Toto, I've a feeling we aren't in Kansas anymore.🌈

    Your whole life, you grow up thinking you're normal. You are just like everyone else wandering through this crazy thing we call life. Everyone is experiencing the same struggles and experiences as you. Until you realize...that's not entirely true. 

    I've struggled with being misunderstood my whole life. I wanted to be like everyone else and never quite fit in. I had friends, a great childhood, a good job right out of high school, got my driver's license, had an amazing partner, and moved into our first apartment. Everything seemed normal and on track. Why would anything feel off? 

    Our brains are a crazy maze of curiosity. There's so much depth to who a person is that sometimes that person doesn't truly understand who they are. 

    In childhood, I was always a shy, rule follower. I never got in trouble, and if I did, I would cry. Not to get out of trouble or manipulate the situation. It was a natural anxiety response to breaking those rules and being confused. At that time, I wouldn't have learned what anxiety was yet, so I was just a sensitive child. I was affectionately nicknamed crocodile tears.

    "Crocodile tears" proceeded to follow me throughout adulthood and would present itself in many moments that led to embarrassment, self-frustration, and confusion. I eventually learned to deeply hate confrontation, small talk, and expressing my feelings. Even work meetings and job interviews would cause me extreme anxiety. I hated the unexpected, and the result of that would be to just start crying. The past 3 years, I've just learned to expect it and not fight it. I knew there was nothing I could do about it and decided to embrace it. I would learn to start meetings with people who didn't know me by telling them that I would probably be crying in the meeting because that's just who I was. It affected me so much that I had a rehearsed explanation to explain this uncomfortable, weird side of me that I never understood.

  

I was always shy and quiet as a child/teenager. I just liked to sit back and observe. But to society, that seemed wrong. A sarcastic phrase I learned to hate was, "You talk too much." or something to that effect. I didn't understand that I was supposed to be talking, and it truly confused me. If I don't have anything to say, why would I talk?

    I was also a very picky eater as a kid. I only ate certain things and had a hard time when I felt I had to eat something I didn't want to or didn't like. Even today, I experience sensitivities to certain noises, smells, foods and even clothes. Hugging as well makes me uncomfortable, dependent on who you are. I would always say that I had a bubble, which I thought everyone experienced too.

   Fast forward to jr high & and high school. I never really had any friends. I wasn't social, I was awkward, and I clinged onto anyone who would be my friend. I did always have one best friend, whom I could trust, and then usually just became friends with their friends to fit in. I always got along with the boys better. They seemed a lot easier to befriend and understand. Girls were catty and manipulative. I learned this the hard way once I hit high school, and my trust in female friendships was broken. Yeah, I would talk to other girls and feel like I needed to be friends with them because I was a girl and that was normal, but it never felt natural. It felt forced, minus who I could truly trust.

Tail end of high school, I found a group of older friends, which I am lucky enough to still be friends with a few of them today. More guys than girls of course. This became my party phase. I was introduced to social parties and alcohol. It was the cool thing to do, and I felt a sense of ease. I've always been socially awkward, and these parties allowed me to loosen up. I didn't feel like I would embarrass myself around other drunk people because they became just as embarrassing. 

    Now that I had this new freedom, I clung to it. I relied on alcohol to help me socially through the years. I'm not saying I was a day drinker or alcoholic, but I knew that if I was going to be in a social situation or an anxiety ridden situation, a shot or 2 would help me through it and appear "normal". I started to like what others liked. I started taking their mannerisms as my own. I realized that if I was sassy and tomboyish, people liked me more. I had a quirk to myself that people actually enjoyed. And I clung onto that like there was no tomorrow. Sassy and tough became my identity.

    Life was great and manageable up until 2018. In 2018, my anxiety started to spike. I started to become more of a home body. I realized I "couldn't" have fun without alcohol and a lot of my friendships were built off of that. I struggled to manage those friendships on a deep level because I only learned to be social when we are all drinking. I didn't know which friendships were pure anymore. I started to feel like an empty shell with a lack of emotion. A robot you could say. Over the years, I would drink on the weekend to relax and wind down, but because I knew it made me feel normal, I would have one to many drinks and get sick or black out. I had a problem, and I knew it, but it's the only time I truly felt free. I started to get anxiety in my own home and would avoid anything social. My husband would have friends over or family over, and I couldn't handle it. I would lock myself in the room until they were gone, using the excuse that I was sick or had a migraine. If I heard someone in the living room, I would stay in my room pretending I was invisible, while listening intensely until they were gone. Because small talk and socializing spiked my anxiety. It was almost crippling. My husband was the only person I felt I could be "myself" around. He gave me a sense of security and safety that I desperately needed. 

    My mental health got worse in 2019. My safe home world changed when we had a troubled family member move in. I found myself on edge all the time, anxious all the time, depressed. Something was wrong with me, and I finally reached out for medical support. I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression. This would continue to riddle me for the next few years. On top of this, my job at the nursery was uplifted and relocated all while covid was taking over the world...I became a hermit...much like the rest of humanity. Again, this has to be normal, because everyone feels this way. My drinking and eating habits spiked between 2018 and 2022. It was the only thing that made me feel somewhat relaxed and comforted. As my body and mind had become something I no longer recognized.

