Autism

I am part of a lost generation of autistic women, girls who never really fit in socially but functioned well enough in school to be overlooked. Girls who could perform academically, even if they struggled to make friends. Girls who were labeled as being shy because making eye contact and conversations were difficult.

Why am I bold and brazen when it comes to embracing one identity, but sheepish and borderline embarrassed when it comes to the other?

I didn’t want to be seen. I didn’t want to be noticed. If I could have made myself invisible I would have—I still would—because it’s the act of being seen that made me self conscious. A byproduct of being noticed was that I couldn’t just be. Others observed my awkwardness, my mistakes, my differences, and they commented on them.

That’s when my friend leaned in, set her elbows on the table, and very gently asked, “Have you considered that you might be autistic.”