My Experiences With Autism Sharing

It's a common dilemma for autistic individuals: the decision to share their autism with new acquaintances. This deeply personal choice can evoke a mix of discomfort and relief, as autism presents lifelong challenges in areas like social communication, unexpected behaviors and life skills. The reactions from new people can vary wildly, from understanding to judgmental, depending on how the information is conveyed. 

As an autistic person who has consistently defied expectations, I've gained invaluable insights into when and how to discuss being on the autism spectrum. I've navigated countless interactions - socially, academically, and in job interviews - each yielding different results based on the specific situation. 

The term often used when disclosing autism in job interviews, "disclosure," can be intimidating for autistic job seekers, myself included. It suggests that revealing an autism diagnosis might lead to adverse reactions, depending on an employer's perception of how autism will factor into job performance. Yet, many supportive and inclusive employers recognize the unique talents and skills autistic workers bring to the table. Even with this in mind, the interview process, with its heavy reliance on communication and non-verbal social cues (areas where autism can present challenges) remain complex. 

Through numerous conversations, I've honed the art of effectively sharing my neurodivergence. It took practice, and certainly courage to get to this point. 

Sharing With Context

The most crucial lesson I've learned about discussing autism with new people is the importance of context. Sharing out of context, as I often did in college, can lead to bewilderment and misjudgment. I'd be mid-conversation with peers, discussing their day, and interject with, "Great, that's awesome. Also, I live with autism." My peers weren't discussing the autism spectrum, so my abrupt revelation understandably caught them off guard. 

Another vital lesson was to avoid repetitive sharing with the same people in consecutive conversations. I once irritated a peer by doing so, who responded, "You told us..." as if I were being random or unnecessary. My intention, whether sharing repetitively or out of context, was never to be annoying. Instead, it was a combination of approval-seeking - a common autistic trait - and subconsciously gauging reactions from my neurotypical peers to assess their level of judgment. 

Upon reflection, I can understand why my peers were taken aback by my sharing in mid-conversation or repetitively, since I was not clear enough in those moments regarding why I shared. To any autistic person who wishes to share, I recommend keeping the context and flow of any conversation in mind; if you want to share your autism in a conversation where sharing is not the focal point, I suggest going along with the topic of that conversation and then respectfully modifying the topic where sharing is more appropriate. 

If you are engaging in a conversation about other people's days and conversing about things unrelated to sharing autism, it is vital to conclude that conversation, and in a separate conversation, perhaps in a different time, share being autistic in a manner where the reaction is more expected and supportive. I learned that aspect through practice and error, that sharing is not an issue; it is how you share that can lead to either understanding or misjudgment, or both, depending on whom you're sharing with. 

The Reason I Share My Autism

Throughout my life, I've been judged, misjudged, and described in countless ways because of being on the autism spectrum. Some descriptions were deeply hurtful and false, while others stemmed from a lack of education and understanding. I endured bullying with the dreadful "r" word, particularly as a pre-teen and young teenager.  This was a profoundly inaccurate label; I am an inherently intelligent individual, fully cognizant despite unexpected behaviors such as arm-flapping and hair-twirling. I've worked tirelessly to reach the potential of my talents. 

I've also been called "selfish" and even more egregiously and falsely, "narcissistic."  The latter stung immensely, as the person misinterpreted my self-focused communication style - a key aspect of autistic communication - as narcissism. Let me be clear: I am not a narcissist, nor will I ever be one. Narcissism is a legitimate personality disorder, entirely distinct from my communication style. Autistic individuals tend to discuss themselves and their hyper-focused interests more than expected by others; however, being self-focused is not synonymous with being narcissistic.

True narcissistic personality disorder involves extreme self-centeredness that disregards others, a constant need for admiration, a belief in one's specialness and entitlement, attention-seeking behavior, and hypersensitivity to criticism or loss. There's a clear distinction between being autistic and self-focused (a trait autistic people can learn to modify with practice to include others in conversation) and being a narcissist - an uncaring individual who sabotages relationships by disregarding others' needs and feelings. 

Autistic people can be incredibly kind, caring and considerate. Their self=expression, or the way they convey their caring, often has an unexpected quality due to their innate mental design to communicate in a self-focused manner. This can sometimes throw people off due to unfamiliarity. 

I am, unequivocally,  a very kind and caring person. The instance where I was called narcissistic occurred when my communication style was still more self-focused, before I had progressed in learning reciprocal social conversation. While autistic individuals can learn reciprocal conversation skills - it takes years of practice and development - that particular college friend had not had a true autistic friend before, leading to a presumptuous and judgmental remark I ultimately had to move past. 

