Mr NeuroExpert

Hey guess what? I went on a date with a guy the other night who knew me better than me, my parents, 4 psychologists, my psychotherapist, my occupational therapist, and the countless counsellors I’ve had over the years. He broke the news to me that *drumroll* I’m not autistic. Well phew. 

Apologies for the passive aggressive start to this post, but I’m tired. So tired. Mr NeuroExpert, as we’ll refer to him going forward, had known me for a whopping 3 hours and had only a nonverbal autistic distant relative as a frame of reference, to inform me I am not autistic.

It’s difficult being high functioning because people don’t see the struggles. I tried to explain masking to him but he had made his little neurotypical man brain up that I exhibited no signs of autism. ‘You don’t struggle with eye contact tho’ YAAAAAAWN. For one thing, when I’m talking to anyone, I’m looking at their mouths. Eye contact makes my skin crawl. As though you’re looking at me naked.

I know everyone can’t know all there is to know about everything, but when will these stereotypical die? When will the criteria stop being based on these old ideas of little boys who love maths and don’t talk? I know HAVE to leave these notions in the 20 century where they belong.

So so many women are autistic you know. And because we are so fabulous at masking it’s hard not to think our brains are the same as yours. But we struggle each and every day. My primary emotion is high anxiety. Also suffer with depression because of this. I take quite a bit of medication to cope. I can’t work full time but the government won’t help me financially because I’m not physically disabled. I straggle every. Single. Day. Please stop dismissing my problems because you can’t see the way my brain is moulded differently to other neurolotypes.


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