6 Ways Your Therapist May Be Harming You (Even If They Specialize in Autism)

Finding a therapist who specializes in autism feels like winning the lottery, especially after years of working with practitioners who don't understand your neurological differences. But specialization in autism doesn't automatically equal good therapy.

Sometimes the most harmful therapeutic relationships come from practitioners who understand autism intellectually but apply that knowledge in ways that reinforce shame, perfectionism, and self-hatred rather than building genuine self-worth.

This is about recognizing when autism-informed therapy crosses the line from helpful to harmful, and what to do when your therapist's advice is damaging your mental health instead of supporting it.

Table of Contents

• Harmful Pattern #1: Obsessive Focus on Your Appearance and Weight

• Harmful Pattern #2: Contradictory Messages That Keep You Confused

• Harmful Pattern #3: Reinforcing That You Need to Be "Perfect"

• Harmful Pattern #4: Judging People With Mental Health Struggles

• Harmful Pattern #5: Discouraging Career Paths Based on Your Autism

• Harmful Pattern #6: Telling You to Care What Everyone Thinks

• What Healthy Autism-Informed Therapy Actually Looks Like

• How to Protect Yourself From Harmful Therapy

Harmful Pattern #1: Obsessive Focus on Your Appearance and Weight

When Body Image Becomes Central to Treatment

One of Dr. Grey's frequent topics was my weight and appearance. Sessions would begin with questions like "So, you were never known as the heavy child?" followed by critiques of my eating habits, exercise routine, and overall appearance.

His advice included:

• "Maybe you need to start eating more lean meat and protein-based foods"

• "Hire a nutritionist to help you"

• "Something isn't working if you have been going to the gym as often as you say"

• When I mentioned girls complimenting my appearance: "They are just trying to be nice to you"

The Damaging Message

The culmination was this statement: "The reason I am telling you all this is that with your autism and mood disorder, everything has to be perfect. Thin girls get away with more."

This message communicated that:

• Your neurological differences mean you're starting from a deficit

• You must compensate for autism by achieving physical perfection

• Other people's superficial judgments should dictate your self-worth

• Being thin is a prerequisite for social acceptance

Why This Is Harmful

According to the National Eating Disorders Association, autistic people already have higher rates of eating disorders and body image issues. A therapist reinforcing that thinness equals worthiness can:

• Trigger or exacerbate disordered eating

• Create shame about natural body diversity

• Tie self-worth to appearance rather than character

• Add perfectionism on top of existing mental health struggles

What I Needed Instead

Therapeutic support should have addressed:

• Using food emotionally as a coping mechanism

• Building self-worth independent of appearance

• Challenging societal beauty standards, not reinforcing them

• Developing healthy relationship with body and food

For more on recognizing when therapeutic relationships have crossed into harmful territory, read our article on 5 Signs You've Found the Right Therapist (And 3 Red Flags You're With the Wrong One).

Contradictory Messages

Harmful Pattern #2: Contradictory Messages That Keep You Confused

The Ice Cream Paradox

Dr. Grey's messages often contradicted each other:

One session: "Because of your autism and mood disorder, everything has to be perfect. This means you need to be thin. People these days are obsessed with airbrushing, and I have clients who won't date a girl who is even five lbs overweight."

Another session: "On days you feel bad, you need to learn to go do something for yourself, such as go get an ice cream."

Why Contradictory Advice Harms

When therapeutic messages contradict each other:

You can never get it right. Whatever you do violates one piece of advice or another.

You lose trust in your judgment. If the expert keeps changing the rules, you stop trusting your own decisions.

You stay dependent on the therapist. Confusion keeps you coming back for clarity that never arrives.

You internalize the contradiction. The conflicting messages become your inner dialogue—"be perfect" versus "treat yourself" creates paralysis.

The Pattern Across Multiple Areas

The contradictions extended beyond food:

• Be yourself / Change everything about yourself

• Don't care what people think / Care deeply about what everyone thinks

• Build self-worth / Your worth depends on others' judgments

• Love yourself / You're not attractive enough as you are

What Consistent Therapeutic Messaging Looks Like

Effective therapy provides:

• Clear, consistent principles you can rely on

• Messages that align across different situations

• Support for developing your own judgment

• Acknowledgment when approaches need to shift, with explanation

For the complete story of my autistic journey through law school my book provides all the details, order your copy today. 

Harmful Pattern #3: Reinforcing That You Need to Be "Perfect"

The Impossible Standard

Dr. Grey's recurring message: "Because of your autism and mood disorder, everything has to be perfect."

This extended to:

• Physical appearance: Thin, fashionable, makeup done correctly

• Social skills: Every interaction executed flawlessly

• Body language: Walk correctly, posture perfect, no "weird" movements

• Dating: Compensate for autism by achieving perfection in all areas

Why Perfectionism Is Toxic for Autistic People

Autistic people already tend toward:

• All-or-nothing thinking

• High standards for themselves

• Difficulty with self-compassion

• Shame about not meeting neurotypical expectations

A therapist reinforcing that you must be perfect to be acceptable amplifies these existing vulnerabilities.

The Impossible Equation

The message was clear: Autism + Mood Disorder = Need for Perfection to Compensate

This creates an impossible situation where:

• Your neurological differences are framed as deficits

• You must work harder than neurotypical people to be "acceptable"

• Any imperfection confirms you're not trying hard enough

• There's no room for being human, making mistakes, or having bad days

What I Started Teaching Myself Instead

During my deepest depression, I began practicing: "I am a sexy diva," repeatedly in front of the mirror. At first it felt weird, but it became a routine I loved.

When Dr. Grey dismissed this with "Guys don't see you like that," I responded: "I don't care what guys see me as. It's the opinion of myself that should count first, Dr. Grey."

Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum

Harmful Pattern #4: Judging People With Mental Health Struggles

The Stigmatizing Statement

During one session, Dr. Grey said: "The unfortunate truth is when people have any kind of psychiatric diagnosis, others don't like to be around that person. People step back."

He continued: "People want to be around someone who has sunshine in their hearts. People don't like to be around people who have all sorts of issues."

The Professional Betrayal

This statement from a psychotherapist—someone whose job is to support people with mental health struggles—was profoundly damaging.

It communicated:

• Your mental health diagnosis makes you inherently undesirable

• You should hide or minimize your struggles to be acceptable

• People are right to avoid those with psychiatric diagnoses

• Your worth is contingent on appearing "issue-free"

Why This Is Unethical

A mental health professional stigmatizing psychiatric diagnoses:

• Violates the fundamental premise of therapeutic support

• Reinforces societal stigma clients come to therapy to escape

• Creates shame about seeking help or having diagnoses

• Makes clients feel judged in what should be a safe space

The Question This Raises

As I noted at the time: "It made me wonder why someone like him was even a psychologist, but like in any profession, people can enter it for the wrong reasons."

When your therapist judges the very population they're supposed to serve, it reveals they're in the field for reasons other than genuine care and support.

If you're questioning whether your autism diagnosis was missed or misunderstood in your youth, read our article on The Journey to Autism Diagnosis: 7 Signs You Might Have Missed in Young Adults for more context.

Harmful Pattern #5: Discouraging Career Paths Based on Your Autism

The Limiting Beliefs

Despite my expressed desire to become a therapist and help others on the autism spectrum, Dr. Grey actively discouraged this path.

His reasoning:

• Autism meant people wouldn't connect with me

• I shouldn't be in mental health or trial law

• I was better suited for financial advising where expertise mattered more than connection

The Deeper Issue

This advice revealed:

• Limited vision of what autistic people can do: Assuming autism automatically disqualifies you from relationship-based work

• Projection of his own biases: Perhaps his difficulty connecting with clients reflected his limitations, not autism's

• Ignoring my strengths and passions: My heart was suited to helping others heal and feel understood

• Reinforcing family pressure: Aligned with parents who wanted me to stay in law school rather than pursuing what called to me

What I Actually Knew

My desire to work in mental health came from authentic experience: "I wanted to be that person for someone else in ways I wish I had that someone for myself."

