How living a meaningful life for me consists of exploring myself, setting boundaries, finding balance, and valuing authentic connections.
Autism is a part of who I am, and it shapes how I see and feel things, how I connect (or sometimes don’t connect) with others, and how I navigate the world. For a long time, it felt like something that separated me, but over time I’ve come to see it as part of what makes me, me. Here’s my story about what it means form to build a meaningful life as an autistic person — one step at a time.
Autism helps explain my quirks, but it doesn’t tell my whole story.
Finding Myself Through Autism: More Than Just a Label
Getting diagnosed with autism was a huge turning point for me. I’d always sensed I experienced things differently, but I never really had a “why.” Suddenly, the way I process sounds, the way I crave routine, the way social stuff feels like a marathon, all made sense. Autism didn’t “change” me — it just gave me a clearer picture of why I am the way I am.
But it wasn’t all clarity and relief. People started seeing me as “autistic” first, adding their own ideas about what that meant. I could feel them looking at me through a lens, and sometimes that lens was full of assumptions and stereotypes. Autism helps explain my quirks, but it doesn’t tell my whole story. I’m learning that it’s one part of a much bigger picture — and it’s up to me to decide what that picture looks like.
Watching from the sidelines has its perks; I notice things others don’t, and I learn by observing. But there’s also a quiet kind of loneliness there too.
Living in a Neurotypical World: Going Off-Script
Living with autism in a world built for neurotypical minds means constantly adapting. Take social interactions: what feels natural to most people is work for me. Every interaction is like going off-script. I’m always watching, reading the room, taking in facial expressions, thinking of what to say next — things that most people do without a second thought.
I’ve learned to be okay with being more of an observer than a participant. I stand back, take in what’s going on, and find my comfort zone without forcing myself into situations where I feel out of place. Watching from the sidelines has its perks; I notice things others don’t, and I learn by observing. But there’s also a quiet kind of loneliness there too. While everyone else is “in the moment,” I sometimes feel like I’m only half-participating.
And let’s talk about small talk. Most people don’t think twice about it, but for me, it’s this strange little ritual that feels exhausting and kind of pointless. I’d rather dive into a real conversation. But I know it’s part of the social fabric, so I’ve learned to keep a few phrases in my pocket. It’s like social armor that helps me connect without feeling totally out of place.
I might not be the person at every gathering, but the connections I do have are deep and meaningful.
Finding Comfort in Routine: My Anchor in the Chaos
Structure is more than a preference for me — it’s essential. Having a routine gives me a sense of stability, like an anchor in the middle of a stormy world. My days are carefully planned with schedules and routines, helping me stay grounded and giving me the calm I need to face the unexpected.
My need for order extends to my space. Everything has a place, and my home is organized just the way I need it to be. Some people see it as being rigid or obsessive, but for me, it’s about making life less overwhelming. Having a space that’s stable and predictable lets me recharge, clear my mind, and focus on what’s really important.
Relationships: Finding My Own Rhythm
Relationships are essential, but they’re also one of my biggest challenges. Socializing drains my energy, and I need time to recharge after spending time with others. So I’ve had to set boundaries. Friendships mean a lot to me, but they have to work within my limits. I might not be the person at every gathering, but the connections I do have are deep and meaningful.
In my romantic relationship, we’ve found a balance that works. “Living together apart” might sound strange to some people, but for us, it’s perfect. I need my own space, a place where I can be fully myself without any pressure. This arrangement lets us stay connected without sacrificing our individual needs.
Communication is also huge for me. I don’t pick up on hints easily, so I’m all about directness. Luckily, my friends and family understand this, and we’ve built relationships around open, honest conversations. It might seem blunt to some, but it keeps things clear and straightforward, and I appreciate that so much.
It’s when I feel most like myself, when I can unwind and get back to a balanced state.
Work and Education: Writing My Own Rules
School was always a balancing act. I loved learning, especially when there was structure, but as I moved up, the social demands became harder. Group projects, team assignments — those dynamics never felt natural to me. I often felt like I was trying to follow rules I didn’t understand, but I stuck with it and adapted my approach to work with my strengths.
In the workplace, I’m constantly looking for roles that let me contribute without overwhelming my social energy. Volunteering has been a good fit because I can work on projects that matter to me without the pressure of constant interaction. I’ve even got strategies for handling small talk and office conversations — things like preparing topics or responses ahead of time — so I can feel more in control.
Protecting My Downtime and Managing My Energy
For me, downtime is just as important as work. I can’t jump from one social setting to the next without feeling totally depleted, so I plan my “recharge” time carefully. Alone time isn’t a luxury — it’s essential. It’s when I feel most like myself, when I can unwind and get back to a balanced state.
I love hobbies that let me recharge without having to interact — things like painting, writing, or just getting lost in a good book. These activities are my way of expressing myself and processing the world without the pressure of social dynamics. This balance between solitude and engagement is crucial, and I’ve learned to protect it fiercely.
Living a meaningful life with autism means being real, celebrating my quirks, and finding my own way in a world that wasn’t designed for me.
Support That Actually Helps
I’m incredibly grateful for the people in my life who “get it.” Working with an autism coach has been a game-changer, helping me with strategies like visual aids, sensory tools, and routines that make life smoother. But even more than that, it’s the people who take the time to understand that really make the difference.
Friends and family who’ve put in the effort to learn about autism and listen to my experiences have created a safe space where I can be myself. Their understanding lets me relax, to trust that I don’t have to hide or pretend. And yet, I’ve learned to be careful about when and how I share my autism. I open up when it feels safe, but I’ve also learned to protect myself from assumptions. Knowing when to share — and when to keep things private — is a skill I’ve developed over time.
Living a Meaningful Life with Autism: Finding My Own Path
Living meaningfully with autism is all about balance — staying true to myself while adapting to the world around me. It’s been a journey of resilience, patience, and figuring out what I need to thrive. By sharing my story, I hope to offer a glimpse into what living with autism really means. Autism isn’t a single story; it’s a spectrum of unique experiences and strengths.
Exploring my autism has helped me accept myself, to stand up for my needs, and to value my perspective. Living a meaningful life with autism means being real, celebrating my quirks, and finding my own way in a world that wasn’t designed for me. It’s my journey, and I’m grateful for every step that’s brought me closer to the life I want to live.
The European Autist 