Living, masking, and finally being seen, my journey with autism.
Childhood & Early School Years
There’s something that literally rules my life, something that never leaves me, something that frustrates me 24/7 and, on occasions, makes me feel unheard and invisible. It’s also something I rarely talk about. What am I talking about? Autism.
All my life I have known there was something different about me. I just didn’t do what other children did. I was born in the 70s and back then autism was unheard of, especially where I lived. My dad served in the British Army and we lived in Germany, where I spent 27 years of my life, and loved every minute. But as a child, I was seen simply as the quiet one who didn’t play with others. I liked being by myself.
Sometimes I laughed loudly, but not with others, just on my own. It often happened when teachers put me on the spot or made me work in groups. That laughing was my way of being heard. When I expressed verbally that I was unhappy or struggling, no one listened. But loud laughter got me noticed. It usually meant I was sent out of class to the quiet room, where extra reading sessions took place. That suited me perfectly: it was calm, quiet, and I could settle.
Looking back, no one tried to understand me. I was left to my own devices throughout school. I hated it. I loved drawing and art, working with my hands, but no one wanted to hear that. School became a place where I had no voice, was forced into things that made me uncomfortable, and so I resented every minute. It wasn’t until later in life that I realised how much of my schooling I had lost.
Struggles in Adulthood
Employment was difficult. I found things harder to pick up, so I learned to survive by following others, copying, mimicking, and masking to fit in. I laughed when others laughed, even though I didn’t really understand humour or sarcasm. Mimicking became my secret weapon, and it served me well for years.
But beneath the surface, I was often overwhelmed, tearful, and shouting out of sheer frustration. I felt so alone, like I was speaking another language no one understood. I found it especially hard to see people breaking rules or doing things I saw as wrong, because I couldn’t understand why others did what I would never do. My family always said they knew I was different but brushed it off as just being “me.” It didn’t help.
To self-regulate, I turned to noise: shouting and slamming doors. The vibrations and the bang grounded me, pulling me back to earth when my emotions took me sky-high.
The Road to Diagnosis
It wasn’t until my late 40s, when I went to university, that tutors repeatedly suggested I should be tested for autism. I’d heard of autism, of course, but never in the context of myself. I started reading about it, and slowly the pieces began to fit. Maybe this was the answer I had been searching for all my life?
The road to diagnosis was long, with multiple visits to a psychologist. Early on, they told me they already knew I was autistic, but they had to go deeper to make it official. When I finally received my diagnosis, I cried. Not from sadness, but from relief. For the first time, someone had listened. Someone saw me, recognised I was different, and gave it a name: autism.
Finding a Mentor & Self-Discovery
To be honest, the diagnosis hasn’t really helped me much. If anything, it’s been confusing. Yes, I finally have the answer to why I am the way I am, but now I’ve been left to live with it, with no guidance or support. That is until I found the most amazing mentor who has opened my eyes to understanding myself and autism.
It’s taken over five years of mentor support so far to let me see the real me. I masked a lot, and it wore me out. These days, I don’t mask at all, I am me. Sometimes, I don’t like me, as I can’t deal with everyday situations. Having facial blindness puts me at a disadvantage when it comes to reading people’s faces. I don’t understand any facial expressions apart from happy and sad. Daily living is a challenge. But thanks to my mentor, I’m slowly learning that being me is enough. I don’t have to copy, pretend, or hide anymore.
Thriving at University
And although I disliked school, university was a completely different experience. I thrived there because I wanted to be there. It felt like I was finally catching up from all the younger school years where I had been so lost. I soaked up learning like a sponge. The structure, the routine, and the deadlines gave me focus, and university gave me the tools to begin understanding myself. For the first time, I truly enjoyed learning.
Reflections & Hope
So here I am, autism is part of me. It rules my life in ways I can’t escape, but it also explains so much of who I am. This is only a glimpse of my life, but enough to see how autism runs through it. Maybe that’s why I rarely talk about it, because for so long no one listened. But here, with these words, I can be heard. Autism is not all of me, but it’s a big part of me. And if sharing this makes even one person feel less unheard, then it was worth writing. Most of all, I want people to know that with the right support, with someone who believes in you, there is hope. Even after decades of masking and feeling invisible, I am finally starting to see myself, and that feels like a kind of freedom. If you are reading this and recognise parts of your own story, know that you are not alone, and your voice deserves to be heard too.
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