This is often the deepest calling—helping others through struggles you've survived yourself.

The Career That Actually Fits

Today, I work as an empowerment coach and host the On the Spectrum Empowerment Stories podcast—exactly the kind of relationship-based, healing-focused work Dr. Grey said autism made impossible.

His limiting beliefs about what autistic people can do were wrong. They reflected his biases, not reality.

For the complete, unfiltered story of my therapeutic journey, my book provides all the details. 

Order your copy today. 

Harmful Pattern #6: Telling You to Care What Everyone Thinks

The Detective Work

Dr. Grey started one session: "I wonder if perhaps there is a sign you are wearing that is pushing people away."

His solution: "This is where we need to do some detective work and get some feedback from others that could help us."

Later, when I shared feedback: "Well, let's listen to what these people are saying. You should care about what people say about you because this is what carried you throughout your whole life."

The Problem With This Approach

It reinforces external validation: Your worth becomes dependent on others' opinions rather than internal self-knowledge.

It ignores toxic sources: Feedback from people who called me "weird" and avoided me wasn't constructive—it was cruel.

It creates hypervigilance: Constantly monitoring others' reactions keeps you anxious and self-conscious.

It prevents authenticity: You can't be yourself while obsessing over everyone's judgments.

The Contradiction

Dr. Grey simultaneously wanted me to:

• Care deeply about what everyone thinks

• Develop confidence and self-worth

• Be authentic while constantly performing for approval

These goals are incompatible.

What I Eventually Learned

The opinion of myself should count first. Not guys who rejected me. Not classmates who called me weird. Not even my therapist.

Building genuine self-worth requires:

• Valuing your own assessment over others' judgments

• Distinguishing between constructive feedback and cruel criticism

• Developing internal standards rather than chasing external approval

• Being selective about whose opinions you allow to matter

Ready to learn the complete story of navigating harmful therapy while struggling through law school? My book details every session, every harmful message, and what I eventually learned about genuine self-worth. 

Purchase a copy today and gift it to someone you know who's struggling with similar therapeutic relationships.

What Healthy Autism-Informed Therapy Actually Looks Like

The Positive Moments Were Real

Despite the harmful patterns, Dr. Grey did provide some valuable support:

CBT techniques: Teaching me to challenge all-or-nothing thinking and reframe negative thoughts like "Just because I never had a boyfriend doesn't mean I am nothing."

Validation of challenges: Acknowledging I had additional challenges other people didn't face because of autism and comorbid mood disorder.

Standing up for me: When family members suggested I was "cured" of autism or should stop therapy, he supported my continued treatment.

Advocacy against family misconceptions: Explaining that graduate school doesn't cure autism and therapy was keeping me afloat.

What Made Me Blind to the Problems

"This was where I blinded myself into thinking everything was okay with these therapy sessions: the fact that somebody understood autism."

When you've spent years with therapists who don't understand autism, finding someone who does feels like salvation. This can make you overlook significant problems with how they're applying that knowledge.

What Truly Helpful Autism Therapy Includes

Understanding autism without pathologizing it: Recognizing differences without framing them as deficits requiring compensation.

Building genuine self-worth: Internal validation that doesn't depend on appearance, dating success, or others' approval.

Consistent, non-contradictory messaging: Clear principles you can rely on to guide decisions.

Supporting authentic career paths: Helping you discover and pursue what genuinely calls to you, not limiting your options based on assumptions about autism.

Non-judgmental stance toward mental health: Creating safety rather than stigma around psychiatric diagnoses.

Balanced feedback processing: Teaching discernment about which opinions to consider versus which to dismiss.

How to Protect Yourself From Harmful Therapy

How to Protect Yourself From Harmful Therapy

Recognize the Warning Signs

Your therapy may be harmful if your therapist:

• Makes you feel worse about yourself after sessions

• Focuses obsessively on changing your appearance

• Gives contradictory advice that keeps you confused

• Reinforces that you must be "perfect" to compensate for autism

• Stigmatizes mental health diagnoses

• Limits your career aspirations based on assumptions about autism

• Tells you to care what everyone thinks while claiming to build confidence

Trust Your Inner Voice

The moment I told Dr. Grey "I don't care what guys see me as. It's the opinion of myself that should count first" was pivotal.

Even in harmful therapeutic relationships, your inner wisdom knows truth. Listen to it.

You're Allowed to Push Back

Therapy isn't a one-way street where the expert dictates and you comply. You're allowed to:

• Disagree with your therapist's assessments

• Question advice that doesn't feel right

• Express when something they said hurt you

• Stop following guidance that makes you feel worse

Consider Whether the Relationship Is Worth Continuing

Ask yourself:

• Is the helpful content worth the harmful messaging?

• Am I staying because they understand autism, even though they're hurting me?

• Would I tolerate this treatment from a friend or partner?

• Is there someone else who could provide autism expertise without the harm?

Seek Second Opinions

If you're unsure whether your therapy is helpful or harmful:

• Consult with another autism-informed therapist

• Share specific examples with trusted people who know good therapy

• Listen to your own emotional responses after sessions

• Track whether you're getting better or worse over time

Listen to the On the Spectrum Empowerment Stories podcast for more insights on navigating therapeutic relationships, building genuine self-worth, and recognizing when support systems are helping versus harming.

Moving Forward From Harmful Therapy

The therapeutic relationship with Dr. Grey was complicated—moments of genuine support mixed with deeply harmful messaging that reinforced shame, perfectionism, and external validation.

The most important lesson: Specialization in autism doesn't guarantee good therapy.

What matters is:

• How they apply their knowledge

• Whether they build you up or tear you down

• If they reinforce internal worth or external validation

• Whether you feel better or worse after working with them

Today, I use my experience navigating harmful therapeutic relationships to help others recognize red flags earlier than I did. The years I spent absorbing harmful messages about needing to be perfect, thin, and acceptable took additional years to unlearn.

You don't have to repeat my mistakes. You can recognize harmful patterns early and find practitioners who truly support your authentic development.

For the complete, unfiltered story of my therapeutic journey through law school—including every harmful session, what kept me stuck, and how I eventually found genuine self-worth—my book provides all the details these takeaways only begin to address. 

Order your copy today. 

5 Signs You've Found the Right Therapist (And 3 Red Flags You're With the Wrong One)

Finding the right therapist can feel like searching for a needle in a haystack—especially when you're autistic, dealing with trauma, or struggling with issues that most practitioners don't fully understand. You show up vulnerable and desperate for help, only to leave sessions feeling dismissed, misunderstood, or worse than when you arrived.

Not all therapy is good therapy. Not all therapists are equipped to handle the specific challenges autistic people face. And sometimes, what sounds like helpful advice in the moment is actually reinforcing the exact patterns that are keeping you stuck.

After self-harm brought me to a breaking point in law school, my parents insisted I find therapeutic help. What followed was a journey through different practitioners—some who offered genuine insight, others who said things that were ultimately harmful, and eventually finding someone who understood both autism and the deeper work I needed.

This is about recognizing when you're getting real help versus when you're wasting time and money on therapy that isn't serving you.

