Growing up, autism was always described as something boys had. Boys who didn’t make eye contact. Boys who loved trains or dinosaurs more than anything else in the world. Boys who didn’t talk much but somehow knew how to take apart a radio and put it back together again.
I was none of those things.
I was the quiet, bookish girl in the back of the classroom. The one who got along with teachers but never quite clicked with other kids. I didn’t throw tantrums; I had “mood swings.” I didn’t stim visibly; I doodled obsessively in my notebooks. I didn’t avoid eye contact; I stared too long, trying to figure out the rules everyone else seemed to just know.
Nobody thought I was autistic. Least of all, me.
My Diagnosis Story
I was 28 when I finally heard the words: You’re on the autism spectrum.
By then, I had already spent years feeling like a failure at being human. Conversations drained me. Crowds overwhelmed me. Social situations felt like walking a tightrope over an active volcano.
I knew something was different about me, but I didn’t have the words to explain it. For years, I thought I was just shy or awkward or “too sensitive.” I blamed myself for every misstep, every misunderstanding, every meltdown.
The diagnosis was like being handed a map after wandering lost in the woods for decades. Suddenly, everything made sense—the sensory issues, the social struggles, the intense focus on my interests, the exhaustion that came from masking every day of my life.
But with clarity came grief.
Why I Was Overlooked
- Stereotypes: Autism research has historically focused on boys, creating a narrow picture of what autism looks like. Girls often present differently—our stims are subtle, our special interests are less obvious, and our social struggles are masked by mimicry.
- Masking: From a young age, I learned to copy the behavior of others. I smiled when I didn’t feel like it, laughed at jokes I didn’t understand, and memorized scripts for small talk. It made me seem “normal,” but it came at a cost.
- Gender Expectations: As a girl, I was expected to be quiet, polite, and well-behaved. My differences were dismissed as personality quirks or “just being a girl.”
A Memory That Still Stings
In sixth grade, I was part of a group project for science class. While my classmates chatted and joked, I focused on the task at hand, carefully measuring and recording data.
When the teacher walked by, she smiled and said, “Finch, you’re such a good worker. You’d be better at group projects if you were a little more sociable, though.”
I felt my face burn with shame. I was trying so hard to fit in, to contribute, to be “normal.” But no matter how hard I tried, it was never enough.
Looking back, I wish someone had seen the truth: I wasn’t antisocial or cold or weird. I was autistic.
What I Wish People Knew About Late Diagnoses
- It’s Life-Changing: A late diagnosis doesn’t fix everything, but it gives you the tools to understand yourself. It’s like turning on a light in a dark room.
- It Comes With Grief: There’s a mourning period for the years spent feeling broken or inadequate, for the missed opportunities, for the times you blamed yourself for things beyond your control.
- It’s Never Too Late: Whether you’re 8 or 80, a diagnosis can help you make sense of your past and move forward with self-compassion.
How I’m Embracing My Autism Now
- Unmasking: I’m learning to let go of the need to appear “normal.” If I need to stim, take a sensory break, or say no to an event, I do it without guilt.
- Advocacy: I speak openly about my experiences to help others see that autism doesn’t have one face—it’s a spectrum.
- Self-Compassion: I remind myself daily that I’m not broken. I’m just wired differently.
Visual Snapshot
I’m sitting on my bed, surrounded by books I’ve read a hundred times and can’t bear to part with. My weighted blanket is draped across my lap, and the soft hum of my noise machine fills the room. A notebook lies open beside me, filled with half-finished poems and sketches of birds.
This is my safe space—a world where I don’t have to mask or explain or prove myself to anyone. A world where being “different” feels like a gift, not a burden.
FAQ
Q: Why do girls often get diagnosed later than boys?
A: Girls tend to mask their symptoms more effectively, and their autism often presents differently than the stereotypical traits seen in boys.
Q: Is a late diagnosis worth pursuing?
A: Absolutely. A diagnosis can help you understand yourself better and access accommodations or resources you might not have known were available.
Q: How can I support someone who’s been recently diagnosed?
A: Listen without judgment, validate their experiences, and encourage them to explore what their diagnosis means for them.
Final Thoughts
Being the girl no one thought was autistic means I’ve spent years hiding in plain sight, trying to fit into a world that wasn’t built for me.
Now, I’m learning to take up space, to speak my truth, and to live unapologetically as the person I was always meant to be.
And if you’re wondering where I am right now, I’m here—wrapped in my blanket, lost in thought, and finally at peace with who I am.
