What if I told you I am autistic?

After thirty years of not knowing, this is what I am learning as I process who I am as autistic woman and mother.

I recently learned I am autistic.

This journey start a month ago after getting sick and being hospitalized, I could not shake the feeling that I was not okay. Illness showed me the way I had been living was not working anymore, but I did not quite understand what that meant. I started to have nightmares, all pointing to the theme of things falling apart and parts of me dying.

I sort of understood, I knew I need to slow down and stop saying I was going to do less and actually do less. Even as I was thinking these thoughts, it felt off still. Then two weeks ago, I had a panic attack.

It stemmed from frustration of knocking over a plant I could not see, and then yelling at my husband who I blamed for hiding it there. After I yelled at him, my brain became flooded with thoughts of harming myself and dying. These thoughts scared me and I started to cry and hyperventilate. I reminded myself…I am not my thoughts, I am the observer of my thoughts. This was true, but not entirely comforting. My breathing finally settled when I started to name 5 things I could see, hear, feel, touch, etc.

The next morning, I learned I am autistic. The information sort of dropped in. I have been wondering if I am neurodivergent for a while, I have been reading articles and I have taken diagnostic quizzes. And finally, on a Monday morning, the truth landed in my body, I am autistic.

And then, the processing began (and continues). My brain spends ever free second and even seconds that are occupied by something else trying to make sense of this new (and ancient) information about myself.

A definition pulled from Katherine May’s autism resource page…

“Autism is a neurological difference that affects how people interact with and experience the world.”

People who are autistic may experience difficulties with sensory processing, social interactions, emotional processing, meltdowns and shutdowns, and executive function issues. People who are autistic tend to have interests central to who they are.

I encourage you to read May’s resource page, it has been incredibly helpful for me.

I thought I knew what autism was, I studied it in school and I worked for a therapist who worked with neurodivergent children. But as I dove into the research, I saw how little there is understood about autism in girls who then become adult women. I also learned how the whole landscape is changing because most research has been done on white, young males.

I cannot possibly explain to you how all this information fits me because the examples are endless, my brain finds new connections between my lived experiences and my autistic traits everyday.

What I am learning is all the parts of myself I thought were broken and fixable if I pushed hard enough are actually parts of who I am, as myself, as a woman with autism.

The part of me that is really uncomfortable in social settings,

The part of me that always says exactly what I am thinking or feeling,

The parts of me easily overwhelmed by light, smells, and sounds,

The part of me that cannot follow a traditional path,

The part of me that does not enjoy being touched.

These parts I have been pushing and fighting with all my life have a reason, a place from which they stem that is mostly unchangeable. I do not mean there is no room for growth in people who are autistic. It just that these things will probably hold true throughout my life and growth comes from acceptance instead of pushing against the unique wiring I hold.

And I am not talking about acceptance, like sad acceptance, like if I cannot be normal, then I will sadly accept this fate. I love this fate, I feel more myself than ever. I feel like I have permission to be myself and figure out who I am instead of pretending to be someone I am not. I no longer feel I have to solve the problem of myself and I can embrace my natural limits instead of pushing past them.

It is a weird duality to hold: how myself I feel and how confused I feel about who I am.

This is because I have been masking and camouflaging all my life. I have been trying to fit in and make my differences unknown to others, and also to myself for a long time. I tried to be like everyone else even though I did not quite fit. I learned to listen to what other people said about me and take those qualities on as my identity.

And that leads me to Being in Motherhood.

I started writing on Substack a year ago, under a different publication name. I started writing about my experiences with complex PTSD (which now I understand was partially rooted in masking my traits of autism). A few months in, I decide to pivot and create this space to write about motherhood.

I simply wanted to write and share some thoughts about my experiences of motherhood with others. I was tired of carrying the weight of how hard motherhood was alone, in the dark. Quickly, this space took on a form of its own and I let it.

Unspoken Words was born, then Motherhood Musings, then a membership because you all told me this was a place where you felt safe to tell your truths. I am grateful I have been able to create this and hold this space for you. I am glad mothers can find and share hard truths here.

