Autism. Maybe. Possibly. Probably.

For nearly half my life, roughly 16 years now, I’ve wondered if (and suspected that maybe) I could be autistic. I was 17, just about 18, when I started my first semester of college and one of the classes I took that first semester was a communications class. A classmate did a presentation about autism and I, at 17, didn’t know anything beyond my own stereotyped thoughts about autism. I sat there listening to my classmate’s presentation and everything she was saying was hitting me as…me. The entire presentation I just kept thinking “this is me. How is this me? This is me.” I left class that day back in 2009 wondering if it was possible that I might, just maybe, be “a little bit” autistic.

But at the same time, despite starting to wonder if maybe…, I kept thinking of reasons why I just couldn’t be autistic. I had friends. I did well in school - I mean, I was in college!  I hated looking people in the eyes - it made me uncomfortable and anxious - but I still could do it. Maybe I couldn’t talk in front of people, but still I could talk. The fact was that I simply didn’t know enough. My peer’s presentation was what started to open my eyes to what might be, but all the things I thought I knew kept me from doing more research at that time.  I know differently now. I know better now.  

When I transferred from Columbia-Greene to Potsdam, that change was HARD. I lucked out and whoever my roommate was originally supposed to be didn’t wind up there and I started the semester with my own room. I could be alone. I could bring food back to my room and eat in the quiet there instead of the loud and often-hectic student union. I really got so lucky that first year at Potsdam, with the people on my floor being who they were and my RA being who he was. He tried his best to foster a community of friendship on the floor and encouraged us to do things together. I was shy and quiet and it was an exhausting effort being around all these new people all the time, but these people didn’t give up on me. They kept talking to me, kept including me, kept inviting me.  Slowly I became inseparable from Sam, Chris, Anna, and LeeAnna.  Eventually Anna become my roommate and I loved that I got to be roommates with someone I was already friends with.  It didn’t take long for some of my personality traits to make my roommate ask if I was autistic. I got defensive - of course not!! She told me, a handful of times, that I really did remind her of her autistic niece. But I shut the conversation down each time; after all, I was living in the dorms in college 4 and a half hours away from everything I’d ever known in life, so obviously there was no way I could possibly be autistic. No way. But still I wondered and still the thought that maybe I possibly might be lived in the back of my mind…because in that class 2 years earlier I’d started to think it, and other people were noticing it too.

Life went on. More people asked me. Friends. A roommate. A friend of my roommate’s who I barely knew. A girl I dated.

I googled “am I autistic?” and “how do I know if I have autism?” and “can you be autistic without knowing?” and “can you be autistic and in college?”

I took quizzes online trying to find an answer. They all said the same thing. That autism was likely. Or very likely. Or suspected, and would I like to set up an appointment to discuss those results?

I thought about going to the student health center on campus and talking to someone there, but I never did because I’d never been there before. I didn’t know if the people who worked there were mean or nice. I didn’t know what sort of questions they would ask. I didn’t know what it would cost. There were just too many questions for me to feel comfortable going there, especially by myself. And I couldn’t ask anyone to go with me because I was so adamant that they were wrong and I didn’t have autism.

I graduated college. I got a job at a daycare, where the owner asked me, after noticing “some sensory issues” if my parents had ever had me evaluated for autism. No, no they hadn’t. And besides, I was a college graduate and I had a job so how could she ask that? She had hired me after all.  I left the daycare because I needed to be making more than what they were paying and got hired a children's play center.  When they closed, I started working at a UPS Store - where I stayed working for a year and a half, until I moved to Florida.

I was so blinded by my own prejudices. I knew nothing but thought I knew everything. I still thought of autism as something bad, something different, something that couldn’t be me.  I'm glad that I know more now.

And still I googled “am I autistic?” and “can I be autistic?” and “can autistic people still have a normal life?” and more.

And still I took online tests and quizzes, and the results still said the same thing. That autism was likely. Did I want to find a therapist in my area to talk to?

Life kept going on. I kept wondering. I didn’t need to wonder, I think I knew.  In the back of my mind, and maybe even in the front of my mind, I knew. Or at least strongly suspected.

I moved to Florida. I got hired at a UPS Store and worked there for 4 years before getting hired at my current job, where I’ve been at for 4 years and 4 months so far. I got married. I made friends. And still I wondered. Until my mom finally said one day “your father and I never had you evaluated, but you are on the autism spectrum.” I told my wife to tell our friends, because even if they had their suspicions already (which I know they did because more than one of them had commented about it), I didn’t want to be the one to say it because anxiety is fun like that. I followed autistic content creators on YouTube, Instagram, and tumblr. I bought books by autistic authors. And still I took quizzes online, which still all said the same thing. Autism likely. It took a long-ass time, but I was starting to get comfortable with what I’d started thinking so many years earlier.

My wife and I have really good health insurance now. I saw an ad for a tele-health company offering autism evaluations for adults. They were only available in a handful of states, and Florida was one. I wanted to know, but I was scared to know. I closed the app the ad was showing on. I took a quiz online. Autism likely. I’d been taking these same tests and quizzes for a decade and getting the same answer. I knew neurotypical people didn’t spend so much of their life wondering if they were autistic. I had a pretty good feeling non-autistic people don't spend a decade of their life taking tests online to see if they could possibly maybe be autistic. I knew from following so many autistic content creators that self-diagnosis is valid if you’ve actually done the research, beyond just watching a handful or TikTok’s and thinking “I do that!” And, trust me, research is something I’d done SO much of. But I still wanted to know.  I told myself if I saw that ad again, I’d see if they took our insurance.

I did. They did. I filled out their contact form…and closed the website without submitting it. I was scared. How would my life change if I talked to one of their psychologists and they said I was autistic? Worse, how would it change if they said I wasn’t autistic? What if what I’d thought for 16 years was wrong? I took another quiz and got the same answer again.

A week went by. Two weeks went by. Autism was still likely, according to the internet.

I went back on their website. I filled out the contact form again and this time I submitted it. Within minutes I’d received a text confirming that they’d received my information. With our insurance, it would cost me about $75 out of pocket.  I had to fill out a self questionnaire, my mom had to fill one out about me as a young child, and Ashley filled one out about me now. Once they were all filled out, my next step was to set an appointment time.

I closed the website. I couldn’t do it. I wanted to know. I didn’t want to know. I needed to know. I was scared to know.

A day or two went by.

I went back online to their website. I scheduled the 2 assessment appointments with a psychologist. I went on to embrace-autism’s website and took every single quiz on there, only to get the same answer I’d been getting since 2009.

I had the two assessment appointments last week and have a follow up appointment on the 18th. I feel like I know what she’s going to say, but at the same time I’m scared to know. I don’t even know if that makes sense. I want to know. But what if I’m wrong? What do you do if what you’ve thought in the back of your mind to be true for nearly half your life isn’t true? I just want to know what the psychologist is going to say.