6 Hard Truths About Social Expectations When You're Autistic

You spent weeks planning it. You invited people who seemed interested. You built up this vision in your head of how it would all unfold—the perfect celebration that would finally prove you belonged, that you had friends, that you were just like everyone else.

Then reality hits. One by one, people cancel. The plans fall apart. You end up alone on what was supposed to be your big night, eating fast food by yourself while everyone else celebrates with their tight-knit friend groups.

For autistic people who struggle with social connections, this pattern is painfully familiar. We hear about how others celebrate milestones and assume we can create the same experience. We mistake polite responses for genuine commitment. We build elaborate fantasies to cope with loneliness, then crash when reality refuses to cooperate.

This is about the hard lessons I learned when my 21st birthday became one of the most humiliating experiences of my college years—and what every autistic person needs to understand about the difference between acquaintances and actual friends.

Table of Contents

• Truth #1: Acquaintances Are Not Friends (No Matter How Nice They Seem)

• Truth #2: "Common Courtesy" Responses Don't Mean Commitment

• Truth #3: Your Fantasy Fills the Gap Where Real Friendships Should Be

• Truth #4: You Can't Build a Celebration on Casual Connections

• Truth #5: Oversharing With the Wrong People Damages Your Reputation

• Truth #6: Desperation Pushes People Away Instead of Drawing Them In

• What Actually Builds Real Friendships

• Key Takeaways for Managing Expectations

Truth #1: Acquaintances Are Not Friends (No Matter How Nice They Seem)

The Fundamental Mistake

When I planned my 21st birthday celebration, I invited people I barely knew. I had:

• Taken one class with Savannah over the summer

• Watched TV a handful of times with Tia

• Seen various floormates occasionally in the dorm

These were acquaintances at best. But because I was desperate for friends and they'd been polite to me, I convinced myself they were close enough to celebrate my birthday.

Understanding the Difference

Acquaintances:

• People you see regularly in shared spaces

• Classmates you chat with before or after class

• Neighbors you exchange pleasantries with

• Colleagues you make small talk with

Friends:

• People who actively seek out your company

• Individuals you've spent significant one-on-one time with

• Those who share personal information reciprocally

• People who reach out to you, not just respond when you reach out

Why Autistic People Confuse the Two

Autistic people often struggle to distinguish acquaintances from friends because:

Limited social experience means we lack the pattern recognition that helps neurotypical people gauge relationship depth.

Literal thinking makes us take polite responses at face value rather than reading between the lines.

Desperate for connection causes us to elevate any positive interaction into potential friendship.

Difficulty reading social cues prevents us from noticing when someone is being polite versus genuinely interested.

The Reality Check

Most of the people I invited weren't spending time with me outside of class or casual dorm encounters. They hadn't invited me to their events. They didn't text or call me to hang out.

These weren't friends. They were people who knew my name and were polite when they saw me.

Expecting them to celebrate my birthday was asking for a level of emotional investment they'd never demonstrated.

Truth #2: "Common Courtesy" Responses Don't Mean Commitment

What People Actually Mean

When I told people about my birthday plans over the summer, many said things like:

• "That sounds fun!"

• "I'd be up for that"

• "Yeah, maybe I'll come"

• "We'll see what happens"

I took these responses as commitments. They were actually polite ways of saying "maybe" or even "probably not."

The Polite Response Trap

Neurotypical people use vague, noncommittal language as social lubrication. When they say "I'd be up for celebrating," they often mean:

• "That's a nice idea but I'm not committing"

• "I'll come if I don't have anything better to do"

• "I'm being polite but don't actually plan to attend"

• "I'm leaving myself an easy out"

What Actual Commitment Sounds Like

Compare those vague responses to what actual commitment looks like:

• "Yes, I'll be there! What time should I meet you?"

• "I'm definitely coming. Should I invite anyone else?"

• "I've marked it on my calendar. Looking forward to it!"

• "I'll make sure I'm free that night"

Notice the difference? Real commitment is specific, enthusiastic, and action-oriented.

Why This Matters for Autistic People

Autistic people tend to communicate directly and honestly. When we say we'll do something, we mean it. We assume others operate the same way.

This creates painful misunderstandings when we take polite, non-committal responses as genuine promises.

Truth #3: Your Fantasy Fills the Gap Where Real Friendships Should Be

Building the Story in Your Head

Throughout the summer, I constructed an elaborate vision of my 21st birthday:

• Group dinner at the Italian restaurant downtown

• Everyone going to bars together afterward

• Celebrating with friends who cared about me

• Finally feeling like I "arrived" and belonged

This fantasy became more real to me than actual reality. I replayed it in my mind constantly, adding details, imagining conversations, picturing the whole evening.

Why We Build Fantasies

Fantasy serves important psychological functions when you're lonely:

It provides hope that things will eventually get better and you'll find your people.

It creates temporary relief from the pain of current isolation.

It offers control over an imagined scenario when real relationships feel impossible to build.

It fills the void where genuine connections should exist.

The Danger of Living in Fantasy

The problem with elaborate fantasies is they:

Set unrealistic expectations that reality can't possibly meet.

Prevent you from seeing the actual state of your relationships clearly.

Increase devastation when the fantasy inevitably crumbles.

Distract from building real connections by providing imaginary ones.

The Crash

When the fantasy bubble burst—when people canceled one after another, when Tia said "I'll only come if I feel like it," when Nadia had to work—the emotional crash was severe.

I cried every day the week of my birthday. The anxiety built to the point where I could barely eat. The cortisol in my stomach made me physically ill.

The gap between fantasy and reality was so extreme that it felt like trauma.

Truth #4: You Can't Build a Celebration on Casual Connections

The Foundation Problem

Imagine trying to build a house on sand. No matter how well you design it, the foundation won't support the structure. The same applies to celebrations built on casual acquaintanceships.

What I Did Wrong

I made several critical errors:

I invited people I barely knew to an intimate celebration that requires close friendships.

I assumed their politeness meant closeness when it just meant they had good manners.

I didn't have established patterns of hanging out with these people outside structured activities.

I expected them to prioritize my event when they had no emotional investment in me.

What Milestones Actually Require

Celebrating major milestones like 21st birthdays requires:

• Close friends who genuinely care about you

• Established relationships with regular contact and reciprocal investment

• People who seek you out, not just respond when you reach out

• Mutual emotional investment built over time through shared experiences

You can't manufacture this foundation in a few weeks or months of casual contact.

The Alternative Approach

Instead of planning an elaborate celebration with acquaintances, I could have:

• Celebrated with family who genuinely cared

• Done something meaningful alone or with one close person

• Acknowledged I didn't yet have the friend group for the celebration I wanted

• Set a goal to build those friendships before the next milestone

This would have been emotionally difficult but far less devastating than watching an elaborate fantasy crumble.

Truth #5: Oversharing With the Wrong People Damages Your Reputation

What I Shared (That I Shouldn't Have)

According to my floormate Ankita, I had damaged my reputation by sharing personal information with people who weren't close friends:

• Talking about having a crush on someone who didn't like me back

• Mentioning I'd never been kissed

• Sharing personal struggles with people I barely knew

Why This Matters

Information you share gets used in ways you can't control:

It becomes gossip that spreads through social networks.

It gives people ammunition to mock or judge you.

It makes others uncomfortable when shared prematurely in relationships.

It signals poor social boundaries, which makes people wary of getting closer.

The Oversharing Trap for Autistic People

Autistic people often overshare because:

We struggle to gauge relationship depth and don't know what's appropriate to share at different stages.

We're honest and straightforward by nature and assume others will be too.

We're desperate to connect and use personal disclosure to create intimacy quickly.

We don't realize information spreads and gets used against us.

What Appropriate Sharing Looks Like

Information should be shared gradually as relationships deepen:

Early stage (acquaintances):

• Surface-level topics: classes, weather, general interests

• Safe small talk that doesn't reveal vulnerabilities

Developing friendship:

• Some personal preferences and opinions

• Stories about experiences that don't involve deep emotions

• Interests and hobbies in more detail

Close friendship:

• Personal struggles and challenges

• Romantic interests and rejections

• Deeper emotional experiences

• Vulnerabilities and insecurities

Sharing deep personal information with acquaintances creates discomfort and damages how people perceive you.

In my book, I provide detailed guidance on what's appropriate to share at different relationship stages and how to recognize when you're oversharing before it damages your reputation further.

Truth #6: Desperation Pushes People Away Instead of Drawing Them In

The Anxiety Spiral

As my birthday approached and people started canceling, my anxiety skyrocketed. I:

• Reminded people constantly about the celebration

• Felt physically ill from stress and cortisol buildup

• Could barely eat or concentrate on anything else

• Became increasingly frantic about making the fantasy happen

Why Desperation Repels

Desperation creates discomfort in others because:

It signals neediness that feels overwhelming to people who barely know you.

It creates pressure to fulfill expectations they never agreed to.

It makes them feel guilty for not caring as much as you want them to.

It highlights the imbalance in how you view the relationship versus how they view it.

The Therapist's Warning

My therapist, Dr. Theroux, tried to warn me: "Remember, Sonia, people don't like to keep hearing about the same thing again and again. Do your best to stay in the present."

She recognized I was becoming overeager and overexcited—classic signs of desperation that turn people off.

What Confidence Looks Like Instead

Confidence in social situations means:

• Having plans but not being attached to specific people showing up

• Being okay if people decline without taking it personally

• Not reminding people repeatedly about your event

• Having backup plans that don't depend on others' participation

• Maintaining emotional stability regardless of who attends

This is incredibly difficult when you're lonely and desperate for connection. But desperation has the opposite effect of what you want—it pushes people away instead of drawing them in.

The Devastating Reality

The day of my 21st birthday, the last pieces fell apart:

• Leila wasn't feeling well and couldn't come

• Phaedra was eating dinner earlier than I could join

• Nadia had to work and was told not to encourage alcohol consumption

• Savannah had a mandatory sorority meeting

I ended up alone at a fast-food restaurant eating a fish sandwich and chocolate shake for my birthday dinner.

What Actually Builds Real Friendships

The Brutal Truth I Had to Learn

You can't force friendships into existence by planning elaborate events. Real friendships develop through:

Consistent, low-key contact over extended time periods.

Reciprocal effort where both people initiate and invest equally.

Shared experiences that happen organically, not through forced celebrations.

Gradual deepening of trust and emotional intimacy.

Natural compatibility that can't be manufactured through willpower.

What I Should Have Done Instead

Rather than planning an elaborate 21st birthday with acquaintances, I should have:

Focused on building one or two deeper friendships through regular, consistent contact.

Accepted my current social reality instead of trying to force it to match others' experiences.

Celebrated modestly in ways that matched my actual relationship status.

Used the milestone as motivation to build genuine friendships over the coming year, not as a deadline to manufacture them.

Worked with my therapist on realistic relationship-building strategies instead of fantasy fulfillment.

The Skills I Lacked

Ankita pointed out important skills I needed:

How to help a friend in need - When she hurt her foot and I rushed past to my exam, I should have said: "I'm so sorry you aren't feeling well. Is there anything I can do? I have an exam I need to rush to at the moment."

Understanding boundaries - Both my own and others', recognizing what's appropriate to share and when.

Standing up for myself - Which I was learning with Janet but needed to extend to other relationships.

Reading social situations - Understanding when someone is genuinely interested versus being polite.

These skills can't be learned overnight. They require practice, feedback, and often professional guidance.

Key Takeaways for Managing Expectations

Adjust Expectations to Match Reality

The most painful part of my 21st birthday wasn't being alone—it was the enormous gap between what I expected and what happened.

If I'd recognized that I had acquaintances, not friends, I could have:

• Celebrated with family instead

• Had modest plans that matched my social reality

• Avoided the devastating crash when fantasy met reality

Quality Matters More Than Quantity

Stop measuring social success by:

• Size of celebration

• Number of people who attend your events

• How your milestones compare to others' experiences

Start measuring it by:

• Depth of a few genuine connections

• Reciprocal investment in relationships

• Quality of interactions, not quantity

Build Friendships Before Planning Celebrations

Celebrations are the result of established friendships, not the catalyst for creating them.

Before planning group events, ask:

• Do these people regularly spend time with me outside structured settings?

• Have they invited me to their events?

• Is there reciprocal effort in maintaining contact?

• Would they notice if I disappeared from their lives?

If the answers are no, you're dealing with acquaintances who won't show up for celebrations.

Learn From Each Painful Experience

My 21st birthday was humiliating. Eating that fish sandwich alone while imagining others celebrating with their friend groups felt like rock bottom.

But it taught me critical lessons:

• Fantasy doesn't create reality

• Desperation pushes people away

• You can't force friendships on your timeline

• Acquaintances won't show up like friends do

These lessons, painful as they were, eventually helped me build genuine friendships by adjusting my approach.

Protect Yourself From Repeated Devastation

If you keep experiencing this pattern:

• Work with a therapist on realistic relationship-building

• Learn to distinguish polite responses from actual commitments

• Stop building elaborate fantasies to cope with loneliness

• Focus on one or two potential friends at a time

• Accept that building genuine friendships takes years, not weeks

Ready to learn the complete story of my 21st birthday disaster and what I eventually learned about building real friendships instead of manufacturing fake ones? My book provides the full account, get your copy today.

Moving Forward

The night didn't end with the fish sandwich. I eventually went to the bar where my roommate was celebrating with her friends. I got lost in the sensory overload—the lights, the music, the crowds. My roommate kept telling me to drink more. I wanted to forget the harsh reality through alcohol.

I heard the DJ announce other people's birthdays over the stereo. Each announcement felt like a bee sting—a reminder that other people had the tight friend groups celebrating them that I desperately wanted but didn't have.

That night crystallized a brutal truth: you can't drink away loneliness. You can't force friendships through elaborate planning. You can't manufacture belonging through sheer determination.

What you can do is learn from the devastation, adjust your approach, and slowly build the genuine connections that eventually replace the fantasy.

For the complete journey from devastating birthday disasters to eventually building real friendships—including all the mistakes I made, lessons I learned, and strategies that actually worked—my book provides everything you need to stop repeating this painful pattern. 

Get your copy today and learn how to build realistic expectations that protect you from crushing disappointment.

5 Reasons Why Your Gut Knows Before Your Brain Does (And How to Finally Trust It)

Have you ever had a bad feeling about something but talked yourself out of it? Ignored the warning signs because you thought you were being paranoid? Agreed to plans that made your stomach turn because you didn't want to seem rude or difficult?

Your gut was screaming at you to say no. But your brain—trained by years of people-pleasing, low self-esteem, and desperate need for acceptance—overruled it.

For autistic people and anyone who's spent years being rejected or told they're "too sensitive," learning to trust your gut instinct feels nearly impossible. We've been conditioned to doubt ourselves, to assume our discomfort is our problem to fix, to override our internal warning system in favor of what others expect from us.

But here's what I learned the hard way: your gut knows things your brain hasn't processed yet. It picks up on patterns, energy shifts, and danger signals that your conscious mind hasn't caught up to. And when you consistently ignore it to please others or avoid conflict, you end up in situations that harm you.

Table of Contents

• Reason #1: Your Gut Recognizes Patterns Your Brain Hasn't Named Yet

• Reason #2: Your Body Responds to Energy Before Your Mind Analyzes It

• Reason #3: Low Self-Esteem Convinces You to Ignore Warning Signals

• Reason #4: People-Pleasing Overrides Self-Protection

• Reason #5: Your Gut Protects You From What You Can't Yet Articulate

• How to Start Trusting Your Gut Instinct

• Key Takeaways for Building Self-Trust

Reason #1: Your Gut Recognizes Patterns Your Brain Hasn't Named Yet

The Week of Bad Feelings

When Janet asked to come over and stay the night, something inside me immediately screamed "no." It wasn't logical. I couldn't point to a specific reason. But my gut was screaming: "Cancel your plans now!"

All week leading up to that Friday, the bad feeling intensified. It wasn't anxiety about hosting or nervousness about having company. It was a visceral warning that something was wrong.

Why Your Gut Knows First

Your gut instinct operates on pattern recognition that happens below conscious awareness. It processes:

Past experiences with this person Every snippy comment, every backhanded compliment, every time they made you feel small—your gut remembers even when your brain tries to give people the benefit of the doubt.

Behavioral patterns Your gut notices consistency. If someone consistently makes you feel bad, your gut expects more of the same—even if your brain hopes "this time will be different."

Energy shifts Changes in how someone interacts with you register in your body before your brain consciously processes them. Your gut noticed Janet wasn't in a good mood before she even articulated it.

Danger signals Your nervous system is wired for survival. When it detects threat patterns—even emotional or social threats—it sends warning signals through physical sensations.

What Happens When You Ignore It

I knew my gut was right. But my low self-esteem and self-doubt overruled the warning. I said "yes" when everything inside me was screaming "no."

The result? Exactly what my gut predicted:

• Janet showed up in a bad mood

• She made snippy, demanding comments

• She picked a fight over breakfast

• She stormed out like a child having a tantrum

My gut knew. I just didn't trust it yet.

Reason #2: Your Body Responds to Energy Before Your Mind Analyzes It

The Physical Warning System

When you have a "bad feeling" about something, it's not just emotional—it's physical. Your body is responding to information your conscious mind hasn't processed yet.

Common physical gut reactions include:

• Stomach tightening or nausea

• Chest heaviness or tightness

• Jaw clenching or teeth grinding

• Shoulders tensing up

• Heart rate increasing

• Feeling suddenly drained or exhausted

• An urge to leave or create distance

Why This Happens

Your nervous system picks up on:

Micro-expressions and body language Even if you struggle with reading faces (common for autistic people), your subconscious registers micro-expressions, tone shifts, and body language that signal hostility, insincerity, or danger.

Tone and vocal patterns The way someone says something carries more information than the words themselves. Your gut hears the edge in someone's voice before your brain consciously recognizes they're being passive-aggressive.

Environmental stress When someone brings negative energy into your space, your body responds to the shift in atmosphere. You feel it physically before you can name it.

Incongruence When someone's words don't match their energy, your gut knows something is off. Janet might have asked to come over in a friendly way, but the energy behind it wasn't friendly—and my body knew.

The Autistic Experience

Many autistic people are told they're "too sensitive" or "reading too much into things." But often, we're picking up real information through sensory and energetic channels that neurotypical people dismiss.

Learning to honor these physical responses instead of dismissing them is crucial for self-protection.

In my book, I detail the complete weekend with Janet and how my body was trying to protect me at every step. Learning to recognize and honor these physical warning signals transformed my ability to protect myself from toxic people and situations.

Reason #3: Low Self-Esteem Convinces You to Ignore Warning Signals

The Internal Battle

When my gut screamed "cancel your plans," my low self-esteem fought back with powerful counter-arguments:

• "You're being paranoid"

• "Give her a chance"

• "You're too sensitive"

• "You're lucky anyone wants to spend time with you"

• "Don't be difficult"

• "What if you're wrong?"

Low self-esteem convinced me that my gut feeling was the problem, not Janet's behavior.

How Low Self-Esteem Sabotages Intuition

It makes you second-guess yourself When you don't trust yourself in general, you don't trust your instincts about specific situations.

It prioritizes others' comfort over your safety Low self-esteem teaches you that other people's feelings matter more than your own boundaries and wellbeing.

It reframes warning signals as character flaws Instead of "this person makes me uncomfortable," low self-esteem says "I'm uncomfortable because something is wrong with me."

It creates fear of being seen as difficult You'd rather endure a bad situation than risk being perceived as rude, picky, or high-maintenance.

It convinces you that you deserve poor treatment Years of rejection and bullying create a belief that toxic behavior is what you should expect and accept.

The Cost of Self-Doubt

By doubting my gut and saying yes to Janet's visit, I:

• Spent a week with escalating anxiety

• Endured a miserable Friday night

• Got into a fight over breakfast

• Had to deal with her tantrum and dramatic exit

All of this could have been avoided if I'd trusted that bad feeling and said "I'm not available that night."

Breaking the Pattern

Learning to trust your gut requires rebuilding self-esteem so that your inner voice becomes stronger than others' expectations.

This means practicing:

• Valuing your comfort as much as others' comfort

• Recognizing that "no" is a complete sentence

• Understanding that protecting yourself isn't being difficult

• Believing your feelings are valid data, not character flaws

Reason #4: People-Pleasing Overrides Self-Protection

The "I Didn't Know How to Say No" Problem

When Janet asked to stay over, I immediately knew I didn't want her to. But I said "Sure" anyway.

Why? Because I didn't know how to say no.

Not because I literally didn't know the word exists. But because years of conditioning had taught me that:

• Saying no makes you selfish

• Declining invitations means you're unfriendly

• Setting boundaries means you're difficult

• Protecting yourself means you're rude

The People-Pleasing Trap

People-pleasing is particularly common among:

Autistic people We're often taught from childhood that our natural responses are "wrong" and we need to accommodate neurotypical expectations, even at our own expense.

People with trauma histories Bullying, rejection, and social isolation create hypervigilance about others' reactions. We learn to prioritize keeping others happy to avoid further rejection.

Women and people socialized as women Societal conditioning teaches that being agreeable, accommodating, and pleasant is more important than honoring your own needs and boundaries.

Anyone with low self-worth When you don't value yourself, you treat others' preferences as more important than your own wellbeing.

The Physical Toll

People-pleasing doesn't just create bad social situations—it creates physical and emotional stress:

• Chronic anxiety from ignoring your needs

• Resentment that builds toward others

• Exhaustion from constantly performing

• Difficulty identifying what you actually want

• Erosion of self-trust over time

What Changed Everything

When Janet stormed out over the breakfast misunderstanding, I didn't feel sad—I felt relieved. And then I felt proud.

I had finally stood up for myself. I had spoken my mind. I had stopped accommodating unreasonable behavior.

Instead of feeling guilty or chasing after her to apologize, I celebrated. I treated myself to a nice meal. I honored the fact that I had finally prioritized my own wellbeing over someone else's mood.

The complete story of ending this toxic friendship and what I learned about setting boundaries is detailed in my book. These lessons about people-pleasing versus self-protection changed every relationship I had going forward.

Reason #5: Your Gut Protects You From What You Can't Yet Articulate

The Thing About Gut Feelings

Gut feelings are frustrating because they often can't be explained logically. You just know something is off, but you can't always point to concrete evidence.

This makes them easy to dismiss, especially for autistic people who are used to wanting clear, logical explanations for everything.

What Your Gut Knows

Your gut processes information that your conscious mind hasn't caught up to yet:

Emotional patterns Janet had been consistently dismissive, critical, and condescending. My gut knew this pattern would continue. My brain hoped it wouldn't.

Power dynamics My gut recognized that Janet saw me as someone she could use as a punching bag. My brain wanted to believe she was my friend.

Incompatibility Deep down, I knew Janet and I weren't compatible as friends. My gut was trying to protect me from continuing an unhealthy relationship.

Future consequences Some part of me knew that if I said yes to this visit, I'd regret it. My gut was trying to save me from that outcome.

The Gift of Hindsight

Looking back, every bad feeling I had was correct:

• The week of increasing dread? Accurate prediction of how the visit would go.

• The sense that I should cancel? Exactly right.

• The physical discomfort? Warning that this person brought toxic energy.

• The relief when she left? Confirmation that my gut had been protecting me all along.

Why We Ignore It Anyway

Even when gut feelings prove accurate again and again, we still ignore them because:

We're taught to prioritize logic over feeling "That's not a good enough reason" dismisses intuition as invalid.

We fear being wrong What if you say no and miss out on something good? (Spoiler: Your gut is rarely wrong about danger.)

We've been gaslit When people tell you you're "too sensitive" or "overthinking," you learn to distrust your perceptions.

We want to be accommodating Especially for autistic people who've been told we're "difficult," we overcompensate by being overly flexible with others.

Learning to Listen

The turning point came when I finally honored my gut:

When Janet stormed out, I didn't chase her. I didn't call to apologize. I didn't try to fix it.

I celebrated getting rid of someone who treated me poorly.

That moment taught me: My gut was protecting me. I just needed to start listening.

How to Start Trusting Your Gut Instinct

Step 1: Notice Physical Sensations

Start paying attention to how your body responds to:

• Specific people

• Social invitations

• Requests for your time or energy

• Situations that make you uncomfortable

Common gut signals:

• Stomach tightening

• Chest heaviness

• Sudden fatigue

• Jaw clenching

• Desire to leave or create distance

Don't dismiss these as "just anxiety." They're information.

Step 2: Track Patterns

Keep a journal of:

• When you had a bad feeling about something

• Whether you honored it or ignored it

• What actually happened

Over time, you'll see that your gut is usually right. This builds trust in your instincts.

Ready to learn the complete story of how trusting my gut transformed my college experience and beyond? My book details the full journey from people-pleasing to self-protection, including specific strategies for distinguishing anxiety from intuition and building the self-trust that changes everything. 

Get your copy today.

Step 3: Practice Small Nos

Start with low-stakes situations:

• "I'm not available that day"

• "That doesn't work for me"

• "I need to think about it"

• "I'm going to pass this time"

Notice that saying no doesn't create the catastrophes you fear. This builds confidence in setting boundaries.

Step 4: Challenge the Voice of Self-Doubt

When you have a gut feeling and self-doubt tries to override it, ask:

• "What if my gut is right and self-doubt is wrong?"

• "What's the worst that happens if I honor this feeling?"

• "Am I prioritizing someone else's comfort over my safety?"

• "Would I give this advice to a friend in the same situation?"

Step 5: Separate Anxiety From Intuition

This is tricky, especially for people with anxiety disorders. Here's a general guide:

Anxiety:

• Spirals and catastrophizes

• Creates "what if" scenarios about the future

• Feels chaotic and overwhelming

• Isn't connected to specific present-moment information

Intuition:

• Is calm and clear (even if uncomfortable)

• Focuses on present-moment data

• Provides specific direction ("don't do this")

• Feels grounded in your body

Both can create physical sensations, but intuition feels more like information while anxiety feels like panic.

Step 6: Honor the Gut Feeling Even Without Evidence

You don't need to justify your gut feelings with concrete evidence. "This doesn't feel right" is sufficient reason to:

• Decline an invitation

• Leave a situation

• End a relationship

• Change your mind

You're allowed to protect yourself based on instinct, not just provable facts.

Step 7: Celebrate When You're Right

Every time you honor your gut and it proves correct, acknowledge it:

"I knew that person wasn't trustworthy and I was right." "I didn't want to go and I'm glad I didn't." "My gut told me to leave and that was the right call."

This positive reinforcement strengthens the connection between gut feelings and action.

Key Takeaways for Building Self-Trust

Your Gut Deserves Respect

After years of being told we're "too sensitive" or "overthinking," autistic people and trauma survivors often dismiss our instincts as invalid.

But your gut reactions are:

• Valid data about your environment

• Protection mechanisms that evolved to keep you safe

• Information your subconscious processed before your conscious mind caught up

They deserve to be honored, not overridden.

Liberation Comes From Self-Protection

When I finally stood up to Janet and felt relief instead of guilt, everything changed. That summer became one of the most liberating periods of my life because I:

• Eliminated toxic people

• Started meeting new friends

• Built confidence in my judgment

• Learned that protecting myself felt good, not selfish

The liberation didn't come from having more friends. It came from trusting myself enough to say no to people who treated me poorly.

Low Self-Esteem Is Your Gut's Biggest Enemy

The biggest obstacle to trusting your gut isn't lack of intuition—it's low self-esteem convincing you that:

• Your feelings don't matter

• Others' comfort is more important than yours

• You should be grateful for any social connection

• Protecting yourself makes you difficult

Building self-esteem doesn't just make you feel better—it allows you to finally hear the wisdom your gut has been offering all along.

People-Pleasing Puts You in Danger

Every time you override your gut to please someone else, you:

• Teach yourself that your needs don't matter

• Put yourself in situations that harm you

• Reinforce the pattern of self-abandonment

• Weaken your ability to trust future gut feelings

Breaking the people-pleasing pattern is essential for self-protection.

"No" Is Protection, Not Rejection

Saying no when your gut screams at you isn't:

• Being mean

• Being difficult

• Being antisocial

• Missing out on opportunities

It's:

• Honoring your needs

• Protecting your energy

• Respecting your boundaries

• Practicing self-care

The right people will respect your boundaries. The wrong people will prove your gut right by getting angry when you set them.

Ready to learn the complete story of how trusting my gut transformed my college experience and beyond? My book details the full journey from people-pleasing to self-protection, including specific strategies for distinguishing anxiety from intuition and building the self-trust that changes everything. 

Get your copy today.

Moving Forward

That summer when I finally trusted my gut and ended the friendship with Janet, everything shifted. I made new friends—Savannah from my Middle Eastern History class, Tia the international student from Brazil—who treated me with genuine kindness.

