TCNJ

12 The College of New Jersey Magazine "... and autism," I said at last, the word feeling heavy as I closed off the list of everything I've ever been diagnosed with. "But I don't relate to it," I quickly added. This has been my reality since I was a teenager: I carry this label, this diagnosis, which so many people would readily accept as self- explanatory if not redundant, but which feels confusing and ever so misleading from where I sit. "So you don't identify with that diagnosis," said Bryan (one of my therapists). Identify. That word felt generous. It also sounded pretty political. Some people don't identify with a diagnosis because it could be used against them in court, or simply because they don't believe in the psychiatric industrial complex. My qualms were individualistic. I struggled socially, but not in the ways that have been recognized by the autism community. Nonetheless, it felt existential. At the pit of my stomach lay this notion that I was an outcast among outcasts. That meant that I was doomed. Destined to be a loner. Time and again, I'd tell Bryan, "No one has been able to help me." Bryan didn't specialize in autism, but once in a while, he'd chime in that all this sounded more like ADHD than autism. My next therapist, who worked as a school psychologist and now has a private practice dedicated to adult autism assessments, agreed. When I started seeing Brenda, I had already mastered my routine. "That diagnosis was given to me because of how I act," I'd say, pausing until the other person gave me a sign that said, "I'm listening. Go on." Then, I'd continue, placing my hand on my chest and stiffly shaking my head, "and not what I'm thinking and feeling on the inside." Brenda worked in social services and helped people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. She said that every person with autism is different and that autistic traits are more or less amplified versions of universal human experiences. "But if it interferes with your life, that's when they diagnose you," she said. "I know, but it doesn't interfere with my life." She gave me a curious look. I explained to her that yes, I had my fair share of challenges, but I related more to people with other disabilities in that regard. The copy of my childhood psychological evaluations in my portal didn't say much. My internal landscape was teeming with thoughts and feelings that my younger self wouldn't have been able to recognize. "Ah!" she said. "I see now. Have you ever looked into global developmental delay?" "No." P R A I R I E E S S A Y My Roman Empire Because you don't need ME to tell you that autism is a huge spectrum and that there's nothing wrong with being autistic. " At the pit of my stomach lay this notion that I was an outcast among outcasts."

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