I wish I wasn't autistic but society needs us

Telegraph

14-05-2025

I've got a problem with my brain that is bad for me but good for society at large. In fact, I've been genetically blessed with two neurological conditions: ADHD and autism. The first, while it certainly causes me many problems in life, also has its advantages, so I wouldn't give it up. Autism, on the other hand, even though I'm on the high-functioning end of the spectrum, I would gladly take a cure for if one existed.
I do not possess the sort of autism which has enabled me to design rockets, or monumentally push the boundaries of art, physics or music. I seem only to suffer intense sensitivity to overhead lighting, extreme aversion to certain food groups, inability to maintain friendships, a proclivity towards total social isolation, and obsessions about obscure topics (I can tell you a lot about the pathology of contagious yawning, for example) that do not advance the human race.
Still, some of the most intellectually gifted people alive today are autistic, and would not have achieved their success without it. Historically, too, many of humanity's greatest innovators were very likely autistic too.
While it's impossible to posthumously diagnose these people, of course, biographical records all point strongly to figures including Albert Einstein, Michelangelo, Beethoven and Charles Darwin as having typical autistic traits. All were socially awkward, solitary, obsessive about singular topics and had rigid, eccentric routines.
Dr Selina Warlow, a renowned clinical psychologist specialising in neurodiversity, tells me: 'From an evolutionary perspective, there's a compelling argument that neurodivergent minds bring unique strengths to society, whether it's in systems thinking, long-term vision, or an unwavering commitment to truth and innovation. These traits can be incredibly valuable, particularly when it comes to driving progress or tackling complex global challenges.'
However, the likes of Beethoven and Michelangelo were also known to be brooding, troubled souls; none of whom would be described as having a sunny disposition. Indeed, according to a recent meta-analysis in Springer Nature, autistic people were found to have an up to eightfold increased risk of suicide compared to the rest of the population. It is not a comfortable mind to occupy – I can tell you that.
Elon Musk is a shining example of the sort of autistic figurehead who isn't known to be happy-go-lucky, and is widely disliked by many (as was Einstein, who was regarded by his contemporaries as rebellious and a loose canon) but who has undeniably achieved great things for humanity. Tesla, SpaceX, and Neuralink, are all companies that will go down in history as being hugely significant in the advance of technology.
Musk famously stated, when hosting Saturday Night Live in 2021: 'I'm actually making history tonight as the first person with Asperger's to host SNL. So I won't make a lot of eye contact tonight. But don't worry, I'm pretty good at running human in emulation mode.' He went on to quip: 'I know I sometimes say or post strange things, but that's just how my brain works. To anyone I've offended, I just want to say, I reinvented electric cars and I'm sending people to Mars in a rocket ship. Did you think I was also going to be a chill, normal dude?'
The 'Asperger's' classification he mentioned, incidentally, was eliminated by the American Psychiatric Association in 2013 and folded into the broader diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder, a move I personally find confounding. There is a gargantuan difference between being on the high-functioning end of the spectrum, as I am, and the other end, which renders people non-verbal and entirely incapable of independent lives.
It's one of the many reasons I feel embarrassed to tell people I have autism. I appear relatively 'normal', because I'm good at covering it up ('masking', as it's known in the field), so some just don't believe me. To be honest, I didn't really buy it myself until I was formally diagnosed earlier this year. And only because so many of my followers on TikTok have for years pointed out that I displayed classic traits in my videos.
Looking back, I have always been very blunt in my affect and unwavering in my opinions, hardly noticing (or caring, frankly) if others are offended by me. It was a persistent problem at school, where I was regarded as stubborn and uncooperative. I never did my homework on principle, and I still maintain that it's unreasonable and a bad habit to try and instil in children. I often fell out with friends, too, for reading situations wrong or being insensitive.
Lacking empathy is a commonly discussed attribute when it comes to autism, but it's more complicated than it sounds. Growing up, I always had intense empathy for animals, for example, but find it very hard to react normally when humans are in distress. To this day I skip past Mufasa's death in the Lion King when my son watches it because I can't bear the sadness, but since as early as I can recall, if a friend is upset, I freeze up; not wanting to hug them nor knowing what to say to comfort them.
'Animals are less complex socially: they're consistent and easier to read,' Dr Warlow points out. 'Many autistic individuals are described as having a strong sense of justice, fairness, and a clear moral compass, sometimes more so than their neurotypical peers. While their way of relating to other people might be different, it doesn't mean they lack empathy altogether; rather, empathy may be expressed in ways that are less conventional or more focused on principles than emotions.'
True to form, I probably fell out with my best friend seven years ago – a sad occurrence that haunts me to this day, especially given I so rarely find people I like – because her life was changing trajectory and she was no longer following the same rules, in my head. The last straw was when she promised she'd take me to my ex-boyfriend's funeral and then cancelled at the last minute. A minor transgression to most, but I just couldn't fathom the broken pledge and absolutely exploded. She ended our friendship after that.
Had I known at the time that I was autistic, I almost certainly would have saved it, simply by accepting that not everyone thinks with the same rigidity that I do. It sounds absurdly obvious, but before being diagnosed, I found the world baffling. People would say one thing, but mean another – how are we supposed to tell which is which? And why do the majority just blindly obey certain rules even when they are unjust or ridiculous? Take homework, for example. As a kid I couldn't accept that after being at school all day learning things, I then had to go home and do more work, instead of recharging or spend time relaxing. That's blatantly immoral, surely? Adults aren't obliged to do this, in most jobs.
I assumed, however, that I was simply bad at handling these confusing societal norms, and was thus a substandard human. In short, I hated myself. Now I understand the difference in the wiring of my brain, it all makes sense. I'm nicer to myself and less frustrated by others. Which is why, despite widespread mockery, I believe labels to be so important when it comes to mental matters.
It is a good thing that so many more people these days are being diagnosed with conditions like ADHD and autism. Classifying things is how we better compute them, and why we humans know so much about the world. There are more than 6,000 species of frog so far identified by scientists and no-one seems to get their knickers in a flap about that. I write about having autism and ADHD and will probably get annihilated by certain readers in the comments section.
But I hope – and it's partly why I keep writing about it – that someone might recognise themselves in my words and realise they are not broken or a dud, but that they could just have a neurological abnormality that has a name, an explanation, and yes, a useful purpose. It's happened already; I've had many emails and messages from people who have gone on to be diagnosed after seeing me talk or write about it, and found immense comfort in finally understanding themselves.
It's useful for others, too (just ask my husband) to comprehend our weirdisms. So while my life is more difficult because I have autism, I'm glad that I know I have it; and though I am but a lowly writer, I do get a kick out of being in the same club as Darwin and Einstein.