Unmasking

There I was, in my thirties, letting myself act childish. Now, not in the bratty sort of why, just allowing myself to do things stereotypically reserved for children. I was carrying stuffed animals around in public, dancing when the movement hit me, making noise and existing in ways that made people stare. I broke their norm, and for once in my life, I didn’t care. I mean, to be truthful, I noticed the staring but it didn’t knock the wind out of me. Sometimes I even felt vocal enough to ask them not to stare. Often they would just pretend they weren’t staring, but some would scoff and there were even those who got defensive about it. It wasn’t my problem anymore. If asking for human decency was offensive to people, they weren’t worth my time after all. I was tired of explaining my brain didn't work like them, as if I were a completely different operating system, using unfamiliar & hard to find parts.

I had found a thousand and one metaphors for being autistic, and none of them helped stubborn people learn what they didn't actually want to. I couldn't make people retain information about autism if they weren't willing to in the first place. They had to open their minds to me lowering the mask and revealing my true face. There were a special few who watched me lower my mask and cradled my naked face in understanding, and there were those who ran away in fear. I was my own Phantom of the Opera, but I wasn't going to force anyone to love me. I was worth more than that. It took me decades to understand it, but I hung up the mask I wore and finally hung it high enough that I can't reach it to keep it on.

I began to tell myself that those who stared and whispered were mere seconds in the clock of my life. I needed to stop giving these small moments of judegment and negativity more time than they deserved. I was allowed to enjoy myself, to move my body in whatever way was comfortable, whatever way helped me release various emotions, sensations and energies. I was allowed to take up the same space as others even if I wasn't deemed normal. There are people who live their life in blissful ignorance, unaware and not knowing anyone autistic. There are people who only see very limited, stereotyped portrayals of autism in media. There are people who only know an autistic child and forget those children grow up to be autistic adults. There were so many scenarios, and it wasn't my job to educate any of them. It was time for me to use my time on myself and my own comfort and wellbeing. Everytime I turned down an invitation to go out when I didn't have the social energy. Everytime I allowed myself to just rest instead of forcing myself to stay awake and on guard. Everytime I used my phone or ASL to let someone know I wasn't verbal at the moment. Every day I continued on, unapologetically autistic.

Doors opened and closed for me at the very same time. I would heard the slam of one as light would leak in from a new one opening. In being open and honest with my needs, there were people who were willing to help hold open doors for me too. There were places that weren't truly accessible for me that I mourned, but I found things to do to replace those places. My safety was the most important. I didn't need to force myself to be normal in places that didn't accept me for who I was. There were places that were made for me and others like me. I was finally finding where I belong.