My past

Only knowing about my autism for a little over a year now, no one who knew me before that had any clue, obviously. I was called lazy a lot. A lot of people misinterpreted things I'd say and read in motives that I never had, destroying many friendships. I would be asked constantly about why I could seem so stupid at times, yet be so intelligent. All of these memories hurt me very badly.

I know it's not the best idea in the world, but part of me would love to call up everyone who I ever disappointed and say, "Hey! Sorry about that. I'm autistic!" It wouldn't make up for things I've done or forgotten, but it would make me feel better. That said, it's not something that is even near the scope of doable, and it will just come off as me making excuses for myself (something I've only recently learned about). That doesn't change the fact that I think about that constantly.

Most of the people are former employers, people I interviewed with, and teachers. I also wish I could tell my parents, but they both passed away three years ago.

One of my more painful memories is my very first job interview. I was sixteen years old, and applying at a CiCi's Pizza (all you can eat pizza buffet, if you haven't heard of it). My mom drove me to the interview, since I didn't have a license yet. I didn't understand the concept of dressing for an interview, yet. I wore the blue jeans that I wore every day of high school, and my favorite t-shirt that I usually wore at least three times a week (they were both so comfortable). The interview was going okay, but the guy doing it made a comment that came off as very rude to me, saying, "You'll need to get some pants that fit." My pants weren't very baggy, but the ankles were frayed from being cut off. I made a joke, trying to lighten the mood, and said, "Oh? I thought these fit just fine." I smiled as I said it, but looked towards the floor, avoiding eye contact. He didn't say anything. The interview finished, and as I was walking out to my mom's car, he came into the parking lot and yelled, "Don't bother coming back! I don't like your attitude!" To this day, I still don't really understand what he meant, but the emotional scar is still there.

I would love to be able to go back to that manager and tell him, "I'm sorry. I'm autistic. I thought I was making a joke and I guess it didn't translate well." It doesn't matter that it was 11 years ago, I relive it very often.

It's so strange to have an invisible disability, especially when I can fake being normal so easily sometimes.