And I am very, very tired. I am learning my desire to hold space is rooted in what I have been told I am good at. I have spent a decade plus learning about people and psychology, and I am wondering if I only ever began doing so because I struggled to understand people in the first place.

I have spent a lot of time pouring into being a space holder, a place where people feel safe, a place where people can be heard and listened to. This takes a lot of masking for me because I have to hide the part of me that wants to say what she feels. I have to be less blunt, I have to watch people’s eyes and mouths, and I have to work hard to reflect back what is said. All these years of training and it still feels like it does not fit, like it is effort, or work.

When I started writing here, I kept getting this annoying message to write, just write. I ignored it because I thought it was utterly stupid. I kept telling this part of myself, I am writing, what do you think I am doing?

I see now, this message of just writing was a caution. I have a tendency to fall into a place where I hold others because it is the only way I have ever fit in. I have learned how to make myself a safe place for others and in turn this means they like me.

Also, a month ago I saw a palm reader at a fair. I love a reading, and I know how to take them with a grain of salt. I sat down and this woman said some nice things, but then she looked me dead in the eyes and she said, “why do you give so much to people who do not give back to you?” All of sudden, I felt heavy and my throat closed, I mustered a weak, “I do not know,” and she moved on.

I have been thinking about what she said because I felt such a visceral response in my body. I understand now pouring into others from behind masks leaves me unreachable.

I have been masking in this space a lot over the past year…thinking what do readers want, what do mothers need, how can I serve them the best I can.

I never stopped to think…

Do I like this?

Is this filling me up?

Is this what is best for me?

Sure, the validation and sense of belonging I feel when I show up in this space does fill me but it also leaves me with periods of frustration because I long to be free from the responsibility of other people’s opinions and expectations of me. I also long for people to see me as me, a full human, instead of someone doing a service for others.

I feel I should say I am sorry I have been masking in this space, but it also news to me. While I felt uncomfortable at times, I simply thought it was the nature of what I was doing. And it was, it was the nature of pretending to be something I am not.

I crave creative freedom.

I crave to be myself.

I crave to make things with my own hands.

I am tired of being the space holder of this space. So, I am pulling back. I am pausing payments on the membership and I am shifting the submissions process. Things are unclear, all I know is I need space to find myself, out loud.

Another part of me I push against is the one who thinks she should have a finished product. That thinks I should have waited months to share this, to think it would be better to write all this in my journal and share later.

I try to be that person but it never feels right. I need to write in real time about what I am experiencing. And when things change, as they always do, I will write about the changes in real time too. I have to stop pretending because to circle back to the illness, the nightmares, and the panic attacks - pretending is making me sick.

It is scary to write this. People have a view of autism, and I am not sure I fit that. I also know people tend to take their view of something and make a person fit into it, instead of seeing that person as a unique case and in their fully humaness. As the saying goes, when you meet one person on the spectrum, you have met one person on the spectrum.

I am not sure where I am going or what exactly is going to become of this space, I do know I am not going to pretend anymore. I am going to show up as myself here. I am setting more boundaries. I am going to use this a space for my art, my writing, my heart.

I never wanted this space to be about me, I only wanted it to be a space to write and express myself. I never intended to help others feel seen, I am glad I did and as I process all this new information, maybe I will find another way to again. I do not know.

I only know there is a strong call on my heart to make things, to find ways to express my creativity, to stop fitting myself into this idea of a brand or a message or a space and let myself be me.

I cannot keep going as I have, it is making me sick. I am teetering on the edge of burnout. I need to find another way to move forward. I hope you will continue on this journey wherever it may lead me.

I am reminding myself this is my space, my writing gets to be mine, and I owe no one anything.

That may piss people off, but that is the freedom I have been craving my entire life. To live life in my own lane as myself instead of under the weight of other’s expectations and opinions of me.

I am excited to see what comes next.

Emma

Welcome to Being in Motherhood, I’m Emma, a mother, writer, artist, and space holder. I am a lover of living intentionally, connecting to the earth, and allowing space to feel what’s present. Through my writing, I explore nurturing a relationship with myself and the present moment as I navigate motherhood.