Table of Contents

• Good Sign #1: They Tell You Hard Truths You Need to Hear

• Good Sign #2: They Help You Understand Patterns, Not Just Feelings

• Good Sign #3: They Teach You Practical Self-Protection Skills

• Good Sign #4: They Have Specific Expertise in Your Challenges

• Good Sign #5: They See Your Bigger Picture, Not Just Your Symptoms

• Red Flag #1: They Make Dismissive Statements About Your Struggles

• Red Flag #2: They Tell You What You're "Meant" or "Not Meant" to Have

• Red Flag #3: They Don't Specialize in What You Actually Need

• How to Find the Right Therapeutic Support

• Key Takeaways for Choosing Your Therapist

• Moving Forward

Good Sign #1: They Tell You Hard Truths You Need to Hear

The Assignment You're Avoiding

After revealing my self-harm to my parents during their visit, they insisted I see a local therapist near law school. This therapist was willing to say something nobody else had directly addressed:

"We all have an assignment we have to do before our time is up on Earth. If you are feeling unfulfilled in a career path you are on, and it is more than just one bad day, then perhaps this is not your assignment."

Why This Matters

A good therapist doesn't just validate your feelings—they help you see uncomfortable truths you're avoiding.

In my case:

• I was deeply unhappy in law school

• The unhappiness wasn't temporary or situational

• I was living a "brainwashed lie" of who I thought I needed to be

• Law wasn't my assignment, but I was too scared to admit it

The Difference Between Hard Truth and Harsh Criticism

Hard truth:

• Comes from a place of wanting you to live authentically

• Helps you see patterns you've been denying

• Gives you permission to make changes you're afraid to make

• Focuses on your wellbeing, not others' expectations

Harsh criticism:

• Focuses on what's wrong with you

• Reinforces shame and inadequacy

• Doesn't offer pathways forward

• Makes you feel worse without clarity on what to change

A therapist who can deliver hard truths with compassion is helping you break through denial into authentic living.

When You're Too Scared to Hear It

At the time, I was too scared to act on this truth. The fear of disappointing parents, of admitting I'd chosen wrong, of having to start over—all of it kept me frozen.

But the therapist planted a seed. She named the reality I couldn't yet speak: You're in the wrong place, living the wrong life, and your suffering is telling you that.

Eventually, that truth became impossible to ignore.

Good Sign #2: They Help You Understand Patterns, Not Just Feelings

Beyond Surface Emotions

Good therapy doesn't just help you feel better temporarily. It helps you understand why things keep happening the way they do.

This therapist taught me about human behavior in ways that gave me a framework for understanding my experiences:

"People know whom to target and go after. It's like how sharks are able to detect their prey. People go after those whom they feel they can go after."

Why Pattern Recognition Matters

Understanding patterns helps you:

Recognize when you're being targeted rather than believing something is wrong with you.

Identify what makes you vulnerable to exploitation or mistreatment.

Make different choices based on understanding dynamics, not just reacting emotionally.

See your role in patterns without drowning in shame about it.

The Vulnerability You Carry

The therapist identified something crucial: "There is a vulnerability about you that you carry around."

This wasn't an insult. It was important information.

For autistic people, this vulnerability often comes from:

• Social naivety that others can detect and exploit

• Desperation for connection that makes you overlook red flags

• Difficulty reading intentions, leaving you open to manipulation

• Past trauma that hasn't been processed, creating visible wounds

Understanding this vulnerability is the first step toward protecting yourself from people who will take advantage of it.

Good Sign #3: They Teach You Practical Self-Protection Skills

More Than Just Awareness

Awareness without skills doesn't create change. A good therapist gives you specific strategies you can implement immediately.

This therapist taught me practical self-protection:

About keeping your head held up high: Physical posture matters. The way you carry yourself signals to others whether you're an easy target.

About standing up for yourself: Not just conceptually, but with specific language and boundaries.

About shutting down inappropriate topics: "If people talk about dating issues and are harping you for not being like them, you need to learn to start saying 'that is not up for discussion.'"

Why This Phrase Matters

"That is not up for discussion" is a complete sentence. It requires no explanation, no justification, no defense.

For autistic people who struggle with:

• Over-explaining ourselves

• Feeling obligated to answer every question

• Not knowing how to set boundaries politely

• Fearing we'll seem rude if we don't engage

This phrase is revolutionary. It's a boundary that protects you without requiring social finesse to execute.

Teaching About Red Flags

The therapist also helped me understand red flags in men's behavior with blunt honesty:

"A man who flirts with everyone is not special."

She explained that someone who behaves flirtatiously with everyone isn't showing you genuine interest—he's just operating from his natural pattern. The behavior means nothing about you specifically.

This helped me understand that Demetrious's flirtatiousness wasn't special attention. It was his standard operating procedure with everyone.

These kinds of practical skills and frameworks, explained in greater detail throughout my book, are what actually create change in your life, not just insight into why you feel bad.

Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum

Good Sign #4: They Have Specific Expertise in Your Challenges

When General Practice Isn't Enough

After attending an autism conference in Chicago, my parents heard keynote speaker Dr. Grey present on autism spectrum behaviors and social blindness. They were impressed by his specific knowledge about:

• Repetitious patterns of behavior in autistic people

• Social blindness and how it manifests

• Autism-specific challenges in social situations

This led them to get his contact information, and I soon found myself in his office.

Why Specialization Matters

General therapists, however well-meaning, often:

Lack understanding of how autism affects everything from social interaction to emotional processing to sensory experiences.

Apply neurotypical frameworks that don't account for different neurological wiring.

Miss crucial context about why certain things are harder for autistic people.

Give advice that works for neurotypical people but fails for autistic clients.

What Autism-Specific Expertise Provides

A therapist with autism expertise:

• Understands repetitious thought patterns as neurological, not just behavioral

• Recognizes social blindness as a genuine processing difference

• Doesn't pathologize autistic traits or try to make you "normal"

• Offers strategies designed for how autistic brains actually work

• Can distinguish between autistic traits and mental health conditions

When my parents saw Dr. Grey present with clear, specific knowledge about autism, they recognized this was expertise I needed access to. Watch out for these 7 Red Flags of Unethical Mental Health Practice when seeking care

Good Sign #5: They See Your Bigger Picture, Not Just Your Symptoms

Beyond the Presenting Problem

I came to therapy because of self-harm. But good therapists understand that surface behaviors always point to deeper issues.

The self-harm wasn't the problem. It was a symptom of:

• Being in a career path that wasn't mine

• Years of unprocessed rejection and trauma

• Lack of genuine self-worth

• Trying to be someone I wasn't to meet others' expectations

• Accumulated pain with no healthy outlet

What "Seeing the Bigger Picture" Means

A therapist who sees your bigger picture:

Connects current struggles to past experiences rather than treating each problem in isolation.

Understands how different issues intersect—autism, trauma, depression, social isolation, career dissatisfaction.

Addresses root causes instead of just managing symptoms.

Helps you see patterns across your life that explain why you're stuck.

Works toward authentic living rather than just reducing distress.

The Question of Your Assignment

When the therapist said "perhaps this is not your assignment," she was seeing the bigger picture:

• My unhappiness wasn't just about one bad semester

• Law school was the wrong path for my authentic self

• I was living according to others' expectations, not my own values

• The pain would continue until I aligned with my true assignment

This is deeper work than "how do I feel better in law school." This is "why are you in law school in the first place?"

Red Flag #1: They Make Dismissive Statements About Your Struggles

When Good Advice Turns Harmful

The same therapist who offered valuable insights also said things that were ultimately dismissive:

"You aren't meant to have friends right now." "You aren't meant to have a boyfriend." "You could've had a boyfriend years ago."

Why These Statements Are Harmful

They dismiss the real struggle of being autistic in a neurotypical social world.

They frame isolation as destiny rather than addressing the barriers preventing connection.

They suggest you should accept loneliness rather than working to build genuine relationships.

They lack empathy for how painful social isolation actually is.

They offer no pathway forward—just acceptance of a painful reality.

The Impact of Dismissive Statements

Hearing "you aren't meant to have friends right now" when you're desperately lonely:

• Reinforces that something is fundamentally wrong with you

• Suggests your desire for connection is the problem

• Provides no skills for building the friendships you need

• Makes isolation feel permanent and unchangeable

These statements felt like the therapist was giving up on the possibility of my social life improving, rather than helping me understand what needed to change to make improvement possible.

What Should Have Been Said Instead

A more helpful approach:

"Building friendships is challenging for autistic people, and it requires specific skills and strategies. Let's work on those."

"The relationships you've had haven't been healthy. Let's focus on what genuine friendship looks like and how to recognize it."

"Your current social strategies aren't working. Here's what we can try differently."

Red Flag #2: They Tell You What You're "Meant" or "Not Meant" to Have

The Problem With Destiny Language

Saying someone is "meant" or "not meant" to have something removed agency and suggests their circumstances are fixed and unchangeable.

This language is particularly harmful for autistic people who:

• Already feel fundamentally different and broken

• Struggle with social connections that seem effortless for others

• Wonder if they're capable of the relationships they see others have

• Need to believe change is possible to keep trying

What This Language Communicates

"You aren't meant to have friends right now" communicates:

• Your loneliness is somehow cosmically ordained

• There's nothing you can do about it

• Wanting friends is futile or misguided

• You should accept isolation as your fate

This is the opposite of empowering therapeutic language.

The Alternative

Empowering therapeutic language:

"Your current approach to friendships hasn't worked. Let's figure out why and try something different."

"Building authentic connections takes time and specific skills. Here's what we'll work on."

"You haven't yet built the friendships you want, but that doesn't mean you can't. Here's how we'll get there."

This language maintains hope while being realistic about the work required.

Red Flag #3: They Don't Specialize in What You Actually Need

The Generalist Problem

Many therapists are trained in general mental health support but lack specific expertise in:

• Autism spectrum disorders

• Trauma-informed approaches

• Self-harm and crisis intervention

• Social skills development for autistic adults

• Career and identity issues

When your challenges span multiple specialized areas, a generalist may provide surface-level support without addressing the depth of what you're dealing with.

Why My Parents Sought Dr. Grey

After hearing Dr. Grey speak specifically about:

• Autism spectrum behaviors

• Social blindness

• Repetitious patterns in autistic people

My parents recognized this was specialized knowledge I needed access to. His expertise wasn't just general therapy—it was autism-specific understanding.

The complete story of my therapeutic journey, including what eventually worked with Dr. Grey and other practitioners, is detailed in my book. Understanding what to look for in therapy can save you years of ineffective treatment.

Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum

How to Find the Right Therapeutic Support

Step 1: Identify What You Actually Need

Before searching for a therapist, clarify:

• Do you need autism-specific expertise?

• Is trauma a primary concern?

• Are you dealing with specific issues like self-harm or crisis?

• Do you need help with social skills, relationships, or life direction?

• What hasn't worked in past therapy?

Be specific. "I need someone who understands autism" is better than "I need therapy."

Step 2: Research Specializations

Look for therapists who specifically list:

• Autism spectrum disorders (especially adult autism)

• Trauma-informed care

• CBT, DBT, or other evidence-based approaches

• Experience with your specific demographic

Don't settle for "general mental health" if you need specialized support.

Step 3: Ask Direct Questions in Initial Consultations

In your first session or consultation call, ask:

• "What experience do you have working with autistic adults?"

• "How do you approach social skills development?"

• "What's your understanding of how autism affects relationships?"

• "Have you worked with clients dealing with [your specific issue]?"

Their answers will tell you if they have real expertise or are winging it.

Step 4: Trust Your Gut About Fit

Even a qualified therapist might not be the right fit for you. Pay attention to:

• Do you feel understood or constantly misunderstood?

• Are they teaching you new skills or just validating feelings?

• Do you leave sessions with clarity or more confusion?

• Are they dismissive or empowering?

• Do they see your potential or just your deficits?

Step 5: Don't Stay With the Wrong Therapist Out of Obligation

If therapy isn't helping after several sessions, it's okay to:

• Tell them it's not the right fit

• Ask for a referral to someone more specialized

• Simply stop scheduling and find someone new

You don't owe anyone your time and money when they're not serving you well.

Step 6: Look for These Green Flags

The right therapist:

• Tells you hard truths with compassion

• Teaches practical skills, not just provides support

• Has specific expertise in your needs

• Sees your bigger picture, not just symptoms

• Empowers rather than dismisses

• Makes you feel hopeful about change, not hopeless about your circumstances

Get your copy of Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum today.

Key Takeaways for Choosing Your Therapist

Good Therapy Challenges You to Grow

The therapist who told me "perhaps this is not your assignment" was challenging me to admit an uncomfortable truth. That's good therapy—not comfortable, but necessary.

Dismissive Language Reveals Underlying Attitudes

When a therapist says "you aren't meant to have friends right now," they're revealing they don't believe in your capacity for change in that area. That's a problem.

Specialization Matters for Complex Needs

Autism plus trauma plus social struggles plus career crisis requires more than general counseling. Seek specialists who understand your specific constellation of challenges.

You Can Switch Therapists

Just because you started with someone doesn't mean you're obligated to stay. If it's not working, find someone better suited to your needs.

Trust Takes Time, But Dismissiveness Happens Fast

Give a new therapist a few sessions to build trust and understand your situation. But if they're dismissive or harmful from the start, that's unlikely to improve.

The Right Therapist Sees Your Potential

Not just your problems, not just your diagnosis, not just your current struggles—but who you could become with the right support.

Moving Forward

Finding the right therapist transformed my trajectory. The wrong therapists provided surface support, made dismissive comments, or lacked the specific expertise I needed. But the practitioners who understood autism, could deliver hard truths with compassion, and taught practical skills made real change possible.

If you're currently in therapy that isn't helping, know that it's not that therapy doesn't work—it's that you haven't yet found the right therapeutic approach or practitioner for your specific needs.

Ready to learn the complete story of navigating therapy as an autistic person in crisis, my book provides everything you need to make informed choices about your own therapeutic journey. 

Get your copy of Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum today.

Why Autistic People Struggle With Romantic Relationships

Everyone around you seems to be dating. Getting into relationships. Moving on from breakups and finding someone new within weeks. And there you are, wondering why something that appears so effortless for others feels completely out of reach for you.

For autistic people, romantic relationships aren't just emotionally complicated—they involve a layer of confusion, missed signals, and unprocessed pain that neurotypical people rarely have to navigate. The social rules of dating are already complex. For someone who struggles to read between the lines, misses subtle cues, and has spent years being rejected and mistreated, romantic connection can feel like climbing Mount Everest while everyone else takes the elevator.

This blog post addresses what nobody talks about when it comes to autism and romantic relationships—the real reasons why dating is harder, what happens when that pain goes unaddressed, and what you genuinely need to hear if you're struggling right now.

If you or someone you know is struggling with self-harm or mental health crisis, please contact the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline by calling or texting 988. You are not alone.

Table of Contents

• Reason #1: You're Reading Flirtatious Signals as Romantic Interest

• Reason #2: Past Rejection Follows You Into New Situations

• Reason #3: Dating Milestones Feel Like a Report Card

• Reason #4: You're Looking for Answers in the Wrong Places

• Reason #5: The Pain of Unmet Needs Reaches a Breaking Point

• Reason #6: Nobody Around You Truly Understands

• What You Actually Need (Not What People Tell You)

• Key Takeaways for Autistic People Navigating Romance

Reason #1: You're Reading Flirtatious Signals as Romantic Interest

The Mixed Signal Problem

One of the most painful experiences in romantic relationships is when someone acts flirtatious—playful physical contact, consistent eye contact, warm smiles—and then completely withdraws when you show genuine interest.

