Navigating the Workplace as an Autistic Adult

April is Autism Acceptance Month. You'll also hear "awareness," but I prefer Acceptance. While awareness means knowing and acknowledging that autism exists, acceptance is about embracing neurodivergent people as they are, without expecting them to conform or mask to fit into neurotypical standards. For many autistic adults like me, that distinction is personal and powerful. 

I spent the first decade of my career "well-masked." That means I learned to hide my autistic traits, suppressing behaviors and reactions that felt natural to me but might seem "off" to others. I rehearsed social scripts, forced eye contact, and molded myself to fit environments that weren't designed for me. Masking became second nature—until it wasn’t. 

A personal trauma cracked the mask. I lost my dad, dealt with all the big feelings about that by drowning in work, and then suddenly, holding it together was harder. Five years later, a work-related trauma, for lack of a better term, shattered that mask. I was laid off without notice, and in a way that definitely made me feel a lot of failure and guilt. It brought all sorts of self-doubt to the surface, and the energy it took to appear "normal" day-to-day was a lot. My "actual self" became harder to hide. I was maybe depressed, definitely anxious, and it felt impossible to get my feet back under me. Finally, I was seeing what was really going on inside my head reflected on the outside... but instead of feeling relief, I felt exposed and uncertain. How could I show up authentically and still feel safe? Especially while I was looking for a new workplace to call home? 

Here’s what helped me start to cope: 

1. Self-Compassion First: Understanding that masking is a survival skill, not necessarily a strength. Dropping it isn’t failure. It’s exhaustion. Being kind to myself was a huge first step. I started recognizing that the effort it took to appear "normal" was draining. It wasn’t "weak" to feel worn out. It was a sign that I was pushing myself too hard in environments that weren’t made for me. Self-compassion looked like allowing myself quiet time to decompress, forgiving myself when I needed rest, and giving myself grace when I couldn’t meet every expectation. It meant embracing that my best looks different day to day—and that’s okay. 

2. Communicating Needs: I began small, sharing preferences that could help me get things done better, especially at home while I job searched. I also thought about what I might need in a new workplace, like flexible scheduling, quiet spaces, or a fully remote opportunity. It wasn't about disclosure, but about setting myself up for success. It doesn't matter if my workplace knows I'm a person with Autism (but around ATR, it's definitely not a secret!), but that the workplace and the people in it are willing to show up for me and support me in the ways I need. A diagnosis shouldn't matter; it's about how to make sure every employee can be their true and authentic selves each workday. 

3. Finding Community: Connecting with other neurodivergent adults reminded me I wasn’t alone. There’s power in shared experience. Some workplaces have employee affinity or resource groups, and a few of those workplaces even maintain neurodiverse (ND) groups. There are Facebook groups, Reddit communities, podcasts—you name an online corner of the world, and I bet there's an ND presence, often loud and strong. 

4. Challenging "Professionalism" Norms: What does "professional" really mean, and who does it serve? I started asking hard questions about expectations I used to take for granted. Why is direct communication labeled "rude"? Why is subtle stimming "unprofessional"? Why are breaks frowned upon when they help with focus? I realized that many norms are designed around neurotypical experiences and don’t necessarily lead to better work. Questioning this helped me embrace authenticity over appearances. Professionalism shouldn’t be about masking or suppressing needs—it should be about doing good, meaningful work in ways that are sustainable and inclusive for everyone. 

Autism Acceptance means creating spaces where I don’t have to fight to belong. It's about valuing different ways of thinking, processing, and working. And for me, it's about learning that I deserve to take up space as my whole self—unmasked, accepted, and enough. 

And if that makes me a little "unprofessional," so be it. I’ll take authenticity over forced small talk any day. Besides, the world could use fewer awkward networking events and more honest conversations, right? So here's to taking up space, asking for the accommodations that actually help, and celebrating every time we choose rest over burnout.