Two of the defining clinical features of autism are marked impairment in social communication and restricted, repetitive, and stereotyped patterns of behavior. As an adult, the restricted, repetitive, and stereotyped patterns of behavior are not as overwhelming, and can even be a positive influence on your life. For example, collecting and organizing Legos compulsively can be fun and doesn’t bother or harm anyone in your life. Having areas of your home where you don’t let people touch your things is acceptable and can create a safe place for an autistic adult. Stimming can be used as a coping skill.
However, the social communication impairment portion of autism can remain crippling. For many autistic adults, this is described as difficulty understanding and being understood by other adults. It means that there is a struggle being able to “read the room” or “listen to your gut.” It may lead to repeated victimization as autistic people can’t tell when other people are predatory. And it often leads to profound loneliness as it is hard to form and maintain healthy relationships.
At the most disabling end, social impairment can lead to difficulties with employment and finances. Coworkers can find you aversive—and HR managers may find you so off-putting that you aren’t hired to begin with. Neurotypical social skills are often pivotal to finding and maintaining employment.
Research has shown that most neurotypical people find autistic adults to be aversive. They find us annoying and think there is something “off” about us. We are called weirdos or freaks. We are the “too much” people or the “too quiet” people. These perceptions that others have of us shape our lives. The truth is that most neurotypicals dislike us and we know it.
When I was a young girl, I was sure that everyone around me hated me. I was told I was difficult by my parents. Peers said I was “harsh” and “abrasive.” In response, I tried to overperform. I worked hard and I helped everyone I could. I worked at the domestic violence shelter and the rape crisis center. I donated money. I wrote fiction piece after fiction piece. I thought that if I could do enough, save enough people, I would be remembered for my contributions to the world, not the innumerable personality flaws that so many people were so quick to point out about me.
My hard work paid off. I was the clinical director of a rape crisis center by the time I was 24. I spent most of my nights in the emergency room with rape victims. I sat with children and adults. At that time, there weren’t as many resources and our little nonprofit helped all ages.
Despite this, I eventually found that my coworkers at the crisis center disliked me and spread rumors about me. They spread ludicrous stories about me; for example, even though I was married and pregnant, some thought I was having affairs. (I was not). I felt powerless to understand what I had done to invite so much hatred. After that, I tried to work in areas that required less human interaction. Mostly I wrote. Even this led to strange assumptions, dislike, and gossip.
Now, I try to keep to myself. I don’t have any desire to stand out or succeed beyond what I have already accomplished. Over the last few years, I have tried to stay as hidden as possible in hopes that people will only see my work and not gossip about me or hate me for reasons I will never understand. Even though I rarely leave the house for any reason except to play Magic the Gathering and I keep to myself, people still hate me and spread strange rumors.
This is the most crippling part of autism for me. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, neurotypicals dislike me. Their inability to understand me leads to them coming up with outlandish hypothesizes that become bizarre, false gossip. My inability to fit in and find acceptance impacts my career, my children, and every aspect of my life.
Research by Alkahaldi, et al (2020) shows that my life experiences are not unique. According to their studies, “It was more common for perceivers to ‘like’ neurotypical than autistic targets. The number of ‘likes’ each target received correlated highly with perceiver ratings of target social favorability. Perceivers cited perceived awkwardness and lack of empathy as being reasons for deciding they disliked targets.” According to research by Amheidel (2025), autistic people find neurotypical people just as baffling: Autistic adults struggle to comprehend the social intricacies that neurotypical people “just know.” Neurotypicals are found to dislike autistic people even if they don’t know we are autistic—and even neurotypical mental health providers may misdiagnose us and consider us narcissistic or difficult.
Social skills training often makes things worse for autistic people as masking—pretending to be neurotypical—has been shown to increase suicidality and depression in autistic people and lower their quality of life.
In the end, it seems, the only real answer comes with letting go of caring about what neurotypicals think of you. If you are an autistic adult, you have to learn to love yourself for who you are and reach out to other autistic adults. This may be the light at the end of the tunnel. Autistic people usually can find community with other autistic people. The truth is, we may never find acceptance with neurotypicals. We may always be disliked, avoided, and gossiped about in neurotypical communities, but if we can love ourselves and find love and acceptance in our own communities, we can find a path to happiness and that is what matters the most. If you are autistic, you are beautiful and even if the neurotypical world will never understand your beautiful light, know that there is a place with other autistic people where it can shine.