So, You Don’t Think I’m Autistic?

I’ve learned over time that when people say, “Really? You don’t look autistic!” what they mean is, “I’ve been trained by TV shows to think autism is just math prodigies, Sheldon Cooper, and people who can’t make eye contact at all.”

I do make eye contact. But here’s the secret: it’s not “natural” for me. It’s like manually operating a crane—constantly adjusting angles, wondering if I’m staring too much, not enough, or at the wrong eye. It’s exhausting. My brain is trying to focus on your words while also running a little eye contact control room in the background.

Then there’s stimming. I love stimming. It’s how my nervous system resets itself. But social rules say I can’t just bring my life-sized squishy corn on the cob into a meeting and absentmindedly squish it while someone provides a unit update. So I choose “acceptable” fidgets—small, discreet ones. Meanwhile, I’m daydreaming of the sweet catharsis of squeezing my giant corn like I’m preparing it for some kind of emotional harvest.

My beloved squishy corn, faithfully waiting for our next squishy session.

Communication can be… interesting. What I mean and what comes out aren’t always the same thing. And when I’m receiving information, I need more time. Other people seem to get all the important puzzle pieces first. I get random ones: a corner here, a patch of sky there, three pieces of someone’s elbow. But here’s the magic—once I put them together, I don’t just see the picture everyone else sees. I get the whole landscape, the hidden patterns, the extra details nobody noticed.

That makes me great at innovation, creativity, problem-solving, and deep analysis. It’s not instant, but when the “aha” moment hits, it’s not a lightbulb—it’s a fully illuminated Times Square.

So yes, maybe I don’t “look” autistic according to TV stereotypes. But trust me: it’s there, in the way I process the world, juggle the unspoken rules, and occasionally yearn to bring a giant squishy corn on the cob to a meeting. And frankly, every team should have an autistic person—because when you’ve got someone who sees all the puzzle pieces, even the hidden ones, you’re playing with the full set.

I created my very own unscientific autistic traits questionnaire, here are my answers: