No Paths Are Bound: Demystifying Autism and Finding the Real Me
by Brittany Lowery
How could I possibly be autistic?
In most media portrayal, the stereotypical person with autism is a genius white cis-male involved in a STEM field. I’m cis-female, East Asian, and I suffered with Ds in all my college STEM classes, also failing chemistry. I’m a creative writing major which is supposed to be an autistic person’s worst enemy, right? We’re not supposed to be good with language and creativity. We’re supposed to be too logic based. In addition, I didn’t have troubles with talking to people or trying to make friends (keyword is trying) when I was a small child. In short, I didn’t conform to the stereotypes that Hollywood portrayed with autism. Of course, people like those exist, but if someone doesn’t match that stereotype, autism isn’t considered a possibility by the general public or even medical professionals.
Alright, so where does this leave me?
My autism was undiagnosed for twenty-three years.
I mean, I was certainly the “weird kid.” I used to imitate stuff from video games, television shows, using them as a basis for how I was supposed to interact with the world. My interests weren’t stereotypically feminine, enjoying “boy” stuff. I blew kisses at the boy I liked in kindergarten, reenacted a scene from Mighty Joe Young in the school lobby, and I loved hugging people. My teachers shut that down quickly, saying it wasn’t appropriate.
I didn’t understand social boundaries well still. As a result, a rumor spread about me in fifth grade because I touched a girl on the shoulder when she hung upside down from the monkey bars. She later told everyone I touched her breast. Cue me getting called a “sick freak” by other kids in my grade.
I was trying to imitate what I’d seen in media. In media, I always saw people touch each other casually on the shoulder or arm to indicate friendliness. I also heard many terrible one-liners, and I unfortunately imitated this style of talking too.
For example, in sixth grade, one of the popular girls sat at the same table at me, and awkwardly, I tried to sound cool by saying, “Where did you just come from? Thin air?” She proceeded to give me a snobby remark, and later on, I learned she privately called me the R-word to other popular girls. I acted tough, pretending it didn’t bother me, but of course it bothered me at the back of my mind. Still, I never figured my weirdness was because something was “wrong” with me.
I relayed all these anecdotes to the therapist, and when I was retelling them, I couldn’t help but wonder, “How did nobody notice anything?”
Wasn’t it clear I wasn’t neurotypical? That I was developing differently?
“To be honest, sometimes it’s hard to view my autism as something that isn’t me being broken. ”
To be honest, sometimes it’s hard to view my autism as something that isn’t me being broken. It’s gotten better, but there are times where I wonder wistfully, “Ah, it’d be great to be neurotypical.” It would have saved me from a lot of pain. Still, there are times I’m thankful for it. If it’s something I enjoy, I have no problem being productive. I’ve binged so many novels since summer 2020, constantly absorbed in reading something. The only downside is that I easily forget other things, missing appointments, assignments, etc.
Then there’s the case of my hobby/side career as an author.
So, those that know about autism will know that those with it tend to have something called “special interests.” For my STEM friend, his is definitely anything related to technology. For me, it’s anything to do with writing and storytelling. Special interests come and go, but this one has been mine on and off since I was a child. Only recently did it come back in full force, and it hasn’t gone away again. It’s something I can do without ever getting sick of it. Because of it, I’ve made countless stories, scrapped many of them, started over, repeated the process until I finally wrote a full novella in two weeks. After a month of editing, I published it. Even though I just finished, I started another one. This one I started in November and just finished this March. While writing that one, I wrote a smaller novella in a month. Productivity was through the roof until I finally burnt out and took a break. After two weeks, I was fine again, and I started again. It’s a never ending process that I seem to continuously be able to do.
However, me being an author and avid reader isn’t due to my autism. I probably would’ve still turned out enjoying both, but it would’ve been a different experience. Of course, I have no idea how it would’ve been different. Autistic or not, every individual is unique. Still, I’m sure my autism contributed to my creative growth. Without it, I don’t believe I would’ve been as driven to write and read as much. Considering how I have a hard time focusing on anything I’m not interested in, I feel like all my focus is poured into what I love instead.
It’s enabled me to do more than I ever imagined possible. Since I was little, a life goal of mine was to write a single novel – just one! I’ve not only written it; I’ve published it! Then, I wrote more. Regarding what I love most, paths are boundless, and the satisfaction is immeasurable.