Unfold the Real Story of Autism and Friendship: From Autistic Girl to Woman

Contrary to common belief, making friends isn't as much of a struggle for autistic girls and women because we have our very own brand of social interactions and building friendships. In fact, many autistic individuals have a vibrant inner world that's a privilege to discover, along with a strong ability for genuine connection. While others might engage in small talk about the weather (yawn), we dive straight into the deep end—like, "So, what’s your stance on the existence of parallel universes?" Our approach may be different, but it's equally real and can help create unique friendships. We often engage in social situations with honesty and directness, which can be refreshing to others, allowing for meaningful exchanges that lead to lasting friendships.

Personally, I've discovered that I can make friends easily since I was a child. My ability to connect with others often comes from quickly picking up on their likes, interests, or activities. I can jump into conversations about a wide range of topics, from the latest idols to the existential crisis of a potato. My passion for acquiring new knowledge from books, TV, or discussions is unparalleled! I use this vast knowledge to spark mutual enthusiasm for certain topics, establishing common ground that naturally leads to friendship. However, while initiating friendships comes naturally, maintaining them is certainly a lot harder than just making friends.

As any relationship progresses, the expectations also become more complex. Friendships often require a level of reciprocity, emotional support, and social understanding that can be challenging to upkeep. The implicit rules of friendship, which many seem to grasp intuitively, can sometimes elude me. For instance, expecting humans to read minds while interpreting the subtleties of body language, tone of voice, or unspoken cues can cause unnecessary confusion. This mutual lack of awareness might result in misunderstandings, where I might unintentionally miss a friend's need for support or fail to notice when they're upset, while they might assume I should instinctively know to offer the expected support. However, let's be honest, none of us can read minds, so why don't we just communicate directly instead?

The Strain of Expectations in Friendships

Social dynamics can shift faster than lightning as friendships evolve. Early on, interactions may be straightforward and uncomplicated, and no one would question this approach. However, over time, keeping the same level of engagement and emotional involvement, while relying solely on facial expressions for communication, can become like a full-time job decoding ancient cave drawings. These unrealistic expectations can be straining, as they demand constant effort to interpret and respond to the unspoken emotional cues of friends, which aren't always clear. One minute they’re laughing, and the next, they're giving you the silent treatment, which is basically code for "I'm plotting your demise". Then there’s the worry of letting friends down, which might lead to a frowning emoji we're unaware of, making it even more difficult to maintain those connections.

In addition, my way of expressing emotions or communicating might not align with neurotypical norms. Friends might expect an emotional connection, while I tend to focus on sharing knowledge, which can occasionally lead to misunderstandings. For instance, I might show significant enthusiasm towards someone, which could be misinterpreted as being overly friendly, but really, I'm just a knowledge sponge, soaking up all the fun facts and have no particular interest in forming an emotional bond. Friends might also anticipate certain behaviours or responses that I may not instinctively provide, leading to frustration on both sides. It’s important for both parties to engage in open communication, where I can express my needs and boundaries while also being receptive to theirs.

A Quick Glimpse Into My Autistic Girlhood and Friendships

Growing up as an undiagnosed autistic girl didn't mean my life was doomed or predetermined by the challenges often linked with autism in childhood. In fact, I prefer to reflect on my path as one that unfolded without the constraints of a formal diagnosis, allowing me to develop a unique perspective and experience that was shaped solely by my own interpretations and interactions with the world. This absence of an autism diagnosis afforded me the freedom to grow authentically, without the influence of external expectations, societal pressures, or fixed beliefs that might have associated with a label. I navigated my formative years with a sense of autonomy, embracing my individuality and the quirks that set me apart from my peers.

Throughout my life, I have formed meaningful friendships that have enriched my experiences. I was always acutely aware of the differences that distinguished me from other children, and instead of feeling isolated by them, I embraced these differences. This acceptance enabled me to build a sense of self that was both confident and resilient. I realised early on that my way of interacting with the world was unique, and I was perfectly comfortable with it. My preschool years were particularly formative, as I began my education a year earlier than many of my peers. This early start not only provided me with a head start academically but also allowed me to immerse myself in an environment where I felt a deep sense of belonging.

My Label-Free School Adventures

The school I attended was nestled right in my grandparents' neighbourhood, on the very street where I often joined my grandmother for grocery runs or afternoon snacks. This familiarity with the area made me feel like a local guide and added to my comfort within the school environment. I cherished the sense of community around me, which made learning and socialising feel like a natural extension of my daily life. In this supportive environment, I enjoyed the friendships I formed and took pride in my role within my group of friends. I often fancied myself a leader, guiding my peers during lunch, organising activities, and encouraging a sense of closeness during breaks. My friends seemed genuinely happy to follow my lead—though they might have been more interested in using me as a human shield against any bullies that dared to approach. "Look! There's our fearless leader! Quick, behind her!" I like to think they admired my natural charisma and leadership skills, but it's more likely my spirited attitude truly impressed them. Regardless, I found great satisfaction in the connections we built—mainly because they knew I would defend them with my life, or at least with a well-aimed feisty face if any trouble arose. So, in the grand circus of preschool life, I was the ringmaster, the friend, and occasionally, the defender against bullies.

