The Year I Discovered My Autism Diagnosis

Holding my late chihuahua Belle at my nan's house for Christmas. (Taken in 2013)

Written by : Gracie Wise

"Mom, I've been thinking about it for a long time, but out of curiosity, do I have autism?"

After nearly a whole year of keeping the cat in the bag, I decided I couldn't keep quiet any longer. I had a brand-new understanding of myself, and because of that, I was starting to notice a ton of things about myself that I didn't even consider.

I had a ton of questions, and I wasn't going to leave them unanswered.

One day, Mom was bringing me back to school after my doctor's appointment. I don't know why, but I thought now would be the perfect time to address the elephant in the room. As we were pulling out of the parking lot, I asked the same question I've been asking myself for a whole year: am I autistic?

I'm not gonna lie: I was worried she'd say something like, "Of course not! What makes you think that?" I was worried my question would come off as offensive since I had a pretty narrow understanding of autism at the time.

Instead, she answered, "Would it be okay if you were?"

That's when I came to a revelation: I was autistic all along.

"Yes," I responded. "I'm fine with that."

And I meant it with my whole heart. The idea of me having autism didn't scare me at all. Sure, I was wondering if I was on the spectrum, but it was nothing like the hypochondriac episodes I had whenever I thought I had serious illnesses such as leukemia or meningitis (P.S. those were not fun times at all).

Rather, I wanted to know more about myself. If it was true that I was autistic, it would answer my biggest questions about my life: why couldn't I stand it whenever my sister sang? Why was it so difficult for me to fit in with my peers? Why was I so obsessed with Miis to an extreme measure?

So when Mom pretty much confirmed my diagnosis, I was relieved. Finding out I was autistic helped me understand myself a bit more, but it also gave me closure on one thing: I wasn't sick, or defective, or broken.

I was just wired differently.

PDD-NOS, Otherwise Known As Atypical Autism

Me at three years old, on the way to Disney World in my mom's old Suburban. Can you tell I loved my VHS tapes so much? And yes—our car had a TV with a VHS player in it! (Taken in 2002)

Like most toddlers, I was a fun-loving little girl who loved reading, singing, coloring, and watching movies and shows on VHS, and playing princesses with my younger sister and my cousins. I smiled tons, and I especially enjoyed getting hugs and attention from my parents and grandparents. I also met most of my milestones: I was walking, speaking, reciting my ABC's and 123's, and pointing at things I wanted.

I seemed like a normal child. Sure, dad's snoring scared the bajeezus out of me, and the sound of my baby sister's crying drove me mad to the point where I accidentally knocked down a kerosene lamp, but wasn't that what some toddlers did?

In 2002, my parents became concerned when I wasn't speaking full sentences at three years old. For instance, if an airplane flew over the backyard, my mom would try to get my attention and I'd simply say, "Airplane," and nothing more. Besides, I was pulled out of preschool after just one week since I cried every time my parents left me there.

They ended up bringing me to Ochsner Clinic Foundation in Jefferson (now known as Ochsner Medical Center) to see what was up, and lo and behold, I was diagnosed with pervasive developmental disorder not otherwise specified (PDD-NOS), otherwise known as atypical autism at the age of three.

It's important to note that PDD-NOS, which makes up about 47% of autism diagnoses, is a form of Level 1 autism or high-functioning autism that is now part of the diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder (ASD), according to the DMS-V.

To tell you the truth, I was lucky to get diagnosed early on as a female, especially in a time when autism was still a relatively new concept. Other girls weren't so lucky—and that's a travesty.

While most boys are diagnosed with autism than girls, girls often slip through the cracks. That's mainly due to being misdiagnosed with something else or not fitting into the mold of how autism is presented to society. Because of this, they either go through life undiagnosed or end up getting a diagnosis later in life, usually in their adolescent or adult years.

If it weren't for the doctor who diagnosed me, I most likely would've struggled a great deal in school, my relationships, and overall my quality of life.

