So, I usually write these articles about more "fun" things, but i want to be serious today, and I want to talk about something I'm usually not very public about. As this article goes on, you'll understand why.

I never really fit in growing up. No matter who my friend group was, I never really felt like I belonged in it. Even when my friend group consisted of people who didn't fit into another friend group, I still didn't feel like I fit into that. I saw adolescent psychiatrists in middle school who all concluded that I was "just shy" or my behaviors were "just hormones".

OliviaAM

The summer before my sophomore year of high school, I was home by myself a lot. I used this time to watch "Degrassi: The Next Generation", a show my parents hadn't yet given me permission to watch. It was in reruns during the summer, and I saw an episode about a character named Connor, where in the end it's explained to his friends that he has something called Aspergers Syndrome. The show explained how that meant he had trouble understanding social cues that others without aspergers knew naturally. I started to think that maybe I had some form of that, but I couldn't say anything to my parents because they didn't know I was watching the show.

A few weeks later, I saw yet another adolescent psychiatrist; I was told the reason was "to help me figure out how to do better in school", since my grades tended to slip towards the middle of each school year. I didn't think anything of it. They asked me a lot of questions; I rambled about my crushes and the new system my friend Kristen and I had come up with to categorize types of crushes earlier that summer. They told me to draw a picture while they wrote some stuff down, and so I drew a meme for one of my other friends, not realizing I was about to be asked to explain my drawing and let the psychiatrist keep it. I was a little insecure about that because I had a bit of a twisted sense of humor (my brand of comedy was FilmCow, or as others may know it, the people who made "Charlie the Unicorn"). Other than that, I played Sims in the waiting room on my laptop while my parents talked to doctors for a while. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

OliviaAM

When I got back to school, I was given a "504 Plan" which essentially allowed me to have some extra help with tests and homework assignments. That's all I was told was a result of the tests, until sometime in November. Now, sophomore year was the hardest year of high school for me. By this point, I had already been inexplicably shut out from the friend group I thought I was going to join at the beginning of the year, and never felt secure in my social interactions with anyone because of rumors that were going around about me that I wasn't sure who was in on. I pretty much hung out with one friend at school, in the computer lab at lunch, and I had another childhood friend I talked to in gym class.

What happened in November was, one night my mom was watching a movie about a man with aspergers (I don't remember what movie). At some point during the movie, I remembered that was the thing I heard about on "Degrassi" and decided to ask my mom if she thought I had something like that. She said no, and some other explanation that I don't remember, and so I shrugged it off until the next day when both my parents called a "family meeting" where they revealed that the psychiatric tests I took over the summer revealed that I had aspergers syndrome after all. They also said it fell under the category of "autism spectrum disorder". They assured me I was "high functioning", though.

Now, as a sophomore in high school, I had quite a bit of experience with going to school alongside "special education" students. Let's see, in middle school, my friend and I mocked and dramatically avoided a nonverbal autistic girl because we had absolutely no idea how to interact with her (and probably vice versa) and she would creep us out when she just stared at us from afar and occasionally tried to interact with us. I had heard a large handful of people mock "the ret*rded kids" when we saw a group of them pass by from "the special classroom". Sometimes a kid would randomly start screaming in the middle of class (and we could hear them from the "special classroom" several buildings away) and we'd make fun of that. So, learning that I was in that category really didn't do much to ease my insecurity.

OliviaAM

I was very selective about who I told, because I didn't want anyone to know aside from my close friends who I interacted with regularly. One of my friends from childhood mentioned that her mother always thought there was "something wrong with me" based on how I interacted with others, but wasn't sure how to tell my parents. A few months later, my parents wanted me to get an IEP plan (because the teachers hardly honored the 504 plan and an IEP was more binding), so I had to go to "the special classroom" several times in the middle of my other classes to get tested into the school's "special education" program. I also met with a psychiatrist outside of school (who to this day has had more positive impact on me than any other doctor I met with, so shoutout to her). At one point during my spring break, I shadowed a school specifically for autistic kids, but my parents and the staff agreed that I was "too high functioning" for that program.

