I have had multiple autism-related epiphanies recently.

I seem to be suddenly realizing all the habits and quirks I have that are actually a result of the ASD. I think part of why it’s taking me so long to fully grasp the effects it has on me is because of that autistic rigid thinking. When I hear or see a symptom described, I tend to have a very narrow perspective on what that symptom looks like – basically, I picture it exactly the way it’s described, and if I don’t meet that exact description, I think that means ASD doesn’t affect me that way.

I also find I approach descriptions of autism from a masked perspective. People speak of needing accommodations and my immediate reaction is, “I don’t need those,” because I can get by without them. But that doesn’t mean it’s comfortable for me to do so. I probably do need them…I just don’t ask for them, since I’m trying not to be “a baby” or inconvenience anyone else. So I did sort of a thought experiment…I thought about, if I wasn’t worried about bothering anyone, or what they might think, how would I envision the perfect outing or social situation? Turns out there are actually a lot of things I’d ask for, or do differently, if I didn’t worry about annoying people or seeming like a weirdo who can’t function normally. I don’t not need accommodations…I have just learned to get by without them and swallow the discomfort.

Wow, I just now was looking for a screenshot on my phone and found a pair of tweets from when the kids were little that illustrate that the symptoms are not a recent development and that I’ve been struggling this entire time.

First post: “Great start to the weekend. Just had a complete, utter, howling breakdown at the kids about their junk everywhere.” (Howling = crying)

Followed by: “I do not know what is with me today. First the outburst at the kids, now I feel semi-catatonic. I’m alone but I have no desire to leave the house.”

Hello, classic autism meltdown! Like, that’s pretty textbook for a “high-functioning” adult autistic, right there – both the meltdown and the aftermath. And, in answer to the question people are probably asking themselves, no, I did not realize this wasn’t normal. It was normal for me. Hence my beginning to ask myself, years later, “Why do I have such a hard time just being a human being?” Another meltdown example from the past is, back when I used to attend Abbey Road on the River every summer, I would inevitably find myself in my room at some point during the weekend, crying and spiraling over something extremely minor. It was quite some time after being diagnosed that it finally occurred to me that I was overstimulated and exhausted from masking for a sustained period of time, and was falling apart.

Anyway, back to the original purpose of this post…I’m actually really annoyed right now because I thought of a great example of this phenomenon the other day, meant to write about it, and have totally forgotten what it was. It was an “a-ha!” moment, when it finally dawned on me that, yes, I do actually exhibit this symptom, just in a slightly different way than what’s been described. Hopefully it’ll pop into my head at some point (probably randomly, at 3am) and, if it does, I will take notes this time.

The main thing I am coming to terms with is just how much support I needed when the kids were little. My train of thought used to be along the lines of, well, I raised three kids, much of the time by myself, and I did alright. But, looking back on those two tweets…did I really “do alright?” Clearly there were issues. And when I sit and actually think about how much I was hands-on with the kids, it wasn’t a lot. All three kids started going to preschool for a few hours a week at age one. By age 4 they were in school all day, four days a week. Yes, their dad was gone most of the week for work, but I didn’t have them all day, every day, when he was. Then there’s how much help he did give me when he was home. He would take all three kids over to his dad’s house on Saturdays and sometimes also Sundays and they would be there all day. Like noon until 8pm. That left me to do my own thing all that time. When they weren’t at his dad’s house, R. was doing all sorts of things for the kids at home, and it was because I couldn’t quite manage a lot of it. As in, things would have gone (and very often did go) undone if he hadn’t handled them. That is needing support. It’s just a different kind of support than someone who, for example, needs assistance with personal hygiene.

I have more I could say but this entry is already rambling and somewhat disjointed, so I’ll save it for another time, preferably one when I have notes.