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Where does my Autism begin, and where does it end?
I received my diagnosis seven years ago, at the age of 32. It was my partner, Jamie, who first suggested I might be Autistic. While watching a documentary about Autistic children, Jamie turned to me and said, “That little boy is just like you.” She couldn’t have been more right.
A year later, I finally had clarity on so many of my questions. It was a pivotal moment that transformed my life. Initially, I was elated. I had Autism, and I wanted to share this with everyone—not out of pride, but to explain the reasons behind my behaviors that others often misunderstood.
In my eagerness to make people feel guilty for doubting me or for making me feel inadequate, I lost sight of why I was assessed in the first place. Instead of experiencing a moment of self-discovery, I ended up flaunting my diagnosis. I wanted to prove that my quirks weren’t intentional annoyances (which, ironically, was quite annoying in itself).
Once I had informed those who had previously made me feel inadequate about my “disability” (a term I didn’t fully comprehend at the time), I began to reflect on what being Autistic truly meant to me. This introspection revealed a significant problem: I didn’t know who I was. I thought I had a solid understanding of my identity—I was ambitious, passionate, sensitive, a devoted dad, a loving partner, a brother, and a son. But this revelation about my Autism caused me to question everything. If so many of my actions stemmed from my Autism, was I Joe or was I Autism?
The struggle to differentiate between my identity and my neurodiversity (a term I had yet to learn) became an obsession. I found myself trapped in a relentless cycle of self-examination: “Did I act this way because I’m Joe, or was it my Autism at play?” This internal conflict plagued me for years, leading to dark moments where I oscillated between loathing and accepting my Autism. Some days, I wished for a pill to eradicate it; other days, I felt grateful for its presence in my life. I was torn apart because I had tried to separate my Autism from my essence.
In 2018, everything came to a breaking point. I made a mistake at work, and my boss attributed it to my Autism. Though I disagreed, I accepted his explanation and resolved to leave my Autism at home.
Naturally, that was impossible. Attempting to force a complete separation led me into a deep depression.
Then, I discovered photography. I started with my phone and quickly progressed to a DSLR camera, rapidly honing my skills. I spent weeks contemplating how I had achieved this so swiftly. Eventually, I realized that my Autism played a role in this, just as my identity as Joe did. My Autism allowed me to hyper-focus, learn intensely, and replicate what I observed. When combined with my natural determination, it created a powerful formula for success.
I came to a liberating conclusion: there was no distinct separation between Autism and me; they were intertwined. I didn’t “have” Autism—I was Autistic. Embracing this truth significantly improved my mental health. Understanding who I truly am has led me to accomplish incredible things that I once thought were beyond my reach. However, I will always remember the pain I felt when I thought there was something wrong with me that affected myself and those around me. My neurodiversity never hurt anyone; rather, my trauma, sadness, and confusion about my identity caused harm.
This is my journey, my personal experience. Others will have their own struggles and paths. I hope that by sharing mine, I can help someone else on theirs.
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Summary:
The author shares their transformative journey of self-discovery after being diagnosed with Autism at 32. Initially, they grappled with acceptance and understanding their identity, feeling torn between their neurodiversity and personal identity. Ultimately, they found empowerment in recognizing that being Autistic is an integral part of who they are, leading to personal growth and accomplishments.
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