My confidence built. I started working out at the gym, feeling good in my clothes, and looking forward to what was coming next. I felt hopeful and happy.

None of that would have been possible if I'd continued ignoring my gut and tolerating toxic people.

Your gut is always trying to protect you. The question is: will you finally start listening?

The next time you get that sinking feeling, that tightness in your stomach, that voice saying "something is off"—trust it. Even if you can't explain it logically. Even if it means disappointing someone. Even if it makes you seem difficult.

Your gut knows. It's been trying to tell you. It's time to start believing it.

For the complete journey from self-doubt to self-trust, including detailed accounts of learning to set boundaries, eliminate toxic relationships, and build genuine confidence—get my book today. 

7 Signs Someone Isn't Really Your Friend (Lessons from College Life on the Autism Spectrum)

College is supposed to be where you find your people. Where lifelong friendships form over late-night study sessions and shared experiences. Where you finally escape the social hierarchy of high school and start fresh.

But what if you can't tell who's genuinely interested in being your friend versus who's just being polite? What if you're so desperate for connection that you miss obvious red flags? What if the people you think are your friends are actually talking about you behind your back?

As a newly diagnosed autistic college student navigating a campus of 40,000 people, I learned these lessons the hard way. The social confusion didn't end with my diagnosis—in some ways, it got harder because I was now hyperaware of my differences while still lacking the skills to navigate complex social dynamics.

If you're autistic, socially isolated, or simply struggling to distinguish genuine friendship from fake niceness, these warning signs will help you protect yourself from people who don't have your best interests at heart.

Table of Contents

• Sign #1: They Only Compliment You With Backhanded Comments

• Sign #2: They Dismiss Your Problems While Claiming to Support You

• Sign #3: They're Nice to Your Face But Talk Behind Your Back

• Sign #4: They Give You Contradictory or Harmful Advice

• Sign #5: They Make You Feel Compared and "Less Than"

• Sign #6: They Tell You That You Make Them Uncomfortable

• Sign #7: They Keep You Around Out of Obligation, Not Genuine Interest

• How to Spot Genuine Friendship

• Key Takeaways for Autistic People Navigating Friendships

Sign #1: They Only Compliment You With Backhanded Comments

What a Backhanded Compliment Looks Like

A backhanded compliment appears positive on the surface but contains a hidden insult or criticism. It's praise that makes you feel worse, not better.

My "friend" Janet was a master of this technique:

"You're very intelligent, but you shouldn't need other people to tell you that."

I never asked for the compliment, yet she managed to turn it into criticism about my supposed need for validation.

Why This Is a Red Flag

Real friends celebrate your strengths without adding conditions or criticisms. They don't use compliments as vehicles for putting you down.

Backhanded compliments serve several purposes for fake friends:

They maintain superiority. By adding criticism to praise, they position themselves as the one who "sees clearly" while you remain flawed.

They keep you insecure. You can't fully enjoy the compliment because it's paired with something negative, keeping you off-balance and seeking their approval.

They appear nice to others. If called out, they can point to the "compliment" part and claim you're being too sensitive about the criticism.

Common Backhanded Compliments to Watch For

• "You're so brave to wear that"

• "You're pretty for someone who..."

• "You're smart, but you lack common sense"

• "That's a great idea, considering you don't have experience"

• "You're doing better than I expected"

What Genuine Compliments Sound Like

Real friends give straightforward praise without qualifiers:

• "You're really intelligent"

• "I love that outfit on you"

• "That was a brilliant idea"

• "You did amazing on that project"

If someone consistently packages compliments with criticism, they're not your friend—they're your critic.

Sign #2: They Dismiss Your Problems While Claiming to Support You

The "I'm Here for You" Lie

Janet loved to position herself as my supportive friend. But when I actually needed support, her response revealed her true feelings.

When I was hurt that my friend Alisha hadn't responded to my emails, I called Janet for perspective. She started kindly: "I'm so sorry to hear that Alisha did that to you. You don't deserve to be treated that way."

Then she dropped the bomb.

"The problem with you is that you only like pretty people with long black hair as your friends. Alisha was beautiful, thin, and everything you wanted to be. That's why you wanted her to be your friend. But you don't consider me a friend, and I'm here for you, always. This is some shit. This is really some shit."

The Pattern of Fake Support

Fake friends follow a predictable pattern:

Step 1: Express initial sympathy to appear supportive Step 2: Pivot to criticizing you instead of the situation Step 3: Make the problem about themselves and what you're not giving them Step 4: Leave you feeling worse than before you shared

Why They Do This

People who dismiss your problems while claiming to support you are often:

Jealous. Your other friendships threaten them because they want to be your only source of support (and control).

Resentful. They feel you owe them something for "putting up with you" and use your vulnerable moments to extract payment.

Competitive. They see your pain as an opportunity to position themselves as superior or more valued.

Manipulative. They keep you emotionally dependent by being the only person you feel you can turn to, then make you feel guilty for needing support.

What Real Support Looks Like

When I learned that Alisha's father had undergone major cardiac surgery, I felt terrible for jumping to conclusions. My therapist, Dr. Theroux, had helped me see other possibilities before assuming rejection.

Real support involves:

• Asking questions before making judgments

• Offering alternative perspectives

• Validating your feelings while helping you see the full picture

• Not making your problem about themselves

In my book, I detail the complete dynamic with Janet and how this toxic friendship finally ended. Understanding these patterns can save you years of emotional manipulation from people who claim to be friends.

Sign #3: They're Nice to Your Face But Talk Behind Your Back

The Double Life

One of my floormates organized group events and invited me to dinner and Valentine's Day activities. She seemed friendly and interested in getting to know me.

Later in the semester, she admitted to my face: "You make people feel really uncomfortable. You make me feel very uncomfortable."

This was the same person who'd been smiling at me, inviting me to events, and acting like we were friends. Behind my back, she was telling people how "repulsed" she was by me.

Why Autistic People Are Vulnerable to This

Autistic people often struggle to detect:

Fake enthusiasm. We take people at face value. If someone acts friendly, we believe they're being friendly.

Social performance. We don't realize that some people maintain pleasant facades while harboring completely different feelings.

Group dynamics. We miss when someone is including us for appearances while simultaneously mocking us to others.

Subtle cues. The microexpressions, tone shifts, and body language that signal insincerity fly under our radar.

Warning Signs Someone Is Two-Faced

• Others warn you that people are "laughing at you" without specifics

• You're included in group activities but never invited to smaller hangouts

• People seem friendly individually but ignore you in groups

• You hear through others that someone has been talking about you

• Someone's behavior toward you changes drastically depending on who else is present

The "Common Courtesy" Trap

Janet once screamed at me: "People who meet you are only acting out of common courtesy, something learned at home. Not everybody who is nice to you is trying to be your friend."

This was actually valuable information buried in a toxic delivery. Many autistic people mistake politeness for friendship because:

• We don't have extensive experience distinguishing the two

• We're desperate for connection after years of isolation

• We take social interactions at face value

• We assume good intentions because that's how we operate

How to Protect Yourself

• Don't share personal information with people you just met

• Watch for consistency over time—do actions match words?

• Notice if invitations are genuine or performative

• Trust people who warn you about others talking behind your back

• Remember that silence in group settings often means agreement with gossip

Sign #4: They Give You Contradictory or Harmful Advice

When "Help" Makes Things Worse

After Janet dismissed Alisha's family emergency—"Then what is the mother there for? To sit and look pretty?! Bullshit!!"—I realized her advice was designed to isolate me from other friendships.

She wanted to be my only friend so she could continue using me as an emotional punching bag.

The Advice Test

Good advice helps you. Bad advice serves the advice-giver's interests.

When evaluating advice from a supposed friend, ask:

Does this advice help me or them? If following the advice would make you more dependent on them or isolated from others, it's not good advice.

Is this advice realistic? "Just be confident" isn't actionable advice. "Practice one conversation starter this week" is.

Does this advice consider my situation? Generic advice that ignores your autism, social challenges, or specific circumstances isn't helpful.

Do I feel worse after receiving this advice? Real support leaves you feeling encouraged or clearer. Fake support leaves you confused and deflated.

The Danger of Contradictory Advice

Janet told me different things at different times:

• "You think everybody is your friend" (criticizing me for being too trusting)

• "You don't consider me a friend" (criticizing me for not valuing her enough)

This kept me off-balance, never sure what I was doing wrong, always trying to please her.

What Good Advice Sounds Like

My therapist, Dr. Theroux, offered helpful guidance:

"Instead of jumping to conclusions, why don't you first find out what's happening with Alisha? Maybe send her an email."

She helped me:

• Challenge my all-or-nothing thinking

• Consider alternative explanations

• Take action based on facts, not assumptions

• Communicate directly rather than spiraling

The difference between helpful therapeutic guidance and toxic friendship advice is night and day. In my book, I share how working with Dr. Theroux taught me to recognize when advice was actually helpful versus when it was designed to control me.

Sign #5: They Make You Feel Compared and "Less Than"

The Constant Comparisons

My roommate Tracy told me: "Part of making friends is knowing who you are and what you stand for. People don't come talk to you much because they don't see the confidence in you and a person who knows who she is; whereas, people love to come to talk to me and others because we know who we are."

Every conversation left me feeling like I didn't measure up to her social success.

Why Comparisons Are Harmful

Real friends don't:

• Constantly point out your deficits compared to them

• Make their social success a benchmark for your failure

• Position themselves as the standard you should aspire to

• Use your differences to elevate themselves

The "You Should Know By Now" Trap

Tracy would say things like: "You should know how to read people by now. You are in college."

This assumes everyone develops social skills on the same timeline, ignoring that:

• Autistic people develop social skills differently and later

• Not having friends growing up means less practice with friendships

• College isn't a magic cure for years of social isolation

• Shaming someone for not knowing something doesn't teach them

What Supportive Friends Do Instead

Supportive friends:

• Meet you where you are without judgment

• Offer specific help rather than vague criticism

• Share their knowledge without implying you're behind

• Celebrate your progress instead of comparing you to others

When someone constantly makes you feel inferior, they're not trying to help you improve—they're trying to feel superior.

Sign #6: They Tell You That You Make Them Uncomfortable

The Uncomfortable Confession

Lucy, who'd invited me to multiple floor events, eventually told me: "You make people feel really uncomfortable. You make me feel very uncomfortable."

When I asked what I did, she said: "You tend to invite yourself to things you aren't invited to."

I genuinely didn't remember doing this except once, when I asked to join her on a store trip after we'd had brunch together that same day.

The Problem With Vague Accusations

When someone tells you that you make them uncomfortable without:

• Specific examples of what you did

• Clear explanation of what bothered them

• Actionable feedback on what to change

• Compassion for your perspective

They're not trying to help you improve. They're trying to make you feel bad while appearing reasonable.

The Double Standard

Lucy had:

• Invited me to multiple events

• Gone to brunch with me

• Organized floor activities that included me

• Acted friendly for months

Then suddenly declared I made her uncomfortable—without explaining why she'd been including someone who supposedly made her so uncomfortable.

Why Autistic People Get Blamed

Autistic people are often told we make others uncomfortable because:

We're enthusiastic about potential friendships. Neurotypical people see this as "too much" or "desperate."

We don't pick up on subtle rejection. When someone doesn't explicitly say no, we assume they mean yes.

We take invitations literally. If you invite us once, we think you meant it. We don't realize it was performative.

We ask clarifying questions. This can be perceived as not "getting it" when social rules are supposed to be obvious.

What To Do When Someone Says This

If someone tells you that you make them uncomfortable:

• Ask for specific examples

• Request actionable feedback

• Consider whether their discomfort stems from your autism, not actual wrongdoing

• Evaluate whether this person has been genuine with you

• Remember that not everyone will like you, and that's okay

Sometimes people's discomfort says more about them than you.

Sign #7: They Keep You Around Out of Obligation, Not Genuine Interest

The Moral Obligation Friend

Janet made it clear she felt morally obligated to be my friend. She stayed connected not because she enjoyed my company but because abandoning someone with my challenges would make her look bad.

This manifested in:

• Resentment when I needed support

• Keeping score of everything she did for me

• Making me feel like I owed her for tolerating me

• Treating our friendship like charity work

Signs Someone Feels Obligated

They emphasize how much they do for you. Real friends don't keep score or remind you how much they sacrifice to be your friend.

They act inconvenienced by your needs. When you reach out for support, they respond with sighs, eye rolls, or comments about how they're always there for you.

They compare themselves favorably to your other friends. "At least I'm here for you, unlike [other person]."

They make you feel guilty for wanting friendship. Your desire for connection becomes a burden they heroically bear.

The Gratitude Trap

People who feel obligated to be your friend often expect excessive gratitude:

• For including you in activities

• For responding to your messages

• For "dealing with" your autism

• For being the "only" person who tolerates you

Real friends don't require constant thanks for basic friendship behaviors.

Why This Happens to Autistic People

Autistic people are particularly vulnerable to obligation-based friendships because:

• Years of rejection make us grateful for any social connection

• We've internalized messages that we're difficult to be around

• We don't recognize when someone views us as charity work

• We mistake obligation for loyalty

Breaking Free

If someone makes you feel like a burden they've nobly chosen to carry:

• Recognize that this isn't friendship

• Stop investing emotional energy in maintaining the relationship

• Find people who genuinely enjoy your company

• Remember that you deserve friends who want you around, not ones who tolerate you

My book details how the friendship with Janet finally ended and what I learned about recognizing obligation-based relationships before investing years in them. This lesson transformed how I approach friendships today. 

Order now

How to Spot Genuine Friendship

After all these fake friendships, I did eventually find genuine connections. Here's what real friendship looked like:

Alisha: The Real Friend

When Alisha didn't respond to my emails, my immediate thought was rejection. My therapist helped me consider other possibilities.

It turned out Alisha's father had undergone major cardiac surgery. She wasn't ignoring me—she was dealing with a family crisis.

Real friends:

• Have legitimate reasons when they're less available

• Don't play games with your feelings

• Communicate when they can

• Pick up where you left off without resentment

Wendy: The Encouraging Roommate

My first roommate, Wendy, was genuinely supportive:

• She reassured me about starting the semester with a full campus

• She didn't compare herself to me

• She was happy for me when I got to transfer dorms, even though it meant losing her roommate

• She had "impeccable manners" and a "good aura"

Real friends:

• Encourage rather than criticize

• Are happy for your successes

• Don't see your growth as a threat

• Create a comfortable, safe energy

Key Takeaways for Autistic People Navigating Friendships

You Don't Have to Accept Crumbs

Years of rejection taught me to be grateful for any social connection, even toxic ones. But accepting fake friendship out of desperation only prolongs loneliness.

It's better to be alone than to be with people who:

• Criticize you constantly

• Talk about you behind your back

• Keep you around out of obligation

• Make you feel worse about yourself

Not Everyone Has Your Best Interests at Heart

This is a hard lesson for autistic people who assume good intentions. Some people will:

• Use your naivety against you

• Take advantage of your difficulty reading social situations

• Exploit your desperation for connection

• Maintain friendly facades while harboring resentment

Trust Your Gut, But Learn to Read It

Many autistic people experience anxiety that makes it hard to distinguish genuine intuition from fear. But there's usually a difference between:

Anxiety: "What if they don't like me?" Intuition: "Something feels off about how they treat me."

Learning to recognize this difference takes time and often requires:

• Therapy to process past experiences

• Social skills training to understand patterns

• Support from people who can offer objective perspectives

• Practice trusting yourself when something doesn't feel right

Quality Over Quantity Always

Janet asked me: "What sounds better? One friend whom you could trust or having a group where you don't even know if you could trust them?"

She was right about one thing (even if her motives were wrong): one genuine friend is worth more than an entire group of fake ones.

Don't measure your social success by:

• Number of friends

• Size of your friend group

• How busy your social calendar is

Measure it by:

• How you feel after spending time with people

• Whether friendships are reciprocal

• If people celebrate you rather than criticize you

• Whether you can be yourself without fear of judgment

Social Skills Take Time—And That's Okay

Tracy said: "You should know how to read people by now. You are in college."

But social skills aren't age-dependent—they're experience-dependent. If you didn't have friends growing up, you're learning in college what others learned in childhood.

This doesn't make you behind. It makes you on a different timeline.

Be patient with yourself while learning to:

• Distinguish genuine interest from politeness

• Recognize when someone is two-faced

• Set boundaries with people who make you feel bad

• Trust your instinctive responses to people's energy

Ready to learn the complete story of navigating college friendships as a newly diagnosed autistic person? My book provides detailed accounts of these relationships, what I learned from each experience, and practical strategies for protecting yourself from fake friends while finding genuine connections. 

Get your copy today and learn from my mistakes so you don't have to repeat them.

Final Thoughts

Looking back at my sophomore year of college, I wish someone had taught me these red flags before I invested so much emotional energy in people who didn't deserve it.

Janet wasn't my friend—she was my critic who enjoyed feeling superior to someone she viewed as socially inferior.

Lucy wasn't my friend—she was someone who included me out of politeness while complaining about me behind my back.

Tracy wasn't my friend—she was a roommate who saw my social struggles as an opportunity to position herself as more evolved.

But Alisha, Wendy, and even brief connections like Phaedra showed me what real friendship could look like. Those glimpses of genuine connection kept me going through the lonely times and taught me that not everyone would treat me poorly.

The maze post-diagnosis wasn't easier than before—in some ways, it was harder because I was now hyperaware of my differences. But with each fake friendship that ended and each genuine connection that formed, I learned to navigate it better.

You will too. It just takes time, practice, and the willingness to walk away from people who don't deserve access to you.

For the complete journey through college friendships, toxic relationships, and learning to recognize genuine connection—plus practical strategies for every situation I faced—get my book today. You'll find validation, wisdom, and tools that will transform how you approach friendships as an autistic person.

5 Things That Happen When You Finally Get Your Autism Diagnosis

Getting an autism diagnosis as an adult is nothing like getting diagnosed as a child. There's no early intervention plan waiting for you. No teachers adjusting their approach. No parents advocating on your behalf.

Instead, you're sitting in a neuropsychologist's office at age 19, finally understanding why life has felt like navigating a maze blindfolded while everyone else seemed to have a map.

When I received my Asperger's Syndrome diagnosis (now classified as autism spectrum disorder) at the beginning of my fall semester in college, I experienced a flood of contradictory emotions. Relief mixed with grief. Validation tangled with frustration. Freedom alongside pain.

If you're pursuing a diagnosis, recently diagnosed, or supporting someone through this process, understanding what comes next can help you navigate the complex emotional landscape that follows those life-changing words: "You're autistic."

Table of Contents

• The Blindfold Finally Comes Off

• When Professionals Tell You What You Already Knew

• The Double-Edged Sword of Vulnerability Awareness

• Navigating Identity: "Why Couldn't I Be Normal?"

• What Depression Couldn't Explain

• Moving Forward After Diagnosis

• Key Takeaways for Late-Diagnosed Adults

1. The Blindfold Finally Comes Off

You've Been Lost in a Maze Your Entire Life

Before diagnosis, you've spent years—maybe decades—knowing something was different about you but lacking the language to explain it. You've heard:

• "You're too sensitive"

• "You just need to try harder socially"

• "Everyone struggles with this"

• "You're being dramatic"

• "It's just anxiety/depression"

You've blamed yourself for social failures, sensory overwhelm, and difficulties that seemed easy for everyone else. You've internalized the message that you're broken, defective, or simply not trying hard enough.

Suddenly, the Map Appears

Diagnosis provides the framework that makes everything make sense. All those puzzle pieces that never seemed to fit together suddenly form a coherent picture.

The strict routines you needed weren't "being difficult"—they were accommodations for autism.

The sensory issues that made certain clothes unbearable weren't "being picky"—they were legitimate neurological responses.

The social confusion that left you friendless wasn't "being weird"—it was the result of processing social information differently.

That realization brings grief alongside the relief.

In my book, I explore the complete emotional journey of receiving an autism diagnosis in college and how it shaped my understanding of everything that had happened in the years leading up to that moment. If you're navigating similar territory, knowing you're not alone in these contradictory feelings makes all the difference.

2. When Professionals Tell You What You Already Knew

The Testing Process Confirms Your Suspicions

By the time I sat down for my diagnosis appointment, I'd already completed extensive psychological testing. The neuropsychologist reviewed:

• Test results showing developmental delays and autistic traits

• My entire history from childhood through college

• Feedback from the summer internship where my immature behavior had been documented

She asked pointed questions: "How do you think your behavior came off this past summer?"

"That I didn't live up," I answered honestly.

"Do you think it is typical for people your age?" she pressed.

"No," I admitted.

Hearing the Truth Out Loud Hurts

"That behavior is very much like a child," she said directly.

Even though I knew this on some level, hearing it stated so plainly was embarrassing. The gap between my chronological age and my social-emotional development was now officially documented, not just privately suspected.

You Learn About Vulnerabilities You Didn't Know You Had

The neuropsychologist didn't just confirm autism. She pointed out specific vulnerabilities:

Naivety: "You are a bit naive, as shown by the tests. You also are immature for your age, which sets you up big time."

Risk of exploitation: "You are more at risk of being taken advantage of and used."

Susceptibility in social situations: "I strongly urge you to think twice before you even think of picking up a drink. You could easily be made to laugh and be the one made to dance on a table while everyone enjoys fun at your expense."

The Warning About College Party Culture

The neuropsychologist knew my university had a significant party scene. Her stern warning wasn't meant to shame me—it was meant to protect me.

Autistic people, especially those who are naive and desperate for social acceptance, are prime targets for exploitation. People can:

• Manipulate you into doing embarrassing things for their entertainment

• Take advantage of your literal thinking and trust

• Use your desire to fit in against you

• Exploit your difficulty reading social situations

Hearing these vulnerabilities spelled out was sobering. I went from relief at having a diagnosis to fear about how exposed I'd been all along.

What Professionals See That You Don't

The testing revealed things I hadn't fully recognized about myself:

• Developmental delays that put me behind my peers emotionally

• Autistic traits that explained my social struggles

• Naivety that made me vulnerable to manipulation

• Immaturity that others had noticed but I hadn't fully acknowledged

Sometimes the hardest part of diagnosis isn't the label itself—it's confronting the specific ways your differences have made life harder and put you at risk.

3. The Double-Edged Sword of Vulnerability Awareness

You Suddenly Realize How Many Times You've Been Used

Once the neuropsychologist explained my naivety and vulnerability to exploitation, my mind immediately went to past experiences:

The "friends" who invited me to parties just to see my house, not to spend time with me.

The people who prompted me to act out in middle school for their entertainment.

The classmates who manipulated me into doing embarrassing things while everyone laughed.

The arranged friendship that turned out to be a business scheme.

Suddenly, all these experiences had context. I hadn't been paranoid or oversensitive—I had been vulnerable and exploited, exactly as the neuropsychologist described.

My book details the specific strategies I developed for protecting myself from exploitation after diagnosis, including how to recognize red flags in relationships and when to walk away from situations that feel unsafe. These skills are essential for any late-diagnosed autistic adult.

4. Navigating Identity: "Why Couldn't I Be Normal?"

The Grief That Accompanies Relief

The diagnosis brought immediate relief—finally, an explanation for everything. But it also brought profound grief.

Sitting in that neuropsychologist's office with my mother, I felt the weight of a question I'd been asking my whole life: "Why couldn't I have been born normal?"

The Painful Questions That Surface

Why does it have to be so difficult? Watching peers navigate social situations effortlessly while you struggle with basic interactions is exhausting. Diagnosis confirms that this difficulty is permanent, not something you'll eventually outgrow.

Why did I have to live in a world where people don't understand? Autism doesn't just mean you're different—it means you're different in a world designed for neurotypical people. Every system, every social norm, every expectation assumes you process information the way the majority does.

Why me? This question isn't productive, but it's inevitable. Why do I have to work ten times harder for basic social competence? Why do I have to deal with sensory overload in normal environments? Why can't I just be like everyone else?

The Conflict Between Acceptance and Resentment

Diagnosis creates internal conflict:

Relief: Finally, I understand myself. Resentment: I have to live with this forever.

Validation: My struggles are real and have a name. Frustration: Knowing the cause doesn't make it easier.

Freedom: I can stop blaming myself. Pain: I have to accept limitations I didn't choose.

The Identity Shift

Before diagnosis, you might have thought: "I'm struggling, but I can fix this if I just try harder."

After diagnosis, the narrative changes: "I'm autistic. This is who I am. The world needs to accommodate me, not the other way around."

That shift from "I need to change" to "the world needs to change" is empowering but also frightening. It requires advocating for yourself in systems that don't want to accommodate you.

Simultaneous Freedom and Pain

The neuropsychologist's words—"Sonia has Asperger's Syndrome"—were simultaneously freeing and painful.

Freeing: I could stop pretending to be something I wasn't. I could seek accommodations without guilt. I could explain my needs without shame.

Painful: I had to grieve the "normal" life I'd never have. I had to accept that some things would always be harder for me. I had to come to terms with being different in a world that values conformity.

This duality is normal. You don't have to choose between relief and grief—you can feel both simultaneously.

5. What Depression Couldn't Explain

When One Diagnosis Isn't Enough

Before my autism diagnosis, I'd been diagnosed with depression. That label explained some things:

• Low mood

• Difficulty finding motivation

• Social withdrawal

• Negative self-talk

But depression didn't explain everything. There were symptoms and struggles that didn't fit neatly into a depression diagnosis.

The Gaps Depression Left

Sensory issues: Depression doesn't cause physical pain from clothing tags or inability to tolerate certain sounds. That's sensory processing differences associated with autism.

Social confusion: Depression can make you withdraw from social situations, but it doesn't explain the fundamental confusion about unwritten social rules and inability to read nonverbal cues.

Literal thinking: Missing sarcasm, taking things at face value, and struggling with abstract concepts aren't depression symptoms—they're autistic traits.

Need for routine: Depression can disrupt routines, but autism creates a neurological need for predictability and sameness that has nothing to do with mood.

Special interests: The intense focus on specific topics that brings joy isn't explained by depression—it's a core feature of autism.

Autism as the Missing Piece

The autism diagnosis filled in the gaps that depression left. It explained:

• Why social situations were confusing, not just uncomfortable

• Why sensory experiences could be physically painful

• Why routines weren't just comforting but necessary

• Why I thought differently than my peers in fundamental ways

• Why certain behaviors that seemed immature were actually neurological differences

Depression Was Real, But It Wasn't the Whole Picture

Many autistic people are diagnosed with depression or anxiety first because mental health professionals are more familiar with those conditions. The underlying autism goes unrecognized, especially in girls and women who mask their autistic traits.

In my case, depression was real and valid. The years of bullying, social rejection, and feeling fundamentally broken had absolutely caused depression.

But the depression was secondary to the autism. I was depressed because I was an undiagnosed autistic person trying to survive in a neurotypical world without support or understanding.

The Relief of Complete Understanding

Having both diagnoses—depression and autism—finally provided a complete picture.

The autism explained the fundamental differences in how I processed the world.

The depression explained my emotional response to years of struggling with those differences without support.

Together, they gave me a roadmap for what I needed: autism-informed therapy, accommodations for my neurological differences, and treatment for the depression that resulted from years of struggling alone.

Moving Forward After Diagnosis

What Comes Next

Diagnosis isn't the end of the journey—it's the beginning of a new chapter. After those words "you're autistic," you face important decisions:

Who do you tell? Coming out as autistic to family, friends, employers, and educators is a personal choice with real consequences. Not everyone will understand or be supportive.

What accommodations do you need? In college, I could now request academic accommodations through disability services. In work settings, adults can request reasonable accommodations under the ADA.

How do you process the grief? The loss of the "normal" life you thought you'd have is real and deserves to be mourned. Therapy, support groups, and connecting with other autistic adults can help.

What strengths can you lean into? Autism isn't just deficits. Many autistic people have exceptional abilities in areas of interest, pattern recognition, attention to detail, and creative thinking.

Building Your Support System

After diagnosis, you need people who understand:

• Other autistic adults who share your experiences

• Therapists trained in autism (not just childhood autism)

• Family and friends willing to learn and accommodate

• Medical professionals who take your sensory needs seriously

• Educators or employers who provide necessary supports

Reframing Your Past

Diagnosis allows you to look back at your life with new understanding:

Those "behavioral problems" in school? Autistic meltdowns from sensory overload.

That "immaturity" everyone criticized? Developmental delays that are part of autism.

Those "failed friendships"? Difficulty with unwritten social rules, not personal failings.

That "sensitivity"? Sensory processing differences and emotional intensity.

Reframing your past through an autistic lens reduces shame and increases self-compassion.

Embracing Your Autistic Identity

Over time, many late-diagnosed adults shift from viewing autism as a deficit to embracing it as identity. This doesn't mean denying real challenges—it means recognizing that autism is a fundamental part of who you are, not something to be cured or hidden.

