being an autistic little girl
is a never ending what is wrong with me. why am i like this. why do i feel this way. why is this so hard. oh you’re just anxious. you’re just depressed. it’s just ocd and adhd and sensory processing disorder and panic disorder and tics and overstimulation and anger issues and social awkwardness. it’s just this random collection of Things that you have for some reason.
and you learn so so slowly to see yourself from the outside and become Not Cringe, and mirror the mannerisms and behavior of whoever you happen to be talking to. everyone you like is a walking instruction manual on how to act more like a human and less like some weird animal in a costume.
and then you’re an adult and you’re independent and you have a career and a partner. and your partner Sees You in a way that’s a bit terrifying, sees through the masks and the mirrored behavior all the way down to that awkward animal pretending to be human.
and then your mother drops the bomb that you were diagnosed with autism at age 8 and no one told you because they didn’t want you to “think you weren’t as capable as other kids.” and then you spend a long time crying in the bath