# orderedItems[].content
@actuallyautistic

For all those who might be interested. I thought I might share some of the things I learnt whilst realising I was autistic. These may, or may not, apply to you, but I hope someone finds something helpful.

I started upon the path of realising I was autistic by taking one of the tests. But a single test is only indicative. Taking a number of the tests and repeating the results, becomes, of course, ever more indicative. But, in a sense, it is still not proof. Sooner, or later, you have to do the work and look into it properly. The best sources of information are your fellow autistic's and there are numerous excellent books and websites, YouTubers and places like this, where such information can be found.

But, one thing you must always bear in mind, is that there is no such thing as a one size fits all, autism. We are all different from each other, even more so than non-autistics (allistics) tend to be. Think of it like a pick and mix bar. All the various traits and the manifestations of those traits and we all come away from that bar with our own individual bag of goodies. So it's OK to not see yourself in how others describe themselves. It's OK not to experience the difficulties that others might, or even the way that they may see some things as strengths or positives, when to you, they are not. This is normal.

It's also important to bear in mind that we can often not see traits within ourselves, not at first anyway. Sometimes it's because we see them as normal. Perhaps, we've picked them up from parents, or siblings, without realising that they may have been just as much in the dark about being autistic as you were. Sometimes it's because we've become too adept at not seeing them, at masking our own awareness of them from ourselves. It can also be that we don't think we have them, because we're not affected by them. This can often be because, without realising it, we've either carefully arranged our lives not to be, or have gone to great lengths to create the necessary accommodations that enable us to deal with them and just think of those processes as a normal part of our lives now, without taking the step back and thinking about why they are.

The fact that we all can be so different from one another, is also why we sometimes struggle to see ourselves in the official criteria for autism as outlined in the diagnostic manuals. The thing to remember about these, is that they are almost entirely the product of allistics looking in, rather than the experiences of actual autistics. They can also seem too deficit based and you might struggle to see yourselves fitting them because of that. Mostly because as adults we've spent a long time learning how to cope with the problems and also how to avoid them. But, the thing to remember about this, is that an official diagnosis is far more to do with determining how badly you might be affected by being autistic, than it is about whether you are autistic. And, unfortunately, the less experienced an assessor is in dealing with adults, the more this is likely to be the case.

For this reason and many others, self-diagnosis is considered as acceptable as an official-diagnosis to the vast majority of autistics. And, I suppose, this is the final point I want to make. It's easy to fall into the trap of thinking that this is something that has to be dealt with by the medical community. That it's something that should be diagnosed by a doctor and this is the appropriate route to follow. That only professionals can help you and that they will be the source of any information and guidance you need. Because, after all, for so much else it would be the route and I'm not saying it's not. For many reasons, getting an official diagnosis is often the right path for someone to follow. What I'm saying is that after doing the work, after taking the time to learn and process it all and having come to the point of accepting and realising that you are autistic, that perhaps taking the next step of trying to get an official diagnosis, is no longer required, or needed.

#Autism
#ActuallyAutistic

# orderedItems[].contentMap.en
@actuallyautistic

For all those who might be interested. I thought I might share some of the things I learnt whilst realising I was autistic. These may, or may not, apply to you, but I hope someone finds something helpful.

I started upon the path of realising I was autistic by taking one of the tests. But a single test is only indicative. Taking a number of the tests and repeating the results, becomes, of course, ever more indicative. But, in a sense, it is still not proof. Sooner, or later, you have to do the work and look into it properly. The best sources of information are your fellow autistic's and there are numerous excellent books and websites, YouTubers and places like this, where such information can be found.

But, one thing you must always bear in mind, is that there is no such thing as a one size fits all, autism. We are all different from each other, even more so than non-autistics (allistics) tend to be. Think of it like a pick and mix bar. All the various traits and the manifestations of those traits and we all come away from that bar with our own individual bag of goodies. So it's OK to not see yourself in how others describe themselves. It's OK not to experience the difficulties that others might, or even the way that they may see some things as strengths or positives, when to you, they are not. This is normal.