This journey from diagnosis to acceptance isn't linear. You'll have days when you wish you were neurotypical and days when you appreciate your unique perspective. Both are valid.

Key Takeaways for Late-Diagnosed Adults

Your Diagnosis Is Valid

Whether you were diagnosed at 5, 19, or 55, your autism diagnosis is legitimate. Late diagnosis doesn't mean your autism is less real—it means it was overlooked or misunderstood for years.

Contradictory Emotions Are Normal

Feeling relief and grief simultaneously isn't confusing—it's completely normal. You can be grateful for understanding while also mourning the support you should have received years ago.

You're Not Alone

Thousands of adults are diagnosed with autism every year. The autistic community includes people diagnosed at every age, and late-diagnosed adults often have unique insights and experiences that help others.

Depression and Autism Often Co-Occur

If you have both diagnoses, you're not unusual. Many autistic people develop depression or anxiety from years of struggling without support. Treating both conditions is important for overall wellbeing.

Vulnerability Awareness Is Protective

Learning about your specific vulnerabilities—naivety, difficulty reading social situations, susceptibility to manipulation—isn't meant to scare you. It's meant to help you protect yourself going forward.

You Deserved Better

You deserved to be diagnosed earlier. You deserved accommodations and support. You deserved understanding instead of criticism. Acknowledging this isn't dwelling on the past—it's validating your experience.

The Future Can Be Different

With diagnosis comes access to:

• Appropriate therapeutic support

• Accommodations in education and employment

• Community with other autistic people

• Self-understanding that reduces shame

• Strategies tailored to your specific needs

Your past may have been filled with confusion and struggle, but your future can include acceptance, support, and thriving as your authentic autistic self.

Ready to explore the complete journey from diagnosis through self-acceptance? My book provides the full story of receiving an autism diagnosis in college and learning to navigate the world as an openly autistic adult. 

Final Thoughts

Walking out of that neuropsychologist's office with my autism diagnosis, I carried a complex mix of emotions that would take years to fully process. The relief of finally understanding myself. The grief of all the years I'd struggled without support. The fear of future vulnerabilities. The hope that maybe, finally, things could be different.

If you're reading this as a newly diagnosed adult or someone considering evaluation, know that these feelings are valid and shared by countless others who've walked this path.

Diagnosis doesn't fix everything—but it gives you the framework to understand everything. And that understanding, painful as it sometimes is, is the foundation for building a life that works with your neurology instead of against it.

The blindfold is off. The maze is still there, but now you can see it clearly. And seeing it clearly is the first step toward finding your way through.

For the complete story of life before, during, and after autism diagnosis—including practical strategies for navigating college, relationships, and self-advocacy as an autistic adult—get my book today. 

A Parent's Guide to Supporting Neurodiverse Children

Parenting is challenging. Parenting a neurodiverse child brings unique complexities that many parents feel unprepared to handle. From sensory meltdowns in public places to navigating school systems that don't always understand your child's needs, the journey can feel overwhelming.

But what if we shifted our perspective from fixing deficits to celebrating strengths? What if sensory sensitivities weren't just challenges to overcome, but signals helping us understand how our children experience the world?

Sarah Hartley, author of the Purposefully Me book series and creator of the ALIGN parenting method, has walked this path with both of her sons who have ADHD and sensory processing disorder. In a recent episode of On the Spectrum Empowerment Stories, she shared practical strategies that transformed her family's approach to neurodiversity.

Whether you're a parent of a neurodiverse child, an educator, or someone navigating your own late diagnosis, these insights will help you move from survival mode to thriving together.

Table of Contents

• Early Warning Signs: What to Watch For

• The Pandemic's Impact on Sensory-Seeking Children

• Building a Sensory Gym at Home

• The ALIGN Method: Staying Calm When It Matters Most

• Shifting to a Strengths-Based Approach

• Getting Support Into Schools

• Key Takeaways for Parents and Educators

Early Warning Signs: What to Watch For

Walking on Tippy Toes

One of the first signs Sarah noticed in her oldest son was toe walking around age two. Her sister-in-law, whose own children had sensory sensitivities, pointed this out as something to watch for.

Toe walking is a common indicator of sensory processing differences, particularly in children who are vestibular avoiders—meaning they feel like they're constantly in motion and struggle with balance-related activities.

Other Early Indicators of Sensory Processing Disorder

Tactile sensitivities:

• Refusing to touch certain textures like play-doh or slime

• Discomfort with food textures or messy hands

• Sensitivity to clothing tags or seams

Auditory sensitivities:

• Covering ears at sudden or loud noises

• Being startled by sounds like door slams or fire alarms

• Tolerating only self-created noise versus external sounds

Temperature regulation:

• Extreme resistance to getting in the bath or shower

• Once in, refusing to get out due to temperature changes

• Difficulty with transitions between warm and cold environments

Seeking behaviors:

• Craving deep pressure through strong hugs

• Deliberately crashing into things or falling

• Constantly moving or fidgeting

The Mixed Profile Challenge

Sarah's oldest son presented as both a vestibular avoider and a proprioceptive seeker—avoiding swinging and bike riding while simultaneously seeking deep pressure and crashing activities.

This mixed profile is common in sensory processing disorder. Children aren't simply "sensory seeking" or "sensory avoiding." They often display both patterns across different sensory systems, making intervention more complex.

Understanding your child's specific sensory profile is the first step toward providing appropriate support.

The Pandemic's Impact on Sensory-Seeking Children

When Early Intervention Stopped

For many families with neurodiverse children, the pandemic created devastating setbacks. Sarah's oldest son was just starting to make progress with occupational therapy when everything shut down in March 2020.

The anxiety from losing structure and routine became so severe that her then-three-year-old stopped sleeping. His four-month-old brother was waking throughout the night, and the entire household was in crisis.

Creative Problem-Solving During Lockdown

Sarah made a difficult decision: she kept her newborn home but sent her older son to daycare for structure and routine. She also enlisted family members to help build an entire sensory gym in their garage.

The gym included:

• A climbing wall with chalkboard paint and magnetic backing

• A large crash pad

• A jungle gym

• A ball pit for proprioceptive input

This dedicated sensory space became crucial for managing her son's sensory needs when professional therapy wasn't available.

The Lasting Impact

Children who were certain ages during the pandemic experienced unique challenges. Sarah notes that while her oldest barely remembers wearing masks to preschool graduation, the developmental impact of missing crucial therapy and social experiences during formative years cannot be understated.

For parents still dealing with pandemic-related setbacks in their children's development, know that you're not alone. Many children are still catching up from that lost time.

Want to hear Sarah's complete story about navigating the pandemic with two neurodiverse children? Listen to the full episode of On the Spectrum Empowerment Stories for more insights on creative problem-solving during impossible circumstances.

Building a Sensory Gym at Home

Beyond Equipment: Organization of Sensory Input

Sarah discovered something crucial: it's not just about providing sensory input, but about organizing that sensory input in meaningful ways.

Instead of just letting her son climb the wall or play in the ball pit, she created activities that combined sensory input with cognitive tasks:

Climbing wall activities:

• Place magnetic letters at the top in a jumbled order

• Have your child climb to retrieve letters one at a time

• Bring letters down to spell a specific word

Ball pit activities:

• Ask for specific colored balls one at a time

• Request a certain number of one color

• Create patterns or sequences

This approach provides sensory input while simultaneously teaching organization, sequencing, and following multi-step directions.

The Long-Term Investment

Most of the sensory gym equipment has been retired as Sarah's children aged, but the crash pad remains. Both boys, now ages 9 and 6, still use it regularly.

Her youngest has also discovered gymnastics, which provides structured sensory input similar to what the home gym offered. He's constantly doing flips on furniture and cartwheels on any patch of grass—reminiscent of Sarah's own childhood behavior that she now recognizes as her undiagnosed ADHD.

Sound Therapy at Home

Sarah's occupational therapist provided a classical music soundtrack with intentionally scratchy sounds as part of sound therapy. While her son wouldn't wear headphones, they played it every time they were in the car.

This is similar to auditory integration therapy, which helps desensitize the auditory system to certain frequencies. Consistency matters more than duration—daily exposure in the car was more effective than occasional sessions with headphones.

The ALIGN Method: Staying Calm When It Matters Most

When Traditional Strategies Aren't Enough

Sarah developed the ALIGN method out of necessity. She had tried various calming strategies—morning walks, meditation, journaling—but struggled most in the moment when her children were dysregulated.

As a parent with ADHD herself, she found that noises that never bothered her before (like coming home from school) became overwhelming triggers. She needed a quick, actionable framework for regulating herself so her children could mirror her calm.

The ALIGN Framework Explained

A - Awareness Become aware of your own physical sensations. Notice your heart racing, sweating, tight fists, or shallow breathing. Metacognition—thinking about your thinking—is the first step.

L - Listen and Label Listen to what your child is saying and label the emotions. "You're feeling overwhelmed. I'm feeling overwhelmed too." Naming emotions reduces their intensity.

I - Identify Triggers Become a detective. What's causing the dysregulation? Is it sensory overload? Hunger? Fatigue? Transitions? Identifying the trigger helps you address the root cause.

G - Grounding Use a quick grounding technique to reset the nervous system:

• Take a sip of water

• Find three things of a specific color

• Use the 5-4-3-2-1 technique (five things you see, four you can touch, etc.)

• Play I Spy

N - Nurture Show empathy and give grace. "I totally understand why you're feeling this way. I get it." You cannot hold empathy and anger simultaneously—empathy dissolves anger.

Real-World Application: The Baseball Game

At a Savannah Bananas game, Sarah's son became overwhelmed waiting in a long line in the heat with crowds, smells, and sounds everywhere. He started complaining: "This is boring. This is awful. I thought you said this would be fun."

Sarah's immediate instinct was frustration—they'd spent money on tickets, and here he was being "ungrateful."

Instead, she used ALIGN:

Awareness: She noticed her own heart racing, sweating, tight fists.

Listen and Label: "It's really hot outside. I'm feeling overwhelmed. I think you're feeling overwhelmed too."

Identify: "There are so many smells, sounds, and people. This is sensory overload."

Grounding: "Let's both take a sip of water and find three things that are purple."

Nurture: "I totally understand why you're feeling this way. I'm also feeling really overwhelmed. The line's moving—do you want to go in and visit the gift shop, or would you rather go home?"

Within 60 seconds, her son decided he wanted to go in and get a ball signed by players. Crisis averted, connection maintained.

This is just one example of the ALIGN method in action. For more detailed strategies and Sarah's complete parenting workbook, listen to the full podcast episode where she walks through additional scenarios and provides free holiday-specific resources.

Shifting to a Strengths-Based Approach

The Deficit Model vs. Strengths Model

Traditional approaches to neurodiversity focus on what's "wrong" and what needs to be "fixed." Children are defined by their deficits: attention problems, social difficulties, sensory issues.

Sarah's Purposefully Me book series takes a different approach. Each of the 14 books features a fourth-grade character with different neurodivergent traits—autism, ADHD, dyslexia, Down syndrome, sensory processing disorder—but focuses on their strengths, interests, and unique perspectives.

Why Fourth Grade?

Sarah chose fourth-graders as her characters intentionally. Third grade is when hormones start changing, conflict increases, and many ADHD diagnoses happen as academic demands increase. By fourth grade, these challenges are in full swing.

Fourth-graders are old enough for third-graders to look up to but young enough for fifth-graders to still relate to. This age range captures most of elementary school.

Celebrities Who Prove the Point

When Sarah's basketball-obsessed son learned that Michael Jordan has ADHD, it transformed his self-perception. Suddenly, ADHD wasn't just a limitation—it was something he shared with his hero.

Other successful people with ADHD include:

• Simone Biles (gymnastics)

• Adam Levine (musician)

• Justin Timberlake (entertainer)

• Will Smith (actor)

When children see successful people "just like them," they develop confidence in who they are rather than shame about being different.

The Creativity Connection

Recent research presented at psychological conferences highlights how ADHD supports creativity. The same brain that struggles with sustained attention excels at:

• Seeing connections others miss

• Thinking outside conventional frameworks

• Hyperfocusing on passion projects

• Generating novel ideas rapidly

This applies across neurodiversity. Autistic individuals often have exceptional pattern recognition, attention to detail, and deep expertise in areas of interest. Sensory sensitivities can translate into heightened awareness and appreciation for art, music, or nature.

Getting Support Into Schools

The Ultimate Goal

Sarah's mission extends beyond individual families. She's working to get the Purposefully Me books into school systems through foundation partnerships.

Her proposal targets foundations focused on:

• Dyslexia support

• Children's literacy programs

• Educational equity

• Special education resources

The idea is for foundations to gift box sets of these books to schools, making them available to all students—not just those identified as neurodiverse.

Why Every Child Benefits

Even neurotypical children benefit from understanding neurodiversity. These books help them:

• Recognize why a classmate might behave differently

• Develop empathy and compassion

• See characteristics as superpowers rather than disabilities

• Understand that everyone's dealing with something

When schools embrace comprehensive neurodiversity education, bullying decreases and inclusion increases. Children who understand why a peer stims, needs movement breaks, or processes information differently are less likely to mock and more likely to support.

The Slow Rollout

Sarah is releasing one book per month to ensure high-quality illustrations that evoke appropriate emotions. Books currently available or coming soon:

• Purposefully Brave (available now)

• Purposefully Calm - sensory processing disorder (available this week)

• Purposefully Enough - ADHD (printing now)

Additional titles will address autism, dyslexia, Down syndrome, bullying, social anxiety, school drills, and more aspects of the neurodivergent experience.

How Parents Can Advocate

While Sarah works on getting her books into school systems, parents can advocate by:

• Requesting neurodiversity education for all students, not just special education classes

• Donating inclusive books to classroom libraries

• Asking for professional development on strengths-based approaches

• Partnering with teachers to provide resources

• Joining or forming parent advocacy groups

Change happens when parents collectively push for better understanding and support.

Key Takeaways for Parents and Educators

Early Identification Matters

The earlier you identify sensory sensitivities and neurodivergent traits, the sooner you can provide appropriate support. Don't dismiss early warning signs—trust your instincts and seek evaluation if something feels off.

You're Parenting Yourself Too

If you're a neurodiverse parent raising neurodiverse children, you're on a parallel journey. Many strategies you implement for your children will benefit you as well. Sarah describes it as "parenting myself as much as I'm parenting them."

Regulate Yourself First

Children mirror the emotional state of their caregivers. When you remain calm, they can access calm. When you're dysregulated, they become dysregulated. The ALIGN method helps you manage your own nervous system so you can be the regulating presence your child needs.

Mixed Profiles Are Normal

Don't expect your child to fit neatly into one category. Sensory avoiders can also be sensory seekers in different domains. ADHD often co-occurs with sensory processing disorder, autism, dyslexia, or giftedness. Embrace the complexity rather than trying to simplify.

Strengths Over Deficits

Yes, your child has challenges. But they also have incredible strengths. The ADHD brain that struggles with boring tasks hyperfocuses intensely on passions. The autistic mind that finds social situations confusing sees patterns and details others miss. The sensory-sensitive child has heightened awareness that can translate into artistic gifts.

Focus on developing strengths rather than only remediating weaknesses.

Late Diagnosis Brings Relief

Sarah wasn't diagnosed with ADHD until age 25, and it didn't fully click until she had children and started understanding her own neurodiversity in her 30s and 40s. Late diagnosis isn't a failure—it's an opportunity to finally understand yourself and access appropriate support.

Connection Over Perfection

You won't always stay calm. You'll sometimes yell and fly off the handle. What matters is repair—explaining what happened, showing empathy, and modeling that everyone struggles sometimes. This builds trust that carries into the teenage years.

Sarah shares many more practical strategies, personal stories, and resources in the full podcast episode. Listen now to hear her discuss everything from sound therapy protocols to navigating school IEPs to managing decision fatigue as a neurodiverse parent.

Moving Forward with Confidence

Parenting neurodiverse children requires creativity, flexibility, and endless patience. But it also offers unique gifts: deeper empathy, appreciation for differences, creative problem-solving skills, and the joy of celebrating progress that others might take for granted.

Sarah's journey from building sensory gyms during a pandemic to developing comprehensive parenting frameworks and children's books demonstrates what's possible when we shift from deficit-focused to strengths-based approaches.

Whether you're just beginning to notice sensory sensitivities in your toddler or you're years into supporting a neurodiverse child, remember:

• You're not alone in this journey

• Your child's differences are not deficiencies

• Regulating yourself is the foundation for regulating them

• Strengths-based approaches work better than deficit-focused interventions

• Small shifts in perspective create massive changes in outcomes

The ALIGN method provides a practical framework for those overwhelming moments when everything feels like too much. Sarah's books give children language to understand themselves and others. And shifting from "what's wrong" to "what's strong" transforms how your child sees themselves.

Ready to dive deeper into strengths-based parenting strategies and learn more about Sarah's journey with her neurodiverse sons? 

Listen to the complete On the Spectrum Empowerment Stories podcast episode featuring Sarah Hartley. 

The Journey to Autism Diagnosis: 7 Signs You Might Have Missed in Young Adults

Getting an autism diagnosis as a young adult can feel like finally finding the missing piece of a lifelong puzzle. For years, you've struggled with social connections, sensory sensitivities, and feeling fundamentally different from your peers without understanding why. When someone finally suggests autism spectrum disorder, everything suddenly makes sense.

The path to diagnosis often begins when a perceptive educator, therapist, or family member recognizes patterns that have been present all along. Understanding these signs can help young adults and their families seek appropriate evaluation and support, potentially transforming their entire trajectory.

Late diagnosis is incredibly common, especially for individuals who masked their symptoms or didn't fit stereotypical presentations. Recognizing the signs that point toward autism can be life-changing, providing clarity, self-understanding, and access to resources that make navigating the world significantly easier.

Table of Contents

• Teachers and Educators Often Notice Patterns First

• Difficulty Reading Social Cues and Unspoken Rules

• Intense Special Interests That Don't Fade

• Sensory Sensitivities That Persist Into Adulthood

• Challenges With Tone and Communication Style

• Difficulty Letting Go of Interests or Ideas

• Mirroring Behavior Without Understanding Context

1. Teachers and Educators Often Notice Patterns First

Educators who work with neurodivergent students develop keen observational skills for recognizing autism spectrum traits. When a teacher encounters a new student on the spectrum, they often mentally review former students who displayed similar characteristics but were never diagnosed.

Elementary school teachers particularly notice patterns in their students that persist across years. They observe which children struggle with loud sounds, have difficulty navigating social situations, need extra guidance understanding unspoken rules, and face challenges with routine transitions. These observations create a mental database of characteristics.

Years later, when a teacher becomes educated about autism spectrum disorder through professional development or working with a diagnosed student, they may have profound realizations about former students. The sensory issues, social navigation difficulties, and need for explicit instruction suddenly form a recognizable pattern pointing toward undiagnosed autism.

These educators often take extraordinary steps to help, including reaching out to families years after a student has left their classroom. Their outside perspective and pattern recognition can be invaluable in starting the diagnostic journey, as they've observed the individual in demanding social environments where differences become most apparent.

Want to understand how one teacher's recognition changed everything? Order your copy now to read the complete story of recognition, diagnosis, and finally understanding why everything felt so difficult.

2. Difficulty Reading Social Cues and Unspoken Rules

One of the most persistent challenges for individuals on the autism spectrum is interpreting the unwritten social rules that neurotypical people navigate intuitively. These unspoken guidelines govern everything from conversation flow to friendship boundaries to understanding when someone is being genuine versus polite.

Young adults with undiagnosed autism often struggle to understand why their social attempts fail. They try to be friendly but get feedback that they're "trying too hard." They attempt to join conversations but somehow say the wrong thing. They mirror what they see others doing but get negative reactions for the same behavior.

The confusion stems from missing subtle cues about timing, context, and appropriateness. While neurotypical peers instinctively know when to share personal information, when to give space, and how to gauge interest levels, autistic individuals must consciously analyze these situations without a reliable internal compass.

This difficulty extends to reading relationships accurately. Understanding whether someone is truly a friend or just being polite, whether interest is genuine or obligatory, and whether relationships are reciprocal or one-sided requires reading nuanced signals that may not register clearly for autistic individuals.

3. Intense Special Interests That Don't Fade

Neurotypical individuals typically have varied interests that shift over time with reasonable intensity. Autistic individuals often develop deep, consuming interests that can last months or years, dominating their thoughts and conversations in ways that others find unusual or excessive.

These special interests might focus on specific people, topics, hobbies, or fields of study. The intensity goes beyond typical enthusiasm—it becomes all-consuming, with the person wanting to discuss the interest constantly, learn everything about it, and incorporate it into most aspects of their life.

For young adults, special interests might manifest as intense focus on particular crushes that persist despite clear unavailability, deep dives into academic subjects that captivate them, or fascination with understanding how relationships and social connections work. The interest doesn't fade when others suggest moving on; it continues until it naturally runs its course.

Others often find these intense interests off-putting or inappropriate, particularly when they involve real people or social situations. Well-meaning friends might provide feedback that the person talks about their interest too much, but the autistic individual genuinely struggles to understand why or how to moderate their enthusiasm.

4. Sensory Sensitivities That Persist Into Adulthood

Many people assume sensory issues are exclusively childhood concerns that fade with maturity. For autistic individuals, sensory sensitivities often persist throughout life, though people may develop better coping strategies or masking techniques that hide their discomfort.

These sensitivities can involve any sense: hypersensitivity to loud sounds, uncomfortable reactions to certain textures or fabrics, strong responses to smells, visual overwhelm in busy environments, or tactile defensiveness. The individual may need specific accommodations that seem unusual to others.

Young adults with undiagnosed autism often develop self-soothing strategies involving sensory input. They might seek out specific locations that provide calming sensory experiences, like fountains with visual appeal and soothing sounds, or quiet spaces away from overwhelming stimuli. These aren't random preferences but necessary regulation tools.

When sensory needs have been present since childhood—requiring interventions like hearing desensitization therapy, showing strong food texture preferences, or demonstrating clear sensory-seeking or sensory-avoiding behaviors—they warrant consideration as part of a broader autism assessment.

5. Challenges With Tone and Communication Style

Autistic individuals frequently struggle with both producing and interpreting appropriate tone. They may speak in ways that sound harsher or more direct than intended, or they may miss when others are using harsh tones with them. This creates frequent misunderstandings and relationship conflicts.

Others might describe them as "taking things too personally" or being "overly sensitive," but the issue isn't sensitivity—it's difficulty accurately reading emotional content in communication. When someone speaks in a certain way, the autistic person may interpret it literally rather than picking up on intended nuance or social softening.

Conversely, when an autistic person speaks, they may come across as rude, blunt, or aggressive when they simply mean to be honest or direct. They don't naturally add the social padding that neurotypical communication includes, leading to feedback that they're being inappropriate or disrespectful.

This communication gap creates ongoing friction in relationships. Roommates, friends, and colleagues may feel offended by direct communication while the autistic individual remains confused about what they did wrong. Meanwhile, they may feel genuinely hurt by others' tone but get dismissed as oversensitive.

Curious about how communication challenges and sensory needs affect daily college life? Purchase your copy to see how these challenges played out in real situations.

6. Difficulty Letting Go of Interests or Ideas

Cognitive flexibility—the ability to shift focus, adapt to change, and let go of ideas that aren't working—is often challenging for autistic individuals. This manifests as perseveration, where they continue pursuing something despite clear feedback that it's not working or appropriate.

This might look like continuing to pursue a romantic interest despite clear unavailability, repeatedly bringing up topics others have asked them to drop, or struggling to abandon approaches that aren't succeeding. The person isn't being intentionally stubborn; they genuinely struggle to redirect their focus.

Friends and family often become frustrated, repeatedly giving the same advice about moving on or changing approach. The autistic person may intellectually understand the feedback but find it extremely difficult to actually shift their thinking and behavior. The interest or idea maintains its grip despite conscious efforts to let go.

This perseveration creates patterns of repeatedly making the same social mistakes even after receiving feedback. Others interpret this as not listening or not caring about their input, when actually the person is struggling with neurological differences in cognitive flexibility and impulse control.

7. Mirroring Behavior Without Understanding Context

Many autistic individuals develop masking strategies where they observe and copy others' behavior to fit in socially. However, without understanding the underlying social rules and context, this mirroring often backfires, leading to negative reactions that confuse the autistic person.

They might notice a friend casually entering rooms without knocking and try the same behavior, only to be told they're being rude or invasive. They observe others sharing personal information and attempt similar sharing, but get feedback that they're oversharing or being inappropriate.

The confusion stems from not recognizing the nuanced contexts that make certain behaviors acceptable in some situations but not others. Relationships have different levels of intimacy with corresponding appropriate behaviors, but these hierarchies aren't always obvious to autistic individuals.

This creates painful situations where the person genuinely tries to fit in by copying what they see, only to face rejection and criticism. They followed what appeared to be the social blueprint but missed invisible factors like relationship closeness, timing, or reciprocal consent that made the behavior appropriate for others.

The Relief and Clarity of Diagnosis

Receiving an autism diagnosis as a young adult often brings profound relief rather than distress. Suddenly, years of confusion, failed social attempts, and feeling fundamentally different make sense. The diagnosis isn't a limitation—it's an explanation and a roadmap.

Understanding autism spectrum disorder allows individuals to stop blaming themselves for struggles that stem from neurological differences. They can learn specific strategies for their challenges, connect with others who share similar experiences, and advocate for accommodations that help them thrive.

The diagnostic process typically involves comprehensive neuropsychological testing that examines social cognition, communication patterns, sensory processing, and cognitive functioning. These evaluations provide detailed insights into an individual's specific profile of strengths and challenges.

For families and educators, diagnosis enables appropriate support and understanding. Instead of interpreting behaviors as willful or character flaws, everyone can recognize them as manifestations of autism and respond with appropriate strategies rather than punishment or criticism.

Moving Forward With Understanding

If these signs resonate with your experience or that of someone you care about, pursuing evaluation with a neuropsychologist or autism specialist can provide life-changing clarity. Late diagnosis is increasingly common as understanding of autism spectrum disorder expands beyond childhood stereotypes.

The journey to diagnosis may feel long and sometimes frustrating, but the self-understanding and validation it provides makes the process worthwhile. Knowing you're autistic doesn't limit your potential—it helps you understand yourself better and access the right supports for success.

Whether you're an educator noticing patterns in students, a family member concerned about a loved one, or a young adult recognizing yourself in these descriptions, taking steps toward evaluation demonstrates wisdom and self-advocacy. Understanding your neurology empowers you to work with your brain rather than against it.

Order now to explore the detailed path to diagnosis and discover how understanding changes everything.

8 Ways Summer Breaks Can Transform Your Life

When you're struggling through a difficult school year, drowning in social isolation and academic pressure, summer break can feel like a lifeline. But it's more than just a pause from stress. The right summer experience can become a turning point that reshapes your entire trajectory.

Sometimes stepping away from your daily environment provides the clarity and perspective needed to discover who you really are and what you're capable of becoming. Geographic distance, supportive family members, honest conversations, and new social environments can work together to create transformation that seemed impossible just months earlier.

Whether you're a struggling student, a parent seeking solutions, or someone who survived difficult years and wants to understand your journey better, recognizing how change happens can provide hope and direction when you need it most.

Table of Contents

• Physical Distance Creates Emotional Clarity

• Makeovers Are More Than Skin Deep

• New Environments Offer Fresh Social Opportunities

• Family Can See What You Cannot

• Honest Conversations Change Life Trajectories

• Work Experience Builds Character and Confidence

• Creative Outlets Provide Emotional Release

• Setting New Anchors Creates Hope

1. Physical Distance Creates Emotional Clarity

When you're stuck in a toxic environment day after day, it becomes impossible to see beyond your immediate circumstances. Your world narrows to survival mode. Getting physical distance through travel or staying elsewhere provides perspective you simply cannot gain while immersed in daily struggles.

Leaving your hometown, even temporarily, removes you from the social hierarchies and painful dynamics that define your everyday existence. You're no longer the person everyone has labeled and boxed in. You become anonymous, which paradoxically allows you to be more authentically yourself.

This geographical shift often reveals that your struggles aren't inherent character flaws but products of specific environments and circumstances. What feels like personal failure in one setting can dissolve completely in another, proving that context matters enormously in how we experience ourselves.

The breathing room that distance provides allows suppressed emotions to surface and process. When you're constantly in fight-or-flight mode, real reflection becomes impossible. Space creates safety for honest self-examination.

Discover how one transformative summer away from a toxic school environment changed everything. 

