Six month check-in.

It’s official: six months have passed since I was diagnosed Autistic, which feels like something of a milestone. It’s not an accomplishment per se, but it feels like the start of a new chapter of…something.

So, what has changed over the last half-year? Life post-diagnosis has been both overwhelming and underwhelming. My day-to-day is essentially identical to what it was even a year ago, although the way I frame it in my mind has been altered significantly.

A lot of the new developments have been documented in some form or fashion in posts on this blog, so I’ll try to avoid rehashing the same points, but here are some observations:

• Six months ago, I was really uncomfortable with the idea of being openly or visibly Autistic. Now, this bothers me to a much lesser degree. I’m not saying I’m 100% comfortable with it, but I realized it’s more work trying to act like someone I’m not. I’ll save my energy.

• After a lot of reflection, I realized there were multiple friendships that were not healthy for me, so I cut them out. I’m the loneliest I’ve ever been, but I’d rather be alone than around people I’m not comfortable with. I’m terrible at making friends, but I’m damn good at losing them!

• That said, there’s a more preferable third option: not alone, surrounded by people I am comfortable with. This is much easier said than done, but I’m slowly trying to connect with other Autistic people.

• I’ve come to realize my social anxiety is a lot worse than I had originally thought. When I enter a space, I scan it for “threats”—possible social interactions, for example—and exits. Rarely, if ever, do I feel truly safe and comfortable outside my home. Usually when I’m in a conversation, I’m trying to figure out the quickest way to end it.

Okay, so the past six months haven’t exactly been ideal, but when are they ever? It’s not been all bad, though. There have been some positive developments, too:

• I used to write regularly years ago. It was a big part of my identity, until somewhere along the way I lost the ability to put words to paper. I had a great many thoughts and feelings, but completely lacked the words to express them. However, since my diagnosis I’ve found my voice for writing again. Hooray!

• I’m no longer this massive mystery to myself. To others, I’m probably still an enigma, but not to myself. It may have taken 26+ years, but I’m starting to understand what’s actually happening in my head. Neat!

• Last year, there was a certain work event I had to attend. It was an absolute nightmare: My anxiety was out of control, and I was dysregulated for weeks afterward. I attended the same event again this year without much issue. Progress!

• I think I’m a Swiftie now?

I’ve slowed down in my consumption of Autism-related content. I’m still regularly watching and reading about Autism, just not quite to the degree I was in the time leading up to my diagnosis. While I am by no means an expert on Autism, I feel like I’ve attained a decent understanding of it by this point. Constantly researching Autism—while very validating—can be seriously exhausting. It’s a heavy topic—the kind where content warnings are abundant. I started to pull back on some of my studies once I realized it was starting to negatively affect my mental health.

Much of the imposter syndrome I was experiencing immediately following my diagnosis has withered away. Not entirely, of course; I suspect it will always remain to some degree. Nonetheless, I no longer feel stupid or like I’m appropriating Autism when I relate to Quinni from Heartbreak High, for example.

There is this uneasy feeling toward many of my personal relationships that I have been feeling for a few months now. I’ve made several attempts to write about it, but I’ve struggled to articulate what is actually going on. I’m just going to do my best to explain it here, and if it doesn’t make any sense, then at least I can say, “I tried.”

I feel frustrated? disappointed? annoyed? discouraged? in others’ reactions to learning I am Autistic. Initially, there were many questions. Long discussions. I talked at length about what Autism is and how it presents in my life. This was good. This felt good. However, with each answer I gave, fewer questions followed. Discussions became shorter and shorter. Now, I’m hardly talking about Autism with friends and family. It’s not a taboo topic; it’s just not what we’re talking about anymore.

I’m not upset at anyone! I understand that most people are not interested in talking about Autism 24/7 and that is fair. Still, I cannot deny that I possess a very deep desire to continue talking about Autism, and it eats away at me when I’m unable to do so. Autistics, perhaps somewhat infamously, love to info-dump. What I am experiencing here is a little different, though. While I also love to info-dump about my other special interests, I don’t feel quite the same nagging feeling when I can’t do so. What’s the difference? After going my entire life misunderstood, I really want to share the explanation of me.

When others don’t seem to be as interested in that explanation as I feel that they should be, a part of me interprets that as an indication of them not caring about me. Logically, I recognize this as an error attributable to black-and-white thinking, but the emotional side of me still feels disappointment.

Perhaps what I’m describing here is friction related to the double empathy problem. While I feel this intense, lifelong pain of being misunderstood, maybe it’s quite difficult to imagine what that might feel like if one has never experienced it. Therefore, one might not even realize just how important it might be to an Autistic person to try to explain the way they experience the world. Perhaps when I attempt to explain as such, it doesn’t even make sense on some fundamental level to people. If one has never experienced being Autistic, are they even capable of truly understanding the Autistic experience? Of course, it would be no fault of their own, if so.

Imagine being allistic. Wild!

At any rate, this is the reason I’m trying to meet more actually Autistic people. While we all have unique Autistic experiences, there isn’t much question of whether one is capable of understanding those experiences. I’m not really sure where to go looking for other Autistics where I am in Japan, so I’m staying mostly online (where I’m more comfortable, anyway). I’ve joined a connection group full of other Autistic people, where we can share our experiences with one another. It’s been really nice.

I’ve also started to encounter something I’m wholly unaccustomed to: others relating to my experiences. For my entire life, I’ve been attempting to share my experiences with those around me, and I have always been met with confusion, bewilderment, or displays of polite faux-sympathy. Now, when I observe someone relate to my own experiences, I’m the one feeling confused and bewildered. You’re saying what I said actually makes sense? I’m not crazy?

I’m not crazy! That feels good to say.

There we go—six months summed up in about 1,300 words. In another six months, who knows where I’ll be? Maybe I’ll have finally developed my Autistic superpower(s) by then. Watch out, world.