Invalidated

There’s a phrase I’ve heard more times than I can count, and it grinds my gears every single time: “Don’t blame it on the autism.” Even typing it out makes me wince. These few words carry a weight of misunderstanding that’s hard to unpack, but today, I’m going to try.

The phrase itself is loaded with assumptions, starting with how it frames autism. When people talk about “the autism,” it’s as if they’re referring to an optional add-on, something external that can be set aside or blamed when things go wrong. But autism isn’t some accessory or condition that just appears one day—it’s how my brain has always been wired. It’s not a glitch in the system; it is the system. Describing it as something separate from who I am completely misses the point. This isn’t something that can be “blamed” or “excused” away—it’s the lens through which the world is experienced, for better or worse.

And then there’s the word “blame.” The idea that acknowledging the role of autism in my experiences is somehow shifting responsibility or making excuses baffles me. When people accuse me of “using autism as an excuse,” it feels like they’re dismissing the reality of what I live with every day. This isn’t about evading accountability; it’s about shedding light on the challenges that come with navigating a world that wasn’t built with me in mind.

Imagine someone in a wheelchair being told they’re using their disability as an excuse not to climb stairs. The absurdity of that statement is obvious. And yet, when the challenges are less visible, like those that come with autism, the logic somehow shifts. Suddenly, it’s as if I’m expected to power through, to overcome something that isn’t about effort but about how my brain processes the world around me.

Hearing “Don’t blame it on the autism” does more than just sting—it invalidates my experience. It implies that with enough effort, this fundamental part of who I am could somehow change, that I’m choosing not to conform to an arbitrary standard of normalcy. It’s a subtle but powerful form of gaslighting, leaving me questioning whether I’m being seen or heard at all.

When I share my experiences, when I open up about the ways in which autism shapes my interactions with the world, it’s not an attempt to build a wall or make excuses—it’s an invitation. It’s an attempt to build a bridge, to create a connection by offering insight into a perspective that might be different from what others are used to. But when that invitation is met with skepticism or outright denial, it shuts down any chance of meaningful dialogue. It reinforces the isolation that already feels so pervasive and leaves me wondering if I’m even worth the effort of understanding.

The truth is, autism isn’t a convenient scapegoat—it’s an integral part of my reality. When it’s brought up, it’s not to deflect blame or responsibility, but to help others understand the context of actions and reactions. Autism influences how information is processed, how communication happens, and how the world is interacted with. It’s not something that can simply be turned off or ignored. And it’s certainly not something to apologize for.

Key Takeaways:

Autism Is Integral: Autism isn’t an add-on or an excuse—it’s a fundamental part of how I experience the world, shaping my interactions and challenges.

Invalidation Hurts: Phrases like “Don’t blame it on the autism” dismiss and invalidate the experiences of those on the spectrum, implying that their challenges are exaggerated or self-inflicted.

Understanding Over Blame: True connection comes from understanding and empathy, not from dismissing someone’s reality. Recognizing and validating experiences is key to meaningful dialogue.