Autism Acceptance Month: A Guide to Saying the Wrong Thing (Featuring Me)

April is Autism Acceptance Month, which is a beautiful, meaningful, and—if I’m being completely honest—slightly terrifying time of year.

Somewhere along the way, I learned that autism is deeply and importantly nuanced. There are spectrums within spectrums, identities within identities, experiences that overlap and contradict and evolve. It’s complex. It’s human.

And yet, somehow, despite all that nuance, there is also a very real fear that if you use the wrong word—just one slightly off, outdated, or imperfect term—you will be immediately launched into the Social Faux Pas Hall of Fame.

Population: me. Frequently.

The irony is, we talk a lot (rightfully) about understanding autistic communication differences, and yet the pressure to get every word exactly right can feel… paralyzing. Especially if, like me, your entire life story can be summarized as:

“Well, that came out wrong.”

I have said the wrong thing in job interviews.
I have said the wrong thing in friendships.
I have said the wrong thing approximately 3 seconds after saying, “I’m going to be really careful about what I say next.”

And underneath the awkward humour, there’s something a bit heavier that I do feel compelled to communicate and share during Autism Acceptance Month:

A lot about having autism isn’t fun.

It’s not fun to feel like you’re constantly misfiring in conversations while everyone else seems to have downloaded the correct social operating system at birth.

It’s not fun to feel isolated, even when you’re technically not alone.

It’s not fun to look around and see people effortlessly doing “normal” things—running errands, replying to texts, leaving the house like it’s no big deal—while those same tasks can feel, for you, like climbing a mountain in flip-flops.

And yes, I know—everyone has struggles. Intellectually, I understand that. I truly do. And I also acknowledge the many aspects of my life that bring me privilege. 

But subjectively? In those quiet, difficult moments?
It often feels like everyone else is winning at life… and I’m stuck buffering.

For a long time, life felt almost unbearable. That’s not an easy sentence to write, but it’s an honest one.

Things are better now. Understanding myself has helped. Naming things, recognizing patterns, realizing that I’m not just “bad at being a person”—that changes something fundamental.

But “better” doesn’t mean “easy.”

It just means I now understand why things are hard… while they are still, very much, hard.

So if there’s one thing I’d want people to take away this Autism Acceptance Month, it’s this:

Sometimes things look fine from the outside.

Sometimes they even are fine, in moments.

But a lot of the time, they’re not.

And you might not see the effort it takes for someone to send that text, show up to that event, or say that sentence (even if it comes out wrong).

So yes—let’s keep talking about nuance. It matters.

Let’s keep evolving language. That matters too.

But maybe we can also make a little more room for people who are trying—awkwardly, imperfectly, sometimes disastrously—to communicate within all that nuance.

Because some of us are not just afraid of saying the wrong thing.

We’re experienced.

Thanks for reading—wrong words and all.