For autistic people, this is particularly devastating because we tend to take behavior at face value. If someone acts as though they like us, we believe they like us. We don't automatically factor in that some people are naturally flirtatious with everyone, or that someone can enjoy the attention of a person they have no actual romantic interest in.

Why Autistic People Miss These Cues

We process social information differently. The subtle distinction between "being friendly" and "being interested" involves reading a complex combination of context, consistency, body language, and social patterns that don't always compute the same way for autistic people.

We have less experience to draw from. Neurotypical people develop romantic intuition through years of casual dating experiences that teach them how to read signals. Without that foundation, every interaction feels like the first time.

We take behavior literally. When someone pats you on the back, shoves your chair playfully, and smiles every time they see you, the logical conclusion is that they're interested. Detecting the subtle difference between flirting for fun and genuine romantic interest requires reading invisible social rules.

We don't factor in inconsistency as rejection. When someone waits three days to respond to a dinner invitation and then declines without suggesting an alternative time, a neurotypical person recognizes this as a clear "no." An autistic person may miss this indirect signal entirely.

The Cruel Reality

What hurts most isn't just the rejection itself. It's not understanding why someone who behaved warmly and flirtatiously could turn around and express no romantic interest. This disconnect—between observed behavior and actual intention—is deeply confusing for autistic people.

The confusion keeps you stuck, trying to decode what happened instead of moving forward.

In my book, I detail the complete story of navigating this exact confusion in law school and the specific strategies that could have helped me recognize these signals earlier. Understanding this pattern can save you enormous pain.

Reason #2: Past Rejection Follows You Into New Situations

The Backpack of Past Pain

Every rejection you've experienced doesn't just disappear. It gets packed into a mental backpack you carry into every new situation.

Years of being rejected, bullied, and told you're not good enough create automatic fear responses:

• Fear of asking for someone's phone number in case they laugh at you

• Backing out of social situations at the last minute to avoid potential humiliation

• Assuming new rejections confirm old messages about your worth

• Being unable to distinguish between a new person and past people who hurt you

The Freeze Response

When you want to ask someone for their number but the memory of past humiliation kicks in, your body responds as if the past rejection is happening right now. You freeze. You avoid. You miss the opportunity entirely.

This isn't weakness or lack of confidence. It's a trauma response to repeated painful experiences. Your nervous system learned that social risk means pain, and it's trying to protect you.

Why This Is Different for Autistic People

Autistic people often have:

Longer processing times for social trauma. Neurotypical people may recover from romantic rejection more quickly. For autistic people, who tend to perseverate on difficult experiences, rejection can stay active in the mind for much longer.

Deeper sensitivity to rejection. Many autistic people experience rejection sensitive dysphoria—an intense emotional response to perceived rejection that goes beyond typical hurt feelings.

Less resilience from positive experiences. Without a history of positive romantic experiences to balance the negative ones, each rejection carries disproportionate weight.

Difficulty separating past from present. Clinging to past memories of how people treated you prevents you from recognizing that you're not the same person you were, and that new people aren't the same as the ones who hurt you.

Reason #3: Dating Milestones Feel Like a Report Card

The Comparison Trap

When everyone around you is dating, getting into relationships, and progressing through romantic milestones, not participating in any of these experiences can feel like failing a test everyone else passed.

At law school, when classmates found out I'd never had a boyfriend or been on a date, they were flabbergasted. Some said there was a big part of social life missing in not dating. Comments about singlehood—even well-meaning ones—stacked on top of each other until singlehood felt like a character flaw.

Why Milestones Hurt More for Autistic People

We're already behind on other social milestones: If you've spent your whole life feeling behind your peers socially, romantic milestones become yet another measure of how far you've fallen short.

Society treats romantic experience as a marker of worth: The messaging is everywhere: having a partner means you're likable, attractive, socially successful. Not having one means something is wrong with you.

Autistic people often have delayed development in these areas: This isn't a personal failing—it's a natural result of processing the world differently. But without that context, the gap between your experience and your peers' experience feels deeply personal.

You compare your insides to others' outsides: You see friends walking arm in arm with partners and assume their romantic lives are easy and fulfilling. You don't see the complexity behind what looks effortless from the outside.

The Arranged Match Expectation

For some autistic people—particularly those from cultures with arranged marriage traditions—there's an additional pressure that romantic connection will simply be "handled" by family. But arranged setups don't guarantee anything. People still have to genuinely like each other. And when you've spent years struggling to connect with people, the additional pressure of arranged introductions only amplifies the anxiety.

What everyone needs, above all, is to be genuinely loved for who they truly are. Not strategic matches, not arrangements, not someone tolerating them out of obligation. Genuine love.

Reason #4: You're Looking for Answers in the Wrong Places

The Decoding Obsession

After a painful rejection, it's natural to want to understand what happened. But when the search for answers becomes obsessive, it can take over your life.

Constantly asking others "What does it mean when a guy leads a woman on?" or trying to decode every text and interaction keeps you stuck in the past instead of moving forward. Every person you ask has a different opinion, which creates more confusion rather than clarity.

Why Autistic People Get Stuck Here

We're natural pattern-seekers. Autistic brains are wired to find logic and patterns. When someone's behavior doesn't make logical sense, we keep analyzing until we find an explanation.

We want a definitive answer. Uncertainty is deeply uncomfortable for many autistic people. "Maybe he just wasn't that interested" doesn't satisfy because it leaves too many unknowns.

We look externally for validation we need internally. The real question isn't "What's wrong with me that he rejected me?" The real work is building enough internal self-worth that one person's rejection doesn't define your value.

The Karaoke Coping Mechanism

During this painful period, I was drinking to excess on weekends, doing impersonations of professors at parties, and performing raunchy raps at birthday dinners—all channeling pain into performances for others' entertainment.

This was the same pattern from middle school: using performance as a way to connect, to get people to like you, to find belonging through entertainment.

It wasn't healthy connection. It was pain wearing a costume.

What You're Actually Looking For

The search for answers about why someone rejected you is really a search for:

• Confirmation that you're worthy of love

• An explanation that doesn't make you the problem

• Permission to stop blaming yourself

• Evidence that you're likable, valuable, and enough

These things cannot come from the person who rejected you. They have to come from within—which requires deep therapeutic work that goes far beyond surface-level coping.

Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum

Reason #5: Nobody Around You Truly Understands

The Isolation of Being Misunderstood

Even when surrounded by people, the autistic experience of romantic struggle can feel profoundly isolating because nobody around you truly gets it.

Friends say:

• "Just ask him out"

• "You need to give guys a chance"

• "Brush it off and move on"

• "Everybody goes through this"

These responses, however well-meaning, miss the entire context of what you're actually dealing with:

• Years of accumulated rejection

• Difficulty reading social and romantic signals

• Unprocessed trauma from bullying and social failure

• A nervous system that responds to social risk with intense fear

• A brain that processes relationships differently than neurotypical people

The Disclosure Dilemma

I didn't disclose my autism diagnosis to people at law school for a long time, out of fear of hearing: "If you have autism, you shouldn't be in the legal profession."

This fear kept me from explaining behaviors that looked like flakiness or indecision to others—like backing out of plans due to sensory overload—but were actually neurological responses to overwhelm.

Not being able to explain yourself creates a painful double bind:

• Don't disclose: people misread your behavior and get frustrated

• Disclose: risk judgment, discrimination, and reduced expectations

When Disclosure Happens

When I finally told Khloe and Natalia about my autism diagnosis, Natalia's response was: "It makes sense why you didn't get Demetrious's number yet."