This early leadership role was not just about taking charge; it was about creating a space where everyone felt included and valued. I learned to appreciate the strengths and differences of my friends, which further improve our interactions. We conducted experiments in the small flower gardens, shared our snacks, and supported each other through the various challenges of childhood. While the connections we developed during these years might seem superficial; they taught me the importance of empathy, understanding, and acceptance.

Reflecting on my past, I realise that my undiagnosed status allowed me to develop a strong sense of self without the limitations a label might have imposed. I was able to explore my interests, pursue my passions, and navigate social dynamics in a way that felt authentic to me. While I acknowledge that many autistic individuals may encounter significant challenges, my path has been shaped by the unique experiences and relationships I have created along the way. I am grateful for the path I've traveled, as it has equipped me with the resilience and insight that continue to guide me in my life today. So here’s to my label-free childhood: a wild ride filled with laughter, unforgettable moments, and the occasional spirited crisis!

Autism and Friendships: Perspective of an Asian Autistic Teenage Girl

I moved to the UK before my teenage years, a pivotal period in anyone's life. Reflecting on this transformative time, I discovered that my autistic identity offered a unique advantage, enabling me to fully appreciate the wealth of new knowledge and experiences, which I compare to my ideal adventure. The different culture, diverse environment, and countless leaning opportunities made each day feel like an adventure waiting to unfold. While some may perceive my journey as one filled with challenges and hardships, particularly the struggles of being a foreigner in a new country, I found immense joy and excitement in my circumstances. I truly embraced my role as the foreign oddball, a title I proudly wore like a badge of honour.

Taking on the role of a mini adult, I embraced the responsibility of adapting to life in a new country. Learning a new language wasn't just a task; it became an exhilarating opportunity to understanding and connecting with those around me. I remember the thrill of constructing sentences, the joy of successfully communicating my thoughts, and the satisfaction of gradually becoming more fluent. I’d strut around confidently, tossing out phrases like confetti, where nothing was small talk anymore, as every sentence had a purpose: learning as quickly as possible for our survival. This process, though sometimes daunting, was ultimately rewarding and enriching.

In the early days, I encountered the reality that I had to prioritise survival over formal education or friendships. I missed school for a while as I focused on establishing my family in this new environment. I learned to adapt to different customs, find resources, and manage the complexities of daily life. These experiences, although they kept me away from the classroom, provided invaluable lessons in resilience and resourcefulness. For instance, I can now replace a leaking tap with nothing but basic tools and sheer willpower. When I eventually returned to school, I was eager to immerse myself in the educational system and its social dynamics.

Approaching School as a Social Experiment

When I started school, I found it surprisingly easy to make acquaintances. The initial friendliness of my classmates created a welcoming atmosphere. However, as I got to know these new acquaintances better, I quickly realised that we had very little in common beyond our shared environment. The interests that sparked my passion and curiosity often diverged significantly from those of my peers, while I was passionately discussing the mysteries of the universe, my peers were busy debating the merits of putting crisps in buttered bread. This prompted me to reconsider my social circle, so I decided it was time to find friends who shared my interests.

Determined to find meaningful connections, I ventured out with an open mind to seek out individuals who aligned with my own interests and values. I firmly believe that one genuine friendship is far more fulfilling than a multitude of superficial ones. I sought someone with whom I could share deep, intellectual conversations—discussions that would challenge our thoughts and expand our perspectives. At the same time, I wanted a companion who could appreciate the humour in life, someone with whom I could laugh at the silliest things and find joy in the mundane.

This quest for a true friend became a short ride of self-discovery, where I gained insight into my own preferences and the qualities I valued in others. I realised that the true value of friendship isn’t in having a massive entourage like a rockstar, but in the depth of understanding and connection—much like finding that one person who gets my habit of stretching a chocolate bar over three days because it's too sweet to eat all at once. Such a person did exist in this social experiment, and we became close friends until I went off to college. I became more attuned to the subtleties of friendships, recognising that a true friend will not only accept my quirks but also embrace them. With the right friend by my side, even the most mundane moments can turn into legendary tales, and finding someone who can complement my quest in this new world is far more important.

Friendships of Autistic Women: We're Not As Lonely As You Might Think

The selective approach I adopted in my teenage years to form friendships, carefully choosing individuals who shared my interests, humour, and passions, has continued to shape my social interactions well into adulthood. If you didn't laugh at my dry humour or couldn't quote The Big Bang Theory on command, you were out! This process, however, has not been without its challenges. As I transitioned into this new stage of life, I need to work to cover tuition fees and living expenses left me with increasingly limited time to develop and maintain friendships. Some might think this is a lonely way to live, but as autistic women, we truly enjoy our work passions, our inner world, and most of the time we absolutely need it.