It's also important to bear in mind that we can often not see traits within ourselves, not at first anyway. Sometimes it's because we see them as normal. Perhaps, we've picked them up from parents, or siblings, without realising that they may have been just as much in the dark about being autistic as you were. Sometimes it's because we've become too adept at not seeing them, at masking our own awareness of them from ourselves. It can also be that we don't think we have them, because we're not affected by them. This can often be because, without realising it, we've either carefully arranged our lives not to be, or have gone to great lengths to create the necessary accommodations that enable us to deal with them and just think of those processes as a normal part of our lives now, without taking the step back and thinking about why they are.

The fact that we all can be so different from one another, is also why we sometimes struggle to see ourselves in the official criteria for autism as outlined in the diagnostic manuals. The thing to remember about these, is that they are almost entirely the product of allistics looking in, rather than the experiences of actual autistics. They can also seem too deficit based and you might struggle to see yourselves fitting them because of that. Mostly because as adults we've spent a long time learning how to cope with the problems and also how to avoid them. But, the thing to remember about this, is that an official diagnosis is far more to do with determining how badly you might be affected by being autistic, than it is about whether you are autistic. And, unfortunately, the less experienced an assessor is in dealing with adults, the more this is likely to be the case.

For this reason and many others, self-diagnosis is considered as acceptable as an official-diagnosis to the vast majority of autistics. And, I suppose, this is the final point I want to make. It's easy to fall into the trap of thinking that this is something that has to be dealt with by the medical community. That it's something that should be diagnosed by a doctor and this is the appropriate route to follow. That only professionals can help you and that they will be the source of any information and guidance you need. Because, after all, for so much else it would be the route and I'm not saying it's not. For many reasons, getting an official diagnosis is often the right path for someone to follow. What I'm saying is that after doing the work, after taking the time to learn and process it all and having come to the point of accepting and realising that you are autistic, that perhaps taking the next step of trying to get an official diagnosis, is no longer required, or needed.

#Autism
#ActuallyAutistic

# orderedItems[].content
A new instance and a new introduction.

I joined Mastodon in Nov. 2022. I was not of the twitter wave. This was in fact my first ever social media site I ever joined and still the only one that I'm on. It was simply a step on my autism awareness journey and a reaching out to others like me. I cannot express how much I've learnt and grown as a consequence and how much I value this place and all those I have met within it.

For the purpose of clarity and should anyone want to know. I am self-diagnosed and quite content to remain that way. I also hate the term self-diagnosed and much prefer self-realised. For this is a far more accurate and precise way of describing the process of discovery that I went through. Because no one wakes up one morning and just decides that they are autistic. It takes months, or even years in my case, to be able to convince ourselves, often against our own desires and judgement, that we are.

Diagnosis also implies that this is a medical condition and that what I am doing by self-diagnosing is essentially playing doctor, when only an official diagnosis can reveal that truth. Just like it does with most things medical. But autism, at its core, is a neurological difference not a disorder (although some of the things that can come with it most certainly are) and whilst at the moment it is diagnosable, so was being a homosexual once.

Because the harsh truth is that anything that is different from, will almost always be recognised only as a deviation from and a fault with, until it is properly understood and in my own small way, this is what I'm trying to do and to help others to do.

#Autism
#ActuallyAutistic

# orderedItems[].contentMap.en
A new instance and a new introduction.

I joined Mastodon in Nov. 2022. I was not of the twitter wave. This was in fact my first ever social media site I ever joined and still the only one that I'm on. It was simply a step on my autism awareness journey and a reaching out to others like me. I cannot express how much I've learnt and grown as a consequence and how much I value this place and all those I have met within it.

