A Name For Everything I Feel And Do
The story of how everything clicked into place & I finally found permission to be myself in the world.
In the Tarot, The Tower card signals a moment of no turning back: walls and veils fall, we see something we can’t unsee, come into knowledge that forever alters our view of the world, of ourselves. 2023 came in flaming hot for me, with my own Tower moment that will forever mark a pivotal before-and-after moment in my life: I discovered, at 44 years old, that I am Autistic.
I will tell you all about how this discovery happened, and all of the feelings I’ve been having since it happened (and also share a lot of the resources that have supported this process), but first I want to share a bit of backstory on how I was primed to receive this revelation as an answer to prayer.
Visibility: My Main Theme for 2023
Back in December, I started working with
, specifically on issues related to expanding my capacity to receive, and to create the wilder, witchier, juicier life I knew was out there for me, but that still eluded me despite all my years of deep trauma work. (If you know Rachael, you know exactly why she’s the one I turned to for that!)In our first session, we quickly tapped into some core wounding around visibility. “There seems to be such a wide gap between how well you know yourself, and how little you feel known by the people around you,” she said. Yes, I thought. That’s exactly right. Being seen is an essential missing component of this wilder, witchier, sluttier life I am longing for. We agreed this would be the central element of our work together.
On New Year’s Eve, while visiting my family in Canada, I was texting Racheal from the basement room in which I had so much bad sex in my teens and early 20s, about how this concept of being TURNED ON & VISIBLE was coming in so strongly for me as a theme for the year, and I could hear her witch cackle across the thousands of miles. We both felt the year would be bringing some big stuff.
Self-Diagnosis: A Timeline
My first clue that I might be Autistic came in mid-December when I saw this carousel post from
.I realize now how, despite being a (so-called) mental health practitioner and following scores of neurodivergent folks on Insta, how I knew basically nothing about what Autism actually is. I didn’t know that Autism is primarily a neurotype that processes sensory information differently than allistics.1 When I read the sections of the post that outline sensory issues that Autistic people face, I felt an equal amount of alarm and recognition. I sent the post to my trusted bestie text thread and said, “I have like 70% of these traits. Am I Autistic???”
(To be clear, the alarm and multiple-question-mark disbelief owed more to shock and confusion than to fear or stigma. I’m fucking thrilled to be Autistic. More on that later.)
Here are some of the traits listed in Devany’s post that made me go hmmmmm…
likes to organize things into patterns / sequences (ie colour, size, shape etc - may line up stuffed animals according to species, material, colour) may also collect things and organize them in particular ways
will often have ‘same foods’ - foods that are reliable
may pick at skin / bite nails / bite cheeks / twirl hair / rock and other stims
sensitivity to bright lights, loud sounds, certain textures, foods (may have a very limited diet / ‘picky eater’)
sensitivity to sensory input usually causes distress though it may not be evident immediately and may show up later (either as meltdowns / shutdowns / needing a lot of alone time or later on in life, there may be a burnout)
may be sensory seeking and have an affinity for certain foods, textures, patterns, stims etc and will engage with them as often as possible as a form of self-regulation
may experience physical pain and mental distress when in loud and crowded environments, or even if someone is talking loudly around them
difficulty breaking from routine - may feel a great deal of stress if daily habits are disrupted or if plans are changed
may need to have environment ‘just so’ - things arranged a certain way, knowing where things are - conversely, may have executive functioning issues with this, and may misplace items often
will likely have films and music they watch / listen to on repeat
Because of my C-PTSD symptoms, I already felt I comfortably fit under the capacious shelter of the neurodivergent umbrella (see below), and I’d considered and rejected the possibility that I might have ADHD because while many of ADHD traits do seem to fit me, so many of them categorically do not fit. (I could never, for instance, write emails while watching a TV show, a favorite focusing method for some beloved ADHD pals.) Until I saw that post from Devany, it had never occurred to me that I might me Autistic.
The thought of maybe being Autistic got lost in the shuffle of the chaos that is December, with my birthday blurring into Christmas and, this year, a winter break trip with my boys to visit my family in Montréal to experience some real cold & snow. But now I know that the seed had been planted and was slowly germinating in the dark, sustained by this ongoing, emergent theme of visibility.