   Work was its own anxiety. I have always been a very blunt, straight forward individual. I rely on facts rather than emotion. I started to be perceived as a bitch, rude, unenthusiastic or defiant. Once, while working at the zoo, a customer called me the girl with angry eyes. This comment stuck with me for life. It confused me so much because I always tried my best to sound nice and happy. But my face and tone tend to have other ideas. People always ask me what's wrong, are you mad, why aren't you happy, you haven't been happy for a long time. I'd reply confused. "I'm great actually." but no one believed me.  I started to just call it my resting bitch face or stone face, because I didn't know how else to explain my lack of facial expressions. If I avoided eye contact while passing someone in the hall. they would think I didn't like them.

    Working in customer service and having to put on a social, "happy" face really drained me. After 8 years of Guest Services at the zoo, I couldn't do it anymore. I always said, the true animals at the zoo are humans. Because they were so confusing and very mean at times. I started volunteering at the Kitten Nursery with Best Friends Animal Society to help me avoid human interaction. I just wanted to be with animals, who I never had to explain myself to. I never left feeling confused or over analyzing what I did wrong. They brought me a sense of peace I didn't know I was missing. And it was something I was truly good at. I've always been the animal whisper in my family and loved cats from day 1. I loved the Kitten Nursery so incredibly much that I constantly asked them if they were hiring. I was so burnt out on humans and felt like I truly found my calling. I eventually got the job and felt like I was home. It became my sanctuary. But even though it was my dream job and calling, I still came home drained and never wanted to do anything. I would eventually learn why this was later in life.

    Finding my identity was difficult growing up, as I always wanted to fit in. It wasn't until a few years ago in my adulthood, that I truly found my own interests. I started dying my hair fun colors. I loved Halloween, I loved all things dark and unnatural. I eventually took on the witchy goth girl identity. I finally felt like myself.  I became obsessed with anything black. I started decorating our home in all things spooky year-round. I got into crystals and oddity items. I found happiness that I didn't realize I was missing. And it was all because I stopped caring what other people thought. I also realized with this persona, no one would question my lack of socializing, facial expressions and enthusiasm. Because goth girls were weird and misunderstood anyway. I also found books that were about the Disney villains and their side of the story, explaining that they are just misunderstood and perceived to be villains by society. I loved the story of Wicked because the wicked witch from wizard of oz was actually just a misunderstood individual named Elphaba. I never felt more connected to anything in my life. People judge a book by its cover but lack the ability to dig a litter deeper to truly understand who someone is. I used the term, misunderstood as my badge of honor almost. It was the easiest way to "explain" myself to others.

    Work really started getting my wheels turning about learning my personality. They had us take what is called DISC assessments, so we could see where everyone's personality landed on the scale to help us better understand not only ourselves but other coworkers. My results validated how I felt out of place. Everyone was gathered towards the bottom of the wheel, and I was off in my own land at the towards the top of the wheel. I was classified as a High C personality type. 

                                         

Copied from Discinsights.com this means:

 "C personalities think analytically and systematically, and carefully make decisions with plenty of research and information to back it up.

The C DISC style is perfectionistic and has very high standards for both them and others. Because they focus on the details and see what many other styles do not, they tend to be good problem solvers and very creative people. The C personality type is one of the passive styles, which results in avoiding conflict. They will avoid conflict rather than argue, and it isn't easy to get them to verbalize their feelings. They need clear-cut boundaries to feel comfortable at work, in relationships, or to take action. Sometimes the C can be bound by procedures and methods and find it difficult to stray from order. Sometimes they can get too bogged down in the small details, making it difficult to see the next steps or big picture."

    This assessment was an eye opener for accepting and understanding my personality and validated me to be more open and expressive to others, so I didn't feel so misunderstood, which had become my new favorite word.

Little did I know, it ran a lot deeper than that...

    About a year and a half ago at a family dinner, I overheard my brother ask my mom, if she thought that my sister and I had autism, like him. My mom shrugged and said maybe. I immediately got defensive in my head and said no way. I don't have anything wrong with me. As time went on i forgot about this comment. Fast forward to 1 year ago. Our house mate introduced us to a new show called Young Sheldon. As we continued to watch it, I got obsessed. Some of the quirks he had, I found I could relate too. Not to the same extreme but small similarities. I eventually binged the show and found myself in a confusing state of mind. Am I like Sheldon? I quickly ignored it and proceeded with my daily life. Nothing's wrong with me. I am normal.

A month ago, I was scrolling through Instagram, and a reel came up from an autistic individual that shared an experience they had. It hit me like a ton of bricks, because I could relate so much. I began to continue looking at reels about autism and it took me down a rabbit hole. Most of them, I found myself relating to on a high level. Am I autistic? Is that why I've always felt misunderstood? Alot of feelings came with this. Fear, anxiety, relief, confusion, validation. Imagine being someone with my personality type, who always needs to know the facts and why's about something to better understand it, only to not know the why's of yourself and who you are your entire life. It's devastating. The way I explained it to my husband, was that it felt like the scene in Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy and Toto walk through the black and white door and enter colorful technicolor Munckinland (thus, the title of this blog entry). Or imagining my brain was a bowl of popcorn kernels. Dormant, boring, still. But with every realization, a kernel would pop and eventually my brain had popcorn popping everywhere.

