Autistic?

732 words

6 minute read

In January of 2020, I took a quiz.  

The results of the quiz said that I was "very likely neurodivergent."

It was a revelation.

So much of my life suddenly made sense.  I also subsequently learned that CP is considered neurodivergence in and of itself.  I've taken self-made "Are You Autistic" quizzes on Twitter but as there was no way to officially come away with a score, I was hesitant to take these results as anything conclusive.

So, tonight, Tara and I found ourselves in a conversation in a majority Autistic space, discussing the concept of softening language.  Later, I asked Tara what she was up to.  (We do this often, as our computers don't face each other.)

She mentioned she was taking an online quiz "just to see" if she was Autistic.  As is the case with twins, and thinking about my "very likely neurodivergent" quiz results previously, I also took the quiz.

Neurotypical females test 15 on average.

32 - 50 indicates one is very likely Autistic.

I scored a 32.

[Image: The rainbow infinity symbol]

On one hand, similar to the neurodivergent test last year, this one provides a lot of clarity for me.  It makes things click.  

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Why I don't just like my routines, but need them.  

Once on a vacation out of the country, Tara and I were so desperate for routines that we made one even in this new place.  After lunch, we'd retire to our room and read or watch TV for several hours, ignoring the beach and the sensory overload.  

Our younger sibling noticed and asked us, "What are you doing?"  

Tara said, "Just our regular afternoon routine."  

After that, we were asked, daily, "Can I join you for routine?"

And two became three, as we watched High School Musical and Willow in Spanish.

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My years-long reliance on scripting.  

At twelve, we dyed Easter eggs at our grandma's house.  She even had a way to write on the eggs, so that words or pictures would show up once the dye dried.

I wrote on one egg, "HI, I'M BIG!" which I thought was hilarious, as I'd noticed a classmate at school had done a drawing of a very grown up Big Bird, who announced "HI, I'M BIG!" in a speech bubble above his head.

Tara and I loved it.

No one else really got it.

Related: Not All Disabilities Are Visible

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My inability to do small talk.

I had gotten to the point, in recent years, where I honestly could not make small talk.  Like at all.  It felt horribly fake and forced.  Especially when it didn't lead anywhere.  When there was no depth.

I'd ask "Has anyone watched Grey's Anatomy?" and even though they were talking about their favorite shows, the conversation would stop dead.  Someone would say, "No," and then it would go on as if I had not spoken.

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Sensory struggles.

I have always struggled to eat certain foods, not because of taste but texture.  Warm fruit with a skin on it.  Liver.  Yogurt with chunks of fruit.  Jelly.  Warm onions.  Warm celery. Raisins (in anything.)  Chunks of tomatoes - especially warm ones.  Just no thank you.

I wear all my clothes inside out, because tags are hideous.

Getting my hair brushed was painful as a child.  (With a specific brush, it's not so bad.)

It's really hard for me to discern whether or not I'm not or cold.  I just "don't feel good" and my skin crawls.

Fire alarms are hideous.

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Wide discrepancy in academics.

As a high school sophomore, I tested four years ahead in reading and writing.  But four years behind in math.  

I still struggle with even basic subtraction.

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I love knowing what to expect.

So, I eat basically the same thing (with a few variations.)

I struggle when plans change, especially last minute.

Spontaneity (even being put on the spot to answer a question) can make me panic.

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There's all this, and more...and yet...I still feel somehow like a fraud.  Without an official diagnosis (and, I'll be honest, no desire to go out and get one in These Times) I find that I'm not really sure what to do now.

Do I fit in?

Am I Autistic enough to call myself Autistic?

I'm full of doubt...but also somehow...full of peace.

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