Reading up on various definitions, I’m most certainly on the autism spectrum. I don’t consider myself high functioning – just functional. The time for most classic signs to emerge are during early childhood. I found a collection of books on how to handle a “gifted” child on the bottom shelf of the bookcase when I was old enough to read. I come from very logical parents so my restrictive behavior was treated as an advantage. I have reasons for everything I do. And I do mean everything. I can’t make decisions without a reason.  And when it comes to social dysfunction I am the veritable poster child.

The only social coping skill I learned from my parents is to ignore the haters. Smile and pretend everything is fine. Eventually it will get better. Of course, this is only if you definition of better is “not worse.” When it comes to actually communicating with other humans I operate at a permanent deficit. Enough that it has driven me crazy at least once. Moving through the world seeing the reactions other people have and no way to redeem the impression I’ve made. I try to confide my woe in the people that show compassion and am only met with “everyone feels that way sometimes.” As if their attempt to assuage my pain isn’t the same thing that everyone has said before them. As if they can’t take me seriously.

I don’t talk about this topic much. Honestly, I try to avoid it. If my mother had decided to get me diagnosed with a mental health disorder – because it IS a choice – it could have changed my entire narrative.  Getting that asterisk on my arm, accepting the mantle of outlier, I would have received different treatment.  Instead of upper middle class white girl I could be a brave handicapped girl struggling against forces I can’t control. Either I’m a pretentious bitch or a forgivable cripple. Here’s the thing. I’ve come this far without special consideration. I don’t want to be around anyone that treats me differently because of one word. Except in the case of lasting employment – only because I know I’m a good employee, even when people don’t like me.