…
As an Autistic person a lot of people simply do not like me.

For most of my life, I took this as a personal failure.
So I adapted - softer, warmer, less intense, diluted.
And for a long time, I managed.

What I didn’t know was that I was masking.

I didn’t even know what a mask was! I thought we were all exhausted from trying to be acceptable. I thought we all studied the room before speaking. I thought we all rehearsed responses. I thought people-pleasing was just what being “nice” meant. I thought this was how everyone played at life.

I didn’t realise my experience was different.

Then perimenopause came.

And the mask I never knew I had, vanished. The dysregulation got louder. My sense of justice reared and roared. The energy it took to smooth myself down? I just didn’t have it anymore.

And overnight the friction became visible.

You see I say what I mean. I ask direct questions. I crave depth. I’m expressive. My joy is big. I need a lot of quiet.

For some people, that works. For others, it doesn’t.

Research shows Autistic people are often judged negatively within seconds.

And for years, I internalised that as proof I was failing.

Now I know differently.

Truth be told, Autistic people are often not universally liked.

Not because we’re wrong. But because we’re different.

And once I stopped trying to be universally palatable, I stopped abandoning myself to belong.

Late identification brought with it a freedom that trying to fit in promised but never could.

It’s hard. And it’s not you.

If you’ve felt this too — the friction, the misreading, the “too much” — I hope you know:

You are not broken, simply unmasked.

There is a world of difference* between saying Autistic people are different to Allistic people rather than Autistic people are different full stop.

* especially for Autistic people like me who are so careful with the words that we use so as to not be inaccurate or be misunderstood.

…
Puberty and the menopausal transition often starts earlier and in the case of the menopausal transition lasts longer for Autistic people

…
Private applause keeps things comfortable.
Public support changes culture.

I live in a society that has historically othered Autistic people and judged and often corrected my Autistic way of living and being. This angers me even as I write this. I use my anger as motivation, and I use my voice to push unconscious cultural comfort of conformity and sameness. A cultural comfort that creates unsafety for so many Autistic people and people of other minority communities.

And in challenging comfort .. I don’t feel comfortable with private thank yous.

Thanks, but no thanks.

People who challenge the status quo — who speak about identity, systems, stigma, or collective change — often receive a lot of private support.

“Thank you for saying that.”
“That meant so much.”
“I’m so glad someone said it.”

And while those messages come from a good place. We need to be braver in our values, our beliefs and what we stand for. And what we choose to no longer silently go along with.

I understand that publicly aligning yourself with challenging conversations can feel vulnerable, risky, exposing.

But if we don’t publicly show support for voices that are pushing culture forward, how does culture ever shift?

I am asking for reflection. If you are following accounts that challenge status quo, challenge us to reconsider norms that you wish were no longer there, if you wish society was safer, braver, can you be braver in your engagement?

When we like, comment, reshare — we’re not just supporting a person.

We’re increasing visibility.
We’re normalising brave conversations.
We’re signalling what we stand for.
We, you and I, are part of making society safer for diversity. Safer for all.

Visibility is part of change.

Note: My DMs are always open for connection, support, and honest conversation. I care deeply about creating safe spaces. This post isn’t about shutting down private dialogue — it’s about encouraging public alignment with the values you hold.

I finally have a copy in my hands and I’m not sure I have words yet.

HormoneFULL, not Hormonal began as a question.
Why are so many Autistic women describing puberty, cycles, pregnancy and perimenopause as seismic… and yet being met with silence?

This book is a collective answer.

160 pages.
One year of listening.
101 voices.

Inside are not only lived narratives, but clear, practical guidance on how we can better support Autistic people through hormonal transitions — in homes, in schools, in healthcare settings, and in community.

It is a tribute to those who were shushed.
And a validation for those still trying to make sense of their body.

Holding this feels… full circle. 🤍

Available now via the link in my bio.
Limited first print run.