AUTISM DOESN’T ALWAYS LOOK THE WAY YOU THINK IT DOES. 🌿
I can make eye contact.
I can form friendships.
I can be social, laugh until my stomach hurts, hold meaningful conversations, be compassionate, empathetic and participate fully in life.
I can also be autistic.
And I think it's time we challenged some of the assumptions about what autism should look like.
Because what you see on the outside isn't necessarily what is happening on the inside.
What you don't see…
The sensory overload. The noise, the lights, the conversations, the movement. The feeling that my brain is trying to process absolutely everything, all at once.
The strange blindness that can overcome me in a crowd. Familiar faces become difficult to recognise amongst the chaos, even when I'm looking directly at them.
The constant mental calculations about how much longer I can stay at a party before my nervous system decides it's had enough.
The nausea that can come with social overwhelm. The desperate need to escape, to be alone, to find silence and let my body settle.
The emotional dysregulation. Oh, that one is hard. Feeling things so intensely that sometimes my emotions arrive before I've even had a chance to understand them.
And perhaps the most extraordinary part?
I spent so much of my life masking these experiences without even knowing I was doing it.
Smiling when I was overwhelmed. Staying when I needed to leave. Making eye contact when it took enormous concentration. Trying to be the version of myself I thought the world expected.
All while wondering why things that seemed effortless for others could leave me utterly exhausted.
But here's what I really want people to understand.
Autism isn't just about the challenges. There is so much magnificence here, too.
The depth of our friendships. The loyalty. The fierce sense of justice. The creativity, curiosity, attention to detail and the ability to see beauty and meaning in things others might walk straight past.
When I find a home in someone's friendship, I love deeply. I don't take that connection lightly. My friendships are precious, and my loyalty runs deep.
I feel things intensely, but that intensity also allows me to experience extraordinary joy, connection, wonder and love.
And I wouldn't want to lose those parts of myself.
This is also why Mantra & Moss means so much to me. 🌿
Long before I understood my own neurodivergence, I was instinctively searching for ways to regulate my nervous system.
Meditation. Forest therapy. Walking amongst the trees. Journalling. Creating art.
Nature gives me space to breathe when the world becomes too loud.
Meditation helps me return to myself.
Journalling gives the tangled thoughts somewhere to land.
And art? Art has become one of my greatest forms of regulation. A place where I don't have to mask, explain myself or get everything right.
These practices don't make my autism disappear. Nor would I want them to.
They simply help me live more gently within my own nervous system.
And through Mantra & Moss, I hope to create that same sense of safety, understanding and permission for others.
Permission to be different.
Permission to leave the party early.
Permission to need solitude without being labelled antisocial.
Permission to feel deeply, love fiercely and experience the world in your own extraordinary way.
Because autism isn't the absence of connection. Sometimes it's the extraordinary depth of it, alongside the enormous energy it can take to navigate.
We don't all look the same. We don't all experience autism the same way. And we certainly don't need to fit someone's stereotype to be understood.
Perhaps it's time we stopped asking autistic people to look more like everyone else and started making room for us to be exactly who we are.
