Understanding my own neurodivergence (diagnosed at age 32, in May 2013) was not about finding a label to hide behind. It was about finding the instruction manual for a machine I had been operating blindly for decades.
When I finally understood the wiring, the shame evaporated. I wasn't a broken version of a "normal" person; I was a functioning version of a different type of person.
The "Epidemic" of Recognition
There is a cynical narrative that autism is a "trend"—that because diagnoses are rising, it must be a social contagion.
But the data suggests something far simpler. Current estimates suggest roughly 3.2% of the population is on the spectrum. That is not a fringe group; that is a significant minority.
We didn't suddenly appear. What changed wasn't the biology; it was the resolution of the lens.
It is the "Left-Handedness" effect. When schools stopped punishing children for writing with their left hands, the number of left-handed people didn't "explode"—it just normalized to reality. We are seeing the same correction now with neurotypes.
I look back at my family tree—at the "eccentric" uncles, the quiet grandmothers, the obsessive craftsmen—and I see us. We were there the whole time, masking, struggling, and often suffering in silence without the vocabulary to explain why the world felt so loud.
Acceptance vs. Special Treatment
There is a critical distinction that often gets lost in the cultural noise: Acceptance is not the same as Special Treatment.
I do not want a gold star for being autistic. I do not want the world to pad the corners for me.
I want Accuracy.
When a neurodivergent person is misunderstood, they are often labeled as "difficult," "cold," or "awkward." This leads to a lifetime of internal shame. We blame ourselves for not being able to run the standard operating system.
Acceptance simply means acknowledging that I am running Linux while the world runs Windows. Neither is broken, but if you try to run an `.exe` file on my kernel, it will crash. Understanding that difference isn't asking for pity; it is asking for protocol compatibility.
Conclusion
Autistic people have always been part of the human story. We were likely the ones keeping the fire, watching the stars, and organizing the archives while the rest of the tribe socialized.
Society is just getting better at seeing us. And that visibility allows us to stop hiding and start contributing fully.
The Protocol: We are not special. We are not broken. We are simply a standard variation of the human code that is finally being read correctly.