That response reduced all the complexity of living with autism to one social behavior. It missed the much bigger picture of what autistic people navigate in every interaction, every day.

Finding people who see the full picture—not just the narrow slice that affects them—is rare. But those people exist, and they're worth finding. Also, if you are finding it hard to make friends, this blogpost will help you navigate friendships as well.

What You Actually Need (Not What People Tell You)

What People Tell You

• "Just put yourself out there"

• "Confidence is attractive, just be confident"

• "You're too picky"

• "Stop overthinking it"

• "Everyone gets rejected, just move on"

What You Actually Need

Trauma-informed therapeutic support Not just someone to vent to, but a therapist trained in both autism and trauma who can help you process the years of rejection and build genuine self-worth.

Social skills coaching specific to dating General social skills training is different from navigating the specific complexity of romantic interest, mixed signals, and rejection. Targeted coaching for this specific area matters.

Community with other autistic people Connecting with others who share your experience validates that your struggles are real and not personal failings.

Time to develop at your own pace Romantic development for autistic people happens on a different timeline. That's not a deficiency—it's a different path.

Self-compassion as a practice Not just hearing that you're worthy, but doing the internal work to genuinely believe it. This is the foundation everything else is built on.

Realistic expectations about what relationships require Genuine love—being loved for who you truly are—is what matters. Not arrangements, not someone tolerating you, not someone who makes you feel like you have to fight for basic acceptance.

Get your copy of Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum today.

Key Takeaways for Autistic People Navigating Romance

Mixed Signals Are a Real Problem, Not Your Imagination

When someone's behavior doesn't match their level of romantic interest, that's genuinely confusing for anyone. For autistic people, it's especially difficult. You're not broken for missing these signals. You're working with a different social processing system in a world that doesn't explain its rules.

Past Rejection Is Not Your Future

The fear response that keeps you from asking for a phone number or accepting a dinner invitation is based on past pain, not present reality. You have grown. You are not the same person who was bullied and rejected in middle school. New people are not the same people who hurt you.

Milestones Are Not Measurements of Worth

Never having dated by your twenties does not mean something is wrong with you. It means your development followed a different timeline. The meaning you assign to it matters more than the fact itself.

Surface-Level Support Is Not Enough

If you've been in therapy and still feel stuck, it may not be that therapy doesn't work for you—it may be that you haven't yet found the right therapeutic approach. Keep looking for a practitioner who understands both autism and trauma at a deep level.

Your Pain Is Valid and Deserves Real Help

Being told to "brush it off" when you're carrying decades of accumulated pain is not support. Your pain is real. It has real roots. It deserves real, substantive help—not dismissal.

You Deserve to Be Loved for Who You Are

Not tolerated. Not accommodated. Not chosen for strategic reasons.

Loved—genuinely and authentically—for exactly who you are.

That kind of love exists. But it starts with doing the internal work to know who you are and believe you're worthy of it.

Final Thoughts

Romantic relationships are hard for everyone. But for autistic people carrying years of rejection, trauma, and social confusion, they can feel impossible.

The struggles aren't personal failings. They're the natural result of navigating a neurotypical world's unspoken rules without the social blueprint that neurotypical people receive through years of casual romantic experience.

Ready to read the complete, unfiltered story of struggling with romantic relationships, rejection, and mental health as an autistic person in law school? My book doesn't sugarcoat the pain or skip the hard parts. It tells the full truth—and offers the wisdom that came from surviving it. 

Get your copy of Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum today.

7 Signs You've Become the Toxic Person (And How Depression Makes It Worse)

Nobody wants to admit they've become toxic. We're quick to identify toxic people in our lives, but recognizing when we're the problem? That's devastatingly hard.

Depression doesn't just make you sad—it can turn you into someone who drains others, dumps emotions on people who aren't equipped to handle them, and pushes away the few genuine connections you have. Add unprocessed trauma from years of rejection and bullying, and you become a walking red flag to anyone who might have been your friend.

This is the uncomfortable truth I had to face after my 21st birthday disaster. The depression that followed didn't just make me miserable—it made me toxic to be around. I became the person others avoided, the one who brought negative energy into every interaction, the friend who took without giving back.

For autistic people struggling with depression after years of social failure, this pattern is particularly dangerous. We already struggle with social skills. When depression turns us toxic, we destroy the few chances we have at genuine connection.

This is about recognizing when you've crossed the line from struggling to toxic—and what you need to do differently to heal.

Table of Contents

• Sign #1: You're Emotionally Dumping on Acquaintances

• Sign #2: You Can't Stop Talking About Your Pain

• Sign #3: Your Envy of Others' Friendships Poisons Interactions

• Sign #4: You Obsess Over One Topic Despite People's Discomfort

• Sign #5: You Stand People Up or Cancel Because of Your Mood

• Sign #6: You Can't Pull Yourself Out of Depression Alone

• Sign #7: You're Disconnected From Yourself and Your Needs

• How to Stop Being Toxic and Start Healing

• Key Takeaways for Breaking the Cycle

Sign #1: You're Emotionally Dumping on Acquaintances

What Emotional Dumping Looks Like

After my birthday disaster, something strange started happening. Sapna, one of the people who'd bailed on my celebration, began encouraging me to vent to her about what was going on.

I took her up on it. I would share my frustrations, cry about how things turned out, and unload all my pain onto her.

This wasn't healthy communication. This was emotional dumping on someone who wasn't actually my close friend.

The Difference Between Sharing and Dumping

Healthy sharing:

• Reciprocal conversations where both people contribute

• Appropriate to the relationship depth

• Includes positive interactions, not just problems

• Respects the other person's emotional capacity

• Happens with people who've explicitly offered support

Emotional dumping:

• One-sided unloading of problems and pain

• Too intense for the relationship level

• Happens repeatedly without reciprocation

• Ignores whether the other person can handle it

• Treats acquaintances like therapists

Why This Is Toxic

Emotional dumping:

Burdens people who didn't sign up for it. Acquaintances aren't equipped to handle your deepest trauma and pain.

Creates imbalanced relationships. You're taking emotional support without giving anything back.

Pushes people away. Even people who initially felt sympathetic will start avoiding you.

Prevents real friendships from forming. People see you as needy and draining before getting to know you.

What I Should Have Done Instead

Looking back, I recognize that my pain was my responsibility to bear, not Sapna's to carry. I owed her an apology for the emotional dumping.

What I needed:

• A therapist trained to handle that level of pain

• Processing past trauma, not just surface emotions

• Skills for managing depression, not just people to vent to

• Healthy boundaries about what to share and with whom

Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum

Sign #2: You Can't Stop Talking About Your Pain

The Depression That Clung Like an Octopus

The Fall 2003 semester was numbing and depressing. Every day felt like struggling to stay above water. The feelings from my birthday—anger, hurt, betrayal, self-loathing—clung to me like an octopus clinging to a face.

I couldn't shake it off. Worse, I couldn't stop talking about it.

When Pain Becomes Your Identity

Depression can make your pain become the only thing you can talk about:

Every conversation circles back to your struggles. No matter what topic starts the discussion, you redirect it to your pain.

You can't engage with others' lives. When people share their experiences, you immediately relate it back to your own suffering.

Happy moments feel impossible. Even when good things happen, you can't fully experience them because depression clouds everything.

You become a black hole of negativity. People start to dread interactions with you because they know it'll just be more pain.

The Triggering Environment

It didn't help that birthday conversations were happening constantly around me. People were:

• Going on trips with friends for their birthdays

• Having dinner celebrations

• Throwing parties they were excited about

None of which included eating a fish sandwich alone at a fast-food place.

