Living with autism can be strenuous at times. It often feels as if there is a wall separating me from others that I just can’t seem to navigate around. The people around me can see through that wall, and analyze and understand the person behind it with little to no effort. There are certain things others see that I simply cannot, and it’s SUFFOCATING.
I yearn to understand the emotions of others. But oftentimes, emotions cannot be interpreted empirically and logically. From my perspective, emotion seems abstract, like a shattered pane of glass that can be interpreted in an infinite number of ways depending on how light hits the reflective material. Even my own emotions seem impossible to navigate at times.
A perfect example of this is my transition into high school. I had just lost my grandma and I honestly had no idea what I felt. I was trapped and isolated, navigating a labyrinth of emotions that I didn’t understand and honestly, didn’t want to understand. It was the only period in my life when I felt like I had nothing. Eventually, I just couldn’t take it anymore and my sense of reason left me. It felt like I had shattered.
It’s hard to describe what a psychotic break feels like. It was almost like the bridge under me suddenly collapsed, and I descended into the cold rapids of mania. The time during the episode is extremely blurry, almost like a partially erased whiteboard. Most of what I remember is based on testimony from my parents.
I do remember the time I spent in the hospital quite well. During that time, I learned more about myself than I thought was possible. I learned how to think about how my actions affect people, I learned that people can interpret the same thing in completely different ways, and I was put on mood stabilizers to ensure that an event like this one wouldn’t happen again. Once I got out, life started changing for the better. My grades began to improve, my communication skills improved, I learned to internalize my emotions, and I met a girl who I am still with to this day.
Of course, this doesn’t mean problems don’t arise as a product of my autism. The concept of truly understanding how my behavior will affect others is still very alien, but I’m usually able to understand with some explanation. The issue I encounter most frequently is people interpreting my behavior as disrespect. This can be especially problematic when it comes to teachers. Fortunately, the majority of teachers I have had have been very understanding.
It may seem that my condition is a hindrance. But in reality, I view it as a gift. Throughout my schooling, my autism acted as wings propelling me through the air. I have been able to excel in the fields of science and mathematics because of my heightened sense of logic. I have even gone as far as to place first in multiple Science Olympiad competitions.
Autism is not an affliction. It’s a gift. I truly wouldn’t have it any other way.
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The author originally wrote this for a narrative assignment in College and Career Writing. It has been edited only for length and clarity.
