to invalidate and suppress females on the autistic spectrum, leaving many women undiagnosed.
The truth is autism is a very diverse disability/condition/superpower that impacts everyone differently, and women can have a very different experience of the condition compared to men. I was diagnosed when I was 16, and one of the first books I read was ‘Aspergirls’ by Rudy Simone. It was quite possibly the most empowering book I have ever read, and after reading it I felt like I understood myself so much more. Prior to reading it the media had given me a very two-dimensional image of autistic people that confused me, in some ways I identified with the nerdy, closed-off character I’d seen oftentimes on TV and in films, but there were also areas where I couldn’t relate in the slightest, but reading this book helped me to understand what autism could mean to me. If there are any other ‘aspergirls’ reading this, I cannot recommend this book enough.
Many women aren’t diagnosed with autism until later on in life, Simone herself wasn’t diagnosed until her daughter was. Like I’ve already said, I wasn’t diagnosed until was 16. So how did I, a young autistic girl like so many others, go undiagnosed for 16 years?
I don’t have any clear answer to this question, but I do think back to my primary school lunchtimes. All I wanted to do was sit alone, eat, and read my book. When my teachers saw me attempting this however, they would often interrupt my lunchtime and encourage me to go an interact with the other girls, often taking it upon themselves to physically walk me over to a group of girls and ask if they’d let me join in with their games. Whilst their hearts were in the right place, it made it seem like I was some shy outsider who needed a teacher to make friends for her. I wasn’t. I was just an introvert who’d rather read in her breaks, and I did have friends at school, I just didn’t feel a need to spend every second of my day with them. I gained a reputation as a lonely, quiet, sad little girl, and as the people around me started to view me in this way, I started to view myself in this way too. It didn’t help that I was bullied when I was nine years old, it shattered my confidence and my school decided to respond to this by setting up a timetable for who I should play with each day. It was almost dehumanising. Each day it would be somebody else’s turn to look after me and put up with me. I remember one day I tried to hang out with a group of friends for the second day in a row, and one of them said ‘but it’s not our turn to have Anna today’. It was just one person, and one comment, but it made me feel like being my friend was a chore. I convinced myself that nobody could ever like me for me. That was the first time I decided to attempt to change myself. I watched the people around me, I tried to copy their behaviours. It didn’t feel natural, but I kept on trying, and I ended up confusing myself so much that I felt torn between two personalities, I used to cry in the toilets at break and lunch, so unsure of who I was. Sometimes I’d hide under the picnic tables outside during break and lunch, so small that I was invisible to everyone passing, able to avoid the world.
When I was eleven I moved schools for year six. It was a fresh start, with new friends, and new opportunities. It was a small, private school, quite a shift from the large class sizes of my first school. It was so small in fact that everyone knew everyone, it was impossible to hide or get lost in the masses. I remember focusing really hard on trying to seem ‘normal’, and the reaction I got was really positive, I made lots of friends, and my confidence grew. My social skills developed, and the strange, shy, bullied girl seemed to disappear as this funny, creative, girl blossomed. My imagination and bubbly nature outshone my autistic tendencies, and I continued to live life undiagnosed. It wasn’t a terrible time, in fact, I was happy, but there were always things about me that I felt didn’t quite make sense, I just chose to ignore them, I didn’t want to pay attention to what made me stand out, I just wanted to fit in.
My story is not unique, there are hundreds of other aspergirls out their with similar backgrounds to my own. We are the minority within the minority, and we are only now starting to gain a significant voice. But this article isn’t meant to depress, it’s meant to inspire, and to any other aspergirls, and struggling women in general, I want to say this: yes, you have a disability, but you also have a superpower, you are a fierce woman bursting with potential, and you are powerful, provided you know just how powerful you are.
Useful support links:
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National Autistic Society Helpline: 0808 800 4104
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Exeter SID: 0300 555 0444
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Exeter Wellbeing Services: 01392 724381
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Exeter Nightline: 01392 724000
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Samaritans Suicide Helpline: 116 123