Autism Never Crossed My Mind

Holding my acceptance letter from Ursuline Academy. (Taken in 2012)

For a while, I thought I was just a normal girl attending occupational and speech therapy. In fact, I kind of thought that kind of thing was normal for a lot of kids my age.

It never crossed my mind when I was struggling in first grade. I sometimes got in trouble for things I didn't know were wrong (although there were times where I did know better), and I had a hard time paying attention, following directions, and making good grades in math. I concluded that I was a bad kid and needed to be perfect.

It never crossed my mind when I began noticing that some of my classmates weren't really interested in what I had to say. I wasn't a loner, and people did talk to me, but there were times where I heard crickets whenever I spoke or I felt excluded by my peers in middle school—intentionally or unintentionally. Naturally, I concluded that I wasn't very good at small talk (something I acknowledge needs improvement) and needed to fit in with my peers to appear more "interesting."

It also never crossed my mind when I had a breakdown after an argument with my sister over her singing. I remember tearfully asking my mom, "Why can't I stand my sister's singing? Why?"

I began to worry that something was extremely wrong with me—that I was a terrible sister and daughter and I didn't know why. Even worse, I thought I was crazy and needed to be locked away in an institution.

All the Pieces Fell Together

Treating myself to cookie cake during a weekend of studying. (Taken in maybe 2014)

Looking back at that time, I understand why my parents were hesitant about disclosing my diagnosis. Not only was I diagnosed during a time when autism awareness was still in its infancy (it was 2002, but still), but they were afraid that if I found out so soon, it would backfire.

It's also because they didn't want me to get trapped in the mindset of, "I'm incapable of doing great things" (i.e., they didn't want me to let my autism define me). Plus, they didn't want to cause me unnecessary worry.

But knowing about my autism diagnosis at a time when I was growing self-conscious about my differences would've been helpful. Autism isn't always a picnic, but it's way better than thinking you are crazy and broken.

So it's no surprise that when I was told about my diagnosis, I stopped believing those things immediately. A lot of things about myself, including bits and pieces from the past, started to make sense. I finally had an explanation as to why I had a different way of processing information. I finally had the words to accurately describe what I was experiencing.

My brain wasn't sick; it was just developed differently.

When Should I Disclose My Child's Autism Diagnosis?

Eating lunch at Saj on Magazine Street. They have the best hummus IMHO. (Taken in 2022)

While it's understandable for parents and family members to feel like they need to protect their child from significant distress, keeping it from them can cause unintentional harm.

It could send a message to the child that autism is a shameful and ugly thing that needs to be concealed. Even worse, they may find out about their differences in the worst-case scenarios, whether it's through bullies at school or a nervous breakdown.

That's why, IMHO, it's extremely important to tell your child as soon as they can understand human diversity.

Kids are smarter than we think. According to Jenny Friedman, children are usually aware of people with disabilities by the time they're two or three years old. If kids are aware of different races by six months, why not teach them about disabilities?

Thanks to increased awareness and acceptance of autism, we're now seeing autistic characters in the media. No longer are the days that we're represented solely as Rain Man or Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory. Now, we have Julia from Sesame Street, Renee from the Pixar short film Loop, and Addie from Elle McNicoll's children's book A Kind of Spark (which was also adapted into a TV series in 2023).

It's encouraging to see more representation of autistic girls in the media. Autistic girls are often undiagnosed or even misdiagnosed, mainly due to the fact that a lot of autistic girls do a better job at masking their symptoms and traits than boys, not to mention they usually don't fit the stereotypical mold of autism and often face gender bias (I'll talk about this more in a future article). This was especially the case in the 1990s and the 2000s.

Children get to see a different side of autism: the good, the bad, and everything in between. Not only are we teaching them that autism doesn't mean the end of the world, but we're also sowing the seeds for a more empathetic, kinder world. We owe it to autistic children, and teaching them about these differences early on will help foster a stable self-image and profound acceptance in themselves.

In the words of Temple Grandin: "We are different, not less!"

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