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

by Annie Kotowicz

But little autistic girls are often more conscientious than other kids about doing what’s expected, so I never considered that possibility.

I empathize very strongly whenever I hear the sound of a crying child, especially a wailing baby. It seems to me like a very reasonable reaction to the frequent frustrations of daily life,

Deeply feeling what others feel is, I believe, one of the greatest gifts autistic people have to offer the world. When others are in pain and I feel it too, it comforts me to remember that such empathy is a beautiful thing, because it moves me to help.

At best, dysregulation feels like something is not right—like I was born for cozy fires with friends, and I’m not living my destiny. At worst, it can feel like my whole world is falling apart.

I’ve read that for autistic women and girls, special interests often include people or characters. This explains my desire to learn as much as possible about those I love, and also why rejection strikes so deeply. I wish I’d known that my awe is caused as much by my own neurology as it is by another person’s admirable characteristics.

Sometimes, when autistic children in particular repeat questions, it means that they’re seeking reassurance instead of information.

For me, though, sharing an analogous story is an expression of empathy—a tangible proof to back up my claim that I can understand how someone feels.

Before learning about autism, I used to have mysterious meltdowns. Well into adulthood, I would sometimes break down crying without understanding why, then apologize shamefully for the tears that I couldn’t justify.

I have less control when I’m reactive, and more control when I’m proactive.

Burnout:

Sensory overload:

Cognitive overload: