The Autistic Experience

It started since childhood but not understood till adulthood. I was always different but never had a name for it. I struggled with blasphemous thoughts. I had to count every step I took, I had to wash my hands dry. My fingers bled as I was compelled to bite them. I bled my jaws and as ulcers sored in my mouth, I crushed my teeth till they fell and broke. I would avoid my pencils, the geometry tools, needles, and knives because I would have the urge to pierce my eyeballs. I would look at breasts of women because I was compelled to. I had no attraction, and I was too smart to say the devil made me do it. The overwriting of alphabets and pressure of my pen as it tore the pages and I had to start my exam all over again. The compulsion to read the same sentence and look at it from all angles with twisting of neck from all directions until I saw floaters in my eyes, sometimes till later. The need to check if everything was locked, make sure tasks were completed in numerals of 3. Offering prayers and repeating till I got them right. Stuck in prostration crying to God but unable to stop because odd numbers were hard. The thoughts, images, and visions of things repulsive. Eating noodles seeing blood and earth worms. Having physical contact with a stranger and explaining to them why I touched them with both hands. Having to squeeze the outside of my eyeballs because of disorientation caused by light and excessive visions of things going inside. Slamming my wrists on the laptop till it crashed. Crashing my car because I had to turn it left. Not holding children because of obsessive thoughts to drop them. Head banging till someone stopped me. Slapping myself, pulling my hair and pinching myself so I would break the cycle. But the loop would perpetuate, and I travelled from one repetitive ritual to another.

My struggles were my own and the suffering I endured alone. With no understanding, pain, thoughts of wanting to end my life sometimes obsessional but mostly suicidal, I continued until my vocal tics started. The bullying, punishments, fights because it was either a “crazy bitch, a disrespectful student, or a taunting pig”. The teachers did not understand, parents were disappointed and siblings told me to “fuck off”. The trauma continued and I with no explanation went deeper into shame. My first step to understanding myself began with my psychiatrist who without explaining gave me medications. I was forced to take them because in words of my dad “a problem has been identified and it needs to be rectified”. I was so ashamed and like everyone in my culture I struggled to accept. I continued to go to a psychologist the year after and a beautiful relation blossomed. They helped me understand myself and I gained some understanding. But change as always was forced on to me and I had to see another clinician and this time a psychiatrist. One after the other. My tics continued as did my traumas. Depression my most recurring friend embraced me, and my weight only worsened further.

For the longest time my diagnosis was not confirmed or explained to me, and I felt like an imposter. But without a clinician diagnosing me I had no relief. I was in continuous doubt of something that I experienced daily. 10 medications and 5 psychotherapies later I was “stabilized” on a mixture of three medications. I struggled with the weight gain, had relapses, was bullied, and felt shame. 6 years after formally being diagnosed my tics were managed and my OCD controlled. 24 years of silently suffering and I still did not understand myself completely. Even when I understood my diagnosis, it did not explain 70 percent of my experience. I was 28 when I was diagnosed with Autism and ADHD. I understood why I struggled with stereotypic behaviors, broke down every time there was a change, never understood other’s true intentions, felt as if I experienced humanity from outside the lens, felt disconnected, experienced sensory overstimulation and despite having intelligence was told I had no filter, I did not know when to shut up, was stupid and did not understand social rules.

All my experiences without an understanding for 28 years of suffering. My experiences have not changed but knowing myself has set me free. A spark of acceptance and compassion for myself has started in my heart thanks to my therapist. It was no prophet that saved me but my clinicians.