I don’t have autism; I am autistic.
I was diagnosed at the tail end of last year, and the diagnosis went a long way to explain some of the challenges and barriers I have faced both as a child and now as an adult. The purpose of this short blog is to explain some of them. I am writing this blog to get some of this off my chest, so it is not all stuck whirling around in my head, but also to enlighten people who may or may not be neuro-divergent as a way of explaining what autism is like.
It is important to stress that, for me, autism is not just a label or a diagnosis. It colours my world, shapes my experiences and defines many interactions. As it stands, a few people know that I am autistic, so sharing this with a broader audience, especially a professional audience, is both empowering and daunting. That being said, I have come to terms with it, and I need to be entirely transparent to live a fulfilling life.
Living with autism is often characterised by disinhibited behaviours, and whilst they are frequently misunderstood, they shape my daily life and my professional environment. I might frequently blurt out the first thing that comes into my head without much thought, which may lead to awkward silences or puzzled looks from those around me. I particularly struggle to understand boundaries, especially with those people who are more senior to me. This is normally not so much an issue but something I am continuously thinking about. With this, being put on the spot to make an instant decision or undergoing a job interview where I do not see the questions beforehand is particularly difficult and means that I do not perform as I know I can.
Social interactions can be challenging for me, especially with people I don’t know. I regularly zone out of conversations, missing cues and context, which leads to frequent misunderstandings. I am unlikely to engage with people I don’t know because I feel like I don’t need any more friends – it’s a struggle keeping up with my small circle of friends already. My honesty, whilst well-intentioned, can come across as inappropriate or rude, and I find it very difficult to console people who are going through a tough time. My brain freezes, and I don’t know how to react or respond.
Everyday moments, moments that neurotypical people might navigate with ease, can become very stressful. I don’t like wearing ties or belts because I find them too constricting. I find rooms that are dimly lit or indeed too bright difficult to be in, and loud noises significantly overstimulate me. Interestingly, the morning commute is manageable. Even though it is busy, everyone is silent, so there is no fear of sensory overstimulation. When it becomes too loud, or when there is a mixture of different sounds (like in a bustling pub, for example), I put in my special earplugs, which are great at blocking out the sounds.
Daily living can be a real struggle for me, too. Keeping on top of all of my tasks like self care, making my bed, tidying and cleaning my flat, keeping on top of bills, socialising with friends regularly and demands from work often feel insurmountable. I am a meticulous planner and plan my day down to the minute to give myself a sense of control, but when that is disrupted (especially at the last minute), it can ruin the entire day for me and it is difficult to get back on track.
As I wrote in my blog post, I am a massive foodie but can be very picky about my foods. Textures are important to me – I love food with a crunch and hate foods that are particularly soft or creamy in texture. For example, gravy on mashed potato is an absolute no-go for me. I drastically avoid eating with my hands (so no burgers) unless it is like chips. However, I like to try new things and force myself to go to new restaurants and push myself out of my comfort zone.
As with most autistic people, I have extreme passions and interests – mine is history. I love reading history, teaching history and writing history. In the last fortnight alone, I have written 25,000 words of narrative non-fiction, and it’s not terrible, which is a good sign. With my autism, I can be very impulsive and jump between extreme passions very quickly, which can lead to burnout. I want to learn everything about a particular topic speedily and become incredibly frustrated when I realise that isn’t possible. In the past, I have set up companies to protect my future ideas.
In the workplace, all of this can be very challenging. Team meetings can be overwhelming, especially when more than one person talks at a time. I often struggle to know when to speak and respond appropriately and professionally.
Despite all this, I don’t wish to be neurotypical. It grants me unique strengths which enhance my personal and professional life. My deep love for history allows me to delve into research and find unique perspectives and angles that others may miss. My meticulous attention to detail ensures thoroughness and accuracy in my work, making me a valuable asset. My straightforwardness fosters transparency and trust in relationships. People know they can rely on me to be honest and sincere. Being autistic gives me a unique perspective on problems, allowing me to think outside the box and sometimes offer innovative solutions. My deep focus will enable me to be immersed in the problem that I am facing and achieve outcomes that others may or may not be able to achieve.
Many people may not know that I am autistic because I have had my whole life to mask it. Masking is the process of hiding my autistic traits to fit in socially. These are learned behaviours that do not come naturally to me – for example, prolonged eye contact. Masking can, however, be exhausting, and it is common for someone with autism to experience meltdowns or go into overdrive after a long period of masking. Another coping mechanism that I employ is ‘stimming’, which is a repetitive physical movement to help calm me down in a certain situation. This is very common for autistic people but I may shake my hands, or rock my body back and forth
So why write this blog? I think it is important to raise awareness of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) because greater understanding and acceptance can reduce the need for masking and allow autistic individuals to be their authentic selves without fear of judgment.
Thank you for reading my story.
Matthew Martin 
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