No More Breadcrumbs: I Think I'm Autistic

Capturing the in-between of knowing and doubting. Not feeling ready to share and doing it anyway; connection > fear.

I’ve had five versions of this piece in my draft folder for months, waiting for me to find a way to wrap it all up neatly with a pretty little bow on top.

That’s never going to happen, is it?

And if it were, would it be better? Cleaner and clearer, maybe; and also a bit more safe. I think that ship has sailed (see my last post), so might as well start with what I’ve got. I don’t know if it makes a better piece of writing, but I hope it makes for an authentic one.

Apparently, I like to write in three parts. Part 1 was a breadcrumb, a teaser. In part 2, I said it explicitly. Today, in part 3, I hope to show the in-between of knowing and doubting; the uncertainty I’ve been carrying with me for over a year, every day; the question that has been on my mind every single day. Deep down, I know. And yet, it feels uncertain often and I have to remind myself to trust what I know.

If you find yourself in this in-between, I see you. I know from many hours spent on Reddit at 2 am that I’m not alone in this.

Breadcrumbs

I wonder how many of you reading Purposeful Connection have noticed the breadcrumbs, the hints, the references. I’m genuinely curious, were you surprised for the word autistic to show up here?

Why do we drop hints? Because we’re afraid to say it out loud? Because we’re not sure how the other person is going to react? Or because you don’t have it all sorted out perfectly in your mind? trust yourself and are waiting for someone else to see it first, not to confirm, but to notice it?

And so you leave hints, breadcrumbs, on edge, waiting for others to pick them up, to see you, to know you, to invite you to open up, to share, to be you, fully you.

Photo by Pierre Bamin on Unsplash

Fuck leaving breadcrumbs.

I am done with breadcrumbs.

Shapeshifting

I’ve pretended to be someone else for so much of my life; not consciously, at least not always. And now that I know, the conscious choice to pull on my mask is heavy. Catching yourself putting on the mask in the moment it is different from wondering later why you’re always so fucking exhausted after social interactions, playing back every part of the conversation, and practicing, in your mind, for the next one. Both options come at a price¹, but in meaningful interactions, holding this piece back is a missed opportunity for connection - for both of us.

When I put on one of my masks, I am a version of myself, a carefully crafted persona, able to adjust based on the circumstances and people around me; like a shapeshifter, though not without glitches. She looks like she walks through life with ease, most of the time. It’s exhausting though; and now that I know, I don’t always like her. When I hide from myself, hide myself, shapeshift into her, it feels like betrayal.

So here it goes.

I think I am Autistic.
I am Autistic?
I believe I am autistic.
I think I might be Autistic.
I feel I am autistic?

Editing will show which one I end up with.²

I’d like to be able to say I am Autistic and I am pretty sure I’ll get there one day.

What if I’m wrong?

What am I so afraid of?

The ADHD part, in the end, felt so easy to say; boring, even. The hardest thing about it was what I left unsaid, this piece, feeling like I’m telling half truths, and therefore lies, carefully crafting my language to leave room for there to be more than ADHD.

I’m afraid of being misunderstood; of being rejected; of eye rolls behind my back.

I’m afraid of questions I won’t have an answer to; of a debate.

I’m afraid of judgment. The stigma with ADHD is real, Autism is a different ball game. (Check yourself - and be honest. What is your initial reaction? Who do you picture? Yup.)

I’m afraid it will impact future employment opportunities.³

I’m afraid I’m just claiming belonging to a group in which I don’t actually belong. I’m afraid to take up space in a group that isn’t for me.

Most of all, I’m afraid of being wrong; of saying things out loud and then realizing I was completely wrong; of sounding foolish.

Well, what if I’m wrong?

Yeah; what if?

First of all I think that’s a cop out. I don’t actually think that I am wrong. Neither does my Autistic + ADHD therapist whom I chose to work with specifically to answer this one question.

And if I was, I would be okay. And maybe you’re finding yourself in this exact same moment, questioning, wondering, doubting, and we can be in this moment together. I find that thought comforting, do you?

Who knows, maybe I will regret this one day, but I think the opposite is true: If I don’t say it now, I will regret not saying it sooner.

So I’m going to stick with I think⁴ I am Autistic for today; Autistic and ADHD that is; commonly referred to as AuDHD.

---

I’m here if this resonated and you’d like to connect - reply to this email or send me a message in the Substack app. If you know anyone who might need to read this today, please consider passing it along.

1. and let’s not forget, it’s a privilege to have the choice to put on a mask or to take some or all layers off!

2. or not.

3. I am very conscious of the fact that I have stopped sharing these pieces on LinkedIn.

4. Thank you Freddie Mercury for reminding us that we don’t owe anyone an explanation or statement about who we are.