It’s been a year since my formal (and very late) autism diagnosis, and it feels like I’m finally starting to uncover some things buried deep in my subconscious.

The majority of this year has been spent adjusting to the concept that I’m a different neurotype; meaning, I fundamentally see and process the world in a way that’s misaligned with the “normal” experience. My perception of events, conversations, hobbies, etc… is all colored differently than others (even fellow auties). And because my experience and perception of the world is different, it led to me getting teased, bullied, and shunned by my peers until I built a persona/mask to help me blend-in.

I’ve worn so many over 36 years, but it’s strange to see them from this other side because they weren’t conscious efforts, but survival tactics. Each started when a change made my previous routine or script useless. For instance, my elementary school was big enough that from 1st through 5th grade, the class was split across 2-3 teachers; which meant my friends from last year weren’t always in class with me next year. It effected who you saw at lunch, in gym, and on the playground, so from year to year, I had to find a new friend to cling onto for dear life. Their interests became mine and old friends faded away quickly since I didn’t do much outside of school. Middle school combined several elementary schools into two buildings, high school combined the middle schools into one, and graduation saw everyone go to different colleges. And amongst all that change was puberty, the Columbine shooting, Y2K, and the 9/11 attacks (and the “war on terror” which followed).

Looking back, I can clearly associate interests with a specific friend from that time, so it’s difficult to identify what I was genuinely interested in and what I just picked up due to circumstance. That alone has made my self-discovery and “unmasking” process a bit challenging (to put it mildly).

Some examples: I played sports because any success there made dad proud. I went to church and put up with youth group because it made mom happy. I read Goosebumps because my friend Brian collected them. I stayed in scouts because dad insisted. I listened to The Beatles because of David. I played piano because mom said it was the best starter instrument. I picked up guitar because it seemed to make other boys cool. And after being teased for years on end about my clothes, I made a plain black t-shirt with Dickies & Chuck Taylor’s my uniform for over a decade.

People use the phrase “just be yourself,” as if that’s advice anyone can follow… but I don’t know who I am without external influences. Do I like games or is it because my family used them to bond instead of talking to each other? Did I get into poetry because it made me happy or because my 9th grade English teacher was cool and I happened to have a crush on the girl next to me in that class? Am I creative because that’s really a core part of me, or because my half-brother is a natural and I’ve always been jealous of him?

Maybe these things aren’t so difficult for you to sort out, or maybe it doesn’t matter to you why you like something (as long as you do). But my life was turned upside down by years of panic attacks, depression, anxiety, obsessive compulsions, and intrusive thoughts which finally lead to this diagnosis which made the pieces fall into place. So it truly feels like figuring this out is a matter of life and death… I can’t keep “functioning” like I was, but I don’t know how/what to change yet…

Sometime after my diagnosis, my partner (who figured this out long before I did) said, there came a time in our relationship where they had to make a decision: was I autistic or just an asshole? It’s been confirmed I’m the former and I’d like to avoid being the latter, but knowing that the person I love most in this world had to make that choice hurts. And it means others, who didn’t know that choice existed, just assumed the latter.

I’ve got a lot to work on… 35 years worth of trauma, essentially… but I want to be as open about this journey as possible. Not just for those who know, or knew, me but for those going through this as well. So, consider this the start instead of the end.

Hi, my name’s Mark and I’m autistic; and maybe a bit of an asshole too. I’m still figuring it out.