On January 2nd, on a hour-and-a-half drive through snowy Québec, I listened to an episode of Glennon Doyle’s podcast where she shared how shocked she’d been to receive an anorexia diagnosis. While I share none of Glennon’s eating disorder symptoms, something about how the diagnosis both came completely out of left field, yet also made sense of a lifetime struggle for her made my ears perk up. Uh-oh, I thought. There may be something there for me.
That same day, I downloaded the Autism Traits In Women, Girls + Non-Binary Folks PDF created by
and felt even more recognition. (You can also read it for free on her Substack.) I moved from "suspicious that something is up" to "actually considering I might be Autistic." It was a weird experience to have while away from home, while traveling and not able to rely on regular routines for safety and grounding, something that had always been an issue for me that I know now is one of the biggest elements of my own Autistic experience.It was clear that the next step in the process was to read Dr Devon Price’s book, Unmasking Autism. I’m already a huuuuuge fan of Devon’s work, and of his first book, Laziness Does Not Exist. On January 6th, while at the Trudeau airport in Montréal with my boys, waiting to board our flight home to Austin, I started reading the book on my Kindle. While thick cottony snowflakes were drifting down on the runway, and before we were even seated on the plane, doubt and confusion gave way to startling clarity.
HOLY FUCK. I AM AUTISTIC.
“The more I read about Autism, the more things began clicking into place. I had always been overwhelmed by loud sounds and bright lights. I got inexplicably angry in crowds; laughter and chatter could make me blow up with rage. When I got too stressed out or became overcome with sadness, I found it hard to speak. I’d hidden all this for years because I was certain it made me a joyless, unlovable asshole. Now I was beginning to wonder why I believed such awful things about myself.” -Dr Devon Price, Unmasking Autism
Having all the feelings
To say that self-diagnosing myself as Autistic at 44 years old has been an emotional roller-coasted would be a wild understatement. I’ve truly been having all. the. feelings. Here’s more on the main feelings I’ve been having, in roughly chronological order of their appearance.
Shock/Disbelief
It seems wild to me now how little I knew about Autism despite the massive amounts of content about mental health, disability justice, and neurodiversity I was already taking in. (I suspect that, similarly to what Glennon described about her experience with anorexia, I had been unconsciously avoiding the topic.) There was a lot of cognitive dissonance around having such a crucial, essential part of my identity being unknown to me for my whole life. I kept repeating, How is it possible that I didn’t know?And by that I meant: how is it possible that I didn’t know what Autism really is, and how did I not know this about myself?
Recognition
The shock & disbelief quickly turned to recognition: Omg this is me, this is me, this is soooooo meeeeeee. Suddenly every weird quirk I have, everything that makes it hard for me to exist in the world, but that previously felt like a series of unconnected puzzles that I needed to solve, all coalesced into something that has a name: I have Autism. My absolute hatred for overhead lighting of any kind. The intense, private joy I get when objects are lined up in rainbow order. The way my brain absolutely stops functioning when two people are talking to me at the same time. The way in which being in a room where the TV is on (but that I’m not watching & where I am trying to do another task) causes me physical pain. How it’s hard to eat a lot of things because tastes & textures so often feel wrong and unpleasant that my body has associated food with discomfort. The powerful immobilization I feel when trying to initiate almost any but the most ritualized tasks. The way I create & stick to rituals as if my life depends on predictable rhythms (it does.) The way I listen to the same songs over and over and over and over again and how good that fucking feels. All of it makes sense now. And I’m not alone in any of it: I have thousands of #actuallyaustistic friends online now.
Relief
The overwhelming feeling I’ve had in the month since discovering I’m Autistic has been relief. I make sense to myself now. Everything that feels hard and unresolved in my life, everything I struggle with that developmental trauma didn’t have an answer for, is a result of living as a masked Autistic person trying to squeeze myself into a neurotypical mold. Finding out I’m Autistic has relieved me of so much shame: of the belief that there’s something fundamentally wrong with me, and that I am responsible for fixing those things alone. It has given me so much permission to be myself, to accept myself, to create the slow & soft life that my body & nervous system crave. This has been the defining experience of this new revelation: that it is ok to be myself. No other healing process or modality, no relationship, nothing else in my life has given me this level of permission before.