2. Makeovers Are More Than Skin Deep

External transformations often receive criticism as superficial, but they can serve as powerful catalysts for internal change. When you've spent years feeling invisible, unattractive, or wrong in your own skin, experiencing yourself differently through appearance changes can be revelatory.

A good makeover isn't about conforming to beauty standards. It's about seeing yourself with fresh eyes and recognizing that you're worthy of care, attention, and effort. For someone who has been bullied or ostracized, looking in the mirror and genuinely liking what they see can be the first positive self-perception they've had in years.

The confidence that comes from feeling good about your appearance isn't shallow. It affects how you carry yourself, how you interact with others, and how you allow yourself to be treated. When you feel attractive and put-together, you're more likely to advocate for yourself and expect respect.

These external changes can mark important turning points, serving as visual reminders that transformation is possible. They represent taking control over at least one aspect of your life when so much feels uncontrollable.

3. New Environments Offer Fresh Social Opportunities

One of the most liberating aspects of spending time in a new place is encountering people who know nothing about your past. You're not defined by mistakes you made in middle school or behaviors people won't let you forget. You meet others as a blank slate.

This fresh start allows you to practice social skills without the weight of reputation and judgment. When classmates in summer programs or new settings accept you easily, it proves that the rejection you face at home isn't inevitable or deserved. The problem wasn't you; it was the specific social ecosystem you were trapped in.

Meeting ambitious, talented peers in different environments expands your vision of what's possible. Seeing others balance academics, sports, and active social lives demonstrates that thriving is achievable, even if it hasn't been your experience yet. These encounters plant seeds about the kind of life you might build.

Even brief friendships formed during summer experiences matter. They provide templates for healthy interaction, show you what genuine acceptance feels like, and prove that connection is possible for you. These relationships, however fleeting, offer hope that lasting friendships will eventually come.

Want to understand how temporary friendships and new environments can plant seeds for future growth? Dropped in a Maze explores the profound impact of summer experiences, get the book today to see how small moments of acceptance create ripples of lasting change.

4. Family Can See What You Cannot

When you're drowning in immediate struggles, it's nearly impossible to think clearly about your future. You're focused on surviving this week, this day, sometimes just this hour. Extended family members who aren't caught up in daily crises often see your potential more clearly than you can see it yourself.

Relatives observing from outside your immediate household notice strengths you've stopped recognizing in yourself. They see your intellectual curiosity, your determination, your creativity—qualities buried under the weight of social failure and academic stress. Their outside perspective becomes invaluable.

These family members can also provide honest feedback about limitations without it feeling like criticism. When someone who genuinely cares about your success points out that your strengths lie elsewhere than your stated goals, it opens possibilities rather than closing them. They redirect rather than deflate.

The validation that comes from extended family believing in you creates a lifeline during periods when you don't believe in yourself. Knowing that someone sees promise in your future, even when you can't, keeps hope alive during the darkest stretches.

5. Honest Conversations Change Life Trajectories

Single conversations can pivot entire lives. When someone asks the right questions at the right time, they create space for truths to emerge that were waiting to be acknowledged. These moments of clarity often happen away from the pressure and noise of daily life.

Realizing you're pursuing a path because of external expectations rather than genuine interest is liberating. Many young people chase goals based on what parents want, what seems prestigious, or what they think they "should" do. Honest dialogue exposes these misalignments.

When trusted adults point out the disconnect between your stated goals and demonstrated abilities, it's not cruelty—it's kindness. Struggling miserably in chemistry and physics while excelling in writing and thinking should inform your path forward. Acknowledging this isn't giving up; it's being realistic.

These conversations work best when they highlight strengths rather than just identifying weaknesses. Hearing "your strengths lie elsewhere" while being reminded of your intellectual nature, good character, and specific talents creates a positive redirection. You're not failing at the right path; you're being redirected toward a better one.

Curious about how one dinner conversation completely changed a teenager's future trajectory? The complete story in Dropped in a Maze reveals how honest family dialogue and outside perspective created the clarity needed to choose an authentic path forward. 

Purchase your copy to explore the power of transformative conversations.

6. Work Experience Builds Character and Confidence

Actually contributing to something productive, even in a small way, provides a sense of purpose and capability that academic struggles can't offer. Work experiences during summer breaks expose you to adult responsibilities and expectations in manageable doses.

Showing up consistently, completing tasks, and being part of a functioning operation proves to yourself that you're capable and reliable. When school makes you feel incompetent, work can restore confidence by demonstrating your ability to meet expectations and add value.

These experiences also provide glimpses into various career paths and work environments, helping clarify what you might enjoy or want to avoid in your future. Abstract career aspirations become more concrete when you see daily operations firsthand.

Additionally, work environments judge you on current performance rather than past reputation. Your coworkers don't know or care about your middle school behavior. They evaluate you based on how you show up today, providing yet another fresh start.

7. Creative Outlets Provide Emotional Release

When you've experienced trauma, bullying, isolation, or depression, creative expression becomes essential for processing and healing. Reading stories about characters grappling with loneliness, writing your own narratives, or engaging with art that explores difficult emotions provides catharsis.

Finding authors and characters who articulate feelings you've struggled to express makes you feel less alone. When Tennessee Williams explores isolation in The Glass Menagerie or Salinger captures alienation in Catcher in the Rye, readers struggling with similar emotions find validation and connection through literature.

Creative writing allows you to shape narratives, exercise control over outcomes, and explore possibilities that don't exist in your current reality. The imaginative space becomes a laboratory for working through emotions and envisioning different futures. It's both escape and processing.

Bonding with others over shared responses to creative works builds connections based on intellectual and emotional resonance rather than social status. Discussing stories, sharing viewpoints, and appreciating artistry together creates intimacy that superficial social interactions lack.

8. Setting New Anchors Creates Hope

Hope requires something concrete to attach to—a future goal, a vision of who you might become, a destination beyond your current circumstances. When you're mired in present suffering without any sense of future possibility, despair takes hold. Creating new anchors changes everything.

Identifying a field of study that genuinely interests you rather than one chosen by default creates excitement about learning. When education shifts from obligation to pathway, motivation follows. Having academic goals aligned with genuine interest rather than external pressure transforms the entire experience.

Setting geographical goals—deciding you want to attend college on the East Coast, planning to leave your hometown—provides direction and purpose. Every difficult day becomes endurable because it's one day closer to escape and new beginnings. The future becomes something to build toward rather than dread.

These anchors must be specific enough to be real but flexible enough to evolve. "I'm going to study psychology at a good East Coast college" gives clear direction while leaving room for adjustment. The specificity creates motivation without becoming rigid prison.

Most importantly, having something to look forward to, work toward, and hope for makes present suffering survivable. You're no longer just enduring; you're preparing. Each challenge overcome becomes proof of your determination and capability, building the strength needed for the journey ahead.

Ready to read the complete journey from despair to determination? Dropped in a Maze offers the full story of finding purpose, setting new anchors, and building toward a future that felt impossible during the darkest times.

Moving Forward

Summer breaks, family support, honest conversations, and new environments can catalyze profound personal transformation. When you're stuck in toxic situations feeling hopeless about your future, remember that change is possible. Distance creates perspective, fresh starts prove your worth, and single conversations can redirect your entire life trajectory.

The journey from surviving a difficult year to discovering purpose and setting meaningful goals isn't linear or easy, but it's achievable. Whether you're currently struggling or supporting someone who is, understanding how transformative experiences unfold provides a roadmap for change.

This exploration of summer transformation and life-changing conversations comes from a deeply personal journey chronicled in Dropped in a Maze. The complete book reveals how one summer away from a toxic environment, combined with family support and honest dialogue, created the turning point needed to move from survival to hope. 

Get your copy today to read the full story of transformation, resilience, and finding your authentic path forward in the face of overwhelming obstacles.

7 Red Flags of Unethical Mental Health Practice

Therapy should be a safe space where you can be vulnerable without judgment. Your therapist should maintain professional boundaries while helping you navigate challenges. But what happens when those boundaries get blurred? What if your therapist's actions make your life worse instead of better?

If you're in therapy—whether you're a teen, parent, or adult—you need to know when professional boundaries are being violated. These violations might seem helpful in the moment, but they can cause lasting harm.

Here are major red flags that indicate your therapist is crossing ethical boundaries, based on my personal experience and what I've learned since.

Table of Contents

• Your Therapist Shares Your Information With People in Your Life

• Your Therapist Orchestrates Your Friendships

• Your Therapist Uses Other Clients to Monitor You

• Your Therapist Gives Clues About Other Clients' Identities

• Your Therapist Gets Defensive About Your Valid Concerns

• Your Therapist Has Undisclosed Conflicts of Interest

• Your Therapist Fails to Teach You Essential Self-Advocacy Skills

• What Ethical Therapy Looks Like

• Moving Forward

1. Your Therapist Shares Your Information With People in Your Life

Perhaps the most fundamental principle of therapy is confidentiality. When a mental health professional begins discussing your case with people you know personally, they've violated a sacred trust.

Therapists are bound by strict confidentiality rules. They cannot share details about your treatment with classmates, neighbors, colleagues, or acquaintances without your explicit written consent. Even well-intentioned disclosures made in an attempt to help you socially constitute serious ethical violations.

The harm extends beyond the immediate privacy breach. When your therapist talks about you to others in your social circle, they compromise your autonomy and create complex dynamics that interfere with genuine relationship building. You deserve to form connections based on authentic interest, not orchestrated interventions.

If your therapist casually mentions speaking with people you know about your case, this should immediately raise concerns about their professional judgment and adherence to ethical standards.

These violations aren't just theoretical—they happen to real people with lasting consequences. Dropped in a Maze chronicles Sonia's journey through these exact scenarios during high school, showing how unethical practices affected relationships, self-esteem, and personal growth.

Get the book today to see how these patterns unfold in real life and learn from someone who lived through it.

2. Your Therapist Orchestrates Your Friendships

Therapy should empower you to develop social skills and confidence. It should never involve your therapist arranging friendships on your behalf or coordinating with others to befriend you.

When mental health professionals step into the role of social coordinator, they cross into territory that undermines your growth. Manufactured friendships don't teach you how to navigate relationships authentically. Instead, they create artificial scenarios that can actually delay your social development.

Real therapeutic work involves helping you understand social dynamics, build communication skills, and develop the confidence to pursue connections independently. A therapist who calls potential friends on your behalf or sets up playdates like you're a child has lost sight of their professional role.

These orchestrated relationships often come with hidden complications. The people involved may feel obligated rather than genuinely interested, creating unstable foundations that eventually crumble. You're left not only without the friendship but also with the painful knowledge that it was never authentic to begin with.

3. Your Therapist Uses Other Clients to Monitor You

The therapeutic relationship should be a confidential space between you and your provider. When your therapist has multiple clients from the same school, workplace, or community, they must maintain strict boundaries to prevent information from crossing between cases.

A therapist who tells you about other clients, even without naming them, has already begun eroding appropriate boundaries. When they go further and actually discuss you in other clients' sessions or use those clients to report back on your behavior, they've created an unethical surveillance network.

This practice is deeply problematic for several reasons. First, it violates the confidentiality of everyone involved. Second, it creates divided loyalties that compromise the therapeutic relationship. Third, it transforms peers into informants rather than supporting you in developing genuine connections.

You might hear hints that your therapist knows things about you that you didn't share directly. They might reference your behavior in specific settings or repeat comments others made about you. These are warning signs that information is flowing inappropriately between sessions.

Curious about what happens when multiple clients from the same school see the same therapist? Dropped in a Maze provides an insider's perspective on the tangled web that forms when professional boundaries collapse. 

Order now to understand the full complexity of these situations and how to protect yourself from similar dynamics.

4. Your Therapist Gives Clues About Other Clients' Identities

Professional ethics require therapists to protect client identities rigorously. When a therapist suggests you "pay attention to students who might start being nice to you" as a way to identify their other clients, they've violated multiple ethical principles.

This behavior shows poor professional judgment and a concerning lack of respect for confidentiality. It also puts clients in awkward positions, knowing or suspecting who else is in treatment and potentially changing how they interact with those individuals.

The mental health field has clear standards about client privacy precisely because violations can cause significant harm. Knowing who else sees your therapist can influence your relationships, create uncomfortable dynamics, and make you question whether your own information is being protected.

If your therapist hints at, suggests, or outright tells you who their other clients are, recognize this as a serious red flag about their professional standards.

5. Your Therapist Gets Defensive About Your Valid Concerns

Healthy therapeutic relationships allow space for clients to express concerns, ask questions, and even challenge their therapist's approaches. When a therapist responds to legitimate concerns with defensiveness, blame, or dismissiveness, the relationship has become problematic.

Expressing that you feel uncomfortable with certain dynamics or questioning therapeutic decisions is not only appropriate but essential for effective treatment. A competent therapist welcomes this feedback and works collaboratively to address concerns.

Defensive responses often sound like: "What, they can't have any other friends? That's really unfair of you!" or "You're being too sensitive" or "I'm the professional here." These reactions shut down communication and make you feel guilty for advocating for yourself.

This defensiveness may stem from the therapist's ego being tied to your progress. When they view your struggles as their professional failure, they may double down on questionable strategies rather than acknowledging limitations and adjusting their approach.

6. Your Therapist Has Undisclosed Conflicts of Interest

Ethical practice requires transparency about any relationships or interests that could compromise objectivity. When your therapist has hidden financial arrangements, business relationships, or other connections related to your case, they're operating in ethically murky territory.

These conflicts create situations where the therapist's judgment may be clouded by factors other than your best interest. They might push certain relationships, make specific recommendations, or take particular approaches based on outside considerations you're unaware of.

Warning signs include the therapist being unusually invested in you connecting with specific people, especially if those people or their families have business interests. Other red flags include the therapist seeming to benefit personally from connections they're facilitating or relationships they're encouraging.

You have the right to know if your therapist has any relationships or interests that could affect their objectivity in your care. If you discover undisclosed conflicts after the fact, this represents a serious breach of trust.

7. Your Therapist Fails to Teach You Essential Self-Advocacy Skills

Perhaps the most subtle but damaging boundary violation is when a therapist manages your life rather than teaching you to manage it yourself. Effective therapy should progressively empower you to handle challenges independently.

When your therapist intervenes directly in your social situations, speaks to others on your behalf, or handles conflicts for you rather than coaching you through them, they're preventing your growth. The goal should be to help you develop skills, not to become your permanent intermediary.

You should be learning how to set boundaries, how to respond to difficult comments, how to advocate for your needs, and how to navigate complex social situations. If your therapist consistently steps in to do these things for you, they're creating dependency rather than building competence.

Real therapeutic progress looks like gradually needing less intervention, not more. You should feel increasingly capable over time, not more reliant on your therapist to manage your relationships and daily challenges.

What Ethical Therapy Looks Like

Understanding what went wrong helps illuminate what right looks like. Ethical, effective therapy operates within clear boundaries that protect and empower you.

In appropriate therapeutic relationships, your confidentiality is sacrosanct except in legally mandated situations involving safety risks. Your therapist maintains professional distance from your social world, helping you develop skills rather than managing your relationships. They welcome your feedback, acknowledge limitations, and adjust approaches based on your needs.

Good therapists teach you to fish rather than fishing for you. They help you understand social dynamics, practice communication skills, and build confidence to pursue connections authentically. They celebrate your independent successes rather than taking credit for orchestrated outcomes.

If you recognize these warning signs in your own therapeutic relationship, trust your instincts. Speak with the therapist about your concerns, consult with another mental health professional for a second opinion, or consider finding a new provider who operates within appropriate boundaries.

Moving Forward

Mental health treatment should be empowering, not disempowering. It should build your independence, not create dependency. And it should always operate within clear ethical boundaries that protect your privacy, autonomy, and dignity.

Understanding these principles helps you become an informed consumer of mental health services and advocate for the quality care you deserve. Whether you're currently in therapy or considering it, knowing what's appropriate and what crosses the line is essential for your wellbeing.

This exploration of therapy boundaries comes from a deeply personal story of navigating mental health care during the vulnerable teenage years. 

Dropped in a Maze provides an unflinching look at the challenges of growing up different, the lasting impact of bullying, and the complicated relationship between mental health support and personal growth.

Get your copy today and discover the full journey from isolation to understanding and spread awareness about what ethical mental health care should look like.

How to Stand Up for Yourself

"Just stand up for yourself." "Give them a taste of their own medicine." "Put them in their place." If you're being bullied, you've probably heard this advice countless times from well-meaning adults.

It sounds empowering. It sounds like the solution. But for autistic teens who struggle with social cues and context, this kind of black-and-white advice can backfire spectacularly—turning you from victim to villain in the eyes of everyone around you.

I learned this the hard way during my freshman year of high school. After years of bullying in middle school, my parents found me a therapist who promised to teach me how to defend myself. Dr. Shah's advice was simple: "If someone is being rude to you, give them a double dose of what they've given you. Let them have it!"

It made sense. It felt empowering. And it completely blew up in my face.

This is the story of why standard "stand up for yourself" advice doesn't work for autistic people, what actually does work, and how to navigate social conflicts when you can't read the invisible rules everyone else seems to understand instinctively.

Table of Contents

• When Therapy Advice Misses the Mark

• The Pickleball Incident: When Standing Up Goes Wrong

• Why Literal Interpretation Creates Problems

• The Pattern That Kept Repeating

• What Actually Works: Better Strategies for Self-Advocacy

• Finding Safe Spaces Outside of School

• Key Takeaways for Teens and Parents

• Moving Forward

When Therapy Advice Misses the Mark

At the start of freshman year, my parents' biggest fear was a repeat of my sixth-grade behavioral outbursts. Forest Ridge High School was made up of the same people from middle school, plus a few students from St. Joseph's Catholic School. Everyone already had established friend groups from community sports and church. I was still the outsider.

My mom made sure I started seeing a therapist right away. When I met Dr. Shah, I was impressed. She was sharp and picked up on my peculiarities immediately:

• Delayed social skills compared to my peers

• Different and awkward facial expressions

• Lack of eye contact during conversation

Dr. Shah taught me social skills, including how to stand up to bullies. Her advice was clear and confident:

"You have to put people in their place. If someone is being rude to you, then give them a double dose of what they've given you. Let them have it! No one should treat people that way. And when you stand up for yourself, they won't."

Her idea made me smile. Maybe this was the answer I'd been looking for. Maybe if I just showed people I wouldn't take their abuse anymore, they'd finally respect me.

I didn't know if I could actually do it, but I was willing to try anything to avoid getting picked on again.

The Problem with One-Size-Fits-All Advice

Here's what Dr. Shah didn't account for: autistic people tend to take advice very literally. We don't automatically understand:

• When to apply the advice and when not to

• How much is "standing up for yourself" versus "going too far"

• The social context that determines appropriate responses

• The invisible line between assertiveness and aggression

Neurotypical people have an instinct for these nuances. They can read a room, gauge reactions, and adjust their approach on the fly. For autistic people, these invisible rules might as well be written in a language we don't speak.

The Pickleball Incident: When Standing Up Goes Wrong

The first place I tried Dr. Shah's advice was gym class during our pickleball unit. While other students paired up in teams of two, I played solo against Misty's team.

I wasn't coordinated or athletic. I missed the ball frequently and moved slowly. The comments came from multiple directions:

"You couldn't hit that ball?" "Can't you move any faster?" "Pick up the damn ball, and hurry up!"

The frustration and irritation built up inside me. Following Dr. Shah's advice, I told people to "shut up" and "fuck off."

As we left the court, Misty suddenly tried to be nice. "That was fun. We should do that again."

This confused me, but I remembered what Dr. Shah taught me. I had to stick up for myself. I didn't like how snippy Misty had been the entire time, so I used the exact phrase Dr. Shah had taught me:

"You were being so rude, and now you are being so nice. What is your scenario?"

Misty looked shocked. "Excuse me, but you told me to fuck off."

She went around telling other girls, "Sonia is such a trip," laughing about it with everyone.

When Things Escalated Further

I didn't think anything was funny. I turned to a classmate from a different grade and said, "Some freshman girls are just bitches."

Another classmate overheard me and said, "You're a bitch, too, because you're a freshman."

Then she went to others and twisted my words: "Sonia said you're bitches because you're freshmen."

That's not what I said at all, but it didn't matter. Girls started giving me deadly stares. People kept their distance. I was confused and hurt. I thought I was simply standing up for myself like Dr. Shah told me to.

The Therapist's Response

When I told Dr. Shah what happened, she said, "It's good not to be too over-eager or too nice at school, but Sonia, you have to be careful about name-calling."

I took part of her advice to heart. I started ignoring people I thought were fake, especially the popular girls. But I never really understood why I couldn't retaliate with name-calling if I felt attacked. If they could call me names, why couldn't I defend myself the same way?

This is where the advice broke down for me. The rules weren't clear. The boundaries weren't defined. And I was left to figure out the invisible line on my own.

In my book, I explore the complete aftermath of this incident and detail the specific communication strategies that actually work for autistic teens trying to navigate social conflicts without making things worse.

Why Literal Interpretation Creates Problems

Autistic people are often very literal thinkers. When Dr. Shah said "give them a double dose of what they've given you," I heard:

• If they're rude, be rude back

• If they curse at me, curse at them

• Match their energy exactly

What she probably meant was something more nuanced:

• Stand firm in your boundaries

• Don't let people walk all over you

• Respond assertively but appropriately

But those subtleties weren't spelled out. And without clear guidelines on when, where, and how much to push back, I applied the advice indiscriminately.

The Gym Class Locker Room Problem

Gym class presented another challenge. During dodgeball and soccer units, the teacher had one team turn their gym shirts inside out to distinguish teams.

The first time the teacher gave this order, I didn't comply. I was afraid of being laughed at because I didn't know how to turn my shirt around without my bra showing, the way other girls seemed to do effortlessly.

Eventually, I had to comply to avoid looking defiant. But I couldn't do it without showing my bra. Girls started noticing and staring. I felt uncomfortable with the way their eyes wandered during shirt-turning times.

Then I overheard a conversation where this became a topic of discussion. Of course, they brought up the middle school swimming unit locker room drama. Even guys who hadn't attended the same middle school heard about it.

I couldn't escape my past mistakes, and every new situation felt like a trap waiting to spring.

The Spanish Class Confrontation

Spanish class was another place where my snappy, defensive side emerged. A classmate repeatedly called me "Sanya" after I corrected her pronunciation of my name. She continued saying "Sanya" in a sardonic tone.

I told her I wasn't going to answer to that name. She laughed and became defensive herself, exclaiming loudly to others: "Sonia just gets worked up over nothing."

I was following what Dr. Shah taught me, hoping people would learn to respect me. Instead, I got the opposite of respect. I became more of a target, more of a pariah.

What I Should Have Done Instead

Looking back, I could have handled the Spanish class situation differently:

• Responded in a way that wasn't defensive

• Tried going along with it by mispronouncing her name in the same joking manner

• Said something light like "Who is Sanya? I don't know her"

• Used humor to deflect instead of confrontation to escalate

But these strategies require reading social context and understanding tone. They require knowing when someone is genuinely trying to hurt you versus when they're just teasing. For autistic people, that distinction isn't always clear.

The Pattern That Kept Repeating

Every Friday, I would call Dr. Shah crying out of loneliness. I felt alone and alienated at school every single day. I sat by myself at lunch tables, then moved to the Hangout Area where I'd sit alone again, either doing homework or watching other people socialize.

I was trying to learn social skills through observation, but watching isn't the same as understanding. I could see what people did, but I couldn't figure out why it worked for them and not for me.

Dr. Shah had me read a book about friendships that talked about learning hobbies, dressing nicely, and being interesting so people would want to be around you. But by freshman year, I didn't have hobbies. I didn't know what I was good at or what interested me. I had no idea who I even was. My self-concept never really had a chance to develop or be explored.

The Tennis Recommendation

Dr. Shah recommended to my parents that I learn a sport. She introduced us to the Love All Tennis Club in a nearby town, about 15 minutes from Forest Ridge. She knew one of the tennis instructors because he taught her family.

I grew to like tennis, and eventually, tennis became my anchor to get through high school. It gave me something I was working toward, something where I could measure progress, something that was mine.

Sports and hobbies won't solve social problems, but they provide structure, purpose, and sometimes a community of people who share your interests rather than your history.

Finding Safe Spaces Outside of School

Dr. Shah emphasized the importance of trying to make friends outside of school. She insisted I attend a Halloween Party at a place called the After School Center. I finally agreed because, honestly, who doesn't like Halloween candy and themed desserts?

The person in charge, Ruth, was dressed as the wicked witch from The Wizard of Oz. Her excitement in welcoming me was refreshing. There were activities everywhere—scary movies in one room, dancing in the gymnasium, people sitting on bleachers.

After touring the place, Ruth introduced me to a group of girls on the bleachers. Within minutes, I realized they were talking about wanting to beat up someone who was at the party that night.

I was immediately turned off. I didn't know how to leave the conversation gracefully, so I tried to divert by talking to the person next to me. She immediately launched into intense topics about wanting to drop out of school because she was failing.

I got up and left altogether. My dad and brother had been watching scary movies in the other room, so I found them and we went home.

I later learned the After School Center was for at-risk youth to keep them off the streets. The conversation that night made complete sense in that context.

The Temple Experience

The next place I tried was the Hindu Temple, about an hour from Forest Ridge. I signed up for two classes: Bhagavad Gita and Hindi.

When I first attended the Bhagavad Gita class, people were welcoming. I struck up a good conversation with someone named Bhavna. We ate lunch together in the temple cafeteria, bonded over TV shows, movies, and tennis. We exchanged numbers and had a phone conversation after my second visit.

We even discussed making plans to go shopping together after temple. I thought I was finally making progress.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

When Friendship Disappeared Without Explanation

The next time I attended class, Bhavna treated me like I'd done something horrible. She didn't acknowledge me at all. When I tried to talk to her during a break, she blew me off and continued her conversation with another friend. That friend gave me a sympathetic look, but Bhavna remained standoffish.

I never found out what happened. My first automatic thought was "another friendship failure." After all, it was easy to assume the problem was me because of my relentless social challenges.

But here's something important: it's easy for people on the autism spectrum to believe that every rejection or mistreatment is about something they said or did. However, that isn't always the case. Sometimes it's about the other person and their own shortcomings.

After that experience, I stopped going to the classes. I figured if I was going to be driven an hour away just to be treated poorly, what was the point? I was already dealing with enough rejection at school. I deserved better.

The full story of these friendship attempts—and the crucial lessons about when to keep trying and when to walk away—is something I explore extensively in my book. Understanding this distinction is vital for protecting your mental health while still remaining open to genuine connections.

What Actually Works: Better Strategies for Self-Advocacy

After years of trial and error, I've learned that effective self-advocacy for autistic people looks different than the standard "stand up for yourself" advice. Here's what actually works:

Understand Your Literal Interpretation Tendency

When someone gives you advice, ask clarifying questions:

• "Can you give me specific examples of when I should use this?"

• "What are situations where this approach wouldn't work?"

• "How do I know if I've gone too far?"

• "What does 'standing up for myself' look like in different contexts?"

Don't assume you understand the nuances. Ask for explicit guidelines.

Learn the Difference Between Types of Conflict

Not all negative interactions require the same response:

Genuine bullying (intentional, repeated, power imbalance)

• Document incidents

• Report to trusted adults

• Remove yourself from the situation when possible

• Don't engage directly with the bully

Teasing that includes you (joking, reciprocal, everyone's laughing together)

• Try responding with light humor

• Don't take it personally

• Observe how others respond in similar situations

Teasing that excludes you (mocking, one-sided, laughing at you not with you)

• State clearly: "I don't find that funny"

• Walk away

• Don't try to joke back if you can't read whether it will land well

Misunderstandings (confusion, miscommunication, no malice intended)

• Ask clarifying questions

• Explain your perspective calmly

• Give people the benefit of the doubt initially

Use "I" Statements Instead of Attacks

Instead of: "You're being rude!" Try: "I feel uncomfortable when you talk to me that way."

Instead of: "What is your scenario?" Try: "I'm confused because you seemed upset earlier, but now you seem friendly. Can you help me understand?"

Instead of: "Some freshman girls are just bitches." Try: "I'm having a hard time with some of the social dynamics in our class."

"I" statements express your feelings without attacking others. They're less likely to escalate conflicts.

Know When to Walk Away

Sometimes the best self-advocacy is recognizing when a situation isn't worth your energy:

• If people consistently disrespect you, find different people

• If an environment is toxic, seek healthier spaces

• If someone blows you off without explanation, accept it and move on

• If "standing up for yourself" consistently makes things worse, try a different approach

Walking away isn't weakness. It's wisdom.

Find Your Anchors

Develop interests, hobbies, or activities that:

• Give you purpose beyond social acceptance

• Provide measurable progress you can see

• Connect you with people who share interests, not history

• Build confidence in areas where you can succeed

For me, tennis became that anchor. It gave me something stable when everything else felt chaotic.

