I wrote this in hopes that it can be a resource for others, when they may not have the right words to say. I’ve been there, and am honestly there so often that I think this could help. Much love <3
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It’s funny how often people confuse passion with anger, especially when you’re autistic. My intensity, my frustration, my inability to let go of certain things… they’re not just random explosions of rage. They’re the result of living in a world that demands I conform to its norms while refusing to meet me halfway. And yet, no matter how much I explain, people still think they know how to handle me. They think they’re helping when, in reality, they’re just making things worse.
What people don’t realize is how their reactions trigger a flight-or-fight response in me. When someone dismisses my boundaries or invalidates my experiences, it’s like my brain goes into overdrive. The world becomes too loud, too overwhelming, and I feel cornered. My body reacts instinctively, as if I’m under threat, even though the danger isn’t physical. It’s the emotional exhaustion of constantly having to defend myself, to explain who I am, and to justify why their “help” is actually hurting me, even when I do need help, just not in that way.
Sometimes, people think I’m ignoring them out of spite. But the truth is, I’m so deeply focused on whatever I’m doing that I genuinely can’t break away. If you ask me later, I can probably repeat exactly what you said, word for word. At the same time, there’s a limit to what I can handle. If you say the same thing too many times, my brain struggles to process it, and my executive dysfunction kicks in, making me forget entirely. It’s not intentional, but it’s part of the challenge I live with. Some days, the balancing act feels impossible, and it’s hard not to feel like I’m crumbling under the weight of it all.
But I keep going because I have reasons to fight. I have my soon-to-be wife, and I have my daughter. They remind me that no matter how overwhelming things get, it’s worth it. It’s worth the effort to keep pushing forward, even when healthcare and therapy aren’t options right now. When money gets better, maybe that can change, but for now, this is where I am.
I’m learning, though. I’m trying. But some days, it feels like I take five steps forward and twenty steps back, especially in my relationship. My fiancée is so great, so kind, so selfless. But even between us, things get taken the wrong way almost all the time. It’s because I can’t always put words to what I’m feeling as it’s happening. I feel trapped in my mind, and then guilty because all she wants is for this to be over. Finances being right, relying on family for help, and me learning who I am as she is, it’s been hard on our relationship, but we’re rebuilding it together.
I’ve come to realize that I’ve spent so much time fighting my autism instead of understanding it, and that made everything worse. Not knowing I was on the spectrum for so long left me confused and frustrated. Even when I started finding pieces of myself, I didn’t really understand what I was doing. Now, having a name for what I’m experiencing, I feel like I’m finally getting somewhere. It’s not easy, and I’m still a work in progress, but it’s a relief to know there’s a reason behind everything I’ve been through.
Some days it feels like my entire nervous system is under attack. It’s hearing every sound at once, with no way to tune anything out. And when someone reacts to my meltdown or frustration with judgment instead of empathy, it’s like adding fuel to the fire. (even though they have every right to be like “what the f*ck?” especially if they don’t know me.)
I don’t choose to react the way I do. My brain processes situations differently. What might seem like a small issue to someone else can feel monumental to me because I’m already managing so much internally. When people refuse to take the time to understand that, it’s isolating.
I am well spoken, high functioning, and pretty good at what I do. But I’ve also unknowingly masked nearly my entire life.
It reinforces the feeling that I’m the problem, rather than the way others handle the situation.
The hardest part is that these reactions often come from people who genuinely think they’re being helpful. They offer advice, try to calm me down, or tell me to “just relax.” But without understanding the underlying reasons for my reactions, their efforts often backfire. Instead of calming me, they escalate the situation, pushing me further into that flight-or-fight state. It’s not about making excuses for myself, it’s about highlighting how deeply misunderstood autism (and in turn I, myself) can be.
What I need isn’t fixing or pity. I need people to pause, to listen, and to approach me with genuine curiosity and respect. When someone takes the time to ask what I need instead of assuming they already know, it changes everything. It helps me feel safe, supported, and seen. And when I feel safe, I’m not stuck in that heightened state of defense. I can breathe, process, and respond without feeling like I’m at war with the world.
I’m not angry by nature. I’m passionate. I care deeply about communication, about understanding, about being heard. But when people refuse to see that, when they’re so sure they know better than I do about my own experience, it’s infuriating. And when I feel like no one is really listening, it makes me feel trapped, stuck in my own head, drowning in the noise of it all.
Autism is complex, and so am I. All I really want is for people to stop trying to fix me and start trying to understand me.
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