One summer ago I sought an evaluation for autism. Two summers ago, I was preparing for our September wedding with my love, Greg. We found many wedding traditions silly and didn't feel obliged to do them. Many of the cultural expectations of how engagements or weddings should happen just don't make sense to my brain. (The title of this story might start to make sense at this point)
For example, we decided to get married through a series of conversations rather than a surprise proposal with a diamond. We picked out our rings together. The idea of throwing a garter (…in public?!) still fills me with horror. We picked and chose the traditions that we liked. When I read about a German wedding tradition of sawing a log in half as the first act after marriage, I was all in.
We did our best to find what was meaningful for us, ignoring what we were “supposed” to do. We decided to have a very small group in attendance—immediate family and a couple of friends each. We would have no officiant. We involved our sisters by asking them to be the two official witnesses to sign our self-uniting wedding license (a wonderful option with Quaker roots that is available in Pennsylvania and some other states).
Despite all of those decisions made, I spent some late nights scrolling, ruminating.
Those nights, it felt like the, oddly specific, things that I most feared didn't seem to be things that other brides worry about, or even discuss. I wasn’t concerned about the commitment of marriage, or finding a dress. But, the idea of a “receiving line” sent me into an absolute panic. What if people form one spontaneously? I would need an escape plan.
I’ve struggled with mental health issues my whole life, most severely as a child. I recognize some of those struggles probably impacted my biggest fears, including the specific example of being physically surrounded.
One of these nights, on a whim, I searched for “sensory friendly wedding tips.” And—wow. I'd finally discovered something helpful. There were tips on how to structure the day and set expectations for other people, which filled me with ease. It felt amazing to hear from someone who felt similarly to me. After that night, I followed some of the people I found on social media.
Our sensory-friendly wedding went swimmingly.
It was a peaceful day, and none of my fears happened. Our guests took our lead for the day and I'm so grateful for that. It was silly and lovely and calm. Before we were about to start our vows, someone spotted a frog sitting at my feet. It was a day I fully embraced all of myself with no apologies.
Here are some of the things we did at our sensory-friendly wedding:
- Our overall approach took much of the pressure out of the one-day event – which never made sense to me
- We limited the events to a relaxed ceremony + dinner (no other extra events)
Our ceremony and dinner took place in a calm, familiar, outdoor space with places to escape - We prepped our photographer and I explained my fears about physical contact, and asked for her not to pressure physical interactions
- We talked to the person planning our wedding dinner and let her know I might need a place to escape if things got stressful. She created a beautiful room upstairs in the historic restaurant with a personal cheese board and wine for us to enjoy by ourselves before dinner.
- We shared the best ways for people to show their love for us. (i.e. We don’t expect gifts, but we offered space for guests to speak during the ceremony). Most of the gifts we received were handmade.
- We shared some expectations before the ceremony so people could adapt and know what to expect. One example is that I told my family, and dad, that I’d love them to speak, but that I didn’t want them to use the language of “giving away” as that’s not how it feels to me. Another was communicating our small guest list to my husband’s extended family (aunts, cousins) so they could toast to us at a separate event that summer to celebrate, rather than on the wedding day.
How did planning this wedding lead to my autism diagnosis?
By that time, I was following several women on social media who were all about my age, and who had all been diagnosed with autism later in life (e.g. in their 30s rather than in childhood). The descriptions of their experiences hit me, as I could describe some events in my life the same way. I listened to their tips on daily life and communication because they were tangible and helpful. After roughly 8 months of seeing videos of women about my age describing experiences that were so spot-on to my own, the very first inkling appeared in my mind wondering whether I should seek an evaluation.
I should disclose that at that point I was 36 years old. I have a PhD in Education and have worked in classrooms doing research for many years. As you might imagine, I'm not unfamiliar with autism or the traits that are supposed to be markers for it. Someone who has the educational and professional background that I do couldn’t have missed autistic qualities in themselves, could they?
However, over the course of the year I had been learning what autism can look like in these women who do not get diagnosed as children. For example, those women are very good at masking, or displaying behaviors that hide autistic traits. They often have high intelligence and learn ways of mimicking social norms from a very young age. The ways that autism manifests in these women were not the stereotypical trait list I'd been taught. But, their version sounded like me. I couldn't deny that.
Being able to access an autism evaluation as an adult is so much more difficult than it should be. However, when I was finally able to complete an evaluation and discuss the results with a clinician, I fit the criteria.
I had autism.
More importantly, I have always had autism, even when I didn’t have the words to describe it. Language is important. I felt joy that I finally had the words to explain so much of my life experiences up to that point.
And my journey continues, as I learn more and continue to have “ah ha!” moments when I realize another thing in my life that can be explained through the lens of autism. As I said in our vows, from the time we met, my husband Greg makes me feel more accepted than anyone ever has, and shows that unconditional love to me every day. In that way, it's not surprising that our wedding planning is what set me on this path to learn about myself, and explore that understanding, joyfully.
Congrats yinz guys! I recognized McConnell’s Mill – love that park!