When I moved back to England in December 2018, I started my new secondary school in January 2019. I was 14. Year 8. Returning to the UK after living in Japan for eight years was difficult. As I’ll mention throughout this blog, the cultural differences in schools were a major challenge, and I struggled to make friends. Around this time I suffered from my first cases of panic attacks, having nausea, stomach pains, hyperventilation and headaches almost every day. Just a few months later, I was formally diagnosed with autism. I remember going to a clinic with my father, where a staff member with a strong accent and a young assistant spoke with us. During that visit, we also learned that I had actually been formally diagnosed once before, at age six just before moving to Japan, unbeknownst to my family.
At 14, I had no real understanding of what autism was. My only exposure had been through internet jokes. Memes that went like “when the autistic boy in class starts doing…” followed by someone screaming or acting uncontrollably. Like many kids who see that kind of content without context, I had unconsciously associated the word ‘autism’ with what people online framed as ‘that one crazy kid in class.’ So when I was told about my diagnosis, that was the first thing that came to mind.
After the appointment, I went for a dog walk in the woods with my grandfather. We talked about normal, everyday things. Back home, my grandmother was the same. I had expected to be treated differently, or to be given some kind of explanation of what that visit to the doctor’s meant, but nothing changed. I was relieved at the time for that.
By that point, I had already moved schools multiple times, so making friends had never come easily. At my previous school, which I attended for a year and a half, it had taken nearly a full year to become close to anyone. So when I started in England, I was already preparing myself to be alone again. A month or so into my time at my new school, there was another new kid in our class. She seemed to make friends instantly. I was reminded by my father that there was nothing to worry about since I was not the “new boy” anymore. But I remember watching her and wondering how she could just talk to people so easily. I had assumed everyone struggled like I did. The difference, I realised, was that I didn’t approach people. I expected them to approach me. And even when they did, I often didn’t respond much, because I didn’t know what to say. I began to wonder if my diagnosis explained this.
It also made me think back to my time in Japan, where I used to attend support centres, likely developmental support services, where I would play with blocks alongside an adult, who would discussed my behaviour with my mother afterwards. At the time I just enjoyed being there playing with the toys. As I grew older I realised that it was framed as support for learning difficulties or a possible diagnosis. As time went on from my diagnosis, I started to wonder if it had all been connected.
One detail I distinctively remember about that day, is the summary report. It stated that my “current obsession is Marvel.” This was a few months before the release of the film Avengers: Endgame. For about a year, I had been trying to get into superhero films, partly because everyone else seemed to love them. Secretly, I thought they were childish and didn’t understand what I saw as the sudden renewed hype around Spider-Man amongst teenagers. Although I did enjoy some of the films, I knew I was forcing it. During the appointment, I mentioned that I was “into Marvel,” and that was interpreted as an obsession.
Even at 14, reading that word “obsession” didn’t sit right with me. It felt like an easy way to define me without really understanding. Now, knowing about hyperfixations, which I do experience a lot, I can see how they might have interpreted it that way. Still, it annoyed me at the time, as I simply knew that I was not obsessed with those films.
That day marked the beginning of my journey in understanding autism, and what it means for me to live with that diagnosis, which I’ll continue to reflect on in future posts.
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