There was a post on here a while back which described navigating social spaces while Autistic like trying to walk through a minefield. One wrong move and, well, you blow up. blowing up hurts, so you create systems, rules, you try and find a rhyme or reason as to how the explosives are laid out so that you might make it through unscathed. I've come to know this as "Masking".

There's a moment where every autistic realizes that they are different, because they step on a mine that, to an allistic, isn't even there. It's a crushing weight to know that there is a seemingly invisible force that will hurt them again and again unless they hide who they are (begin to mask) and try to forge a path. For me it was middle school when I learned this; when I realized I didn't truly have any friends because public school is cruel and othering. So, I changed how I spoke, learned how to tell jokes, developed hobbies that would make me more likable (which is how I started art) until, finally, 8 years later It seemed like I was on the other of the field: I had finally made it.

That all shattered in an instant, in 2021, a decisive step ended with a fireball so large fragments of me are still being found in the field. So, hurt and stricken with the loss of acceptance that I so briefly had, I did the other option that post talked about: I stayed still. Just..didn't move, because if I did I risked being hurt again. New year's 2022 I had moved up north, but still I remained where I was. 2023 came and began to pass, and instead of keeping pace I watched as it sped by.

To put it bluntly, I was burnt out both socially and in my art, full of resentment for what hurt me and shame for not being able to mask as effectively; that version of me had died in the explosion. All these terrible feelings reached a boil when my shame and resentment towards myself was inadvertently aimed towards someone I loved. In that moment I saw that I was rotting...

And I saw how empty I was.

So much of myself previously was dedicated solely to masking in an attempt to fit in, that when fitting in became no longer an option that huge part of myself became void of purpose, and so that part of me itself became a void.

I don't really remember the months after that, but in October I had gotten my hands on a book: "Unmasking Autism" by Devon Price. The introduction to that book was like an electric shock to my heart, revitalizing me and reversing the decay- his and other autistic folk's experiences described in the book was so alike mine that I suddenly understood my emptiness and was aware of the fractured mask hanging from my face. Armed with knowledge of my ailment the author then gave me a path out of the minefield...back from whence I came. Retrace my steps. Understand previous blunders, forgive myself for them, and exit the field to forge my own way to live and navigate life freely without fear of being reduced to bits.

I will struggle to post this, I know I will. Part of me masking, one of my guiding rules through the mines was to *never* make sincere personal posts because "sincerity from someone you follow who's not known for it is uncomfortable" (getting into the why of this is a whole other can of worms). But I will do it anyways, because the time for me being avoidant of my feelings are over.

In 2024, I will be fully embracing my autism. I don't know what i'll look like without the mask- I probably still haven't gotten rid of it fully- But I will be more genuine...probably uncomfortably so, My blog will be more self-serving (and probably my art too once I detangle my worth as an artist from how "good" it looks), I'll reblog cringy fandom stuff and say weird things and blog at length about how much I love airplanes and large industrial systems and freak furry things. I will be deadpan and monotone and just be so unapologetically autistic, because then i'll truly be me. ok bye bye