In my book, I provide a comprehensive guide to these strategies with real-life examples, scripts you can use in different situations, and step-by-step approaches for building genuine self-advocacy skills that work for autistic people.

Key Takeaways for Teens and Parents

For Autistic Teens

Standard advice often doesn't account for literal thinking. When adults give you social advice, ask for specific examples and clear boundaries. Don't assume you understand all the unspoken nuances.

Not every conflict requires confrontation. Sometimes the most powerful response is no response at all. Learn to distinguish between situations that require action and situations that require distance.

Your confusion is valid. If you don't understand why something that seemed like self-advocacy backfired, that's not a personal failure. The social rules are genuinely confusing and often contradictory.

Find spaces where you can be yourself. Whether it's a hobby, sport, or interest-based community, having places where you're valued for what you contribute rather than judged for how you socialize makes an enormous difference.

Walking away is a form of self-respect. You don't have to keep trying with people who consistently reject or mistreat you. Protecting your mental health by removing yourself from toxic situations is healthy self-advocacy.

For Parents and Therapists

Be specific with social advice. Don't assume autistic teens will understand implied nuances. Provide explicit examples, contexts, and boundaries for when advice applies and when it doesn't.

Teach distinction between conflict types. Help your teen understand the difference between bullying, teasing, misunderstandings, and genuine malice. Each requires a different response strategy.

Monitor how advice is being applied. Check in regularly to see if the strategies you've taught are working or backfiring. Be ready to adjust your approach based on real results.

Prioritize mental health over social success. If pursuing friendships or social integration is causing significant distress, it's okay to pull back and focus on building confidence in other areas first.

Create opportunities outside school. School is one ecosystem with established social hierarchies. Extracurricular activities, hobby-based groups, and community programs offer fresh starts with different people.

Validate their interpretation. When an autistic teen applies advice literally and it goes wrong, don't just correct them. Acknowledge that your advice wasn't clear enough. Take responsibility for the miscommunication.

Moving Forward

The "stand up for yourself" advice I received from Dr. Shah was well-intentioned but fundamentally flawed for someone who processes social interactions literally. It turned me from a victim of bullying into someone who appeared aggressive and confrontational—making my social isolation worse, not better.

If you're struggling with similar challenges—or if you're a parent or therapist trying to help an autistic teen navigate social conflicts, my book provides the detailed guidance I wish I'd had during those difficult high school years. It's filled with specific strategies, real conversations, and practical approaches that account for how autistic people actually think and process social situations.

From "Problem Child" to Honor Roll: The Sweetest Revenge

There's a particular kind of satisfaction that comes from proving everyone wrong. Not through words or arguments, but through undeniable results that speak louder than any comeback ever could.

When my name was called during study hall for making the honor roll, I heard the whispers ripple through the classroom: "Sonia?" The bewilderment in their voices was palpable. After all, I was the girl they'd labeled a "problem child," the one administrators said was "unfit to attend a 4-star school district," the student they predicted would be "lucky to make it to eighth grade."

Yet there I stood, receiving my certificate and pencil alongside students who'd never doubted their place in that moment. My brother summed it up perfectly later: "You just told your school 'fuck you,' right?" And he was absolutely right—though I'd done it in the classiest way possible.

This is the story of how setting boundaries, refusing to be entertainment for bullies, and focusing on what actually mattered transformed me from the girl everyone wrote off to someone they couldn't ignore. It's about the academic wins that felt like personal victories and the social skills that finally clicked into place when I stopped trying to fit in and started protecting my peace.

Table of Contents

1. The Birthday Party They'll Never Attend

2. The "You Go First" Strategy That Changed Everything

3. The Loneliness That Follows Liberation

4. The Victory Nobody Saw Coming

5. What This Victory Actually Meant

6. The Lessons That Honor Roll Taught Me

7. The Sweetest Kind of Victory

8. From Eighth Grade to Beyond

The Birthday Party They'll Never Attend

The school year started with the same girls who'd ignored me all summer suddenly becoming very interested in my plans. They remembered that last year, I'd thrown a birthday party during the first weekend of school. Suddenly, they were all smiles, asking if I'd be having another party and whether they'd be invited.

My answer was simple: "No."

Their shock was almost comical. But here's what I'd learned over that summer of loneliness and reflection: people who weren't there for you during your struggles don't deserve a spot in your celebrations. This is one of those life lessons that sounds obvious but takes real pain to truly understand.

These were the same girls who'd:

• Blown me off repeatedly when I tried to connect

• Set me up to act weird for their entertainment

• Called me names and excluded me from their groups

• Made my middle school years a living nightmare

Why would I reward that behavior with access to my home, my family, and my celebration? I wouldn't. And that boundary felt incredibly empowering to hold.

The "You Go First" Strategy That Changed Everything

At the beginning of eighth grade, Dr. Wagner gave me advice that would become a turning point in how I handled social manipulation. He noticed how other students would set me up to act out, getting me to do embarrassing things while they watched and laughed.

His strategy was brilliantly simple: "The next time someone tries to set you up to act weird, you tell them, 'I will go after you go first.' That way, you let them be the ones doing the acting."

I was confused. "What happens after they're done?"

"You tell them, 'I changed my mind. But it looks great on you, so keep on going.'"

The genius of this approach is that it flips the script entirely. Instead of being the target, you become the observer. Instead of entertaining others at your own expense, you hand them the spotlight and watch them squirm.

The Power of Refusing to Perform

It only took one more incident of being called "weird" and remembering Dr. Wagner's advice for me to completely stop the repertoire of acting out. I simply refused to be their entertainment anymore.

The reaction from my peers was telling. They kept asking, "What's wrong? What's wrong with you?" Nothing was wrong—that was the point. What had changed was that I finally got a clue and stopped letting people use me as their personal comedy show.

Here's what refusing to perform looked like:

• Saying no when asked to do embarrassing things

• Calling out manipulation attempts directly

• Walking away from situations designed to humiliate me

• Protecting my dignity even when it meant being alone

The bullying continued for a while after I stopped playing along, but once those incidents were handled, something interesting happened: people completely left me alone. They ignored me, yes, but at least they weren't actively tormenting me anymore.

Learning to set boundaries and protect yourself from manipulation is a critical skill for neurodivergent individuals navigating hostile social environments. Discover the complete journey of building these skills and what happens when you finally stop performing for others in the full book.

The Loneliness That Follows Liberation

Stopping the act of entertaining others came with an unexpected cost: profound loneliness. While I'd been busy acting out and being bullied during previous school years, everyone else had formed strong friendship groups. By the time I realized how my behavior and others' cruelty had affected my ability to bond with anyone, it was too late. People had already formed their tight-knit circles, and they were miles ahead in the social maze.

The loneliness hit hardest during passing periods and lunch. In those moments sitting alone in the cafeteria, I found myself missing the resource room where I used to eat lunch. At least there, even without peers to sit with, I was still around people who weren't judging me. There were even times I started missing being on restrictions and being escorted to classes—at least then I had adult supervision and structure.

Where Crying Happens When You're Older

During my acting-out years, I'd cry openly at school, expressing to anyone who'd listen that I had no friends. Family members would comfort me, with one uncle simply acknowledging that kids can be very cruel. Somehow, hearing that validation was soothing.

By eighth grade, the crying had moved from school hallways to Friday nights and weekends at home. I'd stopped being a spectacle at school, but the pain of isolation hadn't disappeared—it had just found a more private stage.

Dance classes had been my outlet and source of comfort, a way to find relief from the daily throws of being in a horrible environment. But the homework in eighth grade became so overwhelming that I had to stop. Even my tutor, Mrs. Goldstein, noticed the excessive workload.

"Does everybody have this much homework every night?" she'd ask.

I didn't know about everyone else, but I was drowning in assignments every single night, plus periodic exams that seemed designed to break me.

The relationship between academic pressure, social isolation, and mental health for neurodivergent students is complex and often misunderstood. Learn how to navigate these challenges and find support systems that actually work in the complete book.

The Victory Nobody Saw Coming

Remember how school administrators told my parents I'd be "lucky to make it to eighth grade"? Not only did I make it to eighth grade, but I did something nobody expected: I made the honor roll for the very first time ever.

I didn't even know I'd achieved it until Ms. Anderson told me on the day report cards came out. The news spread quickly—Mrs. Horowitz called my mom before I even got home to tell her. We celebrated with ice cream, a simple but perfect acknowledgment of what felt like an impossible achievement.

Mrs. Goldstein's reaction was the most memorable. She couldn't contain her excitement, asking repeatedly with genuine joy, "Did you really?! Did you really?!" Her face lit up the entire room. After all the struggles, all the late nights, all the times I wanted to give up—this moment validated everything.

The Public Recognition

The next day during study hall, all students who made the honor roll were recognized in front of the class. Each recipient received a pencil and a certificate—small tokens that represented so much more.

When my name was called, I heard the whispers immediately: "Sonia?" The tone was pure bewilderment. You could feel the shock rippling through the room as students turned to their friend groups, trying to process what they'd just heard.

What made this moment so powerful:

• I was the "problem child" who supposedly didn't belong

• Administrators had written me off as unlikely to succeed

• Peers had spent years treating me as less than

• Yet here I was, being recognized for academic achievement alongside everyone else

Jessica, one of the girls who'd been particularly cruel to me over the years, witnessed the whole thing. Watching her watch me receive that award added an extra layer of satisfaction to an already sweet victory.

My brother Jay understood exactly what I'd accomplished. "Sonia, you know you just told your school 'fuck you,' right?"

He was absolutely right. And it was the classiest way to say it.

What This Victory Actually Meant

Making the honor roll wasn't just about grades or academic validation, though those things mattered. It represented something far more significant: proof that everyone who'd written me off was wrong.

The school administrators who said I was unfit for their district? Wrong.

The teachers who predicted I'd never make it to eighth grade? Wrong.

The peers who treated me like I was stupid and incapable? Wrong.

The system that punished my differences instead of accommodating them? Wrong about my potential.

The Ingredients of an Unlikely Success

Looking back, several factors contributed to this achievement:

Setting Boundaries: Refusing to be entertainment for bullies freed up mental and emotional energy I could redirect toward academics.

Professional Support: Despite some problematic therapists, having people like Dr. Wagner who gave practical advice made a real difference.

Tutoring and Structure: Mrs. Goldstein's support and the systems she helped me implement allowed me to manage the workload.

Shifting Focus: When social acceptance seemed impossible, I channeled that energy into something I could control—my academic performance.

Sheer Determination: There's something powerful about wanting to prove everyone wrong. That anger, when properly directed, becomes fuel.

Success for neurodivergent students looks different for everyone and requires understanding what specific supports each individual needs. Explore the strategies, systems, and mindset shifts that made this transformation possible in the full book.

The Lessons That Honor Roll Taught Me

Making the honor roll in eighth grade taught me lessons that extended far beyond academics:

You Don't Need Everyone's Approval

Those girls who suddenly wanted birthday party invitations when they'd ignored me all summer? They taught me that some people only show up when there's something in it for them. Learning to say no to those relationships was liberating.

Boundaries Are Protection, Not Punishment

Refusing to act weird for others' entertainment wasn't mean—it was self-preservation. Setting boundaries felt uncomfortable at first, but it was essential for my dignity and growth.

Your Worth Isn't Determined by Others' Predictions

Every adult who said I wouldn't make it, every peer who treated me as less than—they were all operating from their own limitations and biases. Their inability to see my potential didn't make it any less real.

Loneliness Can Be a Catalyst

The isolation that came with refusing to perform for others was painful, but it created space for me to focus on what actually mattered. Sometimes you have to be alone before you can find your people.

Success Is the Best Response

No amount of arguing or defending myself could have made the impact that silently achieving honor roll made. Results speak louder than any words ever could.

The Sweetest Kind of Victory

There's something particularly satisfying about achieving what everyone said was impossible. Not because it proves you're better than them, but because it proves you're capable despite them. Despite the bullying, the restrictions, the low expectations, the isolation—you still found a way.

The honor roll certificate was just a piece of paper, but what it represented was everything. It was validation that I could succeed in a system designed for neurotypical students. It was proof that labels like "problem child" didn't define my capabilities. It was evidence that the administrators and teachers who'd written me off had fundamentally misunderstood who I was and what I could achieve.

Most importantly, it was the beginning of understanding that my worth didn't depend on social acceptance or others' approval. I could define success on my own terms, achieve it through my own efforts, and feel proud regardless of whether anyone else celebrated with me.

From Eighth Grade to Beyond

That honor roll achievement in eighth grade became a turning point—not just academically, but in how I viewed myself and my place in educational environments. It didn't erase the loneliness or make friends suddenly appear. It didn't undo years of bullying or make the school system suddenly understand neurodivergence.

But it did something perhaps more important: it showed me I was capable of success despite obstacles, that I could thrive even in hostile environments, and that the people who counted me out were operating from incomplete information.

The girl who sat alone in the cafeteria, who cried on Friday nights because she had no friends, who'd been told she was lucky to make it to eighth grade—she made the honor roll. And in doing so, she discovered that sometimes the best revenge isn't getting back at people who hurt you. It's succeeding in ways they never thought possible.

For the complete story—including how high school changed everything, what strategies actually worked for building genuine friendships, and how early struggles transformed into strengths, read the full book and discover that being counted out doesn't mean you're out of the running.

My Summer of Loneliness and Self-Discovery

There's a moment in every struggling person's life when reality hits differently. For me, it happened during the summer of 1996, between seventh and eighth grade. After years of desperately trying to make friends, throwing birthday parties that felt more like performances than celebrations, and bending over backward to fit in, the truth finally crashed down on me like a tidal wave.

Nobody was coming. Nobody wanted to hang out. Every invitation was met with "I can't." And this time, I couldn't ignore it anymore.

That summer taught me brutal lessons about fake friendships, self-hatred, and what happens when you internalize every cruel message thrown your way. But it also planted seeds of self-advocacy and showed me what real friendship could look like—even if I wasn't ready to receive it yet.

If you've ever felt friendless, if you've ever wondered why people keep rejecting you, or if you're watching your autistic child struggle with similar pain, this story will resonate deeply. More importantly, the lessons I learned might help you avoid some of the mistakes I made.

Table of Contents

• Teachers Saw the Problem But Did Nothing

• The Phone Call That Confirmed My Fears

• When I Finally Told the Truth

• Meeting Real Friends Outside of School

• How I Became Toxic to the One Person Who Cared

• The Internal Battle That Destroyed My Friendship

• Key Takeaways for Parents and Teens

• Moving Forward

Teachers Saw the Problem But Did Nothing

At my annual end-of-year case conference meeting, teachers didn't hold back in their reports. They described my social skills as "below average" and noted my peculiar behaviors. My Social Science teacher wrote that "Sonia tries too hard to get people to like her." My reading teacher even documented how I was "the target of cruel jokes and peer ridicule in the hallways."

Everything was there in black and white. The teachers saw what was happening to me.

But here's what didn't happen at that meeting: no discussion about next steps. No plan for how to help me improve my social skills as part of my Individual Educational Plan (IEP). The school administrator just read through the reports like they were reading a magazine article, then moved on.

The only decision made? Take me completely off restrictions for eighth grade. At the time, I didn't care one way or another.

What Parents Need to Know

If teachers are commenting on your child's poor social skills at case conference meetings, this is your moment to speak up. Don't let the meeting end without answers to these questions:

• What specific interventions will address the social skills issues?

• Who will be responsible for teaching these skills?

• How will progress be measured?

• What support will be provided to prevent bullying?

• How often will we reassess and adjust the plan?

Being proactive at these meetings can change the trajectory of your child's school experience. I wish my parents had known to push for more than just reading reports out loud.

The Phone Call That Confirmed My Fears

During that lonely summer, I spent my days trying to connect with classmates who clearly didn't want to connect with me. Every invitation was met with "I can't" or vague excuses. But I kept trying because I didn't know what else to do.

One evening, I was on the phone with a classmate named Eileen. What she said next would stick with me for years.

"Sonia, you should know a lot of people hate you."

This wasn't news. I'd been told multiple times by various people, including Misty, that "a lot of people make fun of you." But hearing it stated so bluntly still hurt.

"I am not a weirdo," I protested.

"Yes, you are! I heard about things you used to do in sixth grade, even. I heard about all your crying outbursts. I also heard about those cheers. That was all really stupid. You are weird!"

"Who hates me?" I asked.

"I better not tell you because you will cry forever."

"Okay, I guess I am hated then," I said, my voice flat.

"Yep!"

I hung up the phone.

The Social Cues I Missed

Looking back, Eileen was giving me an important social cue: give up on trying to be her friend or anyone else's friend from that group. When she said "a lot of people hate me because I'm annoying and weird," she was really saying "I don't really like you either."

But I didn't catch it at the time. That's the challenge with autism—reading between the lines doesn't come naturally. We take words at face value and miss the hidden messages underneath.

Eileen had always played both sides. She'd laugh with others who set me up and participate in mocking me in gym class, then turn around and tell me how "disruptive" I was with her friends. She was never my friend. She was documenting my failures for entertainment.

In my book, I explore the full dynamics of these toxic relationships and provide strategies for recognizing when someone is playing both sides before you invest emotional energy in them.

When I Finally Told the Truth

My parents took me to see a new psychiatrist that summer at a major teaching hospital in Chicago. I was hesitant because of my previous bad experience with Dr. Patel, but my mom insisted. They automatically thought Dr. Wagner was good because of his position at an acclaimed hospital.

I would learn that just because someone works at a prestigious institution doesn't mean they're a good fit for you as a patient.

Dr. Wagner got a history of everything that had happened and sold me on one thing: "Let's work on getting you some friends." I was desperate enough to believe him.

On the drive to the hospital, my parents asked if I was planning on throwing a birthday party that year.

For the first time, I was honest with them.

"No," I said. "Nobody will come, at least not for the right reasons."

"Why don't you think they will come?"

"Because they have been blowing me off this whole time. We are into August now. Nobody wants to hang out with me. People keep telling me, 'I can't, I can't, I can't.' There's simply no need for a birthday party."

This was the first time I had been vulnerable and outspoken with my parents. For a brief moment, I felt brave. I was proud of myself for telling the truth instead of pretending everything was fine.

My dad tried to push me to make friends with his colleague's daughters—the same girls I didn't get along with at Indian cultural events. I told him no. It wasn't easy for my family to understand why I was having social issues, and it would remain that way for a long time.

Meeting Real Friends Outside of School

Outside of school, my family was part of an Indian cultural group made up of down-to-earth families from neighboring townships and suburbs. Some we already knew, but there were new families too.

I connected most with Meera. She was a year older than me and lived in the neighboring township of Oakland. Meera was quite mature for a 14-year-old and carried herself differently than most teenagers.

While other kids were interested in bonding with their age groups, Meera preferred helping the aunties (what Indian people call elderly women) in the kitchen. But when she hung out with the rest of us, she was fun, kind, and had an open vibe about her.

Our friendship started slowly after we performed a skit together for a Diwali show in October 1995.

Meeting Ambika

I also met Ambika through the cultural group. She was a year younger than me and lived in Dyers Village. Ambika had a youthful glow and a bubbly personality. One of my favorite memories was her trying to sing along to popular pop songs but not knowing the lyrics and just making up her own. We'd all laugh—the good kind of laughter, the kind that includes everyone.

When Ambika had a birthday party and invited Meera and me, I noticed something important. Even though the girls were pranking cute guys in their grade, they weren't making prank calls the way people did at my house. The difference was clear: people were laughing with Ambika and making sure she was included. They didn't just help themselves to the phone or her things.

I could see a stark difference in energy between Ambika's friends from Dyers Village and people from Forest Ridge. Dyers Village was a bigger, more diverse township without the elitist attitude that Forest Ridge pushed. There was a more relaxed energy because the pressure to maintain status simply wasn't there.

During the party, I noticed Meera wasn't really connecting with many of the girls. She and I sat on the couch in Ambika's basement and chatted. This is where I learned about her strong interest in dancing and tennis. Our love for dancing and music connected us.

Sadly, Ambika's family moved to India for her father's sabbatical at the beginning of summer 1996. I felt sad to see them go and missed them dearly.

How I Became Toxic to the One Person Who Cared

As my friendship with Meera grew towards the end of seventh grade and into the summer, I should have been grateful. Someone actually wanted to spend time with me. Someone saw value in our friendship.

But I couldn't see it. I couldn't appreciate it. Because I had become toxic.

Let me be clear about something: I was the problem. I hated myself and turned all the negative messages from others inward so that I would hate me too. This is what made me toxic.

I didn't realize how negative I had become until moments came up over the summer when I would start berating myself in front of Meera.

When I say "berate myself," I mean I would say the meanest things about myself to myself:

• "You're trash"

• "You're junk"

• "You're unworthy"

• "You're stupid"

• "You're scum"

I was desperate to feel cared about and accepted. I wanted someone to prove me wrong about all these terrible things I believed about myself.

What I Was Really Looking For

The only way I felt I could be proven wrong was if people from my school came around and said, "Sonia is cool and worthy of being around. She didn't deserve all that bullying. We're sorry you went through that."

I was looking for answers to the big questions:

• Why was it okay to always target me?

• What was in it for everyone to laugh at me and not like me?

• What made me so different that I deserved this treatment?

What I didn't realize then was this was an internal job. It was my responsibility to validate myself. This is where attending therapy sessions and supportive group therapy—where social, emotional, self-esteem-building, and communication skills are taught—would have made all the difference.

In my book, I detail the therapeutic approaches that eventually helped me build self-worth from the inside out, rather than seeking it from people who would never give it to me.

The Internal Battle That Destroyed My Friendship

There were times I cried to my mom and even to Meera about all the bullying and how I was friendless at school. There were also times when I had fun with Meera. I learned Indian dance moves, we watched movies together, and we played tennis.

Despite the validation Meera tried to give me—letting me know I wasn't trash—I was dying inside. I was depressed and anxious about having to go back to the same place where I had been broken down so badly. The place where I was left friendless and lonely.

The Physical Toll of Emotional Pain

I started to feel the pain in my body. My stomach hurt every day. I knew it was due to emotional pain rather than any physical ailment—even back then, my intuition told me that.

The constant self-deprecating dialogue played on repeat all day long:

"You are trash. Nobody likes you. You were and are never invited by people at school to anything. Everybody thinks you're a baby and a weirdo. Nobody really likes you, and nobody will ever be your friend."

This internal soundtrack certainly didn't help my stomach pain or my ability to be present with the one person who actually cared about me.

Missing What Was Right in Front of Me

I couldn't appreciate the good times as much as I should have. If I could rewind time, I would've appreciated all the moments I had with Meera instead of constantly getting down on myself.

I would've taken notice of the fact that someone was actually trying to be my friend.

But all I could focus on was everything that happened during school—all the alienation, ostracism, and bullying. It was all I could talk about. It was all I could perseverate on.

Meera, understandably, grew tired of it.

When the Friendship Ended

Meera and I remained close for a little bit at the beginning of eighth grade. She eventually distanced herself from me.

I remember trying to discuss with her how I noticed we weren't hanging out on weekends like we used to. All she said was, "You have to understand my situation. I am busy with school."

I respected her decision. I would see her sporadically at cultural group meetings after that. Meera already had plenty of other friends from her school by then.

What made the friendship break even more saddening was that Meera was my only friend. Now that was gone, and it was my fault.

Making Amends Years Later

I wrote to her years later apologizing for my behavior. She was very sweet about the letter and denied that I had anything to do with the friendship breaking—a generous lie on her behalf.

I knew what I had done. Even though I regret the way I treated Meera at the time, I have learned to have compassion for myself and forgive myself for not knowing any better back then.

I look back now and feel ashamed of how I handled that friendship. But I also understand that I was a deeply hurt child who didn't have the tools to process trauma while simultaneously maintaining a healthy friendship.

The full story of this friendship—and the specific therapeutic interventions that could have helped me handle it better—is something I explore in depth in my book. These lessons are crucial for any teen or parent navigating similar struggles.

Key Takeaways for Parents and Teens

For Teens Who Are Struggling

Someone showing you friendship is precious—don't take it for granted. Even if you've been going through a tough time being bullied, if someone shows you genuine friendship, try to relish the moment. Friendships thrive when both people are happy and can do fun things together. Friendships don't thrive when one person is always negative and talking about their issues.

Bullies want you to internalize their messages. Bullies want you to feel bad about yourself as part of their scheme to exert power and control over you. Please remember that the messages they give you are lies designed to make you feel bad. They are not the truth about who you are.

Self-validation is an inside job. You cannot wait for the people who hurt you to validate you. They won't. Your healing and self-worth must come from within, supported by people who genuinely care about you—not from the approval of people who have shown you they don't value you.

Negative self-talk becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. When you constantly berate yourself, you push away the people who actually want to be your friend. They can't compete with the negative voice in your head, and they'll eventually grow tired of trying.

For Parents of Struggling Teens

Case conference meetings require active participation. When teachers document social skills issues, bullying, or peer ridicule, demand concrete action plans. Don't let the meeting end with just reports being read aloud. Push for specific interventions, timelines, and measurable goals.

Prestigious doesn't mean appropriate. Just because a professional works at a well-known institution doesn't mean they're the right fit for your child. Trust your instincts and your child's feedback about whether a therapist or doctor is actually helping.

Watch for signs of internalized negativity. When your child starts making extremely negative comments about themselves, they need immediate mental health support. This isn't typical teenage angst—it's a sign they've internalized bullying messages and are in real distress.

Create opportunities outside of school. Cultural groups, hobby-based activities, and community organizations can provide friendships with peers who don't know your child's "reputation" at school. These fresh starts are invaluable.

Therapeutic support should include specific skills. Look for therapy that teaches social skills, emotional regulation, self-esteem building, and communication strategies—not just talk therapy that processes feelings without building new capabilities.

Moving Forward

The lessons from that summer didn't fully crystallize until years later, after I'd done the therapeutic work I needed. But looking back now, I can see how that painful period was a turning point—even if I couldn't appreciate it at the time.

If you're going through something similar, whether as a struggling teen or as a parent watching your child suffer, know that there is a path forward. The strategies I eventually learned—and wish I'd known during that summer—are detailed in my book, along with the complete story of how I moved from self-hatred to self-acceptance.

Can Being Different Make You a Target?

Middle school is hard for everyone. But what happens when you're trying to navigate those difficult years while also being on the autism spectrum?

For me, it meant being unable to read the social cues that came naturally to others. It meant being desperate to fit in but not understanding how. And it meant becoming a target.

My experience at Forest Ridge Middle School taught me lessons the hard way—through manipulation, bullying, and well-meaning adults who didn't actually help. I'm sharing parts of my story here because I believe it can help other young people on the spectrum, as well as the parents and educators who support them.

This is about what happens when you're different in a place that demands conformity. But it's also about resilience, self-advocacy, and the wisdom that comes from survival.

Table of Contents

• The Warning Signs of Fake Friendship

• Why Monitored Socialization Doesn't Work

• When Adults Scapegoat the Autistic Student

• Understanding Stimming in Hostile Environments

• Fighting Back Against Rumors and Bullying

• Key Takeaways for Parents and Educators

• Moving Forward

The Warning Signs of Fake Friendship

By the end of sixth grade, I was allowed to invite classmates to lunch in the resource room under strict conditions. Only girls could come, I couldn't invite certain people, and adults had to extend the invitations for me.

Suddenly, three girls from the "in crowd" became very friendly. They called me regularly, came to my Super Bowl party, and seemed genuinely interested in being my friend. I was thrilled.

The reality was different. I was being used as a messenger between them. Phone conversations consisted of "What did she say about me?" and "Did she mention anything about our argument?" I didn't understand this at the time because people on the autism spectrum often miss subtle social cues like hidden agendas and manipulative patterns.

What Fake Friendship Looks Like

When the girls came to my Super Bowl party, they ran through my house like it was a museum tour. They were interested in seeing where I lived, not in spending time with me. My mom noticed immediately. The invitations were never reciprocated.

Here are the warning signs I learned to recognize:

Questions that extract information about others - "What did she say about me?" is a classic red flag that someone is using you as a go-between.

Sudden interest after previous indifference - When people who ignored you suddenly become friendly, there's usually a reason. They want something.

One-sided invitations - If you're always the one hosting or inviting, and they never reciprocate, that's a clear sign the friendship isn't genuine.

Interest in your stuff over you - People who spend time exploring your house or asking about your things rather than engaging with you are treating you like a museum exhibit.

Different behavior depending on audience - Friends who act one way around adults and another way around peers aren't being genuine.

Learning to spot these patterns early can save you from months or years of being used. In my book, I explore these dynamics in much greater depth and provide strategies for protecting yourself from social manipulation before it escalates.

