Being an Autistic Girl in a World Full of ‘Ordinary’ People

Isabella tells her experiences of being Autistic and how writing helps her.

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These articles were written and submitted by young people across Kent, between August 2016 and July 2019. We are no longer adding new articles or maintaining old ones. Read more about Art31.

Let’s get straight to the point. My name is Isabella Hudson and I’m an autistic girl.

Truth be told it’s not common in girls. The majority of people on the Autistic spectrum are males. However being an Autistic girl is different to the male side of it. For starters, I don’t have “meltdowns”. I am usually quite calm and quiet. I may seem shy but I’m not. It’s just I am waiting for someone to step into my little world as I find it exceptionally difficult to interact with others. In my experience I struggle with the fact that I really want to speak up and talk to others, but everything in my head refuses. It’s like there is a physical barrier blocking me. Yes I like being alone. But certainly not all the time. And then there are the ones that tell me to go and talk. Break down that wall. It’s not that easy. In the eighteen to nineteen years of my life I’ve been slowly hammering at that wall. And only recently has it started to crack. Don’t get me wrong it’s still there. Just a little less than before.

I would like to mention that there are many types of Autism. Like Asperger’s. Also it’s not an illness or a disease or anything like that. It’s a mental disability that affects the way the person thinks and acts. And I am not retarded, dumb or even above-average.

I’m just like any girl that wants a stable home where she can marry the one she loves and have kids. It’s just some things (specifically the way I view things) maybe different with those who are ordinary.

But there are some who don’t understand my condition, and think they can bully me. This case happened when I was in my third primary school in year five to six. Now I will admit I completely suck at maths. No matter how hard I try. So when you’re not in a school that understands you, you get moved down in something you suck at. And for me that’s maths. Yet there were jerks that picked on me because I could not grapple simple maths. One in particular was also once moved down one because he sucked, but when I came he went back. Now that jackass sucked big time. If I touched his desk he would call me names and if I just glanced at him, he would tell me to f**k off. Gesture included. That is not all I suffered with. Others would ask me maths questions like count to one hundred. They did it like I was dumb. And I could count that high. You know what I did? Nada. I didn’t understand or care. They were losers so I ignored them and carried on with life. If bullies never ruin your pride, whilst trying to, just ignore them. They won’t bother you afterwards.

It’s not long after that I discovered my love for writing. With writing I could be who I wanted. A hero. A villain. Absolutely anything. It is as if words spoke to me. Telling me all their secrets in how to use them wisely and creatively. In a way writing became my solace. Whenever I felt down, I would pop music into my ears and allow my feelings to flow into words on paper. However I was scared that if people read my stories, they’d think it was terrible. Yet no matter how scared I was, my desire to be heard was greater. So I told my mum and dad my stories. And from there I became confident. I was able to speak up. All thanks to writing.

Isabella Hudson

Guest Contributor

Canterbury college student doing Creative Writing and Journalism level three.