For the purpose of clarity and should anyone want to know. I am self-diagnosed and quite content to remain that way. I also hate the term self-diagnosed and much prefer self-realised. For this is a far more accurate and precise way of describing the process of discovery that I went through. Because no one wakes up one morning and just decides that they are autistic. It takes months, or even years in my case, to be able to convince ourselves, often against our own desires and judgement, that we are.

Diagnosis also implies that this is a medical condition and that what I am doing by self-diagnosing is essentially playing doctor, when only an official diagnosis can reveal that truth. Just like it does with most things medical. But autism, at its core, is a neurological difference not a disorder (although some of the things that can come with it most certainly are) and whilst at the moment it is diagnosable, so was being a homosexual once.

Because the harsh truth is that anything that is different from, will almost always be recognised only as a deviation from and a fault with, until it is properly understood and in my own small way, this is what I'm trying to do and to help others to do.

#Autism
#ActuallyAutistic

# orderedItems[].content
This has been said before, by many people, and far better than I will. But it bears repeating, probably as often as it can be.

Autism is a neurological difference. We think and process differently. We just don't work in the same ways as others. Most of us, growing up, are more than aware of this. But not necessarily why, or to what degree. We just recognise that we are different. But, this isn't exactly something that can be discussed. Often the feeling is nebulous at best, other times it can feel embarrassing and far too personal. But in any case, trying to talk about things like this, especially as children, is never going to be a particularly safe or wise choice.

So instead, we bury the feelings deeply and try to get on with life as best we can. This is normally done through learning to mask and in avoiding as much as possible those situations where our difference is made most noticeable. In fact, many of us get so good at this that we can wander for years, or even decades, through life without ever reaching the understanding that we are autistic.

But when we do reach this stage, it involves a process of coming to terms with it and understanding what it means. It requires months, often years, of research to come to terms with and to overcome the false stereotypes and ableism that many of us carry. This is what is called self-diagnosis and sometimes it is as far as we go. For many of us it is enough, or we have reached a point in our lives where getting an official diagnosis is not worth it. Or even possible. Many systems, whether on purpose or not, make it all but impossible for people over a certain age, or people of colour, or female presenting, to be able to get officially diagnosed. Or it is simply too prohibitively expensive to even try.

It is for this reason that the vast majority of autistic spaces welcome all those who think they are actually autistic, even those that are only just beginning to explore the notion, the self-diagnosed and the officially diagnosed. Because this is all the actually means, that we think we are autistic, as opposed to those who aren't, but who still want to speak on behalf of or about autism. It is also why the actuallyautistic hashtag and @actuallyautistic group are open to us all too, not to divide autistics into those diagnosed and those not. Because that is simply a distinction over the route to the knowledge, not the knowledge itself.

#Autism
#ActuallyAutistic

# orderedItems[].contentMap.en
This has been said before, by many people, and far better than I will. But it bears repeating, probably as often as it can be.

Autism is a neurological difference. We think and process differently. We just don't work in the same ways as others. Most of us, growing up, are more than aware of this. But not necessarily why, or to what degree. We just recognise that we are different. But, this isn't exactly something that can be discussed. Often the feeling is nebulous at best, other times it can feel embarrassing and far too personal. But in any case, trying to talk about things like this, especially as children, is never going to be a particularly safe or wise choice.

So instead, we bury the feelings deeply and try to get on with life as best we can. This is normally done through learning to mask and in avoiding as much as possible those situations where our difference is made most noticeable. In fact, many of us get so good at this that we can wander for years, or even decades, through life without ever reaching the understanding that we are autistic.

But when we do reach this stage, it involves a process of coming to terms with it and understanding what it means. It requires months, often years, of research to come to terms with and to overcome the false stereotypes and ableism that many of us carry. This is what is called self-diagnosis and sometimes it is as far as we go. For many of us it is enough, or we have reached a point in our lives where getting an official diagnosis is not worth it. Or even possible. Many systems, whether on purpose or not, make it all but impossible for people over a certain age, or people of colour, or female presenting, to be able to get officially diagnosed. Or it is simply too prohibitively expensive to even try.