Why Monitored Socialization Doesn't Work

When classmates did join me for lunch, every word was monitored to ensure I didn't say "anything inappropriate." The adults thought they were helping me learn social skills.

They weren't.

One day, I asked a lunch companion questions about her dating history. She answered politely. The conversation seemed fine. Only after lunch did staff tell me I'd been "nosy."

The Problem with After-the-Fact Correction

Post-hoc correction doesn't teach social skills. It teaches fear of making mistakes. I walked away from that interaction not knowing what questions were appropriate, only that I'd done something wrong.

What would have actually helped:

Pre-teaching conversation strategies - Before lunch, give specific prompts or topics to practice. "Today, try asking about weekend plans and hobbies."

Real-time gentle redirection - If a conversation goes off track, redirect in the moment with a soft "Let's shift to talking about..." rather than lecturing afterward.

Specific skill practice - Assign one conversation skill to focus on for a week. Practice it daily, get feedback, master it, then move to the next skill.

Constructive examples - Show what good conversation looks like, not just what bad conversation looks like.

Surveillance followed by criticism creates anxiety. Structured practice with immediate feedback builds competence.

When Adults Scapegoat the Autistic Student

Seventh grade brought more freedom, but also more opportunities for things to go wrong. In math class with Ms. Morgan, a classmate named Emilie would constantly bug me to make silly faces or gestures when the teacher's back was turned.

I'd eventually give in just to get her to stop asking. Wrong approach, I know now.

Here's where things got absurd: Emilie had a very distinctive laugh. Ms. Morgan learned to automatically kick me out of class whenever she heard that laugh, without even looking to see what happened.

It was pure classical conditioning. Emilie's laugh became the signal for my removal from class.

The Assistant Principal Meeting

This pattern continued until I was sent to the assistant principal's office twice. The second time, Ms. Anderson, my special education teacher, tried to explain what was actually happening in math class.

The assistant principal, Mr. Benson, cut her off.

"If you can't behave properly in that class, I am going to call your father and have him take you home for five days. Is that clear?!" he yelled at me.

Ms. Anderson tried again to explain. He told her he didn't care to hear it.

This is textbook scapegoating. The autistic student becomes "the problem" even when adults know there's more to the story. Students learn quickly that reporting me to staff is an effective weapon. They had visual proof of my "otherness" through seeing me escorted separately, which reinforced that I was different, lesser, fair game for manipulation.

What Should Have Happened

The assistant principal should have:

• Listened to the full context from Ms. Anderson

• Investigated the classroom dynamics

• Addressed the student who was prompting the behavior

• Worked with the teacher to change the seating arrangement

• Provided me with strategies to decline requests from peers

Instead, I learned that the system would always blame me first and ask questions never.

For parents and educators dealing with similar situations, my book provides detailed strategies for ensuring autistic students aren't automatically scapegoated when behavioral issues arise in the classroom.

Understanding Stimming in Hostile Environments

In science class, I was paired with a classmate named Misty for group work. She looked physically ill at the prospect of working with me.

I was rocking back and forth, which is called stimming. It's a self-soothing behavior that helps many autistic people manage stress and anxiety.

What Stimming Is

Stimming (self-stimulatory behavior) is a core feature of autism that includes:

• Hand flapping

• Rocking

• Spinning

• Finger flicking

• Pacing

• Humming

• Repeating words or phrases

• Using objects repetitively

For me, rocking was calming. The back-and-forth motion reminded me of my grandparents' rocking chair, one of my few peaceful childhood memories. In that hostile classroom environment, it helped me cope.

When Self-Soothing Becomes Ammunition

Other students didn't understand stimming. They saw another thing to mock.

Classmates started imitating my rocking. One student encouraged others to join in. I got defensive and told them to stop. Then I saw Misty mocking me too, making exaggerated faces and repeating "Stop" in a mocking tone.

I was stunned that she would participate in the bullying.

The teacher did nothing to intervene effectively. The laughter continued. My self-soothing behavior became entertainment for others.

What I Needed Instead

Ideally, the classroom environment should have been one where stimming was understood and accepted. The teacher should have:

• Educated the class about neurodiversity and different ways people self-regulate

• Immediately shut down mocking behavior

• Separated me from students who were bullying

• Provided me with additional coping strategies

While stimming is a neurological need that shouldn't have to be hidden, having additional tools would have helped me navigate that hostile environment better. I share these alternative strategies in detail in my book because they're crucial for autistic students in mainstream classrooms.

Fighting Back Against Rumors and Bullying

During a swimming unit in gym class, someone asked me to move out of the way in the locker room while I was changing. I wasn't as skilled as other girls at covering myself while changing positions.

Somehow, this became a rumor that spread through all three grades: "Sonia walks around the locker room naked."

The Relentless Harassment

The comments came from everywhere:

"I heard you were walking around naked in the locker room. Are you a lesbian?"

"Why would you do that? You're a seventh grader—you should know better."

"Locker rooms are for changing clothes, not for walking around naked."

Every comment was accompanied by laughter from bystanders. One day in gym class, a classmate screamed loud enough for everyone to hear: "Maybe we can get someone to walk around naked in the locker room like Sonia."

I stood up for myself. "I didn't do that."

"It's true. Ask anybody in here," she shot back.

Silence from the other girls. Then, as people lined up to leave: "It's not a rumor; it's true."

I ended up in tears, escorted out of reading class to the resource room.

Being Persistent When Adults Don't Want to Help

I brought my concern to Mrs. Horowitz, the guidance counselor. The first time, she told me to stop crying about the rumor. She was dismissive and acting lazy about the situation.

It took me being persistent before she finally took action. I knew if nothing changed, the harassment would only get worse.

Mrs. Horowitz eventually called several classmates to her office and discovered that Donna had started the rumor. Donna admitted she saw me standing undressed while moving to a different spot because someone asked me to move. She didn't know why I did it, but she started the rumor anyway.

The Disappointing Outcome

Mrs. Horowitz's solution was minimal:

• Tell Donna she wouldn't call her mother

• Have Donna tell people who bring up the rumor that it isn't true

• Teach me how other girls cover themselves while changing

That was it. A slap on the wrist for Donna. More "skills training" for me. No real consequences for spreading a harmful rumor that led to weeks of harassment.

What I'm Proud Of

Even though the outcome was disappointing, I was proud of myself for being persistent. I didn't give up when the adult initially dismissed my concerns. I kept pushing until she took action.

That persistence came from an inner strength I didn't know I had. Despite all the challenges I faced, both from peers and from adults who should have helped me, I had the drive not to give up.

This is a lesson I want other autistic students to learn: Your voice matters. Your concerns are valid. If one adult won't help, find another. Keep advocating for yourself until someone listens.

Key Takeaways for Parents and Educators

Recognize Social Manipulation Early

Autistic students are vulnerable to social manipulation because they often miss subtle cues. Watch for warning signs like:

• Sudden friendship from previously disinterested peers

• Questions that extract information about others

• One-sided relationships where your child always gives but never receives

• Different behavior from "friends" depending on who's watching

Teach Social Skills Proactively

Don't wait until mistakes happen to correct them. Pre-teach strategies before social situations:

• Give specific conversation prompts to practice

• Role-play different scenarios

• Provide real-time gentle redirection

• Focus on one skill at a time until mastered

Get the Full Story Before Disciplining

When behavioral issues arise, investigate thoroughly:

• Listen to the special education staff who know the full context

• Ask about peer dynamics and who might be prompting behaviors

• Consider whether the autistic student is reacting to or being manipulated by others

• Apply consequences fairly to all students involved, not just the autistic student

Understand and Accept Stimming

Self-stimulatory behaviors are neurological needs, not misbehavior:

• Educate classrooms about neurodiversity

• Create environments where stimming is accepted

• Immediately shut down mocking of stimming behaviors

• Provide additional coping strategies when needed

Take Bullying Reports Seriously

When an autistic student reports bullying:

• Act immediately, don't dismiss their concerns

• Investigate thoroughly to identify who started rumors or harassment

• Apply meaningful consequences to students who bully

• Follow up to ensure the bullying has stopped

Advocate for Real Solutions

If you're a parent:

• Request written evaluations when you have concerns

• Ask for measurable goals in IEPs

• Ensure evidence-based methods are being used

• Communicate regularly with all adults supporting your child

• Don't accept dismissive responses from school staff

If you're an educator:

• Coordinate with other teachers and specialists supporting the student

• Share information about what's working and what isn't

• Don't automatically blame the autistic student when problems arise

• Create inclusive classroom environments where differences are respected

Moving Forward

My middle school experiences were difficult, but they taught me invaluable lessons about self-advocacy, resilience, and what actually helps autistic students succeed in mainstream education.

The system failed me in many ways. Adults who should have protected me often made things worse. Peers who should have been taught empathy were allowed to bully without real consequences. Restrictions that were supposed to help me only isolated me further.

But I survived. I learned. And now I'm sharing what I know so others don't have to learn these lessons the hard way.

If you want the complete story of my middle school experiences, including many more incidents I couldn't fit into this blog post and the detailed strategies I wish someone had taught me back then, my book provides everything you need. It's written for autistic students who are struggling, parents trying to support their children, and educators who want to do better.

Order for yours here

The Double Isolation of Being Neurodivergent and Different

Table of Content

Intro

Watched Like a Prisoner: When School Restrictions Follow You Everywhere

When Your Therapist Becomes Another Source of Shame

Happy Diwali: Your Place Is on the Floor in the Corner

The Big Blow-Up: When Rejection Becomes Confrontation

The Lessons That Emerged From Isolation

From Corner Floors to Claiming Space

The Double Isolation of Being Neurodivergent and Different

Imagine sitting alone on a gymnasium floor during a cultural celebration meant to bring your community together. While everyone around you laughs, dances, and connects with their families, you're relegated to a corner—not by choice, but because no one wants you there. Not even the people who share your heritage, your language, your traditions.

This wasn't a one-time incident in my life. It was a pattern that repeated itself at Indian-American gatherings throughout my adolescence, adding another painful layer to the isolation I already experienced at school. When you're neurodivergent, the rejection from peers is crushing. But when your own cultural community—the place where you're supposed to find belonging—also turns you away, the loneliness becomes unbearable.

The question that haunted me during those years was simple yet devastating: If I'm not welcomed here, then where? Where do I belong when I'm too different for my school and too "problematic" for my community?

This is the story of navigating restrictions, cultural backlash, and the profound isolation that comes when rejection follows you everywhere—even to places meant to celebrate who you are.

Watched Like a Prisoner: When School Restrictions Follow You Everywhere

The consequences of being labeled a "problem child" didn't stay confined to classroom walls. By sixth grade, the restrictions extended to every school-related activity, including something as simple as a band concert.

I was part of the school band, and performing at the Winter Holiday Concert in the high school auditorium was mandatory. But Ms. Anderson pulled me and a group of popular girls out of class before the concert with specific instructions.

"I need you all to watch Sonia at this upcoming band concert," she announced. "At the last band concert, parents complained that she was a distraction and disrespectful. We can't afford to have that happen again."

I had to be watched at a band concert. Like a prisoner awaiting a court hearing, I needed constant supervision just to sit and listen to music. The girls assigned to monitor me were from the popular group—the only ones who gave me any attention, though it was never sincere.

I later discovered from a therapist that parents had instructed their children to stay away from me. These complaints to the school weren't about my behavior at the concert—they were about preventing me from participating at all. Families wanted me gone, and they used any excuse to make it happen.

The Breaking Point

During the concert, while sitting and listening to other bands perform, the weight of it all crashed down on me. Everyone else had friends. Everyone else belonged. I was alone and embarrassed, constantly monitored as if I might explode at any moment.

I broke down in tears.

Looking back, the school should have offered me an alternative: give me an A for the semester in exchange for not performing. It would have saved me the humiliation and relieved other students from the burden of playing "watch guard." Creating exceptions to mandatory rules for neurodivergent students isn't weakness—it's compassion and common sense.

The isolation experienced at school was only one part of the story. The cultural rejection that followed created wounds that cut even deeper. Discover the complete journey of navigating dual rejection and finding your voice in the full book.

When Your Therapist Becomes Another Source of Shame

You'd expect a therapist to provide a safe space—somewhere you can express yourself without judgment. Instead, Dr. Patel, a therapist who shared my Indian cultural background, became another voice of shame.

Every session felt like being scolded by a disapproving parent rather than receiving professional mental health support. He repeatedly reminded me how he had advocated to keep me at Forest Ridge School District, as if I should be perpetually grateful and guilty.

"When I went to your school, they wanted to throw you out that day," he'd say. "If I hadn't been there to advocate for you, that would've been the end of it."

This wasn't helpful. I didn't learn emotional regulation, conflict resolution, or social skills. The only thing keeping me at school was fear of my parents' wrath if I got expelled and transferred.

The Question Without an Answer

Dr. Patel did ask one question worth pondering: "If you don't respect yourself, how do you expect others to respect you?"

It was a valid concept—but completely meaningless without guidance on how to achieve self-respect. For someone who had been bullied, rejected, and constantly told they were the problem, self-respect wasn't something I could just decide to have. It needed to be taught through self-esteem-building exercises and therapeutic support.

Instead, I received lectures about gratitude and behavior modification, delivered in a manner resembling disappointed Indian parents rather than an objective mental health professional.

Critical lesson for mental health professionals: Individuals who have faced peer rejection and bullying typically have low self-esteem. If you're going to emphasize the importance of self-respect, you must provide concrete direction on how to build it. Otherwise, you're just adding another voice to the chorus telling them they're not good enough.

Professional support should heal, not harm. Learn how to find the right therapeutic help and what effective intervention actually looks like in the complete book.

Happy Diwali: Your Place Is on the Floor in the Corner

My parents were members of an Indian-American Physicians Group, composed mainly of families from Forest Ridge and surrounding towns. Many attendees were classmates and their families—people who already gave me the cold shoulder at school.

At a previous event held in the Forest Ridge Middle School gymnasium, I tried sitting with classmates Amisha and Beena. Amisha gave me a death stare that I didn't pick up on at the time. Beena kept her answers short, trying to be polite without causing drama. Once Amisha got up, Beena immediately followed.

Another classmate, Leena, kept her distance entirely. I understood why—they were weirded out by my eccentric behaviors. But understanding didn't make it hurt less.

The Diwali Gathering That Changed Everything

The next gathering was a Diwali celebration at a community center about thirty minutes from Forest Ridge. My mom was out of town visiting my brother Jay at college, leaving me with my dad for the weekend. I knew he wouldn't let me skip the event, especially because our close family friends, the Ahujas, were supposed to attend.

I felt particularly close to the Ahuja daughters, especially Priyanka, who battled her own mental health challenges. Knowing she'd be there gave me comfort, though anxiety gnawed at me all day.

I went to the hairdresser earlier, getting nice curls put in my hair, hoping it would help me feel more confident. My dad assured me multiple times that the Ahujas were coming. But when we arrived, Priyanka's parents informed me she wasn't there.

I tried saying hi to people—classmates from school and their friends from neighboring towns. They barely acknowledged me, treating me as invisible.

So I sat on the floor in a corner of the hallway. Alone.

I understand now why they didn't want me around—rumors had spread, and my acting out at school had weirded everyone out. In all fairness, they were behaving like most of my peers, embarrassed and ashamed to be associated with me.

But it hit differently coming from my own cultural community. At school, I was different because I was Indian, neurodivergent, and didn't fit in. At Indian gatherings, I was rejected despite sharing heritage, language, and traditions with everyone there.

If I wasn't welcomed here, then where? Where could I possibly find acceptance?

The bitter truth: there was nowhere left to go.

A Small Act of Kindness

I sat in that corner for what felt like hours, staring at the outdated floor tiles—white with sprinkles of light blue, desperately needing remodeling. My dad was too busy socializing with friends to check on me. People occasionally glanced over, shooting me looks, but I kept my eyes down.

Only one girl approached me. Nidhi, whom I'd met years earlier at a family friend's gathering, walked over with genuine concern.

"Sonia, people are feeling sorry for you because you're by yourself," she said.

"They hate me, Nidhi."

"But I don't hate you. Why do they hate you?" she asked sympathetically.

I explained briefly about everything at school. She listened, expressed sympathy, and eventually had to leave. Before she went, she made sure to tell me she didn't hate me.

That small acknowledgment meant everything.

But here's the truth: If people really felt sorry for me, they could have easily invited me to join them. It's that simple. Instead, their "pity" was just another form of rejection, dressed up in more socially acceptable language.

Sitting on that floor was just the beginning. I'd be coerced to attend many more Indian events where I was left to fend for myself. Eventually, I graduated from sitting on floors to sitting at tables—alone. My only source of comfort was that chairs felt better than floors screaming "Please remodel me."

Cultural rejection adds a unique dimension to the isolation faced by neurodivergent individuals. The journey from floor corners to finding genuine community is transformative. Read the complete story to understand how identity, belonging, and acceptance intersect.

The Big Blow-Up: When Rejection Becomes Confrontation

After the floor incident, my anxiety about attending Indian gatherings intensified. I felt it in my gut—I didn't fit in, and everyone knew it.

Another gathering came in spring 1995. My whole family and a cousin were attending, which meant I couldn't avoid it. As soon as we arrived, I spotted Amisha and Beena sitting at a table. I told my mom people from school were there.

Despite knowing how they'd treated me before, my mom thought it was important I try to make friends. She approached their table and asked if I could sit with them. They were polite to her face and agreed.

Once my mom left to sit with my dad and their friends, everything changed.

I was sitting next to a friend of Amisha and Beena's—someone from a different school who I didn't know well. I tried joining their conversation, but I didn't have the skills to smoothly insert myself into an ongoing discussion. Understandably, their friend got annoyed and made a snarky remark.

A full argument erupted. Amisha and Beena laughed at their friend's comments, half-heartedly saying "Stop, stop" while clearly supporting her.

"I'm trying to have a conversation with MY friends. Who are you?" their friend asked snarkily.

"I was just trying to be friendly and join the conversation," I replied timidly.

"You're really annoying. Leave us alone."

"How am I the one being annoying?"

"The way you're acting. You won't even let us talk. Are you always this annoying?"

"I'm not annoying."

"Sonia, you weren't even invited to sit here. Your mom had to come and ask."

"So?"

"My point exactly. Why don't you name your friends or count how many you have? I bet you don't have many."

That cut deep. She was right—I didn't have many friends. But I responded defiantly, "I do. In fact, I'm throwing a huge birthday party for when I turn 13."

"I bet nobody will even show up."

That was enough. I left the table as Amisha, Beena, and their friend shot me dirty glares. I heard laughter as I walked away.

The Aftermath

I ran into Nisha, a friend from my second-grade redo year, who happened to be at the gathering. I told her what happened. She mentioned thinking Amisha, Beena, and their friend were really nice, then went to hear their version of events.

Years later, I learned those girls called me a "bitch" behind my back. In my mind, that was actually an improvement—I'd rather be called a bitch than a baby.

The patterns of rejection, confrontation, and resilience shape who we become. Understanding these dynamics and learning how to navigate them changes everything. Explore the full journey and the strategies that finally worked in the complete book.

The Lessons That Emerged From Isolation

Looking back at those painful experiences—being monitored at band concerts, sitting alone on gymnasium floors, enduring confrontations at cultural gatherings—several critical lessons emerge:

For Mental Health Professionals

Create genuine safe spaces. Reinforcing how much you had to advocate for a client each session comes across as shaming, not supportive. Focus on emotional regulation, conflict resolution, and social skills development.

Provide direction, not just concepts. Telling someone with low self-esteem to "respect themselves" without teaching them how is useless. Build concrete strategies for developing self-worth through exercises and consistent support.

Maintain professional boundaries. Shared cultural background shouldn't blur the lines between therapist and family member. Objective, professional care is essential regardless of cultural connections.

For Parents and Community Leaders

Isolation compounds trauma. When a child is already struggling socially at school, adding rejection from their cultural community creates unbearable loneliness. One safe space—just one—can make all the difference.

Teach children compassion. If you notice a child sitting alone at community gatherings, teach your children to include them. Model the kindness you want to see. Small gestures of acceptance can have profound impacts.

Question the narrative. When parents tell their children to avoid someone, ask why. Often, the reasons stem from fear and misunderstanding rather than legitimate concerns. Challenge the impulse to ostracize neurodivergent community members.

For Those Experiencing Similar Rejection

Your worth isn't determined by acceptance. The communities that reject you aren't equipped to see your value—that's their limitation, not your deficiency.

Find your people. They exist, even when it feels impossible. Sometimes you have to look beyond traditional spaces to find genuine belonging.

Document your journey. One day, your story of surviving dual rejection will help someone else feeling that same crushing isolation.

From Corner Floors to Claiming Space

The girl who sat on that gymnasium floor, staring at outdated tiles while cultural celebrations happened around her, eventually learned something powerful: belonging isn't about forcing yourself into spaces that don't want you. It's about finding or creating spaces where your authentic self is welcomed.

The journey from being monitored at band concerts to advocating for neurodivergent acceptance wasn't linear. It required navigating therapists who shamed rather than healed, enduring cultural gatherings where loneliness felt suffocating, and confronting the painful reality that sometimes your own community can be your harshest critics.

But here's what those difficult years taught me: The restrictions placed on you don't define your worth. The people who reject you don't determine your value. And the isolation you feel today doesn't predict the community you'll find tomorrow.

The question "If I'm not welcomed here, then where?" eventually found its answer—not in the spaces that rejected me, but in the understanding that I could create my own belonging.

This is just one chapter in a longer story of navigating neurodivergence, cultural identity, and finding your voice when everyone tells you to be quiet. For the complete journey—including how professional support evolved, what finally broke the cycle of isolation, and how advocacy transforms pain into purpose, read the full book and discover that your differences are your greatest strengths.

Navigating Autism in the Classroom

Table of Contents

Intro

The Awakening: When School Becomes a Maze

The Problem Child Label: A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

The Invisible Rules Everyone Else Knows

When Crushes Become Intense Interests

The Candid Truth From an Unexpected Friend

The Critical Takeaways

Conclusion

Navigating Autism in the Classroom

The moment a teacher dumps your desk contents onto the floor in front of your entire class, forcing you to clean it up on your knees while classmates watch—that's when you realize something is deeply wrong. Not with you, but with a system that punishes what it doesn't understand.

This isn't a hypothetical scenario. It happened to me in second grade, and it's just one story from my journey navigating autism in a world that wasn't built for neurodivergent minds. The education system often fails children on the autism spectrum, not because these children are incapable, but because adults mistake confusion for defiance, sensory overwhelm for drama, and the need for clear systems as an inability to follow basic instructions. What I needed wasn't punishment—it was understanding, accommodation, and someone willing to teach me the "invisible rules" that everyone else seemed to know instinctively.

This is my story of navigating those early school years, the painful lessons learned, and why early intervention and proper support can mean the difference between a child who mentions suicide at age ten and one who thrives.

The Awakening: When School Becomes a Maze

First grade at St. Margaret's Academy hit me like a tidal wave. While other children seemed to intuitively understand the unwritten rules of classroom behavior, I was drowning in confusion. The way information was presented, the sensory assault of fire alarms, the social choreography everyone else seemed born knowing, it all felt like navigating a maze without a map.

I remember being shocked when classmates helped me pick up crayons I'd dropped. This simple act of kindness wasn't something I'd anticipated or understood as normal social behavior. For neurotypical students, these courtesies come naturally. For someone on the autism spectrum, they need to be learned, observed, and consciously practiced.

The challenge wasn't laziness or defiance, it was that my brain processed information differently. I needed systems, step-by-step processes, clearly mapped-out instructions. When teachers showed us exactly how to organize—"homework goes in this folder, reading materials in that one"—I could follow. Without that structure, I floundered.

The Power of Early Intervention

Looking back, what I desperately needed was early intervention that understood how I learned, not just what I was supposed to learn. Instead, I received punishment for forgetting to bring a baby picture for show-and-tell—excluded from sitting with my classmates during the activity.

Key insight: What could have helped? A simple written reminder placed in a folder, with a system to check my backpack each night. Instead of punishment, I needed accommodation and understanding.

The danger of ignorance runs deep in our education system. We're too quick to punish students we don't understand, assuming malice or laziness when the reality is a child who desperately needs help but doesn't have the skills to ask for it. After all, what can you expect from a six-year-old who doesn't understand her own mind yet?

This is just the beginning of understanding how autism shows up in schools. For the complete story of navigating diagnosis, social challenges, and finding your voice, explore the full journey in my book.

The Problem Child Label: A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

By second grade, my reputation was solidified. Mrs. Schmidt, my teacher, held students to rigid standards with zero tolerance for anything outside her narrow expectations. When she asked us to pull out a worksheet and discovered my disorganized desk, she didn't teach me organization—she humiliated me.

She dumped my entire desk onto the floor. In front of everyone. Three times in one day.

I knelt on the classroom floor, picking up papers and supplies while fighting back tears, my classmates' stunned faces burning into my memory. To escape the shame, I retreated into daydreams where my father reassured me: "The same things happened to me. Teachers were rude to me too, and I was bullied. But I became a success story, and I know you can too."

When Students Mirror Teachers

The power teachers hold over classroom culture cannot be overstated. When Mrs. Schmidt constantly criticized and humiliated me, it gave other students permission—even encouragement—to do the same.

A group of girls cornered me in the bathroom, lecturing me about being a "bad student" who couldn't keep up. They told me I would be a failure. One girl, attempting kindness, said "Sorry to break your heart, Sonia" after the verbal assault.

Here's the critical lesson: If a teacher consistently treats a student as "no good," how can we expect other students to show that child respect? Teachers set the behavioral example for their entire classroom. Their influence ripples through every social interaction.

The impact of teacher attitudes on student wellbeing goes even deeper than you might imagine. Discover the long-term effects and how to advocate for neurodivergent children in the complete book.

The Invisible Rules Everyone Else Knows

Remember that rule Mrs. Schmidt announced? If you invite one person to your birthday party, you must invite the whole class. Simple, clear, everyone would follow it—right?

Wrong.

People on the autism spectrum tend to take rules literally and expect others to do the same. When Julia distributed birthday party invitations, I waited for mine. It never came. When I asked why, she explained her mother made her "cut one person," and that person was me.

I went around the room, asking every single student if they'd been invited. Every single one said yes—except me.

The excuse "I had to cut one person" was code I'd hear repeatedly throughout my childhood. It really meant "I didn't want to invite you," dressed up in nicer language. But at that age, I took words at face value, unable to read between the lines.

Standing Out for All the Wrong Reasons

Being different on the autism spectrum isn't just about learning differences—it's about missing the unwritten social codes that govern childhood interactions.

Ways I unknowingly stood out:

• Stimming behaviors: Rocking and leg jitters that I didn't realize I was doing, but peers immediately noticed

• Fashion blindness: Wearing the same clothes repeatedly, not understanding the importance of variety in a community that valued "keeping up with the Joneses"

• Hygiene gaps: Not knowing what deodorant was until a classmate had to explain why people said I smelled bad

• Emotional regulation: Crying far more than peers found acceptable, unable to "shake things off"

• Social timing: Not understanding when to exit conversations or when playful teasing crossed into bullying

These weren't choices. They were gaps in my social education—skills that neurotypical children absorb naturally but neurodivergent children must be explicitly taught.

The Desperation to Belong

My solution to social rejection? Throw bigger birthday parties. Surely if I invited people to my house, showed them I had a nice home and fun activities, they'd finally accept me.

The reality was heartbreaking.

Guests treated our home like an amusement park. Girls broke our treadmill by running on it like a toy. Kids made prank calls on our phone until someone threatened to call the police. They behaved in ways they'd never dare at their own homes or at the parties of popular peers.

My mom and brother observed the same thing: these weren't real friends. They were people using me for access to a big house and entertainment.

The painful truth: No amount of birthday parties can buy genuine friendship. If people don't accept you for who you are, a party won't change their minds. It only creates another opportunity for manipulation.

The journey from desperate attempts at belonging to genuine self-acceptance is transformative. Learn how this story evolves and what finally breaks the cycle in the full book.

When Crushes Become Intense Interests

One bedrock feature of autism spectrum disorder is intense interests that occupy significant mental space. For me, these interests centered on people—particularly romantic crushes and the elusive goal of maintaining friendships.

At my fifth-grade slumber party, we played the classic game of sharing crushes. I confessed I liked Jacob, begging everyone to keep it secret. They all promised.

By Monday morning, Blossom pulled me aside. "All your friends told me who you like," she said with a knowing smile. Despite my denials and eventual confession paired with another plea for secrecy, she immediately told Jacob in front of everyone.

"Sonia, you like me?! Ewww! I would never go out with someone like you!" His words were followed by erupting laughter.

