“Different, Not Broken” by Anonymous Teen

Growing up, I was labeled as “quiet but bright.” I was always a hard worker, always eager to help others, and often ahead of my grade level academically. I remember when we would do Achieve300, I had the highest score in my grade, and was at a 12th-grade reading level in the 4th grade. But behind that success was a daily struggle to understand unspoken social rules, avoid sensory meltdowns, and deal with constant anxiety about how others perceived me.

Some teachers would praise me for being focused or organized, but when I would get overwhelmed or freeze in a group setting, it felt like I was letting them down. I didn’t always know how to express that I wasn’t trying to be difficult; I just couldn’t process everything happening at once. Things like loud classrooms, chaotic transitions, or group presentations could trigger emotional exhaustion that would follow me home.

At the time, I didn’t know this was autism. I just thought I was kind of weird.

Being diagnosed as a teenager wasn’t easy, especially when autism in girls is often misunderstood or overlooked. Many of us “mask” our symptoms to fit in. We learn to mimic other people’s behaviors, overthink every response, and blend in so well that adults don’t realize we’re struggling internally.

When my diagnosis finally came, it brought a mix of emotions. Relief because I finally had a name for everything I had been feeling for years. Fear because I didn’t know what people would think. And sadness because I realized how many years I had spent feeling broken for something that wasn’t my fault.

But over time, that diagnosis became one of my biggest blessings.

Being autistic doesn’t mean I’m less capable. In fact, it means I have a unique brain that processes the world differently. Once I stopped trying to "fix" myself and started learning to work with my brain, everything changed.

My attention to detail, my deep empathy, and my dedication to helping others are all strengths connected to my neurodiversity. My ability to hyperfocus has helped me juggle dual enrollment, CNA classes, and EKG technician training while still earning honor roll. My compassion drives me to volunteer in hospitals, care for kids, and give back to my church community.

Being autistic doesn’t mean I can’t be successful. It means I’ll succeed in my own way, with my own rhythm.

Of course, that doesn’t mean every day is easy. Social anxiety, sensory challenges, and emotional burnout are still part of my reality. I sometimes have to leave loud rooms or take breaks after long social events. I can get overwhelmed by changes in routine or expectations, and I still struggle with overthinking how people perceive me.

One of the hardest parts is when people assume I’m just being “dramatic” or “too sensitive.” They don’t see the mental challenges I go through just to stay calm or appear “normal.” They don’t understand how hard I work to stay on top of everything while masking my discomfort.

That’s why awareness matters. Because the more people understand autism, especially how it presents in girls, the more compassion and support we can create.

I plan to become a cardiothoracic surgical physician assistant. I want to use my own experiences to make a difference in the lives of others, especially women and minorities in the healthcare system who feel unseen or misunderstood.

Being autistic has made me more empathetic. I know what it’s like to feel out of place, to struggle silently, to carry emotional weight while trying to appear “put together.” I want to be a medical professional who truly listens, who sees the whole person, not just the diagnosis.

My diagnosis doesn’t hold me back; it fuels my passion to break down barriers and help others feel less alone.

The most powerful thing autism has taught me is that I don’t have to change who I am to be valuable.

I don’t have to hide my quirks or pretend I’m not overwhelmed just to be accepted. I don’t have to push myself to the edge just to prove I’m worthy. I deserve rest. I deserve understanding. I deserve to be proud of how far I’ve come.

Autism is not a weakness. It’s a different operating system, a different way of seeing and feeling the world. And once I began embracing it instead of fearing it, everything became clearer.

There’s still stigma. There’s still a misunderstanding. But there’s also hope, and I am part of that hope.

Through my story, I want to show others that being autistic doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you have a different blueprint. And with the right support, love, and self-awareness, you can build something beautiful with it.

I’m still learning to love my mind. But every day, I’m getting closer.

And that’s what matters most.

Psalms 46:5