Coming Home to My Autistic Self
Just like coming out stories, there are coming out or coming home stories among the later in life autistic crew. I love those stories, whether that’s via text and someone sharing “I got into such a bad autistic burnout that I knew something was wrong” or a comment on a TikTok video that makes you nod your head and quickly type “me too.” Self diagnosis and self identification is so valid and welcomed in the Autistic community for many reasons: privilege, that official autism assessments are expensive, that even if you can afford to pay for an assessment that you might find yourself being assessed by a neuropsychologist who has no idea what autism actually looks like in masked adults.
I often look back and think about why I got an official diagnosis. I had already been self-diagnosing for months, autism became a special interest and I felt so sure I was autistic. But every now and then I get this self-doubt of “what if I’m wrong.” I also was struggling with autistic burnout and I mistakenly thought that an official diagnosis would allow me to get support. Spoiler: While I’m grateful for getting my official diagnosis it was also a fairly traumatic experience and didn’t exactly help me figure out life as a late diagnosed autistic adult.
In their book The Future Is Disabled author Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha writes that when asked by people when they got diagnosed with autism, they say they prefer the phrase “when I came home/when I figured it out.” As a coach who works with clients on coming home to their authentic self in queerness, sexuality and neurodivergence-I love that reframe. I also love it because just like we don’t come out once, realizing we’re autistic is a long journey.
There’s that moment that a small thought goes in your head “could I possibly be autistic?” Then you research traits and think “No, I don’t do that. I can’t possibly be autistic.” But you start to research anyway and you learn what masking is and you learn all these different autistic traits and you start to think “Holy shit, I think I AM autistic.” Then you realize what autistic burnout, meltdowns and shutdowns are. Your life changes when you slip on your first pair of noise cancelling headphones. You start to think “Wow, it wasn’t that something was wrong with me, I was just autistic.” There’s a big exhale, that loud sigh of relief but there’s also grief, sadness and anger at going your whole life undiagnosed.
Maybe coming home to your autistic self looks like:
Feeling seen in a whole new way as you learn from autistic creators online.
Realizing that meltdowns aren’t bad, that they are neutral and also make so much sense.
Giving yourself permission to rest more, learning about Spoon Theory, realizing that being autistic means you’re also disabled and that life is disabling.
Unpacking your internalized ableism & releasing shame.
Starting to unmask bit by bit.
Stim dancing.
Celebrating your autistic joy and pleasure.
Tending to your Autistic inner child & loving your younger self so much.
Realizing that it’s not that you’re “too sensitive” it’s that your sensitive neurodivergent nervous system experiences sensory pain. Affirming that you responses to sensory overload actually make so much sense.
Starting to heal your autistic trauma. Slowly. With compassion and care.
I feel like coming home to our autistic selves is such a beautiful and tender process. It takes time. It’s filled with joy, pain, pleasure, connection, big sighs of relief, deep grief, depth, unmasking. It’s about trusting our inner knowing that we are autistic even when ableism says it’s not okay to self-diagnosis, even when our internalized ableism says that our needs are too much, even when the memory of being called “too sensitive” and “you’re so weird” are fresh in our minds. Trust in the coming home process & heart too.
Big love from my autistic heart to yours.