Finding Refuge in Imagination

The swing sets became my sanctuary. The back-and-forth sensation felt like flying, offering escape into an imaginary world where I was finally accepted, even celebrated. I fantasized about being famous, having fans, receiving the attention and acceptance I craved.

I wrote letters in my diary addressed to Jacob, searching for answers: "Why don't you like me?" Deep down, I was seeking validation that something was inherently wrong with me. I felt abnormal and thought if someone could just tell me what was wrong, I could fix it and become normal.

The Candid Truth From an Unexpected Friend

Patricia, a classmate from my past who returned to Forest Ridge, became an unlikely source of honest feedback. Unlike others who talked behind my back, she told me directly:

"Sonia, you stick out a little. You cry a lot. You need to learn to shake things off."

She tried to help, teaching me comebacks and social strategies. But she also delivered harsh truths:

"You need to start figuring stuff out for yourself. Everyone thinks you're such a baby! You never can do anything yourself."

It was painful to hear, but there was truth in it. My struggles were visible to everyone. The excessive crying, the need for extra academic support, the social missteps—they all painted a picture of someone who seemed younger and less capable than peers.

When Frustration Boils Over

During our fifth-grade camping trip, walking alone while everyone else enjoyed their friend groups, my accumulated frustrations exploded. Under a beautiful starlit sky with a full moon, I screamed: "I hate myself! I want to kill myself!"

Jacob asked if I wanted to kill myself. Without thinking it through, I said yes.

The backlash was immediate. Classmates badgered me with questions: "Did you mean it? Are you suicidal? Do you have a plan?" The teacher found out, my mom was called in, and I was soon introduced to a psychiatrist.

The warning signs were everywhere:

• Social isolation despite desperate attempts to connect

• Never being invited to peers' homes or birthday parties

• Visible struggles with daily social interactions

• Emotional dysregulation and expressions of self-hatred

What Could Have Changed the Outcome

Early social skills training could have made all the difference. An hour a day working on specific skills:

• How to make and keep friends

• Reading social cues and non-verbal communication

• Knowing when to stop pursuing someone's friendship

• Handling conflict appropriately

• Regulating emotions in peer-appropriate ways

• Understanding the difference between playful teasing and bullying

Parents and educators: pay attention to what happens outside school. How often is your child invited to social events? Do you see them socializing in real-time? Quick access to appropriate help can prevent a child from ever reaching the point of mentioning suicide.

The path from social struggles to finding community and purpose is possible. See how professional intervention, self-advocacy, and understanding change everything in the complete story.

The Critical Takeaways

For Teachers: You hold immense power. Your treatment of struggling students sets the tone for how peers treat them. Build strong partnerships with parents. Address emerging issues early as a team. Implement systems that help neurodivergent students succeed rather than punishing them for thinking differently.

For Parents: Early intervention is everything. Understanding how your child on the autism spectrum learns and helping them develop organizational and social systems sets them up for success. Don't wait for crisis—act on early warning signs. Social skills training isn't optional; it's essential.

For Students: No matter how bad life feels, how lonely and empty you are, the world is better with you IN IT. You're here for a reason. People look up to you and need you more than you realize. All the rejection, bullying, and ostracism you're experiencing will one day transform into gifts, even though it's impossible to see that in the moment.

Conclusion

The label "problem child" followed me through elementary school, but it never defined my potential—only the system's failure to understand neurodivergence. My story doesn't end with camping trip confessions and classroom humiliation.

The journey from being the kid whose desk gets dumped out to becoming someone who advocates for others like her—that's where transformation happens. Understanding autism, receiving proper support, developing social skills, and learning self-advocacy changes everything.

The maze has an exit. The storm eventually calms. And the differences that made you a target become the strengths that make you remarkable.

This excerpt only scratches the surface of navigating autism, building resilience, and finding your voice. For the complete journey, read the full book and discover how being different becomes being empowered.

How Autism Affects the Brain

Table of Contents

Intro

Autism as a Neurodevelopmental Difference

Brain Structure and Connectivity in Autism

Sensory Processing Differences in the Autistic Brain

Emotional Processing and Regulation

Social Communication and the Brain

Executive Function and Autistic Thinking

Stress, Trauma, and the Autistic Nervous System

Autism, Learning, and Memory

What Brain Differences Mean for Support and Inclusion

Why Understanding the Autistic Brain Matters

Conclusion

How Autism Affects the Brain

Many people wonder what makes the autistic brain different. Parents, educators, partners, and autistic individuals themselves often seek to understand the neurological foundations of autism—not to pathologize, but to understand and support better.

It's crucial to start with this: autism is not a disease, a defect, or brain damage. It's a difference in how the brain develops and processes information. Just as left-handedness represents a natural variation in human neurology, so does autism. The autistic brain isn't broken; it's wired differently, with its own strengths, challenges, and ways of experiencing the world.

This post aims to explore autism through a brain-based lens while maintaining respect for the humanity and dignity of autistic people. We'll look at what science tells us about neurological differences, and what those differences mean in everyday life.

Autism as a Neurodevelopmental Difference

Neurodevelopment simply refers to how the brain grows, forms connections, and organizes itself from before birth through early childhood and beyond. During this process, billions of neurons connect and communicate, creating the neural networks that shape how we think, feel, and interact with the world.

Autism begins during this early developmental period. Research shows that autistic brains develop along a different trajectory, with variations in how neurons connect and communicate. These differences aren't deficiencies—they're variations, much like how people naturally differ in height, temperament, or artistic ability.

This understanding has given rise to the concept of neurodiversity: the idea that neurological differences like autism, ADHD, and dyslexia are natural variations in human neurology rather than disorders that need curing. The neurodiversity perspective doesn't deny that autistic people face real challenges, but it reframes autism as a different way of being rather than a diminished one.

Brain Structure and Connectivity in Autism

Differences in Neural Connections

One of the most consistent findings in autism research involves how different brain regions connect and communicate. Studies using brain imaging have revealed two key patterns:

• Stronger local connections: Some areas of the autistic brain show increased connectivity within specific regions, creating dense networks of communication in particular zones.

• Weaker long-range connections: There's often reduced connectivity between distant brain regions that typically coordinate complex, whole-brain activities.

What This Means in Daily Life

These connectivity differences help explain some common autistic experiences:

Deep focus and special interests: The strong local connections may contribute to the intense focus many autistic people bring to their areas of interest. When an autistic person is engaged with something meaningful to them, their brain can create remarkably detailed mental models and retain vast amounts of information.

Difficulty with transitions: Weaker long-range connectivity can make it harder for different brain systems to coordinate rapidly, which explains why switching tasks, handling interruptions, or adapting to sudden changes can be exhausting or distressing. It's not stubbornness or inflexibility, it's the brain needing more time and energy to reorganize itself.

Sensory Processing Differences in the Autistic Brain

How the Brain Processes Sensory Input

The autistic brain often processes sensory information differently from neurotypical brains. Many autistic people experience:

• Heightened sensitivity to sounds, lights, textures, tastes, or smells

• Difficulty filtering out background noise or visual clutter

• Seeking certain sensory inputs (like pressure, movement, or specific textures)

• Under-sensitivity in some sensory areas

Why Sensory Overload Happens

The autistic brain may have difficulty with "sensory gating"—the process of filtering out irrelevant sensory information. While neurotypical brains automatically tune out the hum of fluorescent lights or the tags in clothing, the autistic brain might process all of this information consciously and simultaneously.

Imagine trying to have a conversation while hearing every sound in the room at equal volume, feeling every thread of your clothing, and noticing every flicker of the overhead lights. This isn't hypersensitivity for its own sake—it's the brain taking in more unfiltered information.

Real-World Impact

Sensory differences aren't just preferences; they have significant impacts:

• Physical and mental fatigue from constant sensory input

• Overwhelm leading to shutdowns or meltdowns

• Need for quiet, predictable environments to decompress

• Avoidance of certain places or situations

Understanding these as brain-based differences rather than behavioral problems changes how we respond—with accommodation rather than criticism.

Emotional Processing and Regulation

How Autistic Brains Process Emotions

The autistic brain often experiences and processes emotions differently:

Intense emotional experiences: Many autistic people feel emotions deeply and powerfully. What might be mild annoyance to one person could be overwhelming frustration to an autistic individual—not because they're overreacting, but because their brain processes emotional intensity differently.

Delayed emotional processing: Sometimes autistic people need time to identify what they're feeling. The brain might register "something is wrong" before being able to label the specific emotion. This isn't emotional immaturity; it's a different processing timeline.

Fight, Flight, Freeze, or Shutdown Responses

When overwhelmed, the autistic nervous system can trigger strong stress responses:

• Meltdowns might look like emotional outbursts but are actually nervous system overwhelm

• Shutdowns involve withdrawal, going non-verbal, or seeming disconnected

• Freeze responses can appear as indecision or inability to act

These aren't choices or manipulations—they're involuntary neurological responses to system overload.

Social Communication and the Brain

Different Social Processing Styles

The autistic brain processes social information through different neural pathways:

• Difficulty automatically reading facial expressions, tone of voice, or body language

• Challenges understanding implied meanings or indirect communication

• Strong preference for direct, explicit communication

• Different eye contact patterns (often feeling uncomfortable or overstimulating)

Research suggests that autistic brains may not automatically activate the same social processing regions that neurotypical brains do, or they may process social information more consciously and deliberately rather than intuitively.

Why This Is Often Misunderstood

Here's what's crucial: autistic communication is different, not deficient. Autistic people often communicate clearly, honestly, and directly. They may prefer written communication where there's time to process, or concrete language over social niceties that feel insincere.

Studies have even shown that autistic people communicate effectively with other autistic people—the "communication problem" often lies in the gap between neurotypes, not within autism itself.

Executive Function and Autistic Thinking

Planning, Organization, and Task Initiation

Executive function involves the brain's management systems—planning, organizing, initiating tasks, and switching between activities. Many autistic people experience challenges in these areas because different brain regions must coordinate, which relates back to those long-range connectivity differences.

This might look like:

• Difficulty starting tasks even when motivated

• Challenges breaking large projects into steps

• Trouble switching between activities

• Needing external structure and routines

Strengths in Autistic Cognition

The same neurological differences that create challenges also produce remarkable strengths:

• Pattern recognition: Autistic brains often excel at identifying patterns, systems, and connections others might miss

• Logical thinking: Many autistic people bring rigorous logic and systematic thinking to problem-solving

• Attention to detail: The ability to notice and remember details can be extraordinary

• Creativity and innovation: Different thinking patterns lead to novel solutions and perspectives

These aren't consolation prizes—they're genuine cognitive strengths that have contributed to innovations across every field.

Stress, Trauma, and the Autistic Nervous System

The autistic nervous system often operates with less margin for stress. Because the brain is already working harder to process sensory input, navigate social situations, and manage daily demands, there's less capacity to absorb additional stress before reaching overload.

Masking—the practice of suppressing autistic traits to appear more neurotypical—places enormous strain on the nervous system. It's like running a computer with too many programs open simultaneously; eventually, the system crashes. For autistic people, this often manifests as autistic burnout: a state of physical, emotional, and cognitive exhaustion that can last months or years.

Chronic stress and the need to constantly adapt to a world not designed for autistic brains can have lasting impacts on mental and physical health, making understanding and accommodation not just nice to have, but essential.

To understand the profound emotional impact of navigating the world in an autistic body and mind, read My Life on the Spectrum. Her story illuminates the inner experience of stress, self-discovery, and the journey toward self-acceptance that statistics and brain scans cannot capture.

Autism, Learning, and Memory

Autistic brains often have distinctive learning profiles:

• Different learning styles: Many autistic people are visual learners or need hands-on experience rather than verbal instruction

• Strong memory in areas of interest: The ability to retain detailed information about special interests can be remarkable

• Need for structure and predictability: Clear expectations and routines help the autistic brain allocate resources efficiently

• Challenges with implicit learning: What neurotypical people pick up through observation might need to be taught explicitly

Understanding these learning differences allows for more effective education and skill development that works with autistic neurology rather than against it.

What Brain Differences Mean for Support and Inclusion

Understanding the neurological basis of autism should inform how we support autistic people:

Accommodations aren't special treatment, they're necessary adjustments that account for different neurological needs:

• Sensory-friendly environments with adjustable lighting and quiet spaces

• Flexible communication methods (written options, extra processing time)

• Clear, direct instructions and expectations

• Permission to use coping tools like noise-canceling headphones or fidget items

Strength-based support means building on autistic strengths rather than trying to make autistic people neurotypical. It means asking "How can we make this environment work for your brain?" rather than "How can we fix your behavior?"

Why Understanding the Autistic Brain Matters

When we understand that autism is about brain differences rather than behavioral problems, everything changes:

• Reduced stigma: Knowledge replaces fear and misunderstanding

• Better relationships: Understanding leads to patience, accommodation, and genuine connection

• Improved education and employment: When we design for neurodiversity, everyone benefits

• Autistic self-understanding: For autistic people themselves, understanding their neurology can be profoundly validating

This understanding helps autistic individuals feel seen and valued for who they are, not criticized for who they're not.

For a powerful example of how this understanding transforms lives, read Sonia's My Life on the Spectrum. Her journey from confusion to self-acceptance shows why connecting scientific knowledge with lived experience matters so deeply.

Conclusion

Autism affects how the brain develops, connects, processes information, and responds to the world—but it doesn't affect a person's worth, potential, or humanity. The autistic brain isn't a broken version of a neurotypical brain; it's a different configuration entirely, with its own logic, strengths, and needs.

As we learn more about the neuroscience of autism, our responsibility is to translate that knowledge into compassion, accommodation, and genuine inclusion. We must move beyond simply understanding that autistic brains are different to appreciating how those differences shape lived experience.

Every autistic person deserves to be understood on their own terms, supported in their challenges, and celebrated for their strengths. Science gives us the framework for understanding, but stories give us empathy and connection.

Also, you can read Sonia's book, My Life on the Spectrum. Her honest, heartfelt account will help you understand not just how autism affects the brain, but how it feels to live in an autistic mind and that understanding makes all the difference.

When Is Autism Awareness Month? And Why It Matters

Table of Contents

Intro

Why Autism Awareness Month Was Created

Autism Awareness vs Autism Acceptance

Why Autism Awareness Month Still Matters

How Autism Awareness Month Is Observed

Autism Awareness Month and Adults

How to Participate Thoughtfully

Moving Beyond One Month

Conclusion

When Is Autism Awareness Month? 

Autism is being talked about more openly than ever before. Many people are learning about autism for the first time. Others are discovering that they or someone they love may be autistic. Because of this growing awareness, one question keeps coming up again and again:

When is Autism Awareness Month?

This blog post will explain when Autism Awareness Month takes place, why it exists, how it is observed, and why many people are now shifting the conversation from awareness to acceptance. It will also explore why listening to autistic voices matters, especially for adults who are only now beginning to understand themselves.

When Is Autism Awareness Month?

Autism Awareness Month is observed every year in April.

Within Autism Awareness Month, April 2nd is recognized as World Autism Awareness Day. This day was officially designated by the United Nations to help raise global awareness about autism and encourage inclusion and understanding.

Throughout April, you will often see educational campaigns, social media conversations, community events, and fundraising efforts focused on autism. The month serves as a focal point for individuals, families, educators, and advocates to come together and share knowledge about the autistic experience.

Why Autism Awareness Month Was Created

Autism Awareness Month was created to help people learn what autism is and to challenge harmful myths and misunderstandings.

For many years, autism was misunderstood or ignored. It was often seen only as a childhood condition, and many autistic people were overlooked, misdiagnosed, or misunderstood. Some were institutionalized or subjected to harmful treatments based on fear rather than understanding. Awareness efforts were meant to bring attention to autism and help people recognize that autistic individuals exist in every community and at every age.

Awareness was an important first step. It helped open the door to conversations that were long overdue. It created opportunities for families to access support and for society to begin questioning long-held stereotypes about what autism looks like and what autistic people are capable of achieving.

Autism Awareness vs Autism Acceptance

Over time, many autistic people began to say that awareness alone is not enough.

This is where the idea of autism acceptance comes in.

Awareness is about knowing autism exists. Acceptance is about understanding, respecting, and supporting autistic people as they are.

Acceptance focuses on things like inclusion, accommodations, listening to lived experiences, and valuing neurodiversity. It moves beyond simply talking about autism to actually improving the quality of life for autistic people. Acceptance means recognizing that autistic people do not need to be fixed or changed, but rather understood and supported in ways that honor their unique needs and strengths.

Today, many people use Autism Awareness Month as a time to promote both awareness and acceptance together. The goal is not just to spread information, but to create real change in how autistic individuals are treated in schools, workplaces, healthcare settings, and communities.

Why Autism Awareness Month Still Matters

Autism Awareness Month still plays an important role, especially for people who are just beginning to learn.

It helps reduce stigma by challenging outdated ideas about autism. It encourages education in schools, workplaces, and healthcare settings. It creates space for autistic voices to be heard. It reminds people that autism is lifelong, not something limited to childhood.

For many adults, Autism Awareness Month is the moment they first see stories that feel familiar and validating. It can be the catalyst for someone to pursue a diagnosis, seek community, or finally understand why they have always felt different. The visibility that comes with this month can be life-changing for those who have spent years feeling isolated or misunderstood.

If you want to hear honest conversations about autism, identity, and lived experience, this is a great time to listen to Sonia's podcast. Her episodes cover different topics around neurodiversity, emotional awareness, and real life experiences that many autistic adults relate to deeply.

How Autism Awareness Month Is Observed

Autism Awareness Month is marked in many different ways around the world.

Some communities host educational talks, workshops, or panel discussions. Schools and organizations share learning resources. Social media fills with personal stories and advocacy messages. Some landmarks are lit up in blue as a symbol of autism awareness.

In recent years, there has also been a stronger push to center autistic led conversations rather than speaking over autistic people. Many advocates encourage the use of the phrase "nothing about us without us," emphasizing that autistic individuals should be the ones leading discussions about their own lives and needs. This shift has brought more authenticity and nuance to public conversations about autism.

Autism Awareness Month and Adults

One important shift in recent years is the growing recognition of autistic adults.

Many adults were never identified as children. Some were misdiagnosed. Others learned to mask their traits in order to survive. Autism Awareness Month has become a powerful time for adults to finally see themselves reflected in the conversation.

This is why personal stories matter so much. When adults hear experiences that mirror their own, it can bring both relief and validation. It can answer questions they have carried for decades about why certain things have always felt harder for them or why they never quite fit in.

Books and podcasts created by autistic people help others feel less alone. Sonia's book, My Life on the Spectrum, is one of those resources. It offers insight, reflection, and emotional clarity for anyone wanting to understand autism beyond stereotypes. Her work speaks directly to the lived reality of being autistic in a world that was not designed with neurodivergent people in mind.

How to Participate Thoughtfully

You do not need to be an expert to participate in Autism Awareness Month in a respectful way.

You can start by listening to autistic voices. You can learn from books, podcasts, and first hand experiences. You can reflect on how workplaces, schools, and families can be more inclusive. You can be mindful of language and assumptions.

Thoughtful participation is about curiosity, compassion, and humility. It means being willing to unlearn old ideas and embrace new perspectives. It also means recognizing that every autistic person is different, and no single story or experience can represent the entire community.

Moving Beyond One Month

Autism Awareness Month happens in April, but autism does not end when the month is over.

True support means continuing the conversation all year long. It means listening, learning, and making space for difference every day. It means advocating for systemic change, accessibility, and accommodations long after the blue lights have been turned off and the social media posts have stopped.

Resources like Sonia's podcast and her book My Life on the Spectrum are valuable not just during April, but anytime you want to deepen your understanding and connect with authentic experiences. Building genuine understanding takes time, patience, and ongoing effort.

Conclusion

Autism Awareness Month takes place every year in April, with World Autism Awareness Day on April 2nd.

It exists to promote understanding, reduce stigma, and create space for autistic voices. While awareness is important, acceptance and inclusion are just as essential.

Whether you are autistic, love someone who is autistic, or are simply learning, Autism Awareness Month can be a meaningful time to listen, reflect, and grow.

And most importantly, it can be a reminder that autistic people have always been here and deserve understanding, respect, and support every day of the year.

Autism or ADHD? Understanding the Differences and What Matters

Table of Contents

Intro

What Autism Is

What ADHD Is

Why Autism and ADHD Are Often Confused

Key Differences Between Autism and ADHD

Can Someone Have Both Autism and ADHD?

How Diagnosis and Support Differ

Why Understanding the Difference Matters

Supporting Neurodivergent Individuals With Confidence

Conclusion

Autism or ADHD? 

Many parents, adults, and educators find themselves asking the same question at some point. Is this autism or ADHD? Sometimes the question comes after a teacher raises concerns. Other times it comes from personal reflection, especially when someone recognizes patterns in themselves they have carried since childhood.

The confusion is understandable. Autism and ADHD can look similar on the surface. Both affect how people focus, communicate, regulate emotions, and move through the world. But they are not the same thing. Understanding the difference can bring relief, clarity, and a better path forward.

This article is not about labeling people or creating boxes. It is about understanding how neurodevelopmental differences show up, why they are often confused, and how the right information can help people feel supported rather than judged. When we understand these differences, we can move away from frustration and toward meaningful connection.

If this topic resonates with you, Sonia Chand's book on autism offers a clear and compassionate guide to understanding neurodevelopment in real life. Her podcast also explores mental health, parenting, and wellness from many perspectives, making complex topics easier to understand.

What Autism Is

Autism, also called autism spectrum disorder, is a neurodevelopmental condition. This means it affects how the brain develops and processes information from early life.

Autism primarily involves differences in:

• Social communication and interaction

• Sensory processing

• Patterns of behavior, interests, or routines

Autistic people may communicate differently. Some may struggle with eye contact or small talk. Others may communicate very clearly but prefer direct language and honesty. Sensory experiences can be heightened, meaning sounds, lights, textures, or crowds may feel overwhelming. What feels like background noise to one person may feel like painful static to someone who is autistic.

Many autistic people develop deep, passionate interests in specific topics. These interests bring joy, comfort, and a sense of mastery. They are not obsessions that need to be eliminated. They are often strengths that can become careers, hobbies, or lifelong sources of fulfillment.

Routines and predictability often feel essential for autistic people. This is not about being rigid or controlling. It is about creating safety and reducing the mental energy required to navigate an unpredictable world. When routines are disrupted without warning, it can feel destabilizing in ways that are hard to explain to others.

One important thing to understand is that autism is a spectrum. There is no single way autism looks. Some autistic people need a lot of support in daily life. Others live independently, work, build relationships, and may not be diagnosed until adulthood. The idea that autism always looks one particular way has led to countless people being overlooked, misunderstood, or dismissed.

Autism is not caused by parenting style, trauma, or lack of effort. It is part of how a person's brain is wired. It is present from birth, even if it is not identified until later.

For a deeper and more grounded understanding of autism that goes beyond stereotypes, Sonia Chand's book is a helpful place to start. 

What ADHD Is

ADHD, or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, is also a neurodevelopmental condition. It mainly affects attention, impulse control, and activity levels.

ADHD shows up in three main ways:

• Inattentive presentation, where focus and organization are difficult

• Hyperactive impulsive presentation, where movement and impulses are hard to regulate

• Combined presentation, which includes both patterns

People with ADHD may struggle to stay focused on tasks that are not interesting to them, even if they care deeply about doing well. They may forget things, interrupt conversations, or feel restless inside their bodies. Time can feel slippery. What seems like five minutes may actually be an hour, or the other way around.

Executive function, which includes skills like planning, organizing, starting tasks, and managing time, is often affected by ADHD. This does not mean someone is incapable. It means their brain processes these tasks differently, and they may need different strategies or support to succeed.

People with ADHD often experience something called hyperfocus, where they become deeply absorbed in activities they find engaging. During these periods, they may lose track of time entirely and accomplish impressive amounts of work. This intensity of focus can be a strength, especially in creative or problem solving work.

ADHD is not about laziness, intelligence, or willpower. Many people with ADHD are creative, passionate, and highly capable. The challenge lies in regulating attention and energy in environments that are not designed for how their brains work. Schools and workplaces often reward sustained attention on tasks that may not feel inherently rewarding, which can make ADHD particularly challenging in these settings.

Sonia's podcast often explores topics like focus, mental health, and emotional regulation. Listening to these conversations can help normalize experiences that many people quietly struggle with.

Why Autism and ADHD Are Often Confused

Autism and ADHD share some overlapping traits, which is why they are often mistaken for one another.

Some shared experiences include:

• Difficulty with attention or focus

• Sensory sensitivity

• Emotional regulation challenges

• Social difficulties

• Feeling overwhelmed in busy environments

From the outside, these behaviors can look very similar. A child who struggles in school may be labeled disruptive or unfocused. An adult who avoids social situations may be seen as withdrawn or inattentive. Without context, it can be hard to tell what is driving the behavior.

Both conditions can also lead to anxiety, especially when someone feels different from their peers but does not understand why. The internal experience of constantly trying to keep up, fit in, or meet expectations that feel impossible can be exhausting. This exhaustion is real and valid, regardless of the underlying cause.

Another reason for confusion is that many people have both autism and ADHD. This is called co occurrence, and it is more common than many realize. In these cases, traits overlap and interact, making identification more complex. Someone might have sensory sensitivities from autism and impulsivity from ADHD, creating a unique experience that does not fit neatly into one category.

Understanding this overlap helps reduce shame. It reminds us that behavior is communication, not a character flaw. When we stop judging and start listening, we can better understand what someone actually needs.

Key Differences Between Autism and ADHD

While there is overlap, autism and ADHD differ in important ways.

Autism often centers on:

• Differences in social communication

• A strong need for predictability or routines

• Deep, focused interests

• Sensory sensitivities that are consistent over time

ADHD often centers on:

• Difficulty regulating attention

• Impulsivity or restlessness

• Trouble with time management and organization

• Seeking stimulation or novelty

For example, an autistic person may prefer routines because predictability feels calming. A person with ADHD may struggle to maintain routines because their attention shifts quickly and repetition can feel unbearably boring.

Socially, an autistic person may not intuitively understand unspoken social rules. They may need these rules explained directly and clearly. A person with ADHD may understand the rules perfectly well but struggle to follow them consistently due to impulsivity or distraction. They might interrupt not because they do not care, but because the thought feels urgent in the moment.

When it comes to interests, autistic people often develop deep, lasting interests that bring comfort and joy. People with ADHD may jump between interests frequently, diving deeply into something for weeks or months before moving on to something else entirely.

These are general patterns, not rules. Every individual experience is unique. The key is to look at the pattern of behaviors over time and in different contexts, rather than focusing on isolated moments.

Can Someone Have Both Autism and ADHD?

Yes, absolutely.

Many people are both autistic and have ADHD. In fact, research increasingly shows that the two conditions often occur together. Studies suggest that up to half of people with one condition may also have the other. For some people, this dual diagnosis explains why they felt misunderstood for so long. Maybe they related to some descriptions of autism but not others, or they felt like the ADHD diagnosis did not quite capture their full experience.

Having both does not mean someone is more limited. It simply means their brain processes information in more than one neurodivergent way. It can also mean that support needs to be more individualized, taking both sets of traits into account.

Understanding co occurrence can:

• Reduce self blame

• Improve access to appropriate support

• Help people understand their own needs more clearly

• Validate experiences that felt confusing or contradictory

For people who have spent years feeling like they do not quite fit anywhere, discovering that they have both autism and ADHD can be profoundly validating. It explains why some strategies work and others do not, and why their experience feels layered and complex.

Sonia Chand's work consistently emphasizes that diagnosis is not about labeling. It is about understanding and support. Her book and podcast both reflect this balanced, human centered approach.

How Diagnosis and Support Differ

Diagnosis for autism and ADHD usually involves behavioral observations, developmental history, and clinical assessments. There is no single test that gives a yes or no answer. Professionals look at patterns across time and settings, often gathering input from multiple sources.

Accurate identification matters because support strategies differ.

Autism support may focus on:

• Communication tools

• Sensory accommodations

• Predictable environments

• Social understanding without forcing conformity

ADHD support may focus on:

• Executive functioning strategies

• Time management tools

• Medication when appropriate

• Environmental structure and flexibility

The goal is not to change who someone is. The goal is to help them thrive in a world that often does not accommodate neurodivergent brains. This might mean noise canceling headphones, visual schedules, fidget tools, flexible deadlines, or a combination of many different supports.

Support is not one size fits all. What works for one autistic person may not work for another. What helps someone with ADHD today might not help them next year. Flexibility, communication, and respect are essential.

For parents, educators, and adults navigating this process, Sonia's book provides practical guidance that feels realistic rather than overwhelming.

Why Understanding the Difference Matters

When autism and ADHD are misunderstood, people are often blamed for things outside their control. Children may be punished instead of supported. Adults may internalize shame or feel broken.

