Wired Differently
I am autistic. Diagnosed 2 years ago I share about this a lot on social media
And I say that not as an excuse, not as a shield, but as a fact about how my brain is wired, and as context that I think matters, for me, for the people I work with, and for anyone who has ever found me difficult to read, too direct, or too much.
Because here’s what most people don’t know about autism in adults, particularly in women and people who have spent decades masking, adapting and finding their way through a world that wasn’t designed for how their mind works: it is exhausting in ways that are almost impossible to explain. And the misunderstandings it creates can be genuinely devastating.
The autistic brain is not broken…but it is different.
Autism — or Autism Spectrum Condition (ASC) as it is increasingly called — is a neurological difference, not a deficit. Research consistently shows that autistic brains are structurally and functionally different in areas governing social communication, sensory processing, executive function and emotional regulation. (Lai et al., 2014, Nature Reviews Neuroscience).
What this means in practice is that the unwritten social rules most people absorb unconsciously like the subtle cues, the implied meanings, the expected performances of warmth or softness… they don’t come automatically. Not because autistic people don’t care but often because they care so deeply that the performance of caring, rather than the actual caring, makes no sense to them.
I say what I mean. I mean what I say. I don’t do subtext well and it’s not because I’m cold, but because my brain is oriented toward honesty and directness in a way that can land as bluntness, even when it comes entirely from love.
One of the most painful and persistent misunderstandings autistic people face is the assumption that with enough effort, enough awareness, enough willingness… they could simply adjust. Soften the edges. Read the room better. Be a little more like everyone else.
Neuroscience tells us this is far more complicated than it sounds.
The autistic brain shows differences in connectivity between the prefrontal cortex and the limbic system. These are areas governing social processing and emotional response (Just et al., 2012, Brain). These are not habits. They are not personality traits that can be smoothed out with self-awareness. They are the architecture of the mind itself.
MASKING
-the process by which many autistic people learn to suppress or camouflage their natural responses to fit neurotypical expectations, is possible.
Many of us do it, often without realising. I know I have for decades, more or less. Is it worth it though? Research is increasingly clear on its cost: chronic masking is directly associated with anxiety, depression, burnout and a profound loss of self.
In other words: I can perform neurotypicality… but it costs me enormously. And it is not, in any meaningful sense, sustainable.
And then unmasking, which I fully and intentionally started after I got my diagnosis couple of years back. I didn’t realize truthfully how much it would cost me. Painfully.
I have lost connections I treasured. Collaborations with people I considered among my closest. People I had built things with, trusted deeply, loved… many came apart. Conflicts emerged that I don’t think would have existed, when I was still masking. Some of those losses I am still sitting with and it hurts.
Research on late-diagnosed autistic adults documents a painful paradox: that unmasking, the very thing that leads toward authenticity, mental health and self-respect, can simultaneously rupture relationships built on the masked version of you. People who thought they knew you suddenly find themselves with someone they don’t fully recognize. And yeah, some of them leave.
But here is what is also true, the flip side.
In unmasking, I have received some of the most profound feedback of my life. People telling me that my directness finally makes sense to them. That they trust me more, not less. That something in how I show up now as this unfiltered, consistent, honest me, gives them permission to do the same. Bonds that already existed have deepened in ways I didn’t think possible. I love you, you know who you are ♥️ and new connections have formed that feel, for the first time, genuinely real! They are built on who I actually am rather than who I was trying to be.
Unmasking is not a smooth road and It is not very universally welcomed. But it is, for me, the only road that leads somewhere I actually want to go. I would rather be truly known by fewer people than perform myself into belonging with many.
This has totally changed the way I look at success too. Very Kurt Cobain of me but truly "I'd rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I am not".
It is hard though… and this is the part that is hardest to write. And the most important.
Autistic people and particularly those in leadership, in teaching, in any role that carries visibility and authority, are disproportionately misread.
Our directness is mistaken for aggression and our consistency is mistaken for rigidity. The difficulty with unspoken social contracts is mistaken for disrespect and our emotional honesty is mistaken for a lack of emotional intelligence.
And because we often don’t perform the expected signals of remorse, softness or social smoothing after a difficult moment we get cast as the villain in stories we didn’t know we were part of. I’m tired of this. And I’m tired of always been expected to do things the neurotypical way, like how to have a meeting, or “the proper way of doing things” to be professional, it’s certainly not being direct! It’s being dishonest.
Research by Damian Milton describes this as the “double empathy problem” the idea that the communication breakdown between autistic and non-autistic people is not a one-way failure. It is a mutual misunderstanding, arising from two genuinely different ways of experiencing and processing the world (Milton, 2012, Disability & Society). The autistic person is not failing to connect. Both parties are failing to translate.
But in a world where neurotypical social norms are the default and the standard, the autistic person is always the one who gets blamed. Every. Single. Time.
What I want you to know:
I am not performing when I am direct with you. That is my care.
I am not being cold when I don’t offer the expected social softeners. I am being honest, which to me is one of the deepest forms of respect.
I will not always get it right. My brain moves fast, processes differently, and sometimes what lands outside is not what was meant inside.
I am aware of this. I work with it every day. I go to therapy. I practice. But I cannot rewire my neurology through willpower. Nobody can.
What I can do and what I have always done is show up fully, build real things, love fiercely, and tell the truth. Even when the truth is uncomfortable. Even when it would be easier to smooth it over.
That is not a flaw in my character. It is a feature of my mind. And it has built communities, changed lives and created belonging for many people over thirty years! And many of whom felt, for the first time, that someone was being genuinely straight with them.
Many also left.
Not everyone will understand that. Not everyone will feel safe with my particular way of being. And that is okay. I have made peace with that.
But I am no longer willing to be made into a villain for it.
I want that peace, unmasked
X, Satu
References
Lai, M-C. et al. (2014). Autism. Nature Reviews Disease Primers.
Just, M.A. et al. (2012). Autism as a neural systems disorder. Neuroscience & Biobehavioral Reviews.
Pearson, A. & Rose, K. (2021). A Conceptual Analysis of Autistic Masking. Autism in Adulthood.
Milton, D. (2012). On the ontological status of autism: the double empathy problem. Disability & Society.d