A 58 year old psychologist finds out she is Autistic

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Almost two weeks ago, someone challenged a fundamental assumption I’d held about myself. This revelation has upended my world. Suddenly I feel wobbly, tentative, and not quite sure who I am.

As a licensed psychologist with over twenty years of clinical experience, I’ve considered myself an expert on matters of the psyche and personality.

My scope of knowledge includes myself. I’m an avid believer in the power of therapy and have seen my fair share of specialists over the years. If a few weeks ago, you’d asked me if I think I know myself, I would have answered affirmatively and then described me as a “sensitive extroverted introvert.”

But two weeks ago, I saw a therapist I hadn’t seen in a while. She challenged my self-definition with something so stunning that I’ve done nothing for over a week except to try and take it in, to make sense of this piece of information.

I think I’m ready to share it now.

I’m autistic.

There. I said it.

Those two words have both transformed my reality and, at the same time, have scared the living sh*t out of me.

What does it exactly mean to be autistic?

I thought I knew. When I hear that diagnosis, I imagine a young boy lost in his own world. He’s sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, spinning plates. He grunts and screams if anyone interferes with his repetitive play or tries to move him to another activity.

That’s what comes to my mind when I hear the word autism. I’d never imagined that someone like me — a formerly married psychologist with three grown sons — would be on the autistic spectrum.

had no idea I was autistic. None.

This diagnosis has come as a complete shock. One of my sons was diagnosed in his early twenties, and I suspect my father, an odd man, was on the spectrum. I never considered that this genetic condition might not have skipped me.

Two weeks ago, I saw an old therapist — someone I’d seen before. As we caught up, she stopped me and asked if I’d ever wondered if I might be neuroatypical. Stunned by her proposal, I emphatically said, “No, I’ve looked at the autism screening assessments (most based on stereotypical male symptoms). They clearly don’t fit me.”

She cocked her head, blinked, and then asked, “You sure about that?”

I stared back at her, speechless. I knew she was telling me something important, but she wasn’t going to push me. For two days, I did nothing. No research, nothing.

Slowly, I found the courage to turn to the Internet and research online the characteristics of adult women with autism. Two articles, in particular, caught my eye.

Females and Aspergers: A checklist

Samantha Craft, author of Everyday Aspergers, has created an unofficial checklist for females on the autism spectrum.

Aspienwomen: Moving towards an adult female profile of Autism/Asperger Syndrome

As I moved down each checklist, I was shocked.

Numbers have a personality for me. I like even numbers better, especially even years, although 2020 has let me down. I had high hopes for this gorgeous, even, round number.
Social chitchat confuses and bores me.
Too much noise or too much silence gives me a horrible headache, and I hate eating food that pops in my mouth, like peas or kernels of corn.
I struggle to fit in with groups, especially groups of women, who need a lot of solitude, and social events wear me out. I get a severe hangover, to the point where even my skin hurts for hours, from pushing myself too hard.
Looking at some people directly physically hurts. I can hardly bear to do it.
I much prefer texting to phone calls. And video chatting someone new takes a lot of courage and determination for me to tolerate.
I love to listen to the same song repetitively and eat the same thing for days or even weeks.

I haven’t quite known what to think. On the one hand, I’m afraid some people will see it as a convenient excuse to disregard their abusiveness. Now there’s a reason for our relationship problems. One more time, they’ll make it out to be my fault.

On the other hand, learning about this new dimension of myself feels in some ways like I've just taken off a corset that has been cinched so tight I've been barely able to breathe. For the first time in a long time, I feel a little more permission to be me — uniquely and wonderfully different.

Maybe I’m not rude when I’m the first person to leave a party. Maybe showing up was a more significant gift of myself than most people realize, and I’m showing self-respect by leaving.

Maybe taking time out of each day for solitude is a critical part of good self-care. Perhaps I don’t have to make myself do all those things that scare or intimidate me.

This diagnosis has got me reconsidering my life. It’s put how I do things from a different perspective. I’ve worked so hard to be normal. To fit in and be like everyone else. Little did I know I have been overextending myself, like a car operating in low gear all the time.

Processing this new diagnosis of autism has challenged all my assumptions about myself.

But it has also done something else. It’s demolished my previous understanding of autism. One more time, I see how narrow-minded and prejudiced I’ve been about a select group of people. This time, it was about neuroatypical people, instead of LGBTQ people or those of a different religion, ethnicity, or race.

I’m starting to realize that a whole gamut of individuals is on this spectrum. They are a creative, dynamic, engaging, and functional group of people. Autism is a much more complex condition than I’ve ever imagined. Discovering I’m a member of this group has been a game-changer.

Introspection and self-awareness. Many women spend years trying to understand themselves, reading self-help and psychology books and wonder why they feel so different, from another planet or that the “Mothership has dropped me off on the wrong planet”.

My Son’s Diagnosis of Autism

That diagnosis has blown my view of autism apart. I have since learned there are many manifestations. Not every autistic person struggles to make eye contact or avoids touch. This condition exists on a spectrum that affects broad categories of language and communication skills, sensory input, movement, and social interactions. Each autistic person has a unique presentation of the symptoms.

I think of all the specialists who have assessed D. over the years, each failing to see his disability: the pre-primary developmental school psychologist, his pediatrician, the pediatric orthopedic surgeon, his teachers, his speech therapist, and then me. We all made the same error of assuming that because D. seemed to be doing okay that he was — the problem of ableism. We failed to see his hidden struggle with social adjustment, difficulties with organizing himself, and his battle with severe social anxiety.

People are no longer diagnosed as high or low-functioning autistic for this very reason. Autism is a huge umbrella of people. Many do not fit our stereotypical view. We miss the individual’s needs and strengths when we see them from this narrow lens.

Thank you for this post. I am a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist. I was in the military for 26 years and I think I am high functioning autistic. I looked at the checklist that you used and found that indeed I match a good 95% of the items. I find that I can identify with my autistic clients and even though I work with NT clients effectively.
My grandmother was probably high functioning autistic based on her characteristics as she was considered odd, loved detective magazines and work the same type of clothes but different colors all her life.

There needs to be more exact ways to identify high functioning autism in women. I should have realized sooner but it was never a question.