It is for this reason that the vast majority of autistic spaces welcome all those who think they are actually autistic, even those that are only just beginning to explore the notion, the self-diagnosed and the officially diagnosed. Because this is all the actually means, that we think we are autistic, as opposed to those who aren't, but who still want to speak on behalf of or about autism. It is also why the actuallyautistic hashtag and @actuallyautistic group are open to us all too, not to divide autistics into those diagnosed and those not. Because that is simply a distinction over the route to the knowledge, not the knowledge itself.

#Autism
#ActuallyAutistic

# orderedItems[].content
@actuallyautistic

I once wrote about how it was not unrealistic, to think that there was no such thing as an un-traumatised autistic. About how so many of us have known bullying and persecution simply for being different. Not even always for what we may have said or done, but often for simply standing out; in all the ways that we didn't even know we were. How just simply being, was so often an excuse to be attacked or punished. That our very existence, even as hard as we tried to mask, whether we knew that was what we were doing or not, was the cause of so much pain.

All the scars we carry from misreading situations. Or from believing in something, or someone, and being burnt as a consequence. All the times we've tried to stand up for ourselves, or as often as not for others, and been dismissed and ridiculed. All the misjudgements and disbelieve and times when our intent and purpose have been seen in the ways that were never, ever, meant. The sheer inability for others to see us as we are, or to judge us accordingly. But, always to seem to want to see the worst and to base everything else on that.

But the more I learn and understand about being autistic. The more I realise that so much of my trauma and the scars that were left, came not just from this overt pain, but from the covert well-meaning of others as well. From my parents and relatives, from friends and teachers. From all the advice and instruction I have received over the years that was meant to shape me in the right way. As a child, to teach me how to grow up, how to behave and act. What was expected and what wasn't. And then, as an adult, how I was supposed to be and how a successful life, with me in it, was supposed to look. All the rules I was supposed to learn, all the codes I was supposed to follow. How to act, how to speak, what to feel, when to feel it. What I was supposed to do and how I was supposed to be.

Not in any unusual way. Not in any way that you weren't supposed to raise a child, well a normal child anyway. That's what makes this so covert. If you were trying to do this to a child knowing that they were autistic, then it's overt abuse. It is ABA, it is infantilising and punishing a child for always failing to become something, that they had no more chance of becoming than a cat has of becoming a dog. But for those of us who didn't know we were autistic. It was simply the constant hammering of the world trying, without even realising it, to fit a round peg into a square hole and all the pain and disappointment that came from their failure to come even close.

For me, what made this worse, was that it wasn't as if I didn't know that I was different, not in my heart, but that I thought that I shouldn't be. That I should be able to learn what I was being taught, that I should be able to follow the guidance. That I wasn't any different really from anyone else and so if I failed to act in the right way, or react the way I should, for that matter, then it was my fault. All the patient sighs and familiar looks, simply became just another reinforcement of my failure. Even being told off for the simplest things, became a reminder that something that I should have been able to do, was beyond me and always for the only reason that ever made any sense; that I was broken, that it was my fault somehow.

Is it any wonder that so much of my life has been about trying to justify myself in the light of this, of trying to become that "good dog". Of judging myself against an impossible standard. A constant lurching from one bad to choice to another, and always because I thought they were the right ones. And for each new failure and inability to even come close, another scar, another reminder of what I wasn't. Further proof that my self-esteem was right to be so low. Of how I was such a failure and a bad person. That I was never going to be a proper son or brother or friend. Because I couldn't even be what I was supposed to be, let alone what I should become.

Looking back, I can't help thinking about how much of my life I spent living this way; of trying not to repeat the sins of my past. Of not repeating the actions or behaviour that led to those past failures and trauma. Of, in fact, all the effort I put in to not being myself. Because that, I realise now, was what I was trying to do. I was that round peg and trying to hammer myself into the square hole. Because everything I had learnt had taught me to think that this was how I had to be. That this was how you grew. And in so many ways, I can't help feeling angry about this. About the wasted years, about the scars I carry that were never my fault. About the way I was brought up, even though none of it was ever meant, but only ever well-meant.

