Growing up
I was raised as a neurotypical. Growing up I had no diagnoses or “signs” of any condition. I was very bright, quiet, respectful, obedient, and responsible. A model student and daughter. Teachers constantly praised my good behavior and my parents would always talk about what a good girl I was. I learned quickly, had good grades and had the discipline of doing my homework alone.
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People had high expectations of me as a “gifted child”. My parents and teachers thought I’d “get far” in life — that I could achieve anything.
Admittedly, school was easy for me because I love learning. I was the type of student that doesn’t have to even study. Just listening in class and I could remember the most important aspects of what was taught. Which is what came in the test anyway. And, while I hate routines, we know they can be very useful and even necessary when being autistic. Thus, the school routine and structure proved to be quintessential in my development.
When I was admitted to the top engineering university in my country, to study chemical engineering, it seemed like I was made for life. That only helped in cementing the idea that I was going to have a magnificent career and become rich. And since those are the only important aspects of life in western society, that was the only things people encouraged me on or talked to me about. After all, at the time, one of the richest persons alive was a chemical engineer, as my father constantly reminded me. Obviously I was going to follow in this man’s footsteps.
However changing from high school to uni was a huge change. Especially moving to a different city and knowing no one. I felt even lonelier than ever. I went into a deep depression and even had to drop out of school. After a hiatus year, I ended up changing schools and changed my major to Linguistics and Communication Studies.
Struggles with mental health
Through all of this, I was never happy. Since a young age (before teenage years) I was struggling with anxiety and depression, feelings of loneliness and inadequacy. I couldn’t make friends. I didn’t even see my school or college friends outside of school growing up. I never had a boyfriend or dated anyone. I would cry myself to sleep every night, then put a brave face in the morning.
As you see, I was a normal girl with anxiety and depression. Oh and also a picky eater who bites her nails and has trouble sleeping and making friends. But yes, totally normal. Everybody goes through this in their teens.
That’s why no one ever thought I might be anything different, or like there was something “wrong” with me. I was just so “normal”. A normal person with anxiety. None of my behaviors was cause for alarm, no teacher requested I be evaluated. Despite all my struggles and my crippling depression I was “doing so well” that no one thought to get me help.
Yet I always felt like there was something wrong with me. Like I didn’t fit in. Like life for me was ten times harder than for my friends. And I didn’t understand why. I was always tired. Always sleeping late because I couldn’t get to sleep early. Always alone. I chalked it up to being lazy. I just needed to work harder and put in a lot more effort.
The TV series that changed my life
One day, I was looking for a musical tv series. I just love musicals and needed something light to watch. I don’t remember exactly how I found out about Crazy Ex girlfriend, but I decided to give it a try. The name might fool you, and it does start as a romantic comedy, but it becomes so much more than that. Rebecca Bunch decides to leave her $500k NYC partnership at a prestigious law firm behind to follow an ex-boyfriend, Josh, to the other side of the country. Even though it is not easy to define the word, we certainly know that Rebecca fits the description of “crazy”. Hence the Crazy in the title. No sane person would do what she does. But, she is the sweetest, kindest person. So, when she stalks Josh and manipulates the people around them to make it seem like she just wants to be friends, it’s all forgiven. It was all for love after all.
And I felt just like her. I haven’t followed a man across my country, but I felt her loneliness, her sadness and shared her feelings of inadequacy. I know the desperation that would make you take a decision like hers. That if I had that one person to love me and accept me for who I am, then everything would be ok. Mainly, I felt validated by her feelings, more than her actions.
The series however slowly morphs into a dark comedy with an in depth look at the effects of trauma and how mental health presents in women, and how these women are perceived by society.
I won’t spoil what happens, but later on in the series, she gets a new diagnosis (she already had one) and that’s when my life dropped. “Wait, this behavior isn’t normal/healthy? Does she act this way because she has a condition? Do I have a condition?”
Social Media
I started doubting my every behavior and my every belief about myself. I started searching online for answers. Did I have the Rebecca Bunch condition? Ironically, I found my answers on Tik Tok. There is a vibrant autistic community in Tik Tok. People expressing their struggles and lifestyle. And I was moved by the stories of autistic girls and afabs. I realized I had finally found home. I had every symptom. I had to be autistic; there was just no other way.
I was a textbook autistic woman. Or so I felt. But, would the psychologists and other doctors agree? What if I went through all that trouble and spend all that money and all I got was a “you’re just lazy” response.
Getting Diagnosed
After much debating, I took out an appointment and went through the process of getting diagnosed. It was a very interesting process. I learned a lot about myself. I also noticed how strong my masking was. During the interview part I had to keep reminding myself to be myself. In everyday life I kept trying to be “normal’, to engage, to smile and seem proactive. Of course that was all a sham. Yet when I was forcibly dropping the mask I felt like the sham. Like maybe dropping the mask meant I was “faking it” to get a diagnosis that I didn’t deserve.
Finally, after all this, I got my Autism 1 diagnosis at 33 years of age. It changed my life forever. I was finally free. Free of people’s expectations of me. Free of societal pressures of what a woman needs to be or how they should act. Free from the overbearing feeling that I was lazy and wasn’t doing much or I didn’t care enough.
Getting a diagnosis (whether by a professional or a self-diagnosis), knowing who you are and what limitations you might have are the first steps in accepting yourself and loving who you are.
If this story resonates with you, feel free to check out my post You think you might be autistic? where I explain the official diagnostic criteria for ASD found in the DSM-5.
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