Every conversation about birthdays was a trigger that sent me spiraling back into the shame and embarrassment of my own experience.

Why This Pushes People Away

When you can't stop talking about your pain:

People feel helpless. They don't know how to help and feel bad that nothing they say makes a difference.

Interactions become exhausting. Every conversation requires emotional labor they're not getting paid for.

They start avoiding you. It's not personal—they're protecting their own mental health.

You miss opportunities to connect. Shared interests and positive experiences are what build friendships, not shared misery.

What's Actually Needed

My therapist, Dr. Theroux, kept validating my feelings: "Anybody who was in a similar situation to you would also feel devastated to feel that nobody was close enough to celebrate them."

But validation alone wasn't enough. She also kept telling me to "pull myself out of the depression."

I tried. I couldn't. I didn't have the skills.

What I actually needed was deeper therapeutic work on:

• Processing childhood trauma that the birthday triggered

• Learning to love myself, which I had no clue how to do

• Developing skills to manage intense emotions

• Healing the root causes, not just managing symptoms

In my book, I detail the complete struggle with depression during this semester and what eventually helped me move beyond just talking about pain to actually healing from it. Understanding this difference is crucial for anyone stuck in this pattern.

Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum

Sign #3: Your Envy of Others' Friendships Poisons Interactions

The Toxic Combination

When I vented to Sapna, I wasn't just expressing sadness. I was emotionally dumping while simultaneously being envious that she had friends despite sharing her own childhood difficulties.

Sapna emphasized how hard she worked to get friends. I kept thinking I was doing the same thing, and that aggravated me.

The anger was really about my own frustrations, but it poisoned our interactions.

How Envy Shows Up

Envy in friendships manifests as:

Resentment when others succeed socially. Instead of being happy for them, you feel bitter about your own situation.

Comparing constantly. "Why do they have friends and I don't? What's wrong with me?"

Inability to celebrate others. Their wins feel like your losses.

Passive-aggressive comments. Subtle digs that reveal your jealousy.

Taking their friendship for granted. You're so focused on what you lack that you don't appreciate what you have.

Why This Is Toxic

Envy:

Creates negative energy that people can feel even if you don't voice it.

Prevents genuine connection because you're focused on what you don't have rather than building what's in front of you.

Makes people feel bad about their own happiness around you.

Reveals that you're using them as a measuring stick for your own inadequacy rather than valuing them as individuals.

The Reality Check

The truth was Sapna and I were both unhealthy in our own ways. I had no business emotionally dumping on her, and my envy made the dynamic even more toxic.

Her having friends didn't take anything away from me. But depression and unprocessed trauma made it feel that way.

Sign #4: You Obsess Over One Topic Despite People's Discomfort

The Sorority Fixation

During Fall 2003, my interest in joining a sorority grew. I thought if I was part of one, I would finally learn how to be likable and have friends.

I saw sorority girls dressed impeccably with nice outfits, hair done, and makeup on. I wished I could look like them and be like them.

I talked about sorority life constantly with Savannah, who was actually in a sorority, until she finally snapped.

When She Called Me Out

"This is why I get so irritated every time I talk to you! You always talk about sorority life," Savannah exclaimed.

"Oh, I am so sorry! I didn't realize," I said, feeling horrible.

"Nobody really talks about sororities much anymore. I'm about to graduate. Nobody even brings up sorority stuff anymore."

Why This Happens

Autistic people often develop intense interests that we want to discuss constantly. When that interest is tied to social belonging we desperately want, it becomes even more consuming.

I didn't realize I was:

• Bringing it up in every conversation

• Ignoring Savannah's discomfort with the topic

• Making her feel like I only valued her for sorority information

• Being tone-deaf about what was appropriate to discuss

The Impact

Obsessing over one topic:

Makes people feel like you're not interested in them as individuals, only as resources.

Creates irritation and frustration that builds over time until they explode.

Signals poor social awareness that makes people wary of deeper friendship.

Prevents balanced conversations that could actually build connection.

How to Recognize the Pattern

Warning signs you're doing this:

• People change the subject when you bring up your topic

• Someone explicitly tells you to stop talking about it

• You notice yourself steering every conversation back to one thing

• People start avoiding certain topics around you because they know you'll hijack the conversation

Sign #5: You Stand People Up or Cancel Because of Your Mood

The Pattern With Sapna

Sapna and I made plans throughout the semester to hang out on weekends. Most often, I would be stood up.

This was bewildering because she encouraged vulnerable conversations but then wouldn't follow through on plans.

When Depression Controls Your Reliability

Being stood up is toxic behavior. But depression can also make you:

Cancel plans last minute because you can't handle leaving your room.

Not show up because your mood tanked and you couldn't face socializing.

Make commitments you can't keep because you feel better in the moment but crash later.

Flake repeatedly without explanation, leaving people confused and hurt.

Why This Destroys Relationships

Unreliability:

Shows people they can't count on you. Trust is built on consistency.

Wastes their time when they've arranged their schedule around you.

Creates resentment that builds with each cancellation.

Signals that your needs always trump theirs, which isn't sustainable in friendship.

The Missing Piece

I missed the social cue that this wasn't a genuine friendship. Sapna was more of an acquaintance, and I should have recognized that earlier.

But the pattern of unreliability—whether from her, from me, or both—prevented anything deeper from forming.

Sign #6: You Can't Pull Yourself Out of Depression Alone

The Therapist's Impossible Advice

Dr. Theroux kept telling me to "pull myself out of the depression."

I tried so hard. I couldn't do it. I didn't have the skills.

My emotions ate me up every day. I had major crying outbursts when alone. Sometimes tears would well up during class.

Why "Pull Yourself Out" Doesn't Work

Depression isn't a choice. You can't just decide to feel better any more than you can decide to cure a broken leg through positive thinking.

What doesn't work:

• Telling yourself to snap out of it

• Trying harder to be happy

• Forcing yourself to socialize when you're empty inside

• Pretending everything is fine

What's actually needed:

• Deep therapeutic work on root causes, not just surface symptoms

• Processing past trauma that the current situation triggered

• Learning specific skills for emotional regulation and self-compassion

• Sometimes medication to address chemical imbalances

• Time and patience with the healing process

The Childhood Connection

What really needed to be worked on was processing the past and how it affected my present situation. I needed to learn how to heal and how to love myself. I hadn't the first clue how to do that.

The embarrassment and shame from my 21st birthday traced all the way back to childhood:

• Years of rejection and bullying

• Being made to sit alone at events

• Constant social failure and isolation

• Messages that I was unworthy and should be destroyed

You can't "pull yourself out" of depression rooted in decades of trauma without addressing the trauma itself.

What Changed Things

The intense depression lasted the entire Fall 2003 semester. The only times I felt somewhat "normal" were when I hung out with others at bars in The Village, where I felt like part of the group—even if it was just a facade.

Real change didn't come from trying harder. It came from:

• Getting a new start in Spring 2004

• Meeting people like Leslie who asked the right questions

• Learning healthier connection patterns over time

• Eventually doing deeper therapeutic work (though not until much later)

The complete story of struggling with this depression and what eventually helped me move beyond it is detailed in my book. If you're stuck in this pattern, understanding what actually works versus what well-meaning therapists tell you to do can save you years of suffering.

Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum

Sign #7: You're Disconnected From Yourself and Your Needs

The Missing Connection

During this time, I was focused entirely on:

• Making friends

• Being accepted

• Learning to be likable

• Looking like the sorority girls

• Having what others had

What I wasn't focused on: myself. Who I actually was. What I actually wanted.

The Void at Graduation

I graduated college feeling a void because I knew I was about to enter a career I didn't have a sincere heart for.

Even though I would've still had social challenges, I believe the edges of loneliness and the overall college experience would've been better if I had listened to my own heart.

