15 | Cover | 4/5/25

 I've gotten myself into quite a pickle. I've pretty much had this idea planted in my head that I shouldn't tell my parents things about myself because I feel they will get too worried and overreact. Which, I argue, is mostly not a bad thing. But somewhat recently I had that idea challenged.

I have a very strong suspicion that I have autism. I have not been diagnosed because, for reasons you will find out soon, I'm afraid to ask to see a psychiatrist. But I've done a lot of research on autism. I've watched videos on people describing their experience with autism and I've related VERY heavily. I find myself struggling and getting tired in social situations. I hold myself back from doing or saying weird things, making me look stiff. I imitate others' behaviors. I stim, A LOT. I get hyperfixations, bad hyperfixations. I couldn't maintain eye contact if my life depended on it. I'm reserved. I take things way too literally. I experience meltdowns. I have a sensitivity to stimuli. I have shutdowns. If there was a more blatantly undiagnosed autistic person out there I'd love to hear about them.

But I'm AFAB (assigned female at birth (more on that later too)). Females with autism are notorious for masking. That means they are more likely to adapt to their environment and their peers a lot better, being able to appear mostly functional but all the while still very much experiencing fatigue. If I'm autistic, I mask. I'm 200% certain on that. Unfortunately... that masking kind of puts a big stamp of doubt on my certainty that I truly am autistic. I would love to believe I am. But the fact that I mask makes me doubt it. And, certainly, it makes others doubt it...

Story time. This December, me and my dad invited my grandma over to our house for a humble little Christmas (not really Christmas) party. I had previously told both of them, at different points in time, that I suspected I was autistic. I got two pretty bad responses at the time. My dad told me he did not suspect I was autistic and just that I was anxious and shy. My grandma told me "we're all a bit autistic" (a statement I find rather offensive). Now, during this party, for a reason I forget, the subject came back up. Am I autistic? Well. Apparently not. My dad broke into a rant about how I'm "definitely not autistic". He compared me to his coworker (diagnosed autistic) who had meltdowns at very small things, could not at all maintain conversation, and generally bled autistic symptoms. In other words, a level 2 or level 3 autistic. I suspect I am level one (lowest level).

That moment was crushing. It's really hard to put something that distressing into words. My mask glued to my face and I could not take it off. I sat there, completely still, disassociating from my surroundings. The sound became muffled. My eyes darted rapidly throughout the room. My mind flew at a million miles per minute, trying to keep myself from breaking out into sobs. Unfortunately I could not really hold it in, because at some point my grandma noticed I was crying. Rather intensely. She pointed it out, and my dad stopped ranting, seeing how much it was hurting me. It's a moment I relive very often, and it makes my eyes water. I wanted to implode into a black hole. Or vanish into thin air. Or at the very least run out of the room. But I literally couldn't move my body. I didn't want to make a scene so badly that I just... physically couldn't do anything. It sucked. It really sucked.

I hold no anger or spite or anything. It took me lots and lots of research to properly understand autism, and even then I'm sure there's a lot I still don't know. My dad does not care about autism and thus has likely not heard much about it. Ergo, he didn't know any better than to compare me to someone at a different level of autism. Unfortunately, looking back (and even in the moment), it was a very hurtful rant. It's like saying "you're not depressed, you're not anything like my suicidal friend". Either way, I'm sure he didn't mean any malice. He just didn't know any better. And with my masking I certainly come off like a functional member of society.

All of this is to say, a rather scary seed has been planted in my head. Can I really trust my parents when I tell them theories about myself that I'm a little on the fence about? I had the proof with my suspected autism. Now... what about my gender identity?

I'm gender nonconforming. In English, that means I have doubts about my biological gender. In Anglic, that means I think I might not be female. The "she" and "her" pronouns make me a bit uncomfortable. Being called a "woman" or "lady" do not sound like descriptors for me. When I look into the mirror and think of myself as a female, I start seeing a stranger in the mirror. As if I'm describing someone totally different than me. I feel much more comfortable being called "they". Which led me to the ultimate conclusion: I am a genderfluid nonbinary. Not quite male, not quite female. I'm just... non-gendered. But sometimes I might feel a bit more feminine or masculine at times. The road to discovery was long, and still continues now, but I feel comfortable in asserting I am not comfortable as just being female.

But how on Earth do you say that to the older generations? The only possible people who can understand this would be people in my generation (Gen Z). What the hell does "non binary" mean?? Why is your gender a fluid?? What do I call you??? Yeah. I don't know how to answer those questions without turning people's brains to mush. How do I tell my parents that I'm uncertain of my gender but overall don't want to be referred to as a woman?

That's not the only problem. I think my parents want a daughter. My mother seems to hate men. My dad takes pride in the fact he has a daughter. Not to say I would stop being a daughter, or that I would suddenly become a man. I just... wouldn't primarily consider myself to be either. But how can I possibly explain that to them? I'm nonbinary, I go by they/them, but you can still call me your daughter if you want. Like...?? Am I just trying to mess with people??

I'm worried, too, that it will be the same situation as the autism situation, hence why I brought it up. I'm going to go up to my dad, say "hey, I'm gender nonconforming", and he's going to reply "no you aren't, you come off like a female". At least that's what my anxiety is telling me. At least, in the gender situation, it's more subjective. Gender is subjective, while being autistic is objective and binary; you are or you aren't. But they probably don't really know that. Or don't think of it that way.

 I just wish I had someone to tell any of this to. I want to be out of my shell. I want to be able to hold up a card that says "diagnosed autistic", proving to people that I need to be treated with respect so I don't suffer in every conversation I have. I want to be able to wear they/them pronouns with pride and finally feel like I belong in my own skin. But I doubt anyone in my life will ever accept me until I become the stereotype. I'm not the stereotype. I don't WANT to be the stereotype. I just want to be me, and I want to be accepted.

I don't know if I will ever close this chapter. I can hope.

Until next.