It wasn't until the summer that I really felt the weight of navigating the world with minimal knowledge of social cues. The summer after sophomore year is something I will never get into in one of these posts (in detail, anyway) because so many different things were negatively affecting me in so many different ways, and it's impossible for me to form a concise, coherent thought on the whole subject.

All I'll say is, my mom told another adult without my consent (which I would have approved once I understood the reasoning), we told another person from my theater camp, hoping that it would help them understand why I acted the way I did sometimes, but the more I look back on it, the more I feel like knowing that made me less of a person in their eyes, lessened the credibility of my personal thoughts and feelings, and basically made me one of "the ret*rded kids" in their eyes. I made the mistake of telling my best friend at the time, and she took that as permission to tell anyone else she wanted to. I had my suspicions that she might have had some form of autism as well, but I knew it was not my place to suggest that, so I never did and will keep her identity out of here even though we're not friends anymore. After theater camp, my mother told me I wasn't allowed to tell anyone else. For the most part, I listened, wanting to reduce the amount of drama and stigma in my life.

OliviaAM

Before I knew why I was so socially awkward, I just kind of felt out of place sometimes. But knowing made me self-aware of my lack of social knowledge, which was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because I could say (at least to myself) "I don't understand this social cue and it's not my fault, I just need to learn it", and a curse because there was definitely a weight to be felt with that. When junior year started up, because of my IEP I was forced to take a class called "social cognition". Not only did that class conflict with the elective I'd wanted to take since I was in elementary school, but I was terrified that people would see me going into "the special classroom" every sixth period.

My homeroom for the year was with that teacher, and the homeroom was geared towards students with learning or social disabilities. I was assured that I was one of the "more high functioning" kids in the class, but that meant nothing to me once it occurred to me that if anyone knew I was in this class, I'd be associated with the other students in that class, who (upon initially meeting them) were "the weird kids". (That being said, I did learn to respect and even befriend them over the course of the first semester in that class, although some of them did still freak me out with their unpredictable outbursts).

Senior year, I was more comfortable in the class, and even showed up one day wearing (as a joke) every type of clothing we discussed in the previous class meeting that people would probably be socially judged for wearing.OliviaAM

I was afraid of people knowing this about me, and still am a lot of the time, because there is a stigma. There has always been a stigma. There's less of a stigma now than there was before, but I still fear that I'll be seen as less of a person once people know this about me. I'll be less qualified for certain jobs, my opinions won't be as valuable, some people will see me as "one of the ret*rded students", and other fears of the like. I've said to certain friends that it was easier to come out as bisexual than it is to tell people I have a form of autism, because while both come with a stigma and the judgment of some groups of people, I'm far less afraid of the stigma and judgment those in the LGBT community face. I'm not saying that's a good thing, I'm just saying it's how I feel.

That being said, I have had positive experiences in sharing this with close friends. About halfway through junior year, I told my friends from drama class. It was the first time I'd told anyone since theater camp, and the way they reacted was everything I could have hoped for. They made me feel okay about myself, and like I didn't have to be extra careful when interacting with them. It was kind of freeing, like, if I did something socially awkward, instead of looking at me like I'm crazy, they'd let me know in a loving way and help me learn and improve my social skills. It's my favorite "telling someone I have autism" memory.

I've also made a lot of great friends on social media over the years, who understand that autism in any form doesn't make someone less of a person, and doesn't make their ideas less valuable. I've even made friends in the community who I can share struggles with, as well as jokes, like "God had to give me aspergers because if I could effortlessly understand social cues, I'd be far too powerful".

Because there is still that stigma, however, I want to do my part in lifting it, which is why I'm sharing my story today. I also encourage you to check out the Autism Self Advocacy Network. I know the most popular organization is Autism Speaks, but that organization is actually harmful to those with autism, and so the community recommends ASAN instead. If we work together, we can end those harmful stigmas that made me and I'm sure many others so insecure about who they are.