Grief
It’s impossible to experience this level of permission and relief without highlighting how much it hasn’t been ok to be myself in my family of origin, and how I’ve carried this not-okayness with me my whole life. It’s impossible to be a fierce mama bear for myself, to advocate for my needs, to ask for accommodations, without feeling the pain of all the years I went without said accommodations. I may make sense to myself now, I may feel permission to care for myself and my needs in a fundamentally new way, and still I live in a world that is loud, bright, and fast-moving, a world that feels fundamentally hostile and extremely difficult to navigate; my experience of myself may have irrevocably changed, but the world around me hasn’t. And that feels fucking sad and hard to be with. Grief and I are really good, close friends. I know how vital this grieving process is to healing & unmasking. But I’d be lying if I said that grief hasn’t brought me to my knees on the regular of since my diagnosis.
Joy & Excitement
After the first initial moments of shock wore off, my attitude very quickly turned to, I’m Autistic, let’s fucking gooooooo. I’m planning to write a separate essay about how developmental trauma relates to Autism, and how it feels like the last three years of my life have slowly been tilling the ground to get me ready for this discovery. But for now, finding out I’m Autistic truly has been an answer to prayer. My work with Rachael Maddox revealed that what I wanted to live into, more than anything, was to be TURNED ON & VISIBLE. But prior to knowing I’m Autistic, I didn’t have a clear sense of what was in the way feeling turned on & visible.
It’s tremendously exciting to know that what previously felt like an obstacle that was in the way of reaching my desire in fact contains the instructions for making my way through. I’m truly excited to experiment with rhythms, routines, and practices to honor BOTH my desire to do things, and my capacity to do said things, which previously always felt so at odds with one another. I now know that things have previously been hard for me because I was trying to do them as a neurotypical person. I’ve always believed that if I trusted my body, and gave my body what she needs, that she would more than oblige me in working together towards what I want. Now I feel as though I’ve been handed the clues and principles I need to work with myself rather than against myself. I can’t wait to see what comes of this.
To get a diagnosis, or not get a diagnosis?
I feel very, very fortunate to be coming into the knowledge of myself as Autistic in this moment in time when there are so many resources available, including just mountains of content from people sharing from their lived experience. And I feel very lucky that, through following the work of many neurodivergent people & practitioners, I was already on board with the concept of self-diagnosis.
At the beginning, when I still felt a little wobbly about self-diagnosing myself as Autistic, I considered that I may seek a professional diagnosis, but I have since changed my mind, for a few reasons:
I have a fundamental mistrust of the medical industrial complex. (That doesn’t mean I don’t believe in science or medicine–I got all my Covid shots & boosters! It means that I distrust any/all systems rooted in capitalism, white supremacy, and ableism, as our medical system assuredly is.) Neurodivergent, disabled, queer & trans people, and fat people too often are harmed by these systems and I am reluctant to bring such a tender process to such a deeply fucked establishment.
There isn’t much to be gained for me personally in getting a formal diagnosis. There aren’t any services, interventions, or medications that I might gain access to with a formal diagnosis. Your mileage may vary on this one depending on your work situation, or whether your loved ones might challenge your self-assessment. But for me personally, all a formal diagnosis would do is to confirm what I already to know to be true. Which leads to…
I don’t need anyone to confirm my lived experience. The more I learn about Autism, and about the lived experiences of Autistic people, the more I know in my bones that this is my truth. This is the answer I’ve been looking for all my life. I immediately make so much more sense to myself, and I make more sense to my partners and loved ones. It’s only been a month and already my life is completely changed for the better. I don’t need anyone with a medical degree to confirm this for me. For people living with trauma and for neurodivergent people (there’s a big overlap between these two groups), not having our experiences witnessed or validated by our early caregivers, and by the world at large, causes some of our deepest pain. It follows then that witnessing & validating our own experience is one of the most profoundly healing things we can do for ourselves. Nothing anyone in a position of authority can top the power of self-knowledge and self-advocacy for me.
