What I Mean When I Say I'm Autistic: Unpuzzling a Life on the Autism Spectrum

by Annie Kotowicz

But teachers can also benefit from learning about the misunderstandings that arise when an autistic child sees everyone as an equal—including the teacher.

Teachers can also help facilitate inclusion. Passive inclusion is when I walk in a room and nobody kicks me out—but active inclusion is when I walk in a room and people make space for me, physically open their circle to include me, welcome me by name, and catch me up on the current topic of conversation so that I have enough context to participate. The difference is night and day.

I wish it would say to police officers, “I strictly follow every rule to the best of my ability. If it seems like I’m not following directions, it’s because I process audio more slowly under stress. Either that, or I feel confused because what you’re saying contradicts what I thought I was expected to do. Please slow down, assume the best, and rephrase your words if I seem to have misunderstood.”

“Autism awareness” campaigns usually focus on spreading reminders that autism exists, but I wish there was more focus on how autistic people think, act, and feel.

I knew she wouldn’t leave until the full two minutes were up, even if we stopped talking and just snuggled, and that predictability felt so peaceful.

If you're a parent, your children may also grow up to realize things that they needed and didn’t know how to request. Any time you wonder if you did something wrong, remember that you were (and are) still learning their love language—and also doing a lot of things right.

Regulation essentially means control—but while “self-control” is about the ability to control outer actions, “self-regulation” is more about the ability to control inner feelings.

Co-regulation is when someone helps you feel the way you want to feel, by feeling that way themselves, nearby. They pull you into their calm if calm is what you need, or pump you up to get going if going is what you need.

Autistic brains follow different rules, and thrive better in environments where we have freedom—to move around, avoid eye contact, write instead of speak, ask lots of precise questions, and stay away from spaces that are too loud or bright.

A person’s neurotype can sometimes imply what they’re likely to prefer, but kindness requires curiosity about their individual preferences. This variety of preferences, perspectives, and processing styles is called neurodiversity.

Like me, many autistics see a world full of intense complexity, brimming with wonder. It can be overwhelming sometimes, to take in the breathtaking and the bothersome, the glorious and the grating, the deeply exhilarating and the downright exhausting, all at once.

I wouldn’t be as driven to improve everything, because fewer things would make me uncomfortable.

I wouldn’t be as delighted by so many things, because my senses wouldn’t be as strong, nor my emotions as finely tuned to the effects of my senses.

I wouldn’t be as wholehearted, because I wouldn’t have the devoted focus that’s typical of autistic hobbies, interests, and relationships.

When I say that your brain is beautiful, I mean the same thing: There are people who would marvel at your mind, if only they took the time to see it clearly—free from the myths and stereotypes about autism.

Telling the truth—precisely, thoroughly, and unreservedly.

Judging by merits and integrity, without regard for status or authority.

Giving instructions that include every step, without making assumptions about what the listener already knows.

Picking up on patterns that connect the current topic of conversation to other relevant topics.