I have a confession to make: 2024 was a really tough year for me. At the beginning of the year, I left a job that gave me anxiety, only to enter another role where I faced discrimination for my disability (more about that in a future blog, because I think it’s a really important subject to discuss). Not only that, I received my official autism diagnosis in September. Instead of feeling liberated like I thought I would, I only felt more lost.
In August, I made the difficult decision to walk away from my full-time role in marketing, which I’d spent only six months in. My needs were constantly ignored, and instead of offering support, my boss expected me to change everything about myself to fit his ideal of what an employee should be. Needless to say, I was burnt out. I spent months coming home after a day in the office barely able to shower, eat, or enjoy the evening ahead without assistance.
The issue with being a high-masking autistic is that I’ve gone so long acting like I don’t need help, just getting on with things—despite most days feeling like there’s an entirely new mountain to climb. Because of this, people don’t believe I actually need any reasonable adjustments. High-maintenance; dramatic; particular; demanding; fussy; rigid; overly sensitive—these are just a few terms that have been used to describe me in the past when I’ve expressed my needs, either in the workplace or elsewhere. What people don’t realise is that behind my often-normal appearance, I’m usually feeling extremely overwhelmed. Whether it’s from external noise, discomfort in my surroundings, the temperature or some other seemingly insignificant thing most people wouldn’t notice, it’s always there.
I thought receiving my diagnosis would help me access support to make existing in a world built for neurotypical people more bearable. But to be honest, I’m still not sure what that support would look like for me. So, when my college tutor asked what he and the college could do to help me feel supported, I was unable to tell him. But in 2025, I want that to change. I want to be able to express my needs without fear of judgment, and I want to unmask safely and authentically.
I’m still pretty terrified of what lies ahead. Aside from an eight-week temp role, I’ve spent the past few months taking what little freelance work I could get and living off savings. I’ve been neglecting to promote my novel and beating myself up for any time I’ve spent that hasn’t felt ‘productive’. But I’ve got so much to look forward to—my dream holidays to South Korea and Japan, my first-ever 5k run (which I’ve just started training for), and a brand-new cover for my book (which I am finally proud to promote!).
I want this space to be one where I can share my feelings as an autistic person, which is why my website has been completely revamped (thank you, John!). But I also want this space to be a place I can show prospective employers—to highlight my skills as a writer and editor and to help them understand what it’s like to live inside my head.
So, this isn’t a ‘new year, new me’ declaration—this is a ‘new year, real me’. The real me, who had a pyjama party with two of her best friends for her most recent (36th) birthday. I have goals, but I don’t want to feel disappointed in myself if I don’t achieve them within a set timeframe. I just want to be my authentic self, which means working to the best of my ability while staying true to myself and being clear about what I need to feel comfortable—whether that’s in a work setting or a social setting (because trust me, I have needs there too).
This space will be filling up over the weeks to come. I’ve got so many experiences I’d like to share, and now is the time to stop being silent and start sharing them with the world.
If I’m being my authentic self, I’ll say right now that I always hate signing things off. So, bye, and hopefully, you’ll join me on this journey in the months ahead.