Torn Between Two Worlds

My diagnosis has flipped my world upside down. At first, it felt like a blessing, like a piece of the puzzle I’d been searching for my whole life. Now, it feels like a curse. Autism has made me feel like less of a person. Subpar, mediocre at best. It’s like there’s a constant comparison to others that I can never quite reach. Every time I try, I fall short. I see everyone else moving through the world with ease, while I’m stuck, standing still in a place that feels wrong.

Autism has made me a shell of who I was. A fly on the wall, watching life happen around me but feeling disconnected from it all. I’ve spent so much time pretending to be someone I’m not, trying to fit into spaces that don’t feel right. I feel like if I unmask, if I let people see the real me, I’ll be “too autistic.” I’ll be too much. People might think I’m trying too hard or that I’m faking it, as if this isn’t really who I am. On the other hand, if I hide myself, if I don’t allow myself to truly be who I am, I’m doing myself a disservice. I’m hiding the very thing that makes me, me.

Imagine discovering a huge part of yourself for the first time at the age of 32. Something that makes you who you are, that explains so many of the things you’ve done your whole life. For years, I’ve thought my “weird” habits were just quirks, things to be embarrassed about. But now, I realize those things are my autism. They’re a part of me, something I’ve spent my life learning to hide, to pretend doesn’t exist, just to fit into a world that doesn’t understand.

Imagine being so scared to be yourself that you don’t know how to move forward. That you just exist. That you stay inside, afraid to leave the house because the world outside feels like it’s too much to navigate. The fear of rejection, of not being accepted for who you truly are, keeps you locked in a space where you’re not truly living. You’re just surviving.

My agoraphobia has changed over time. It used to be the fear of public places, the anxiety of stepping outside where I didn’t feel safe. But now, it’s shifted. Now, it’s the fear of being around the people I love most; friends and family. The ones who should make me feel safe, yet all I feel is anxiety. I start to wonder if they see the real me, if they notice the mask I’m wearing, or the parts of me I’ve hidden. The closer they get, the tighter the anxiety grips me, and I’m left questioning everything. I never expected to feel more exposed around the people who should comfort me, but somehow, that’s where I am now. My safe space has become a cage, and even the love of those closest to me feels like something I can’t face.

The weight of it all is suffocating, like I’m always holding my breath, waiting for the moment when I can finally exhale. But there’s no space to breathe, no moment of peace. I can’t shake the fear that if I step outside of the walls I’ve built for myself, the world will be too harsh, too unforgiving. I wonder if it would be easier to disappear into the background, to never stand out, to never risk being misunderstood. At least then, I wouldn’t feel like such a burden.

And yet, there’s a part of me that longs to be seen. To be accepted as I truly am, without judgment, without the need to mask. But the courage to let go of that mask feels impossible. What if it’s too much for people to handle? What if it makes them uncomfortable? What if they stop trying to understand me altogether?

I’m caught in this constant tug-of-war between wanting to be authentic and the fear that being too real will push people away. I want to find peace, to stop feeling like a stranger in my own life, but I don’t know how to navigate this. I don’t know how to stop feeling less than, to stop feeling like I’m failing at just existing.

I can feel people slipping away, even when they don’t mean to. I’ve hidden myself so deep inside this shell, this armor that I’ve built to protect me from the world, that it’s pushing others away. They don’t see the real me, the person I’ve hidden in the shadows for so long. And it hurts. It hurts more than I can say, because it’s not intentional. But the pressure to fit in, to be someone I’m not, is so heavy that I can’t bear it anymore. It weighs on me until the tears start to fall, and I break down, overwhelmed by the thought that no matter how hard I try, I’m always just out of reach. I want to connect, I want to be seen, but I’m so afraid that if I take off this mask, I’ll be too much, or worse, not enough.