That would've meant:

• Exploring psychology or journalism—courses I would've enjoyed

• Taking classes aligned with my interests

• Feeling connected to what I was studying

• Becoming connected to the most important person: myself

Why Self-Disconnection Makes You Toxic

When you're disconnected from yourself:

You can't offer authentic connection because you don't know who you authentically are.

You seek validation externally instead of building internal self-worth.

You try to be what others want rather than discovering what you want.

You create relationships based on need rather than genuine compatibility.

You don't have boundaries because you don't know what you need or value.

The Real Work

The real connection missing was the one I had with myself. All the social skills training in the world won't fix that fundamental disconnection.

True healing requires:

• Learning who you are beyond others' expectations

• Discovering your own interests and passions

• Building self-worth from internal sources

• Honoring your needs, not just accommodating others

• Making choices aligned with your authentic self

How to Stop Being Toxic and Start Healing

Step 1: Recognize You Can't Do This Alone

Stop trying to "pull yourself out of depression" through willpower. You need:

• A therapist trained in trauma who can help you process the root causes

• Support groups with people who understand what you're experiencing

• Possibly medication if depression has a chemical component

• Time and patience with the healing process

Depression rooted in trauma requires professional help, not just positive thinking.

Step 2: Stop Emotional Dumping on Acquaintances

Create clear boundaries about what you share and with whom:

Acquaintances: Surface-level updates, no deep trauma Developing friends: Some challenges, balanced with positive interactions Close friends: Deeper struggles, but still reciprocal and boundaried Therapists: The full weight of trauma and pain

Your pain is your responsibility to heal, not others' to carry.

Step 3: Learn to Sit With Envy Without Acting on It

Envy is a normal human emotion. The problem is when you:

• Let it poison your interactions

• Express it through passive-aggressive comments

• Use it as fuel for resentment

Instead:

• Acknowledge the envy to yourself

• Recognize it's about your pain, not their success

• Use it as information about what you want

• Don't let it leak into the relationship

Step 4: Monitor How Often You Bring Up Your Obsessions

Pay attention to:

• How often you steer conversations to your topic of interest

• Whether people seem uncomfortable or change the subject

• If you're asking about others' lives or just talking about yours

• When someone explicitly tells you to stop

Make a conscious effort to:

• Ask questions about the other person

• Let them lead some conversations

• Notice when you're dominating with one topic

• Diversify what you talk about

Step 5: Be Reliable or Don't Make Plans

If depression makes you unreliable:

Option 1: Only commit to plans when you're reasonably sure you can follow through

Option 2: Be honest about your limitations: "I'd like to make plans, but I'm dealing with depression and might need to cancel. Is that okay with you?"

Option 3: Stick to low-commitment hangouts that don't require advance planning

Don't repeatedly stand people up or cancel last minute. It destroys trust.

Step 6: Process Trauma, Don't Just Manage Symptoms

Surface-level therapy that validates feelings without addressing root causes won't create lasting change.

You need to:

• Process childhood experiences that created current patterns

• Understand how past trauma affects present relationships

• Heal the wounds, not just bandage the symptoms

• Learn new patterns based on self-worth, not desperation

This takes time and the right therapeutic approach.

Step 7: Reconnect With Yourself

Ask yourself questions you've been avoiding:

• What do I actually enjoy?

• What interests me beyond social acceptance?

• What would I study if I weren't trying to please others?

• Who am I when I'm alone?

• What do I value and need?

Build a relationship with yourself before expecting others to have relationships with you.

If you're autistic, Sonia's podcast offers essential guidance on finding ethical mental health support

Key Takeaways for Breaking the Cycle

Toxicity Often Comes From Unprocessed Pain

You're not a bad person for becoming toxic. You're a hurt person who hasn't healed, acting out of that pain in ways that push people away.

Recognizing this is the first step toward change.

Depression Makes Everything Harder

When depression tells you to "just try harder," remember:

• Depression is a liar

• You can't think your way out of clinical depression

• Professional help isn't weakness—it's necessary

• Healing takes time and appropriate treatment

Some Friendships Form Despite Your Struggles

During Spring 2004, healthier friendships started forming:

Leslie arrived as my new roommate and asked insightful questions about my autism diagnosis that showed she understood.

Carrie connected with me on deeper intellectual levels and shared her own healing journey, introducing me to books like The Four Agreements.

These friendships were testament to never giving up on making connections, even when depression made it feel impossible.

The Most Important Connection Is With Yourself

All the social skills in the world won't fix fundamental self-disconnection.

Learning to:

• Know yourself

• Honor your interests

• Make choices aligned with your authentic self

• Build internal self-worth

These are prerequisites for genuine, healthy connections with others.

Ready to learn the complete journey from toxic patterns to healthy friendships? Get a copy of dropped in a Maze today and learn how to break the cycle of toxicity rooted in unprocessed pain.

Moving Forward

The Fall 2003 semester was one of the darkest periods of my life. I became someone I'm not proud of—emotionally dumping on acquaintances, unable to stop talking about pain, envious of others' friendships, obsessing over sororities, and disconnected from my authentic self.

But recognizing these toxic patterns was the beginning of change. Spring 2004 brought new friendships with Leslie and Carrie that showed me what healthy connection could look like.

Eventually, I learned that:

• Emotional dumping isn't the same as authentic sharing

• Depression requires professional help, not just willpower

• Envy reveals what you want, not what others have taken from you

• Obsessions push people away instead of creating connection

• The most important relationship is with yourself

If you're recognizing toxic patterns in yourself right now, know that awareness is the first step. Change is possible. Healing takes time, professional support, and deep work on root causes—but it's absolutely possible.

For the complete story of moving from toxic depression to genuine healing and healthy friendships my book provides everything you need. 

Get your copy today and start your journey from toxicity to authentic connection.

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.

Sonia's podcast is a must-listen resource for autistic individuals seeking affirming mental health care - tune in here.

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.

Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum

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.

Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum

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. Trusting your gut can lead to life-changing self-discovery, including recognizing the autism signs that often go unnoticed in young adults.

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.

Also, as an autistic person, you'll find valuable insights in Sonia's podcast about navigating mental health care and trusting your gut.

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

Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum

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.

Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum

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 of Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum 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

So if you are feeling unsure about a friendship? Your gut might be protecting you - read about why your gut knows before your brain does and how to trust it.

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.

Get a copy of Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum to understand how to navigate friendships

Get a copy of Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum

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.

Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum

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. 

Purchase a copy of Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum today and learn how to spot Genuine Friendship

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.

Infact, many autistic people sense they're different long before diagnosis. Discover 5 reasons why your gut knows before your brain does.

Dropped in a Maze: My Life on the Spectrum

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.

Ready to understand the autistic experience from the inside? Order 'Dropped in a Maze: My Life on the Spectrum' today."

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

As an autistic person, you'll find valuable insights in Sonia's podcast about navigating Autism Diagnosis.

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. 

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.

Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum

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. Also, as someone on the autism spectrum, you'll benefit from the neurodivergent-affirming approach in Sonia's podcast.

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.

Many autistic people sense they're different long before diagnosis. Discover 5 reasons why your gut knows before your brain does

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.

Dropped in a Maze: My Life On The Spectrum

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.

Purchase Dropped in a Maze: My Life on Spectrum today to explore the detailed path to diagnosis and discover how understanding changes everything.

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.

Dropped in a Maze: My Life on The Spectrum

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.

Get a copy of my book today.

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.

Dropped in a Maze: My Life on the Spectrum

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. Seeing that been different can make you a target, it is important you know how to stand up for yourself as an autistic person.

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. Also, if you are wondering how been Autistic affects the brain, this blogpost answers all your questions.

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.

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