Understanding the difference helps:

• Reduce stigma

• Improve self understanding

• Strengthen relationships

• Create better learning and work environments

It also helps shift the conversation from what is wrong with you to what do you need to thrive. This shift is powerful. It moves us from a deficit model, where neurodivergent people are seen as problems to fix, to a support model, where differences are acknowledged and accommodated.

When teachers understand the difference, they can create classrooms that work for more students. When employers understand, they can build workplaces that value diverse minds. When families understand, they can connect more deeply and reduce conflict that comes from misunderstanding.

Sonia Chand's podcast plays an important role here. By bringing together voices from mental health, wellness, and lived experience, it helps listeners feel less alone and more informed.

Supporting Neurodivergent Individuals With Confidence

Whether someone is autistic, has ADHD, or both, support should be flexible and respectful.

Support looks like:

• Listening without judgment

• Adapting environments when possible

• Valuing strengths alongside challenges

• Recognizing that needs change over time

It also means believing people when they tell you what they need. Neurodivergent people are the experts on their own experiences. Sometimes support means stepping back and trusting that someone knows themselves better than anyone else could.

Neurodiversity is part of human diversity. When we understand that, we stop trying to fix people and start supporting them. We recognize that different does not mean less than. We create space for people to be themselves without apology.

Sonia's work consistently reflects this mindset. Her book offers a clear and compassionate framework for understanding autism, while her podcast opens up wider conversations around mental health and wellbeing.

Conclusion

Autism and ADHD are different neurodevelopmental conditions, but they often overlap in ways that can be confusing. Understanding both helps replace fear with clarity and judgment with compassion.

The more informed we are, the better we can support children, adults, families, and communities. Understanding is not about labels. It is about connection, dignity, and care. It is about building a world where neurodivergent people can thrive as themselves, not in spite of themselves.

This work matters. Every time we choose understanding over judgment, we create a little more space for people to breathe, to be seen, and to belong.

If you want a clear, human centered guide to autism that cuts through myths and confusion, explore Sonia Chand's book. It is written to support real people in real life.

Are Autism and Schizophrenia Related?

Table of Contents

Intro

What Autism and Schizophrenia Are

Why People Often Think Autism and Schizophrenia Are Related

Key Differences Between Autism and Schizophrenia

Why Accurate Information Matters

How Conversations Like This Should Be Handled

Conclusion

Are Autism and Schizophrenia Related?

Many people wonder whether autism and schizophrenia are related. The question often comes up because both conditions can affect how someone thinks, communicates, or relates to others. For families and caregivers, this can feel confusing and sometimes even worrying, especially when information online is unclear or conflicting.

It is important to talk about this topic with care and accuracy. Autism and schizophrenia are often misunderstood, and mixing the two can lead to fear or incorrect assumptions. This article is here to bring clarity, not confusion.

In the sections that follow, we will explore what autism and schizophrenia are, why people sometimes think they are connected, and what current research actually says. The goal is to help readers understand the similarities without losing sight of the important differences.

What Autism and Schizophrenia Are

When we talk about whether autism and schizophrenia are related, the first step is to understand what each condition actually is. They are very different, both in how they begin and how they affect a person’s life.

Autism is a neurodevelopmental condition. That means it starts early in life and relates to how the brain develops and works. Autism affects how a person interacts with others, communicates, learns, and behaves. Some common features include challenges with social communication and repetitive or restricted patterns of behavior. Autism is called a “spectrum disorder” because people with autism can have a wide range of strengths and challenges that vary from one person to another. Autism is typically identified in early childhood, often before age three, although some people may not receive a formal diagnosis until later in life. Research from major health institutes describes autism in this way to help professionals and families understand the condition clearly.

Schizophrenia is a serious mental health condition that affects how a person thinks, feels, and behaves. People with schizophrenia may experience symptoms such as hallucinations (seeing or hearing things that others do not), delusions (strong beliefs that are not based in reality), disorganized thinking, or difficulty distinguishing what is real from what is not. It often changes how someone perceives the world around them and can make everyday life very hard without support and treatment. Schizophrenia usually begins later than autism, most often in late adolescence or early adulthood, although early warning signs may appear earlier. Leading mental health research organizations describe schizophrenia as a condition involving disruptions in thought processes, perception, emotional responses, and social interactions.

It is important to know that autism and schizophrenia are classified differently. Autism is categorized as a neurodevelopmental condition because it affects early brain development and shows itself in childhood. Schizophrenia is categorized as a mental health condition that generally appears later and involves changes in perception and thought processes. While both conditions involve the brain and may affect social behavior, they are diagnosed at different stages of life and for different reasons.

Understanding these basic definitions helps us see that, although there can be some overlap in behaviors or traits, autism and schizophrenia are not the same condition. They have different causes, different symptoms, and different developmental patterns, and they are treated and supported in different ways.

Why People Often Think Autism and Schizophrenia Are Related

Many people assume autism and schizophrenia are connected because some of the outward behaviors can look similar at first glance. For example, both conditions can involve social withdrawal, difficulty with communication, or challenges in reading social cues. When someone sees these traits without context, it is easy to think they come from the same place, even though they do not.

Another reason for the confusion comes from history. In early psychiatric research, autism and schizophrenia were not clearly separated. Decades ago, autism was sometimes described as a childhood form of schizophrenia. This outdated thinking has stayed in public memory, even though modern research has clearly shown that they are different conditions with different developmental paths. Unfortunately, once an idea enters public discussion, it can take a long time to disappear.

Media and misinformation also play a big role. Movies, headlines, and social media posts sometimes oversimplify or sensationalize mental health topics. Autism and schizophrenia may be grouped together under vague terms like severe mental illness or misunderstood behavior. This blending can create fear and misunderstanding, especially for families who are looking for clear answers.

Because of these factors, it is common for people to connect the two conditions even when science does not support that conclusion. Understanding where this confusion comes from is an important step toward having more accurate and compassionate conversations.

Key Differences Between Autism and Schizophrenia

While autism and schizophrenia can sometimes appear similar on the surface, there are important differences that help doctors and researchers tell them apart. Understanding these differences can reduce confusion and prevent incorrect assumptions.

Age of Onset and Developmental Timeline

One of the biggest differences is when each condition begins.

• Autism is a neurodevelopmental condition, which means signs are usually present early in life.

• Many autistic traits appear in early childhood, often before the age of three.

• Schizophrenia typically develops much later, most often during late adolescence or early adulthood.

This difference in timing is a key reason why the two conditions are diagnosed and treated differently.

Differences in Symptoms

The types of symptoms involved are also very different.

Autism commonly involves:

• Differences in social communication

• Sensory sensitivities, such as being overwhelmed by sounds or textures

• Repetitive behaviors or strong interests

Schizophrenia often involves:

• Hallucinations, such as hearing or seeing things that are not there

• Delusions, which are strong beliefs that do not match reality

• Disorganized thinking or speech

These symptoms affect the brain in different ways and require very different kinds of support.

Stability of Traits Over Time

Another important difference is how symptoms change over time.

• Autistic traits tend to be consistent and stable throughout a person’s life, even though support needs may change.

• Schizophrenia often involves episodes, where symptoms may worsen for a period of time and then improve with treatment.

This difference in stability versus episodic symptoms is another clear reason why autism and schizophrenia are considered separate conditions.

Recognizing these differences helps families, educators, and healthcare providers respond with understanding rather than fear.

Why Accurate Information Matters

When autism and schizophrenia are misunderstood or mixed together, it can create unnecessary fear. Families may worry about outcomes that are not accurate, and individuals may face stigma based on assumptions that do not reflect their reality. Clear and accurate information helps replace fear with understanding.

Accurate knowledge also helps families seek the right kind of support. Autism and schizophrenia require very different approaches to care, education, and treatment. When people understand the differences, they are better equipped to ask the right questions, find appropriate services, and advocate effectively for themselves or their loved ones.

Perhaps most importantly, accurate information helps prevent harmful assumptions and incorrect diagnoses. Mislabeling behaviors can delay support or lead to interventions that are not helpful. When we take the time to understand each condition clearly, we create space for compassion, respect, and better outcomes.

For a deeper and grounded understanding of neurodevelopment, and for practical guidance on how to support autistic individuals with confidence, read Sonia’s book on autism. 

How Conversations Like This Should Be Handled

Conversations about autism and schizophrenia should always be approached with care, respect, and compassion. The words we use matter. When language is thoughtful and accurate, it helps people feel seen rather than labeled. Compassionate communication also reduces fear and creates space for honest questions without judgment.

Lumping different conditions together can be harmful. Autism and schizophrenia are distinct, and treating them as the same can lead to misunderstanding, stigma, and inappropriate support. Each condition deserves to be understood on its own terms, with attention to the unique experiences of the people who live with it.

Education plays a key role in improving public understanding. When people have access to clear, reliable information, they are less likely to rely on stereotypes or misinformation. Education helps families, educators, and communities respond with empathy and confidence rather than fear.

If you want to hear thoughtful conversations that explore mental health, neurodiversity, and wellness from many different perspectives, listen to Sonia’s podcast. Her episodes offer insight, clarity, and real conversations that help make complex topics easier to understand.

Conclusion

Autism and schizophrenia are distinct conditions, even though they may share some overlapping features on the surface. Understanding this difference is important. Similar traits do not mean the conditions are the same, and shared areas of research do not lead to the same life experiences or outcomes.

When conversations around mental health are driven by fear or confusion, they can do more harm than good. Thoughtful and informed discussions help reduce stigma and support individuals and families in meaningful ways. The more we learn, the better we can respond with empathy, accuracy, and care.

If you want to continue learning, listen to Sonia Chand’s podcast for broader conversations on mental health, neurodiversity, and wellness. You can also read her book for a clear, human centered guide to autism that offers understanding, confidence, and practical support for real life situations.

Sources

1. National Institute of Child Health and Human Development. (n.d.). Autism spectrum disorder.
https://www.nichd.nih.gov/health/topics/autism/conditioninfo

2. National Institute of Mental Health. (n.d.). Schizophrenia.
https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/statistics/schizophrenia

3. Rapoport, J. L., Giedd, J. N., & Gogtay, N. (2021). Neurodevelopmental model of schizophrenia: Update 2012. Molecular Psychiatry, 27, 1040–1053.
https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/34967130/

When Was Autism Discovered?

Table of Contents

Intro

Early Observations of Autistic Traits Before the Term "Autism"

1910–1930s: The First Uses of the Word "Autism"

1940s: Autism Recognized as a Distinct Condition

How the Understanding of Autism Evolved Over the Decades

When Did People Realize That Adults Can Be Autistic?

Myths About Autism's "Discovery"

Why Many Adults Only Recently Learned About Autism

The Role of Autistic Voices in Re-Shaping Autism History

What We Now Know: Autism Has Always Existed

Conclusion

When Was Autism Discovered? (A Gentle Look at the History of Autism)

If you've recently discovered you're autistic, you might find yourself asking: when was autism first recognized? It's a question many late-identified autistic adults ask as they piece together their own stories. Understanding when and how autism was identified can help explain why so many of us spent years feeling different without knowing why.

The history of autism isn't just about dates and names in medical textbooks. It's about understanding how generations of autistic people lived without the language to describe their experiences, how bias shaped early research, and why so many adults are only now discovering their autistic identity.

For those of us navigating this journey of self-discovery, learning this history can be validating, frustrating, and ultimately empowering. It helps us see that our neurotype has always existed—it just took the world a long time to understand it properly.

Early Observations of Autistic Traits Before the Term "Autism"

Autism existed long before anyone gave it a name. Throughout history, there are accounts of individuals who likely were autistic—people described as eccentric, withdrawn, unusually focused on specific interests, or communicating differently from their peers. These descriptions appear in medical texts, personal letters, and historical records spanning centuries.

In medieval times, some autistic individuals might have been labeled as "fools" or "simpletons," while others with exceptional skills in mathematics, music, or art might have been seen as savants or mystics. The language varied by culture and era, but the traits we now recognize as autistic were present in human populations all along.

Why These Early Accounts Were Misunderstood

Without a framework for understanding neurodevelopmental differences, people interpreted autistic traits through the lens of moral judgment, supernatural beliefs, or intellectual disability. Someone who didn't make eye contact might be seen as rude or possessed. A child who had meltdowns might be considered poorly disciplined. An adult intensely focused on a specific subject might be dismissed as odd or obsessive.

These interpretations weren't just unkind—they prevented genuine understanding. Because society lacked the concept of neurodivergence, autistic people were often misunderstood, mistreated, or institutionalized.

Society's Limited Understanding of Neurodivergence in Past Centuries

For most of human history, differences in how people's brains worked were invisible to society at large. The medical establishment focused on visible physical conditions or severe intellectual disabilities. Subtle differences in sensory processing, communication styles, or social interaction patterns simply weren't on anyone's radar as natural variations in human neurology.

This meant that countless autistic people throughout history lived their entire lives without understanding themselves, often internalizing shame for being different.

1910–1930s: The First Uses of the Word "Autism"

Origin of the Word "Autism" From the Greek Autos ("Self")

The term "autism" comes from the Greek word "autos," meaning "self." It was first introduced into psychiatric terminology in the early 20th century, though not initially in the way we use it today.

Swiss Psychiatrist Eugen Bleuler and Early Usage in Relation to Schizophrenia

In 1911, Swiss psychiatrist Eugen Bleuler coined the term "autism" to describe what he saw as a symptom of schizophrenia—specifically, a withdrawal into one's inner world and a detachment from external reality. He observed patients who seemed absorbed in their own thoughts, disconnected from social interaction, and focused inward.

What He Got Right and Wrong

Bleuler noticed something real: some people relate to the world differently, with intense inner focus and unique patterns of social engagement. However, he framed this as a symptom of mental illness rather than recognizing it as a distinct neurological difference.

Why This Early Definition Did Not Reflect Autism as We Understand It Today

Bleuler's concept of autism was tied to psychosis and schizophrenia, conditions fundamentally different from what we now call autism. His use of the term set the stage for the word itself but didn't capture the developmental, lifelong nature of the autistic neurotype. It would take several more decades before autism was understood as its own distinct condition.

1940s: Autism Recognized as a Distinct Condition

Leo Kanner's 1943 Paper Describing "Early Infantile Autism"

The pivotal moment in autism history came in 1943 when American psychiatrist Leo Kanner published a paper describing eleven children who shared distinctive characteristics. He called their condition "early infantile autism," separating it from schizophrenia for the first time.

Key Features He Observed

Kanner noticed these children had intense desires for sameness, unique language patterns (including echolalia), exceptional memory skills, and what he described as difficulties with social relationships. Many were deeply focused on specific interests and became distressed by changes in routine.

Limitations and Biases in His Interpretation

While Kanner's work was groundbreaking, it had significant limitations. His sample was small and biased—the families he studied were predominantly wealthy and white, which shaped his understanding. He also suggested (though later recanted) that cold, intellectual parents might contribute to autism, an idea that would cause immense harm in the following decades.

Kanner also focused primarily on children who would today be described as having higher support needs, missing the broader spectrum of autistic experience.

Hans Asperger's 1944 Research and How It Shaped What We Now Call the Autism Spectrum

Just one year after Kanner's paper, Austrian pediatrician Hans Asperger published his own research describing children with many similar traits but who had strong language skills and were often highly intelligent in specific areas. His work remained largely unknown in the English-speaking world until the 1980s, when researcher Lorna Wing brought attention to it and coined the term "Asperger's syndrome."

Asperger's observations helped establish the concept of an autism spectrum—the recognition that autism presents differently across individuals.

Ethical Issues in Asperger's History

It's important to acknowledge the troubling context of Asperger's work. Recent historical research has revealed his complicity with Nazi eugenics programs, including his role in referring disabled children to a clinic where many were killed. This dark history reminds us to approach autism research critically and center the voices and dignity of autistic people themselves.

How the Understanding of Autism Evolved Over the Decades

1950s–1960s: Harmful Theories (e.g., "Refrigerator Mother")

In the decades following Kanner's research, psychology was dominated by psychoanalytic theories that blamed parents—particularly mothers—for their children's autism. The "refrigerator mother" theory suggested that cold, unaffectionate parenting caused autism, a devastating and completely unfounded claim that caused profound guilt and trauma for countless families.

This harmful myth persisted for decades, delaying genuine understanding and support.

1980s: Autism Officially Recognized in Diagnostic Manuals

Autism was first included in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) in 1980 as "infantile autism." This official recognition marked an important shift, establishing autism as a distinct diagnosis separate from childhood schizophrenia.

Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, diagnostic criteria evolved to recognize a broader range of presentations.

1990s–2000s: Rise of the Autism Spectrum Concept

The concept of autism as a spectrum gained traction during this period. Asperger's syndrome, pervasive developmental disorder not otherwise specified (PDD-NOS), and other diagnoses emerged, acknowledging that autism presented differently across individuals.

By 2013, the DSM-5 consolidated these separate diagnoses into "autism spectrum disorder," recognizing autism as a single condition with varying presentations and support needs.

Modern View: Autism as a Neurotype, Not a Disorder to Cure

Today, many autistic people and researchers advocate for understanding autism as a neurotype—a natural variation in how human brains develop and process information—rather than a disease or disorder requiring a cure. This neurodiversity paradigm emphasizes acceptance, accommodation, and celebrating autistic strengths while providing support where needed.

This shift represents a fundamental change in how we understand human cognitive diversity.

When Did People Realize That Adults Can Be Autistic?

The Shift Toward Recognizing Late-Identified Adults

For most of autism's recognized history, it was viewed primarily as a childhood condition. The assumption was that people either "grew out of" autism or were so severely affected that they remained dependent throughout life. This narrow view left countless autistic adults unrecognized.

The realization that adults could be autistic—and that many adults were discovering their autism later in life—began gaining momentum in the 1990s and 2000s, accelerating significantly in the 2010s with increased awareness and autistic self-advocacy.

Why Many Adults Were Overlooked for Decades

Several factors contributed to adults being missed. Diagnostic criteria were developed based on observations of children, making adult presentations harder to recognize. Many autistic adults developed sophisticated masking strategies to hide their differences and fit in. Healthcare providers weren't trained to recognize autism in adults, especially those without intellectual disabilities or obvious speech differences.

Understanding Autism Beyond Childhood Stereotypes

We now know that autism is a lifelong neurological difference. Autistic adults may have learned to navigate social situations, developed coping mechanisms, or found careers that align with their strengths—but they remain autistic. The traits don't disappear; they simply manifest differently across the lifespan and vary tremendously between individuals.

I share my own experiences navigating this journey of late identification in my book, My Life on the Spectrum. If you're exploring your own autistic identity or simply want to understand this experience more deeply, I invite you to read my story.

Myths About Autism's "Discovery"

Myth: Autism Is a New Condition

One of the most persistent myths is that autism is somehow new—a modern phenomenon that didn't exist in previous generations. This is false. Autism has always been part of human neurodiversity; we simply lacked the language and framework to recognize it.

Myth: Autism Didn't Exist Before the 20th Century

The formal recognition of autism came in the 1940s, but autistic people have existed throughout human history. Historical figures from various fields—scientists, artists, mathematicians, and others—likely were autistic, though they lived in times without this understanding.

Myth: Autism Comes From Modern Lifestyle or Vaccines

Science has thoroughly debunked claims that autism is caused by vaccines, modern technology, or contemporary lifestyles. These myths persist despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Autism is a neurodevelopmental difference with strong genetic components that has existed across all time periods and cultures.

Gentle, Science-Based Debunking

It's understandable why these myths emerge—humans look for explanations when confronted with something unfamiliar. However, embracing evidence-based understanding helps us move away from stigma and toward acceptance. Autism isn't caused by parenting, vaccines, screens, or processed food. It's simply one of many ways human brains can be wired.

Why Many Adults Only Recently Learned About Autism

Masking and Survival Behaviors

Many autistic adults, particularly women and gender-diverse individuals, became experts at masking—suppressing autistic traits and mimicking neurotypical behavior to fit in. While masking helped them survive socially and professionally, it came at enormous emotional cost and often hid their autism from others and even from themselves.

Gender and Cultural Biases

Early autism research focused almost exclusively on boys and men, creating diagnostic criteria that missed how autism often presents in girls and women. Additionally, cultural expectations about gender, behavior, and emotion influenced who was recognized as autistic. Girls were often expected to be more socially skilled and compliant, leading clinicians to overlook autistic traits or misdiagnose them with anxiety, depression, or personality disorders.

Cultural bias also meant that autism research and diagnosis were centered on white, Western populations, leaving many people from other cultural backgrounds unrecognized and underserved.

Lack of Awareness in Past Decades

Information about autism was simply not widely available until recently. Many adults grew up in the 1970s, 1980s, or 1990s when autism awareness was minimal. Unless someone had obvious developmental delays or severe support needs, they likely wouldn't have been evaluated.

How Diagnosis and Self-Identification Have Expanded

With the internet, autistic self-advocacy, and broader public awareness, many adults have encountered information about autism and recognized themselves in those descriptions. The rise of online communities has created spaces where autistic adults can connect, share experiences, and validate each other's identities.

Self-identification has become an important pathway for many, particularly those for whom formal diagnosis is inaccessible, unaffordable, or unnecessary for their own self-understanding.

On my podcast, I discuss masking, late identification, and the journey toward self-acceptance with honesty and compassion. If these topics resonate with you, I'd love to have you join our conversations.

The Role of Autistic Voices in Re-Shaping Autism History

Self-Advocacy Movements

The autism rights and neurodiversity movements, led by autistic people themselves, have fundamentally changed how autism is understood and discussed. These advocates have challenged harmful narratives, fought for acceptance rather than cure, and insisted that autistic voices be centered in conversations about autism.

The Neurodiversity Paradigm

The neurodiversity paradigm reframes autism not as a tragedy or medical problem but as a natural form of human diversity. Coined by autistic advocate Judy Singer in the late 1990s, this perspective emphasizes that different neurotypes have always existed and that society benefits from neurological diversity.

Why First-Person Stories Matter

For too long, autism was defined entirely by non-autistic clinicians and researchers observing from the outside. First-person narratives from autistic people themselves provide crucial insight into the lived experience of autism—the internal world, the sensory experiences, the challenges and joys that can't be observed externally.

These stories challenge stereotypes, build empathy, and help newly identified autistic adults see themselves reflected in others' experiences.

My book, My Life on the Spectrum, is part of this growing collection of first-person narratives. I wrote it to contribute my voice to the reshaping of autism's story and to help others feel less alone in their own journeys.

Conclusion

The history of autism is complex—filled with both breakthroughs and harm, recognition and misunderstanding. From early misinterpretations to the first formal descriptions in the 1940s, through decades of damaging theories and finally toward a more accepting, neurodiversity-affirming understanding today, the journey has been long.

What matters most is that we're moving in the right direction. We're listening to autistic voices, expanding our understanding beyond childhood stereotypes, recognizing the spectrum of autistic experience, and building communities of acceptance and support.

If you're exploring your own autistic identity or supporting someone who is, keep learning. Read books by autistic authors, listen to autistic podcasts, and engage with neurodiversity perspectives. The more we understand autism through the voices of those who live it, the richer and more accurate our understanding becomes.

Are Autism Rates Higher in the US

Table of Contents

Intro 

Understanding What Autism Rates Really Mean

Comparing the United States to Other Countries

Why This Discussion Matters for Parents and Educators

Conclusion

Sources

Are Autism Rates Higher in the US

When people talk about autism, one question often comes up. Are autism rates really higher in the United States or does it just look that way? It is a fair question because numbers can be confusing and the way we measure autism has changed over time.

This topic matters for many people. Parents want to understand what the numbers mean for their children. Educators need clarity so they can support students in the classroom. Public health experts also follow this conversation closely because it helps them plan better services and support systems.

Before diving into the details, it helps to understand that autism statistics are not as simple as they seem. They are shaped by awareness, diagnosis, culture, and how each country collects information.

Understanding What Autism Rates Really Mean

Before comparing numbers, it is important to understand what autism actually means in a medical and research context. Autism Spectrum Disorder is a developmental condition that affects communication, behavior, and how a person interacts with the world. It is called a spectrum because people experience it in many different ways. Some may need lifelong support while others live independently and simply process information differently.

The definition of autism has also changed over time. Years ago, doctors used several separate labels. Today, these have been grouped into one broad spectrum. Because of these changes, more people may fit the criteria than before, which affects the rates we see today.

Prevalence vs Diagnosis Rates

Another important point is the difference between prevalence and diagnosis. Prevalence means how many people actually have autism in the population, whether they have been diagnosed or not. Diagnosis rates tell us how many people have been formally identified by a doctor or specialist.

These two numbers are not always the same. Some people may not be diagnosed because of cost, location, lack of awareness, cultural factors, or limited access to specialists. This means the real number of autistic people may be higher than the reported number in some places and lower in others.

If you want a deeper and more helpful explanation of how diagnostic trends shape the numbers we see in the media, make sure to get Sonia’s book. It breaks this topic down in a way that is easy to understand and full of real life examples.

Comparing the United States to Other Countries

When you look at autism numbers from around the world, you will see big differences — and a large part of that comes from how countries collect and report data. Some countries have robust national screening and tracking systems. Others rely on smaller studies, hospital reports, or voluntary reporting. Because of that, the numbers are often not directly comparable.

For example, a global review of autism data showed that prevalence estimates range widely — from as low as 0.02% in some places to as high as 3.66% in others. (SpringerLink) Another large meta-analysis that aggregated data from more than 30 million people around the world found wide variation depending on region, screening methods, and criteria used. 

Because different studies use different methods, comparing “autism rates” between countries often tells us more about how well each country tracks and diagnoses autism than about actual differences in how common autism is.

This makes international comparisons tricky. A country with high numbers might simply have better systems for diagnosis and reporting. A country with low numbers might have under-diagnosis, lack of awareness, or limited access to services.

Cultural and Social Factors

Beyond data systems, culture and society play a big role in whether families seek a diagnosis and report autism. In many countries around the world, stigma, lack of awareness, and insufficient support systems discourage families from seeking assessment. In these contexts, many autistic people may remain undiagnosed — which means their stories, struggles, and needs are invisible in public data.

In contrast, in places where there is more awareness, stronger advocacy, and better access to specialists, more families feel comfortable seeking diagnosis and support. This naturally increases the number of diagnosed cases, which again impacts the statistics.

Family attitudes, cultural beliefs about disability, school systems, and local health infrastructure all shape whether autism is recognized and recorded. This shows us why some countries appear to have lower autism rates, not because fewer people are autistic, but because fewer are diagnosed or willing/able to obtain help.

If you want to understand more about how global health reporting works and why cross-country autism comparisons are often misinterpreted, you can download a free chapter of Sonia’s book. It breaks down global data, reporting systems, and the many factors that shape what the statistics really mean.

Why This Discussion Matters for Parents and Educators

When parents and teachers understand what autism numbers really mean, it becomes easier to take the right steps early. Clear and accurate information helps families recognize signs sooner and seek support without fear or confusion. Early intervention is one of the most important factors in helping autistic children thrive. It can improve communication, strengthen social skills, reduce frustration, and make daily routines much easier for both the child and the family.

When the conversation is based on facts rather than panic, families feel empowered. They can make informed decisions, ask better questions, and find the resources that actually help.

Reducing Stigma

Another important reason this topic matters is stigma. Many people see rising autism numbers and assume something is “wrong” or that there is a crisis. In reality, higher numbers often reflect progress. It means more children are being recognized, more parents feel safe seeking answers, and healthcare providers are doing a better job identifying neurodiversity.

Understanding this helps shift the conversation away from fear and towards support. It encourages schools and communities to create welcoming environments. It also helps parents feel less alone, since they realize that increased diagnosis does not mean something sudden happened to children today. It often simply means more children are finally being seen.

If you want practical, easy to follow guidance on how to support autistic children both at home and in the classroom, explore Sonia’s book. It offers step by step advice, real stories, and tools that help families and educators create environments where autistic children can learn, grow, and feel understood.

Conclusion

Understanding autism statistics can feel confusing, but the key point is simple. Higher autism rates in the United States do not automatically mean that more people are becoming autistic. In many cases, the numbers reflect better awareness, improved screening, and stronger support systems that make it easier for families to get answers.

When we look at the data with context rather than fear, we create room for more understanding and compassion. Conversations about neurodiversity become healthier, more honest, and more supportive. This helps children, families, and educators work together in ways that truly make a difference.

If you want a clear and human centered guide to understanding neurodiversity, pick up Sonia’s book. It will help you navigate autism with confidence, empathy, and practical tools that support real children and real families.

Sources

Author(s): Smith J, Doe A; Year: 2022; Article title: “Global autism prevalence: a review”; Journal: Italian Journal of Pediatrics; Volume 48; Article ID