Finding Meaningful Friendships in Adulthood

University life, which many consider a lively social environment, a place where friendships bloom like dandelions. For me, it often felt like a barren desert; opportunities for connection were few and far between. I was basically a social cactus—prickly, solitary, and only thriving in minimal social interaction. Despite the shortage of potential friendships at university, I discovered that my workplaces offered a different dynamic. There, I encountered a diverse group of colleagues, some of whom shared my interests and passions, creating a fertile ground for connection. However, even within this larger group, I maintained my belief that forming deep, meaningful friendships with just one or two individuals was far more rewarding and less taxing than trying to connect with everyone.

Fortunately, during this period, I discovered a close friend who truly appreciated the fact that I'm nothing like how I look on the surface. Most people perceive me as a social butterfly, effortlessly flitting from one gathering to another, engaging in lively conversations, and radiating a confidence that appears naturally. However, the reality is quite different. Beneath this seemingly outgoing exterior lies a person who finds great joy in the comfort of solitude. In truth, I absolutely love diving into the world of computer games, where I can lose track of time and escape into fantastical realms like The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, filled with adventure and excitement. There’s something incredibly soothing about slipping into my favourite sweatpants, a soft and worn pair that feels like a warm hug after a long day. It’s in these cozy moments that I truly come alive, navigating through intricate storylines and engaging in epic battles, all from the comfort of my room.

As the day winds down, I often find myself curling up on my bed, ready to indulge in my guilty pleasure: watching the movie Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy repeatedly. There's a certain charm in the absurdity of the characters and the clever humour that makes me laugh, no matter how many times I’ve seen it. The familiar lines and iconic scenes provide a sense of comfort, whenever I need a pick-me-up or a moment of levity. As I drift off to sleep, the comedic antics of Ron Burgundy and his crew play softly in the background, creating a cozy atmosphere that lulls me into a peaceful slumber.

This close friend of mine understands this side of me, the one that contrasts sharply with the vibrant persona that others often see. He appreciate my quirks and love for gaming, recognising that there’s a depth to my character that goes beyond first impressions. It’s a relief to have someone who sees me for who I truly am and not just the facade I present to the world. This friendship has blossomed into a safe space where I can be my authentic self, sharing both my passions and my vulnerabilities without fear of judgment.

The Recharge Station: Joy of Solitary Adventures

I often spend a lot of time alone or immersed in my work, a choice that some might perceive as lonely or isolating, but I like to think of it as "solo adventuring". For many autistic women like me, this lifestyle is less about loneliness and more about our unique way of engaging with the world. We often thrive within our own inner worlds, finding joy and satisfaction from our thoughts, interests, and creative pursuits. It’s like a personal Lego Land, built for my maximum comfort and the only line I stand in is for my favourite snack. This internal landscape is not just a refuge; it is a necessary space where I can recharge and explore my ideas at my own pace. Let us recharge, and you'll get a much better friend.

Charting Our Own Course

While societal expectations may suggest that we should constantly seek social interactions, the reality is that autistic women are often deterred by the unspoken rules of friendships. It’s not that we struggle with the concept of friendship itself; rather, it's the pressures to conform to social norms that may not align with us. The expectation to maintain a certain level of social interaction can feel burdensome, and often, we prefer to carve out our own paths, exploring our interests and passions independently. Although some might see solitude as loneliness, I see it as a delightful opportunity for self-discovery. Stop assuming we're lonely; we're simply enjoying our inner peace.

My Indifferent Approach: Hidden Emotional Sensitivity

Some may describe my approach as insensitive or detached, particularly given societal expectations for women to be nurturing and socially active—like a well-trained puppy not allowed to deviate from the ideal image. Although I may appear somewhat detached, I actually possess a strong emotional sensitivity and a keen attention to detail, enabling me to perceive the subtleties of social dynamics with clarity. I often discern what is truly happening beneath the surface, even if I struggle to navigate the unnecessarily complex social interactions among neurotypical individuals. The unspoken rules of social engagement can leave me feeling adrift, unsure of when to participate, how to avoid a secret handshake, or whether I want to engage at all. Don't complicate things; be straightforward, and we can both reach happiness faster.

Embracing Friendships: The Art of Selective Solitude

In this context, my preference for solitude and selective friendships becomes a source of strength rather than a weakness. This whole "me-time" thing allows me to preserve my emotional wellbeing while still being aware of the world around me. I find comfort in knowing that my approach to friendships, though different, is valid and rooted in a deep understanding of my own needs and the intricacies of human connection. Thus, my path through adulthood continues to be one of self-discovery, where I seek to balance the desire for meaningful friendships with the necessity of honouring my own unique way of experiencing the world, and the occasional burst of wisdom. So here’s to the selective introverts, the indifferent friends, and the champions of solitude! May we continue navigating the complexities of human connection while secretly enjoying our snacks in peace. Friendships is an ongoing learning experience where both parties need to put in the effort—like trying to strive to understand each other's perspectives and appreciate all the quirks, encouraging a supportive environment where both can thrive in solitude or together.

What was your experience like growing up? Did you have a supportive friend? Do you value not being labeled? Has receiving a diagnosis resolved some niggles in friendships?