What now???
It’s been such a wild ride these last two-or-so months, with so much changing so quickly, both inside and out. I am reflecting deeply on what I want my life to look and most importantly to feel like going forward, and what that will mean for my work. I’m planning a few more posts on the intersection of developmental trauma & Autism, and on changes I’m making to accommodate myself better. I am dreaming up offerings that are kinder to my system, and reflecting on how my work can support my body.
Currently, I am not planning to pivoting my work to exclusively speaking to/about Autism. I do firmly believe in intersectionality, and the idea that situations, environments, and practices that are accommodating for Autistic and neurodivergent people are going to benefit everyone, regardless of neurotype. But since what it means to be Autistic, and what it means to thrive as a neurodivergent human in a hostile, capitalist & white supremacist world is the main thing I’m thinking about these days, it’s probably a fair bet to say I’m going to be writing about this a lot over the next little while.
If you’re reading this and wondering, Damn, Am I Autistic???
I can imagine that a few of you reading this may be thinking, Well fuck, this really resonates, does that mean I’m Autistic? To which I would say: whether or not to claim that identity is entirely up to you. You’re the only one who can determine whether embarking on a diagnosis process, whether self-diagnosis or formal diagnosis from a professional, is something you have the desire and capacity for at this time.
What I will say is this: I know now that a lot of the symptoms of masking Autism closely match the symptoms of developmental trauma. If you’ve been relating to my content for a while, a lot of what I’ve been talking about when it comes to my own experience has, unbeknownst to me, been about living as a masked Autistic. I recommend you start with Devany Amber Wolfe’s list of Autistic traits, and go–gently, slowly–from there. In the resources below, you’ll find some self-assessments that may be useful in your process.
Finally, A Boundary
As always, the comments are open to everyone, and I welcome your genuine questions and reflections. However, I will not be engaging with anyone on whether or not self-diagnosis is valid, or with any pearl-clutching about how “everyone seems to be Autistic all of a sudden.” If it bothers you that neurodivergent people are finding recognition and validation of their lived experience, as well as resources and community, on Instagram and TikTok, then you need to sit with yourself and tackle your issues with ableism, and I am not available to hold your hand through that process.
Thank you for reading, thank you in advance for your love & support. Whether or not you are Autistic or neurodivergent, my genuine hope and prayer for you is that you get to experience the relief and joy of making sense to yourself, and of finally having the permission to be yourself in this world. This is what trauma repair has always been all about.
This week’s list compiles resources related to Autism mentioned in this essay, plus a few more bonus one.
🌈 Dr Devon Price’s excellent book, Unmasking Autism.
🌈 Devany Amber Wolfe’s Autism Traits In Women, Girls + Non-Binary Folks
🌈 These are the two podcast episodes with Glennon Doyle that helped me put some pieces together. (CW: ED, anorexia.)
🌈 Nick Walker’s essay “Somatics and Autistic Embodiment” in the book Diverse Bodies, Diverse Practices. (The post below is what led me to seek out the full essay.)
🌈 I found the assessments on Embrace Autism to be affirming.
🌈 I bought myself some Bose noise-cancelling headphones and they are a total game-changer.
🌈 Some Insta accounts I’ve found helpful are @burritos_and_adhd, @candy.courn, @charlierewilding, @jenna.frieds, @goddessofbees (these are mostly reels, which don’t share as well here on Substack,) as well as the following:
A term for non-Autistic folks. I am learning a lot of lingo!
Hey, Fanny! I knew you in Texas through my daughter Cary Curtiss… it is exciting to know you again through your writing! I look forward to catching up with your posts. 🥰😊
Anne Sockwell
I was diagnosed a bit over a year ago and I truly think it wasn’t until I learned how to start processing trauma/regulating my nervous system before I could even begin to explore a diagnosis for myself (my child is autistic, and it runs in my family, but I never considered it for myself). I loved hearing about your process, and thank you SO much for all the resources you packed into this post!