Growing up, I wanted to be Spiderman. Not the Tobey Maguire metro-sexual ripoff, the real Spiderman—the one from the cartoons. “Is he strong? Listen bud, he’s got radioactive blood. Can he swing from a thread? Take a look overhead. Look out, here comes the Spiderman.”
Turns out, adult autism is a lot like that cartoon heroism—minus the radioactive blood (probably). It’s not about “fixing” someone’s brain. It’s about recognizing that some minds operate on a different frequency, solving problems and perceiving the world in ways that defy neurotypical manuals.
“Wait, They’re Autistic? But They’ve Been Masking Like a Pro!”
Society loves a good disguise. Autistic adults often master the art of blending in, scripting conversations, and mirroring social cues to avoid standing out. It’s less Mission Impossible and more survival mode. One client joked, “I thought everyone rehearsed phone calls in the shower.” Spoiler: They don’t.
Late diagnosis isn’t a plot twist—it’s an awakening. Years of feeling “off” suddenly make sense. Imagine realizing your brain isn’t broken, just wired to notice patterns others miss, or hyperfocus on passions that look like obsessions to outsiders.
The “Emotionally Unavailable” Trap
Let’s cut to the chase: Autistic adults aren’t ice sculptures. They just communicate differently. Relationships crash when neurotypical partners expect mind-reading and autistic partners default to logic over subtext. She wants “emotional connection”; he’s confused why reorganizing the garage isn’t a love language.
It’s a mismatch, not malice. Autistic folks might struggle to articulate feelings, but they’ll remember your coffee order for life, or troubleshoot your Wi-Fi at 2 a.m. without complaint. Priorities shift.
Strengths in Plain Sight
Forget “deficits.” Autistic brains are built for depth, not small talk. Hyperfocus? That’s just code for “I will solve this problem or die trying.” Pattern recognition? They’ll spot the typo in your PowerPoint before you finish coffee. But force them into a neon-lit team-building retreat, and yeah, they’ll short-circuit.
The world’s obsession with extroversion misses the point. Some of history’s greatest innovators, artists, and scientists thrived because their brains ignored the noise and drilled into details.
How to Not Screw This Up
Loving an autistic person isn’t rocket science. It’s more like IKEA instructions: straightforward, but you gotta read them.
- Say what you mean. “I’m upset” beats passive-aggressive silence.
- Respect the sensory rules. Fluorescent lights = kryptonite. Noise-canceling headphones = peace.
- Let them infodump. Yes, even about Star Trek warp core theory.
The Bottom Line
Autism isn’t a tragedy or a superhero origin story. It’s a lens. Some see the world in black-and-white rules; others notice textures, sounds, or systems invisible to the rest. The goal isn’t to “normalize” neurodivergent minds—it’s to stop pathologizing them.
So next time you meet someone who’s awkwardly brilliant, or who hates small talk but loves your cat’s birthday, lean in. They might not fill the silence, but they’ll redefine it.
scott-williams.ca 