    I decided to start looking into it, because I had never felt more understood in my life. I started looking into phycologists so I could be diagnosed. That's all I wanted was validation. I was scared if I started self-diagnosing, people wouldn't believe me and think I'm crazy because I've been "normal" my whole life or I'm too pretty to have autism because of autistic stereotypes our society has made us believe. Autism has always been around; it's just been overlooked or misdiagnosed. Even in the past, people were deemed as the weird, quirky people. And some of these people were successful scientists, kings/queens or actors. In the past century, people have been misdiagnosed as schizophrenic or been labeled with other disabilities. Sometimes it went as far as labeling the person as being possessed by the devil. 

    After doing research, I discovered it is so hard to be diagnosed, so a lot of people have no choice but to self-diagnose, especially women. Many places I called either had no phycologist who specialized in autism diagnosis, they had a wait period of 18 months, or they only help adolescents. What am I supposed to do with this new knowledge? Am I just alone? Should I keep it to myself? No. That's not healthy. I needed support in this scary discovery.

    When it comes to therapists, I've always felt like I needed them to be female, because they would understand me better because we are both girls. But those experiences never felt natural for me. So, I decided to look for a male therapist. I found a therapist that specializes in adult autism, and it has been so validating and liberating, even with only 2 sessions under my belt. I've felt understood and can read him better than any female therapist I've had in the past. I also started reading a book called Unmasking Autism and so many things clicked. 

    I started obsessively following autistic Instagram pages to better understand myself with their similar stories. I felt seen and understood for the first time in my entire 35 years of existence. I realized that my whole life; I learned to mask in order to fit in because the quirks about me were different and weird. I would be considered a high functioning autistic. And I 100% blame society for this. It taught me that being different is not OK, rather than celebrating who I am as a person. If you tell someone you think your autistic, it's taboo. Or they invalidate your lifelong feelings, experiences and emotions by saying, "I think everyone is a little autistic." They tell you because you had a good childhood you didn't experience trauma. Even

though your whole social life growing up caused you unknown trauma.

 

   I think my biggest realization with this whole process was that there is nothing wrong with me. I am just unique and my own person. My brain is just wired different than other people and I can see things they cannot. I can relate it to the following things: left-handed vs right-handed. iPhone vs Android. Straight hair vs curly hair. It may look different but whole picture, it's the same thing: Writing ability, phones, hair. But unfortunately, society forced me to hide or ignore who I truly was, and my mental health needs were overlooked.

    This past 2 months has been so liberating and freeing. I'm learning to listen to by body and what it's trying to tell me. I've started to understand my needs as an autistic human. I've felt more relaxed and happier than I have in almost a decade. I feel free. My "weirdness" is coming out more organically and that's ok! I am so excited for this new journey and can honestly say, I am proud to be an autistic person.

    It doesn't make me any less of a person than you. It doesn't deem me incapable of succeeding. In the contrary, it makes me exceptional. I am very successful and good at my job and even am relied on to train new employees or help problem solve where others struggle. I'm good at multitasking. Im always thinking 1 step ahead. I am creative. I am funny. I have a good visual memory. I'm unique. Yes, I may have a harder time picking up social cues, learning new things, accepting things without details or processing emotions like a neurotypical person. But I make up for it in so many other ways. 

To sum it up, these are some things I have learned about myself:

💖That my embarrassing crying is my body helping regulate me when emotions are high or I'm overstimulated.

🧡 My anxiety and depression spiked in 2018 when my "routines" I depended on to regulate were uplifted at home and at work by unpredictability. 

💛 I was picky as a kid because change made me uncomfortable.

💚 I had a hard time making friends and developed social anxiety because I struggled to fit in.

💙 I was quiet and observant because I truly didn't have anything to say, or I was trying to study human interaction.

💜As fun as social gatherings are in the moment, they drain me, and I need to recharge afterwards to stay regulated and happy. 

🧩 I don't pick up on subtext easily. If someone say something that has further meaning or assumption beyond the words coming out of their mouth, I may miss it.

👄I overcommunicate because it is essentially a trauma response from me having to work harder my whole life to be understood due to my lack of social skills.

👽 I didn't appear autistic my whole life because I was masking to fit social norms to survive. And I want to emphasize the word SURVIVE. 

The biggest take away from this for you readers who know me is this: Please don't treat me like a delicate flower now that you know. Don't look at me different. Don't make assumptions of how I feel based on my lack of: social skills, facial expressions and enthusiasm. Give me grace and guidance as I've needed my entire life. Try to understand me as I've tried to understand you MY entire life. But remember, I am still the same person you've always known. This newly found version of me is just in technicolor now. 🌈

If you are struggling with mental health, please reach out for support. It's scary at first, because we are trained to think our feelings and experiences are negative and are just problems. But it's what makes you you and therapy/support can help you love yourself when you never felt you could. ❤️