A letter to my younger self
or maybe to you, at some point in time
Dear Younger Me,
I see you, struggling to navigate a world that feels like it was designed for someone else. Every day, you wake up and put on a mask, a carefully crafted persona that allows you to blend in, to appear "normal." But I know the truth behind the facade. I know the constant effort it takes to maintain this illusion, the mental and emotional energy drained by each interaction, each attempt to suppress your natural instincts and responses.
You've heard about autism, but it feels like a distant concept, something that applies to other people, not to you. You've internalized so many misconceptions and stereotypes about what it means to be autistic. You think it means being unable to communicate, to empathize, to succeed in the world. You can't reconcile these ideas with your own experiences, your own abilities. So you push the thought away, bury it deep, convinced that even if it were true, it's not a truth you want to face.
I understand these fears, these doubts. They're the product of a society that still largely misunderstands and stigmatizes neurodiversity. You've absorbed these messages, let them shape your self-perception. You've come to believe that any deviation from the neurotypical norm is a flaw, a weakness, something to be hidden at all costs.
So you pour your energy into maintaining the mask, into being the person you think the world wants and needs you to be. You learn to mimic neurotypical behaviors, to suppress your stimming, your special interests, your need for routine and solitude. You push yourself to the point of burnout, all in the name of fitting in, of being accepted.
But the thing is, this mask isn't protecting you. It's suffocating you, slowly but surely eroding your sense of self, your connection to your own authenticity. You think you're keeping yourself safe, but you're only imprisoning yourself in a cage of your own making.
I know the thought of letting the mask slip is terrifying. You look at openly autistic people and think, "I could never do that. I could never make myself that vulnerable, that exposed." Maybe a part of you even resents them, thinking they're making life harder for those like you who are trying so hard to blend in. You might catch yourself thinking, "Why can't they just try harder to be normal? Don't they realize how much easier it would be for all of us?"
But these thoughts, these judgments, they're not a reflection of your true character. They're a manifestation of the trauma of living in a world that doesn't fully accept or understand neurodiversity. They're a defense mechanism, a way to distance yourself from the discomfort of your own repression, your own unacknowledged identity.
So I want you to know: it's okay. It's okay to have these thoughts, these moments of internalized ableism. It doesn't make you a bad person. It makes you human, trying your best to navigate a neurotypical world with a neurodivergent mind. It's okay to be where you are, to feel what you feel.
But I also want you to know that there's another way. A path that's challenging and sometimes scary, but also liberating and transformative. A path that involves embracing your neurodivergence, learning to understand and accept yourself fully, without apology or compromise.
This journey of self-discovery and acceptance is not a simple or linear one. It will involve confronting deep-seated shame, unlearning a lifetime of masking behaviors, learning to listen to and trust your own needs and instincts. There will be times when the vulnerability of authenticity feels too raw, too exposing, and the familiarity of the mask beckons. That's okay. Be gentle with yourself, and remember that each step, no matter how small, is a step towards liberation.
As you begin to unmask, you may find that some relationships shift or fall away. Some people may not know how to handle this new, more authentic version of you. That's okay too. The right people, the ones who truly see and value you, will stick by you and even celebrate this journey of self-discovery.
You'll also find, as you open up, that you're not alone. There's a whole community out there of neurodivergent people, each navigating this world in their own unique way. Some may be further along in their journey of self-acceptance, while others may still be grappling with the same doubts and fears that you are. Embrace this diversity, and let it be a source of strength and solidarity.
I know you're not aware yet that you're autistic. That realization will come later, and it will be a journey in itself. But I want you to know that when that moment of recognition arrives, it's not a verdict or a label that limits you. It's a key that can unlock so much understanding, so much self-compassion. It's a lens that can help make sense of a lifetime of feeling different, of struggling to fit into a world not designed for minds like ours.
Embracing your autism doesn't mean you're broken or less than. It means you're a beautiful neurological variant in the vast spectrum of human diversity. It means your brain works in unique and marvelous ways, even if those ways aren't always understood or appreciated by the mainstream.
So when that realization comes, don't be afraid. Don't push it away or bury it under layers of denial and shame. Embrace it. Explore it. Let it be a catalyst for self-discovery and radical self-acceptance.
This path of unmasking, of stepping into your authentic autistic self, it's not an easy one. It takes courage, resilience, and a willingness to sit with discomfort. But I promise you, it's worth it. Because on the other side of that journey is a sense of wholeness, of integration, of being at home in your own mind and body. It's a kind of freedom and joy that the mask could never offer.
So to my younger self, not yet aware of the beautiful neurodivergent mind you possess: be brave. Be patient. Be kind to yourself. The world needs your unique perspective, your autistic insights and gifts. Step into your truth, slowly but surely. Learn to love and advocate for yourself fiercely. And know that with each mask you remove, you're not only liberating yourself—you're making the world a little bit safer, a little bit more accepting, for all those who will come after you.
Take off the mask, slowly but surely. Step into the light of your own truth. It's a brave and beautiful thing, to be wholly and unapologetically yourself in a world that doesn't always understand. But I promise you, it's the only way to truly live.
With profound love and understanding,
Your Future Self, who celebrates and cherishes every beautifully autistic part of you