The Problem With Autism and “Fake it Till You Make it”

“Just use the advice my mom always gave me: fake it till you make it.”

“Fake it? What does that even mean?” I wiped away the tears from my cheek.

“You just have to pretend you’re confident, or happy, or whatever you want to be, and if you pretend for long enough, you’ll become it. Fake it till you make it. Get it?”

I didn’t see how that could possibly be the answer to all of my problems, but I took my mother’s words and spelled out my own doom for the next four years.

I faked a smile when I wanted to cry. I faked comfort when it felt like my skin was on fire. I faked emotions, both happy and sad. I knew that I wasn’t who I said I was. I was a fake. My mom’s advice helped me hate myself more than I already did.

One day I will make it, I kept telling myself.

How I Faked It

I didn’t like fireworks. It scared me. Everyone else loved the giant exploding fireballs, though, so I hid my fear behind laughter. I got so good at hiding my fear that I learned to giggle during horror movies.

Never let them know you’re afraid. Laugh just like everyone else. It’s normal to laugh. It’s not normal to be afraid.

Before I learned about autism and masking, I could never explain why the phrase “fake it till you make it” bothered me. Every time my mom told me that my faking would eventually turn into real confidence, I cringed on the inside. I have been “faking it” my entire life, and to this day, that hasn’t turned into something else.

I used to hide who I was, and it made me miserable.

I spent every minute in front of other people hiding my “weird” traits because what made me happy made other people feel annoyed or uncomfortable with me. Heaven forbid I annoy someone when trying to prevent a meltdown.

Neurotypical voices replaced my own for the first fifteen years of my life.

I made everyone feel comfortable around me, and all the while I asked myself:

“Why do I have to fake everything for people to like me?”

I copied body language, vocal intonations, and popular gen-z phrases to match the energy around me, but while everyone else found me comfortable to be around, I hated it. I hated myself.

Why I Can’t Fake It Anymore

I experienced autistic burnout for several years, and the more I tried to push myself past it, the worse it got.

One tiny change in my schedule caused me to cry or shut down entirely. One sentence from my dad triggered me into losing my speech. Every night was filled with crying and screaming as I tried to figure out what was wrong with the world.

What was wrong with me?

During my junior year of high school, I started unmasking without even realizing I’d been masking in the first place. I discovered that my “weird” traits were still endearing to those whose opinions I actually valued.

When I’m happy or excited, I run around in circles, jumping and skipping. I flap my hands to ease discomfort. When I’m talking about one of my special interests, my eyes light up and many people lean in to hear about the thing that makes me so excited. When I’m nervous, I use another voice or accent to feel more comfortable. People find this funny. They find it weird. They find it endearing.

And while I started acting more like my goofy self, I thought I was “faking it.”

Today, I realize I hadn’t been faking my happiness or silliness at all. Humor is one of my main ways of communicating. I find it easy, relaxing, and fun.

That’s why I refuse to fake who I am anymore. I’ve seen the other side, and I’ve seen who I can be.

How I Unmasked

One of my favorite running jokes happened during my junior year of high school.

Back then, I had a habit of never eating the apple/orange I was given in my school lunch. Instead, I would take that apple or orange to my choir class.

With a name.

Yes, I named apples and oranges during lunch.

I became known in my friend group as the one who named fruit. People began giving me their fruit to name, and I normally had several groups of apples or oranges to name in the span of one lunch period. I made a list of a few of the names.

• Tom and Jerry (2 apples: green and red)
• Mario and Luigi (2 apples: red and green)
• Green and Greena (2 green apples)
• The four horsemen: War, Death, Famine, and Conquest (4 cutie oranges that I placed around the choir room in a semi-circle)
• Charles Fredrickson the third (red apple)
• Salad Lettuce Spinach (green apple)
• Edgar (green apple)
• Charlie and (his girlfriend) Teresa (two apples: red and green)

I probably enjoyed naming cutie oranges and red or green apples a little too much.

I also began wearing only socks around school, carrying my shoes by the laces. I never got in trouble for it, and the teachers that did notice found it hilarious. Wearing only socks made me more comfortable. I loved feeling the change in temperature from carpet to tile. I loved feeling the textures under my feet, my toes curling around different surfaces (i.e. the metal bars under my desk). Wearing shoes made me feel disconnected from the world.

Socks, however, were wonderful.

I realize I just ranted about socks and apples, but the point of this post is that I’ve learned that “fake it till you make it” is terrible advice for autistics. It’s terrible advice for anyone who has had the same experience as me. That phrase might work for neurotypicals, but many autistic individuals have had to spend their entire lives faking it. I have the right to be authentic.

I’m not childish. I’m autistic. I’m not broken. I’m autistic. I’m not weird, awkward, or shy.

I’m autistic. I see and experience the world in a different way, and that’s it.

So don’t tell me to “fake it” anymore because that advice almost killed me.