I share my autism very openly today, largely because many years of therapy taught me how to be social. Autistic individuals are often taught to mimic neurotypical social communication (e.g., reciprocal conversation, non-verbal cues) to "fit in" better. I did learn those skills and have learned to modify behaviors like arm-flapping in public. Yet, despite this therapy and training, I still grapple with misreading cues and recognizing unwritten social rules that feel unnatural to neurodivergent individuals. 

I prefer to inform new people so my unexpected behaviors have a purpose beyond simply appearing "weird." I also share because, despite the social expectation of keeping it private - the "you wouldn't know until you brought it up" mentality - I feel self-conscious and uncomfortable until I do. I firmly believe I shouldn't be ashamed of my autism, with all it entails. It's a lifelong part of me, and simply because others are unfamiliar with it, I don't believe I need to hide it. While context is crucial, autistic people often don't grasp this concept until they learn it. This is why my initial attempts at sharing, though intended to be vulnerable and courageous, often confused people. 

Advice for Sharing and Reactions

My strongest advice to autistic individuals considering sharing their diagnosis is to understand the context of why you're sharing. This will prevent discomfort or confusion for those you're speaking with. Those who react with understanding and support are the right people to surround yourself with. Sharing autism is a brave decision, and supportive individuals will meet you halfway, accepting you for who you are while adjusting their expectations. My advice to neurotypicals when an autistic person shares their diagnosis is to strive to understand the underlying reason for the revelation. 

Depending on the preference of an autistic person, sharing being autistic might not be the most ideal choice, because there are potential repercussions for sharing with certain people in certain situations (e.g., people who are not as understanding or supportive). Sharing autism is a choice, and while sharing might not be in the best interests of certain autistic people, due to stigma and misjudgment, I both disagree with and resent that notion. 

I am of the strong belief that autistic people do not need to feel bad or ashamed in sharing that about themselves, since autism comes with very strong skills and characteristics (e.g., a dry sense of humor that can be very engaging in the ideal situations, a unique approach to problem-solving, since autistic people's perceptions of the world and situations can be insightful and creative, genuine, down-to-earth demeanors, and an understated style of caring for other's feelings that goes under-looked too often). 

I am proud to be autistic; it is part of my being, and if I weren't neurodivergent, I would not be who I am, a kind, intelligent, caring and hard-working autistic man. I like me for who I am, and I firmly believe that each autistic person has the right to feel that way about themselves, given their lifelong challenges and efforts to improve where needed. If neurotypicals can like themselves as confident, talented and kind people, why can't the autistic folks be afforded that same sense of self-worth, self-respect, and opportunities to show how awesome being on the autism spectrum is? Just because of some unexpected behaviors, designed for self-expression and self-soothing when uncomfortable, autistic people are very likeable and talented human beings who, when provided with the ideal support and guidance, can be very impressive in a variety of situations. 

The intention behind sharing autism is rarely to be off-putting, random or uncomfortable. Autistic people generally yearn for approval and to find relationships with those who won't judge or demand they change to make the relationship work. Autistic people already invest immense effort in behavioral modification and training to blend in, which is exhausting and deeply demoralizing. Finding understanding of neurotypical people is akin to experiencing an amusement park or opening gifts - it's thrilling for autistic people to find opportunities where neurotypicals "get it" and treat them with kindness. 

Therefore, a middle ground is essential. Autistic people should strive to share in a contextually appropriate way, and neurotypicals should endeavor to understand why the autism is being shared, reacting more comfortably and embracing the autistic person as they are. Common phrases like, "You don't need to bring it up" and "I couldn't tell" are often perceived as demeaning by the autistic community and are ineffective in fostering a sense of safety when sharing. 

While "I couldn't tell" is often intended to promote inclusion and treat autistic people like neurotypicals, autistic people often dislike it because it imposes social expectations they already struggle with into the relationship. Autistic people are not neurotypicals, nor will they ever be - hence the term "neurodivergent." To cultivate this crucial middle ground, my suggestion for autistic people is to focus on the context of explaining and sharing their autism, while neurotypicals work on reacting to that sharing with more kindness and understanding. 

To empower autistic people to feel more comfortable and confident in being themselves, I believe these are the most effective strategies. If these ideas are implemented, autistic individuals will feel more reassured and relieved about sharing, leading to a wealth of new opportunities between autistic and neurotypical individuals. As an autistic individual, I would wholeheartedly welcome these suggestions becoming common practice in communities. My own discomfort would transform into confidence in who I am, fostering a sense of potential and an ongoing desire to improve. I hope for this future, and I have faith it can be achieved. 

References:

www.psychologytoday.com/us/conditions/narcissistic-personality-disorder

www.psychologytoday.com/us/basics/narcissism