#Autism
#Actuallyautistic

# orderedItems[].contentMap.en
@actuallyautistic

I once wrote about how it was not unrealistic, to think that there was no such thing as an un-traumatised autistic. About how so many of us have known bullying and persecution simply for being different. Not even always for what we may have said or done, but often for simply standing out; in all the ways that we didn't even know we were. How just simply being, was so often an excuse to be attacked or punished. That our very existence, even as hard as we tried to mask, whether we knew that was what we were doing or not, was the cause of so much pain.

All the scars we carry from misreading situations. Or from believing in something, or someone, and being burnt as a consequence. All the times we've tried to stand up for ourselves, or as often as not for others, and been dismissed and ridiculed. All the misjudgements and disbelieve and times when our intent and purpose have been seen in the ways that were never, ever, meant. The sheer inability for others to see us as we are, or to judge us accordingly. But, always to seem to want to see the worst and to base everything else on that.

But the more I learn and understand about being autistic. The more I realise that so much of my trauma and the scars that were left, came not just from this overt pain, but from the covert well-meaning of others as well. From my parents and relatives, from friends and teachers. From all the advice and instruction I have received over the years that was meant to shape me in the right way. As a child, to teach me how to grow up, how to behave and act. What was expected and what wasn't. And then, as an adult, how I was supposed to be and how a successful life, with me in it, was supposed to look. All the rules I was supposed to learn, all the codes I was supposed to follow. How to act, how to speak, what to feel, when to feel it. What I was supposed to do and how I was supposed to be.

Not in any unusual way. Not in any way that you weren't supposed to raise a child, well a normal child anyway. That's what makes this so covert. If you were trying to do this to a child knowing that they were autistic, then it's overt abuse. It is ABA, it is infantilising and punishing a child for always failing to become something, that they had no more chance of becoming than a cat has of becoming a dog. But for those of us who didn't know we were autistic. It was simply the constant hammering of the world trying, without even realising it, to fit a round peg into a square hole and all the pain and disappointment that came from their failure to come even close.

For me, what made this worse, was that it wasn't as if I didn't know that I was different, not in my heart, but that I thought that I shouldn't be. That I should be able to learn what I was being taught, that I should be able to follow the guidance. That I wasn't any different really from anyone else and so if I failed to act in the right way, or react the way I should, for that matter, then it was my fault. All the patient sighs and familiar looks, simply became just another reinforcement of my failure. Even being told off for the simplest things, became a reminder that something that I should have been able to do, was beyond me and always for the only reason that ever made any sense; that I was broken, that it was my fault somehow.

Is it any wonder that so much of my life has been about trying to justify myself in the light of this, of trying to become that "good dog". Of judging myself against an impossible standard. A constant lurching from one bad to choice to another, and always because I thought they were the right ones. And for each new failure and inability to even come close, another scar, another reminder of what I wasn't. Further proof that my self-esteem was right to be so low. Of how I was such a failure and a bad person. That I was never going to be a proper son or brother or friend. Because I couldn't even be what I was supposed to be, let alone what I should become.

Looking back, I can't help thinking about how much of my life I spent living this way; of trying not to repeat the sins of my past. Of not repeating the actions or behaviour that led to those past failures and trauma. Of, in fact, all the effort I put in to not being myself. Because that, I realise now, was what I was trying to do. I was that round peg and trying to hammer myself into the square hole. Because everything I had learnt had taught me to think that this was how I had to be. That this was how you grew. And in so many ways, I can't help feeling angry about this. About the wasted years, about the scars I carry that were never my fault. About the way I was brought up, even though none of it was ever meant, but only ever well-meant.

#Autism
#Actuallyautistic