There are three basic responses to an autism diagnosis, that I’ve seen. (And combinations and permutations, of course.)
-
I’m autistic, huh. So, you know, that’s a thing.
(this is information which may be relevant at some point, but most of the time I’m just trying to get by.) -
I’m autistic, which means I have to work harder for the same result.
(I recognise that I have difficulties with some things, but that means I need to put more effort in if I want them. No-one’s going to do it for me, nor should they have to. It’s not fair, but it’s how it is.) -
I’m autistic, which means I can’t do it and everything should just be given to me or done for me.
(I have a doctor’s note that says I don’t have to do stuff which is hard.)
That last one isn’t a symptom, it’s a choice.
Oh, and it manifests in various ways. At its most benign, it’s learned helplessness. At its most toxic, it’s a sense of universal entitlement. Combine that with toxic masculinity and it’s own sense of righteous universal entitlement, and you’ve got a powerful, poisonous combination.
