living with autism: my routines, challenges, and comforts.

Autism doesn’t always look the way people expect. It’s often shown in media and stereotypes as a set of obvious traits, but the spectrum is much more complex. Because of that, I didn’t realize I was autistic until adulthood. Looking back, there were signs everywhere that I wish I had connected sooner; the way I thought, the way I interacted, and the little habits I carried.

People often saw me as dramatic, but it’s because I naturally overthought the most minor things. In high school, I felt stupid, but now I recognize I wasn’t. My brain was just processing things differently. The spectrum affected how I understood language, how I saw friendships, the people I struggled to keep, and the comforts I held onto. Living with autism shaped my life piece by piece, whether I wanted it to or not. Accepting that has been part of learning who I am.

growing up and fitting in.

In early middle school, my mom put me into speech therapy because of how literal I was. I went to learn idioms and different phrases. She told me recently that friends and teachers suspected I was autistic, but back then, she was nervous that maybe she had done something wrong.

My speech therapy class consisted of two or three other kids. Some worked on their lisps while I tried to learn sayings that I honestly don’t even remember now. I’d leave my class temporarily to learn a few new idioms, then return as if nothing happened.

I’ve always been literal and logical in the way I think. It’s both a blessing and a curse.

One of the most challenging parts of my childhood was forming friendships. I never felt like I fit in, which left me wanting to be by myself most of the time. I was awkward in groups, so I’d hang out with my dog, play video games, or make friends online.

There was a game called OurWorld where I met people who actually gave me a chance, even though they didn’t know what I looked like. That helped me feel less alone. My younger brother and I were forced to be at my dad’s apartment, where I’d sit on my uncomfortable twin mattress with a heavy Dell laptop, talking to my internet friends for hours. Honestly, that is one of the few things I miss about childhood, having people to consistently game with. We didn’t talk to each other because of how we looked in person; we were kind to each other because of who we were on the inside.

Having low self-esteem and insecurities, this was especially meaningful. I never liked who I was, to the point where I created a new identity for myself instead of using a name that was forced on me. In a way, it reminds me of when trans people make their own name rather than using their dead name. And that should be normalized, where we create our own name, because why not? It’s our lives in the first place, and our name is part of our identity. Even though friendships were complicated, I always found comfort in certain things that gave me a sense of stability.

finding comfort.

Music production has been one of my main hobbies to bring me comfort for years, along with video games. During the COVID-19 pandemic, Fortnite became my comfort game. There are so many factors of Fortnite I adore: the cosmetics, the collaborations, and the originality. Many say Fortnite doesn’t have its own identity, but I probably love the original material in Fortnite more than the crossovers. Fortnite is one of those games where many of its brought-over IPs are on point. Whether it’s Spider-Man, Dragon Ball, or one of the game’s original outfits, I’ve been hyped to use them. They have something for everyone, sometimes even something you would not have realized you would enjoy. Not to mention, if someone asked me to explain the lore of Fortnite, I could go on for hours. Honestly, if ASU had a class on Fortnite the way they had one on Taylor Swift, I’d probably be qualified to teach it.

Another side of autism for me is being detail-oriented. I notice the little things whether I want to or not, and I hold onto the things that make me feel safe. That same attention to detail shows up in how I experience the world around me, especially with my senses.

sensory experiences.

My hearing has gotten more sensitive over time. While sensitivity can increase with age, I get overstimulated much more easily now, especially in loud places. AirPods Pro help filter sound, and I use them often because I want to protect my hearing.

Even something as basic as walking gets noticed. People have called me out for walking “weird,” like being on my toes. At work, I’d sometimes try hard to walk what is considered to be normal. But the more I focused on it, the more unnatural it felt. I just hoped nobody would pay attention, because the second you draw attention to little details like that, people are more likely to notice.

One time, a co-worker pointed it out and mentioned her son walks the same way. It made me wonder if he could be on the spectrum, or if it was just a coincidence. Either way, it reminded me how some people might not recognize these traits until later in life, the same way it took me until my late twenties to piece things together. These minor differences often spill into how I interact with others.

conversations and social life.

Even now, in my late twenties, I still struggle with conversations. Sometimes I cut people off by accident, which was something I have been called out for in the past. It’s not because I think what I have to say is more important; it’s just hard to find the right timing. I often find myself naturally trying to match others’ energy, but it can backfire. Especially when the other individual has a higher level of energy, and I’m just trying to catch up.

Group conversations are just as challenging. By the time I work up the nerve to say something, the topic has already moved on. Then I’m unsure whether I should mention it or let it go.

I’ve been alone most of the time. I never really had a solid friend group, and that outcast feeling has stuck. Alongside the social side of autism, mental health has also played a massive role in my life.

mental health overlaps.

Mental illness has been part of my life, though not really addressed until recent years. Antidepressants helped me think more rationally and feel more stable in order to manage daily life again.

I suspect I also have ADHD, which is common for people on the spectrum. My mind runs nonstop until I’m drained at the end of the day. Thoughts jump everywhere, which makes it harder to decide what to say out loud. It can make me look slow when I’m really just stuck choosing.

I also have a habit called stimming, which is common among autistic people. For me, one form of it has been air-writing. Since childhood, if I heard a phrase or word that stuck with me, I’d trace it in the air with my finger in almost cursive. I haven’t shared that with anyone before, but it was something I’d often catch myself doing while watching TV or movies, mainly when my mind drifted. It hasn’t been as common in adulthood, but once in a while, I still notice myself doing it when I’m drowsy.

Sleep has been another challenge. I’ve talked in my sleep, recorded myself saying gibberish, and even acted out things while half-awake. Stress made it worse, but I’ve learned to manage it better now. Another challenge that comes with autism for me is how I handle unpredictability and control.

anxiety and control.

Unpredictability is hard for me to cope with. I deal with death anxiety, especially in my twenties. I overthink mortality and the unknown of what happens when we die. The uncertainty and lack of control make it overwhelming. Despite wishing at times that the pain would go away, I think what scares me more is where the road ends, not knowing what, if anything, is waiting.

When I’m feeling defeated, I wish I didn’t exist anymore. But on the other hand, the idea of being nothing is terrifying, even though before I was born, I didn’t know anything at all. I hope that, as older people say, you learn to accept reality more with age. But part of me wonders if this is something I’ll always carry, even knowing nothing changes.

Other unpredictable situations trigger me, too. Things like smoking weed or having an edible heighten my sense of being out of control. Even when I logically recognize what’s happening, it doesn’t stop the panic until it passes. It feels like a mental fight or flight response. It is similar to being put under anesthesia, when you are aware that your eyes are shutting and there is nothing you can do about it. Or being so tired your eyelids are closing even while part of your mind is still alert and panicking at the shutdown.

That lack of control is probably part of why I hold onto routine so tightly, especially when it comes to work.

work and routine.

For about five years, I stayed at the same remote position because it felt safe. Having never worked at another company, I struggled with the idea of leaving for a place where I might be valued and paid a wage that would allow me to eat more than just a meal a day. Given my financial struggles, part of me wanted to leave. But I was also afraid of the risk of being employed at a new place where I might be more likely to be fired. Stability felt better than uncertainty, especially when I was already stretched thin financially and emotionally.

reflecting from living with autism.

Autism isn’t one thing, such as a single trait or stereotype. From my personal experience, autism has been a mix of literal thinking, comfort in routine, struggling in groups, ADHD traits, sensory differences, and anxieties I can’t always dismiss. But it’s also shaped who I am today.