Undiagnosed Autism at Christmas

Merry Christmas! Though is it really merry when the present receiving has only just finished and now, I am in my bedroom crying, while my mother is sat in our office, also crying.

I think I have autism. It’s been a thing of the last few months where things are starting to become more apparent to me as it gets talked more and more about online. The lack of social cues, the incorrect facial expressions, the need and emotional attachment to plans and routine. All things I really do suffer with. With Christmas, I think that it gets a lot worse.

I’m going to contradict myself here, I love the socialising element of Christmas, I love the noise and the laughter and the people. What I struggle a hell of a lot with, is presents.

I’ve grown up being called ungrateful at most gift receiving opportunities of my life, I have yearly lectures from my father about needing to be more graceful when opening presents and how I respond to that. It has become a Christmas tradition that every morning, without fail, I cry.

There’s a script with gifts: you receive it, you say thank you, you try to smile even if you hate it. I have that down mostly, especially when I am taking the present and leaving. I think I particularly struggle living with my parents because once I complete this script, what do I do? I am analysing everything I have and trying to clear everything away and then it’s at that point I don’t know what else I am supposed to do but be truthful that there were a handful of presents I did not like, and I do not wish to keep.

I make this pile because what’s the point in cluttering my cupboards to throw it away a year later? What is the point in lying when these people witness me every day and will know if I am not wearing that t-shirt or haven’t opened that kit, they often know what ends up in that cluttered cupboard as I’m throwing it out anyway.

It is never that I don’t appreciate the gift buying and giving process. It’s wonderful my family still buy me as much as they do and I appreciate every penny and thought that goes into it. However, if I know I am never going to wear or open such gift would it not be better for that money to be exchanged for something I would want and use?

I am at the age where my Christmas lists are lists for the sake of lists. I come from a family where just money isn’t good enough, so something needs to be bought, so something goes on the list. A lot of these things now are not even really things that I want, and while some are, it is only the over budget or objectively deemed silly things that I do really want, and never get bought.

Yes, I struggle with my emotions, so the way I go about this does depict closely to a toddler throwing a hissy fit. Without the throwing and shouting, but definitely the crying. The pressure of reacting right combined with the fear how I do react will upset someone tends to overwhelm me very quickly and the tears begin with no control over it. Through the tears, I then struggle to express exactly what I am crying about and the blunt way in which I try to put it makes me come across horribly. In that moment in time, I do not know how else to say it. This is the bit that makes my dad particularly angry and ends with my mother believing she has ruined my Christmas and crying in the office.

I then cry more because I feel bad for the scene caused, but by that point I think emotions are so high that no matter what I do or say, I am now very much in trouble and everyone around me is very very mad.

My Christmas has not been ruined, while this small pile of presents is taking the forefront of my perception of everything else, everything I have happily taken and put away I loved and am very very appreciative of. It’s just that small portion of when I don’t know how to react that sets the precedent for everything.

I am sure it’s the lack of knowing what comes next too, because receiving a gift from extended family is fine, I follow the script, and then when I get home I can sort through and exchange things I don’t want. The drama comes with my parents having to watch me hit this wall and attempt to navigate around it in a way that seems fine to me, but tends to offend them.

I love the festive period, albeit it hasn’t felt very festive this year, but I truly believe that Christmas Morning is one of the worst few hours of the year. As the food begins to flow and I can write my calendar and build my LEGO Hedwig, I hope, and I am sure that the drama of this morning will pass and Christmas will be Christmas again. So Merry Christmas to you, I do hope there has been less tears in your house today.