Throughout my life, I wondered why I struggled with things that seemed so easy for everyone else.
Why socializing left me drained, why I rehearsed conversations in my head while others just… spoke, or why I always felt like I had to perform.
After years of questioning and researching, I stumbled across “autism spectrum disorder.”
Page after page, story after story, I saw myself. (Not to mention I was unlearning the stereotypes at the same time.)
To be sure, though, I sought a psychiatric evaluation. And at age 20, I received an official diagnosis. The first real explanation I’d ever had for my life.
I felt two things at once: relief and fear.
Relief, because I finally had words for what I’d always felt.
Fear, because I knew I didn’t “look” autistic — or at least not in a way I thought anyone would take seriously. I mean, I was verbal. I had jobs. I’d been in relationships. I had mastered the art of pretending to be fine.
But I was struggling in ways I didn’t know how to name.
I couldn’t make or keep friendships.
Conversations felt awkward.
Emotional burnout was a constant.
Certain sounds and lights overwhelmed me.
I didn’t know how to regulate or explain what I was feeling.
Worst of all, I felt alone… Always on the outside looking in.
Masking became my survival strategy. I studied others, copied their behavior, and learned to blend in.
I really believed I was broken. Too quiet, too weird, too sensitive, and too hard to be around. I carried that shame like a second skin.
Eventually, I hit a wall.
Letting God See Me
Years of hiding and pretending had taken a nasty toll on my mental health. I kept wondering why I couldn’t just be “normal.” No matter how hard I tried, something felt off. Like the rest of the world had a map, and I was left in the dark.
That’s when I started seeking answers from God.
In that same year, I gave my life to Jesus Christ. I didn’t get all the answers right away, but I finally had Someone to ask the hard questions.
I started praying honestly and poured my heart out. I asked Him, “What’s wrong with me? Why am I like this?”
And gently, He began to show me that nothing was wrong with me.
I wasn’t a mistake.
I was made on purpose.
One of the most healing moments came when I opened up to my husband after being in denial about my diagnosis for over 5 years. I told him about my autism. About the parts of me I had hidden even from him.
Instead of pulling away, he leaned in. He listened. And he still loved me.
That conversation gave me courage: courage to stop apologizing for how I was wired and to begin accepting myself.
Psalm 139 became a lifeline:
“I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
For the first time, I began reading Scripture as if it were written for me… To remind me that God didn’t overlook me and He didn’t make a mistake.
He formed my brain, my sensitivities, my deep emotions — all of it — with intention.
Learning to Live Unapologetically
Now, I’m unmasking in real time.
Wearing earplugs when places get too loud.
Taking breaks when I’m overwhelmed.
Stimming (rocking, fidgeting, moving my hands) without shame.
Diving into my special interests.
I allow myself to just be.
Some days, I still catch myself falling into old patterns. But instead of beating myself up, I give myself grace.
I slow down and remind myself: I’m safe.
As an autistic Christian, I’ve learned:
I’m not broken.
Or a problem to solve.
Or a puzzle God forgot to finish.
I’m whole, loved, and made with care.
Autism is not a curse or a disease. It’s not something to be “cured.” It’s simply a part of who we are.
We don’t need to be fixed. We need support, understanding, compassion, community, and room to grow. Because autistic kids grow up to be autistic adults, and we still matter.
I don’t want to hide anymore. And if you’re on this journey too, I’m cheering you on.
I am seen, I am loved, and I am exactly who God made me to be—no mask required.
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