I never knew why, but I knew I didn’t fit in.
Other people seemed to recognize it as well. I struggled throughout my childhood –- trying to make friends and then maintain those friendships proved mostly impossible. I gathered a handful of friends over the years who thankfully liked me for exactly who I was, even if I was a bit of an oddball at times.
I spent my childhood trying to figure out a world that didn’t make sense to me. Everyone seemed to know a secret innate language that I could never quite translate. This left me outside of most social groups, and led to a lot of anxiety and self-hatred. I couldn’t understand what was wrong with me. Why was I rarely invited to birthday parties? Why was everyone else more likable than me? Despite this, I managed to pass as being on the weird side of “normal,” and neither my parents or teachers realized what was going on.
Fast forward to my teenage years, and my coping mechanisms stopped working effectively. I was constantly overwhelmed and stressed by the increasing expectations placed upon me socially, emotionally, and academically at school. Friendships became more complicated, I started having romantic relationships, I was taking more advanced classes and I just couldn’t keep up with everything anymore.
Trying to “pass” as being just like everyone else really took a toll on my mental health, and I started to use self-destructive coping mechanisms, including self-harm. I managed to hide my growing mental health problem until I was 19, when my dad died and I spiralled out of control.
I had a crisis at 19, and that was when I first stumbled across autism online. It seemed to link everything I’d ever experienced together. I made an appointment to speak to my doctor, but unfortunately he laughed at me, exclaimed there was no way I could be autistic, and sent me on my way with a referral to the mental health team.
I tried to push the idea of being autistic to the back of my mind, and after an assessment I ended up with the diagnosis of borderline personality disorder. While this didn’t explain everything, I accepted the diagnosis and went to the suggested therapy group. It did nothing. At that point I started to reassess the likelihood of being autistic, and I changed doctors and got my referral.
The waiting and assessment was stressful, but I finally had it on paper that I was autistic. The assessors even commented on how there was no evidence of me having borderline personality disorder. Getting this diagnosis opened up a new world for me –- not only could I access more support if I needed it, but it explained why I had struggled with so many things throughout my life. It explained why I view the world differently than my peers, and why I understand things and feel things in a different way.
Mostly, getting my autism diagnosis freed me. I could finally forgive that sad little girl who hated herself so much because everyone else seemed to.
If you struggle with self-harm, you can text the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741.