The Most Shocking Self-Discovery Of My Life

 Six weeks ago, at the tender age of 53, I found out that I’m autistic.

It’s been, at once, the biggest shock of my life, and a huge relief. A shock, because like most people – especially those of my generation – I had believed that autism looked a certain way. 

It looked like a mute four-year-old, sitting on the floor and staring at spinning plates all day.

It looked, of course, like Dustin Hoffman’s character in the blockbuster movie, Rain Man.

It looked like my middle sister and my brother, who are also both autistic. Though neither knows it, they clearly fit what I’ve read about it. And my mom and youngest sister figured out, separately, about their issues, as well.

The relief piece I’ll talk about toward the end.

What got me started.

For some reason – maybe I’d watched a video about ADHD (I’d pegged my son as having that when he was nine; more about that later) – about two months ago YouTube recommended a video to me with the title, “16 Overlooked Autistic Traits In Females.” Here it is, if you’re curious.

The Holy Spirit must have led me to it, because I felt drawn to watch it. As I did, my mouth fell open wider and wider, as I related to one trait after another. Not all of them, but most.

It was enough for me to go to the links to the online autism tests that the YouTuber had placed in the description below the video. The links were to the website, Embrace Autism, which licensed psychotherapist Dr. Natalie Engelbrecht set up six years ago after being diagnosed with autism at age 47. On the site, she provides, for free, a range of tests. Taken as a whole, they can help you with a strong measure of certainty decide whether or not you have autism, as well some of the various issues related to it.

“I can’t be autistic!”

On one of the tests I scored two points under the threshold for “there’s a strong chance you’re autistic.” So, of course, I couldn’t be autistic. Especially when the other test showed that I have about equal autistic and neurotypical traits.

That actually didn’t surprise me, because eight years ago when I was trying to figure out what my son’s issues were, I read the official criteria for autism and saw myself in a lot of them. Maybe even most of them, but I didn’t think I fit because I’d lived an independent life without a lot of problems.

Even though I’ve always struggled to make and keep friends. Even though I’ve always preferred to be alone, working on my latest obsession. Even though I’ve always rocked to calm myself. Even though I can’t have a conversation with somebody without going on and on about my strong opinion or interest until I’m sure they think I’m the rudest, most self-centered person on earth.

After taking the initial passes through those two tests, I started paying attention to myself. To my thoughts. And my behaviors.

I started remembering events from my childhood.

A few days later, realizing that I had answered some of the questions incorrectly, I retook both the tests in question. On the first, where I’d initially scored two points below the threshold for autism, I then scored eleven points above it. On the second, I scored as leaning more heavily toward autism than neurotypical (I subsequently discovered that people who receive formal diagnoses of autism not infrequently score as “mixed autistic and neurotypical traits” on that particular test).

I started taking the other assessments on that website. Started reading the prefaces to the tests, as well as some of the comments, in order to better inform myself of how to interpret certain questions. The very first time I took the RAADS-R, only a couple of days after taking the first two tests, I scored 133.

In studies, no neurotypical person has ever scored above 64 on that test.

In subsequent attempts, even when I was trying NOT to look autistic, I scored even higher.

I took a few of the other tests more than once, as well, because I just couldn’t believe that I was autistic.

On every single test, I continued to score well above the threshold for autism. Sometimes, I scored higher than the average autistic female scores.

And then, there was the eye test.

I was more than two weeks into this shocking journey of self-discovery when I took the Reading the Mind In The Eyes Test. This is a test where you look at photos taken only of various people’s eyes, wearing various expressions, and you select from four options which emotion they’re feeling. Dr. Natalie notes on that test page that neurotypical people ALWAYS finish the test in under two minutes and get most of the answers correct because they intuitively, and therefore instantly, know what the eyes are expressing.

Let me park here for a minute.

I never, in my entire 53 years, ever had any idea that most people could look at someone’s eyes and instantly know what they were feeling. I thought everybody else did what I did, learned by experience what various facial expressions meant, and combined it with things like tone of voice and body language on order to Sherlock Holmes their way into interpreting someone else’s emotions of the moment.

Dr. Natalie goes on to say that, when asked how they derived at an answer, autistics say that they merely guessed or that they had learned to interpret various appearances of the eye and the skin around it. In any case, autistic people always, always, take longer than two minutes to finish the test.

I got only four out of the thirty-six items wrong, but I completely guessed on at least half of them and the rest I analyzed based on prior knowledge.

And, it took me around four minutes to complete.

I had a pretty long God-why-do-you-hate-me-why-did-you-make-me-like-this moment. As in, it lasted for a couple of days. Seeing my results for the RMET was the first time since I’d begun taking and retaking the tests on that website that I felt like something was wrong with me, that something was broken, and I was upset.

At the same time, it explained a couple of things. First, it explained my lifelong difficulty in relating to most other people. For instance, why kids found it so easy to bully me when I was in school (autistic children who are forced to attend school are often, if not always, bullied), and why it took me so long to learn to “read” people (I still often get it wrong).

The second thing it explained was how autism can be a huge disability, depending on the extent of disconnect in the social part of the brain. I’d been led to believe that the main problem with autism had to do with the hypersensitivities, but after taking RMET, I knew better.

The last hurdle.

During the past few years, I’ve watched two videos of women who are autistic. Both said that they think in pictures. So I got it into my head that all autistic people are right-brained dominant who therefore think in pictures (my son is like that).

So, like the good autistic person that I am (autistic people are famous for diving deep into research on whatever is fascinating them at the moment), I got online and did a search on how autistic people think.

Lo and behold, not all autistic people are right-brained and think exclusively in pictures. Many are like me and think in words, and have a gift for language – including learning foreign ones.

I am now embracing autism.

No, I’m not going for a professional diagnosis. It takes weeks and thousands of dollars; besides, the tests on Dr. Natalie’s website, taken as a whole, reveal a more accurate picture of the type of brain a person has than going to see a psychiatrist who’s still convinced that “Rain Man” is the epitome of a high-functioning autistic (he was actually pretty low-functioning, if you pay close attention to the movie and check out the folks on YouTube who have been formally diagnosed as adults).

Though there are some formally diagnosed autistics who take issue with self-diagnosis, it’s not an illegitimate way to ascertain whether or not you’re neurodivergent. Especially not for those of us with high I.Q.s who dig deep and take every assessment out there multiple times, watch videos to learn how to interpret the DSM-V criteria for autism, and basically try to convince ourselves that we can’t be autistic until the mountain of evidence has piled too high to deny it any further.

Which is what happened to me.

Then there’s the fact that, months before I thought I could possibly have a neurodivergent brain, I began to suspect my son is autistic. He easily fulfills the DSM-V criteria for the condition. What about the ADHD? I’ve come to believe that both diagnoses are related. Same street, different house numbers.

My point? My son had to have gotten the genes from somewhere. (And I’m not the only parent who passed on the genes of a neurodiverse brain to him, but my husband doesn’t care to pursue the issue as I have.)

I’m relieved to know that I’m not weird (as I’ve always believed), that there are many other people out there who have a brain similar to mine. I’m relieved that there’s a reason for the low-level anxiety I’ve suffered from since my teens, perhaps even earlier. I’m relieved to know that it’s okay to rock back and forth, or sway on my feet, or cuddle with a stuffed animal, or run my fingers through my hair, in order to keep my emotions regulated and assist my brain in processing information.

I’m embracing autism. And as I do, I want to inform my fans that yes, this revelation is going to have an impact on my novel-writing career. But this post is already long enough; I’ll address that topic soon.

Oh, and...here it is! 😉