In the meantime, I’ve been told to just work on accepting my autism and coming up with ways to better communicate with people not on the spectrum, and vise versa. The doctor who evaluated me told me, over and over again, that being autistic isn’t a bad thing. He put it this way:
“What’s the difference between Mac computers and PC computers? Their operating systems. They can more or less do the same things, but just differently. If you try to get a Mac and PC to communicate with each other without help, what happens? They can’t. But, there are programs people can download to make it possible for Mac and PC computers to communicate with each other. What does this have to do with autism, you may ask? Well, you as an aspie, are a Mac computer trying to get on with life in a PC world. The ultimate goal isn’t to turn you into a PC. Instead, the goal is to help create programs that you and others can use to better connect with each other, without making you “less autistic” or other people “less neurotypical”.
You should still tap into what makes you unique. There are many advantages to being autistic. It is clear that you are extremely intelligent, can adapt to new situations better than most people on the spectrum, and you’ve held eye contact with me this entire time, which is also remarkable. Also, you’re highly creative and resourceful, honest and respectful, empathetic and gentle. You’ll be able to become a successful, functional adult even in a world not built for people like you. Make sense?
There’s so much to be excited about. Your future is very bright, especially since you’ll have access to the help you need. I can promise you that!”
Those words will forever be branded in my mind. It was such a beautiful way of putting it. In fact, it brought both Mom and I to happy tears.
It will be a couple weeks before we get all the paperwork delivered to us that we need to take the next steps. But, when that paperwork arrives, I’ll go to an adult autism center of excellence in downtown Seattle, that is considered the best place in the world for people like me to get the help and support they need to be successful. As a result of all this, I’m no longer dreading my future, and I’m starting to let go of a lot of the anger and hatred I’ve had towards myself for being so autistic. My future does seem bright, even though I am on the autism spectrum.
Besides that, I’m going to work on embracing my autism rather than pushing it away. Sure, I’m not gonna tell everyone I come into contact with that I’m autistic, but I’m not gonna attempt to hide my quirks. I’m not gonna just say “fuck y’all, I’m never gonna learn and change” either. I really do want to learn how to communicate better with people different than me, because I know (from experience), that I’ve unintentionally hurt a lot of people. My little brother, for instance, still doesn’t believe I love him because I don’t show affection by hugging and kissing my loved ones, or even telling my loved ones that I love them. Instead, I show affection by doing things for people and giving people gifts, as well as telling people to “stay safe” and “see ya soon!” whenever we part ways. For my brother’s twelfth birthday, I bought him a dozen boxes of Pocky sticks and several bags of gummy bears since I know those are his favorite candies. I also helped him put his room together when we arrived in Gig Harbor, and every week I make sure to vacuum his bedroom and take any of his dirty dishes downstairs that I find while I’m cleaning the house.
It truly hurts me to know that my little brother doesn’t think I love him, because I do. I’m just not entirely sure how to prove to Jack that I love and care about him, besides what I already do. If I can figure out how to convince Jack that I love him, that will make it easier for me to communicate my love towards others who are different from me, especially as I grow into an independent adult and start to make my own friends and truly become my own person.
Beyond that, it would be nice to know how to introduce myself to people rather than wait on someone to “adopt” me. Right now, starting a conversation with a stranger is like trying to describe the color magenta to a person who was born blind. It’s next to impossible to me. Even when a stranger introduces themselves to me and initiates small talk, I have a mental script I consciously go through while I’m trying to keep the conversation alive and prevent it from getting awkward. If the person I’m talking to diverts from the script, and/or does something I wasn’t expecting (such as reach out for a handshake in the middle of our conversation rather than at the beginning), it’s hard for me to figure out how to react, resulting in awkward half-handshakes and long moments of painful silence.
Then, of course are the countless times I've unintentionally offended someone. And, to this day, I don't know what I said or did to piss some people off. The only thing I've learned so far is when a person asks you, "What are you up to?", most of the time they're asking if they can join you, and get offended if you don't say something like, "I'm doing X. Wanna join?", and instead explain it to them in great detail. When someone asks me "what are you up to?", my first instinct is to tell them, in great detail, what I'm doing, which apparently comes off as patronizing to most people. However, whenever I ask someone, "What are you doing?", I'm not asking to join. I really just want someone to explain to me what they're doing in great detail. If I want to join, I'll ask if I can. Otherwise, I'll just move on, which is apparently also considered rude to neurotypical people.
There’s so much more I could go on and on about, but since it’s like 4:00 AM and I have yard work to do in the morning before it rains, I better stop typing and get some rest. But, I just felt I had to get some of this stuff off my chest and on screen before I went to bed. My autism diagnosis is a lot to process and accept, and it will be a long time before I’m comfortable with it. But, I’m just glad that my future is bright, and I won’t just spend my whole life holed up in my bedroom under my mom’s roof like I was convinced I would when I was first told I was likely autistic.
