Autism: Story of a kid with a different brain…

There are many blogs and books about understanding autism and neurodivergence in general. But most people I know aren’t aware of these concepts because you never search for something unless you’re interested in it. So, this is where I will try to create that interest. I want to share my personal struggles and weirdly satisfying moments with my different brain. This is purely my own story, and I just want to write about it so that someone reading this who has had similar experiences might get a diagnosis. If you don’t want read about my personal story (why would you?) you can directly read about Autism/Neurodivergence in general in this blog: Autism: Things Indian Parents/Students need to know…. But if you are interested in this personal stories, I hope it’s interesting…

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I recently discovered that my brain might be different from others. Only a small percentage of people have such a brain. In that regard, I feel lucky. No, I’m not a super genius, nor am I the next Einstein, but I am different from most people and relate more closely to Elon Musk, Einstein, or (maybe) Newton than to “normal” humans (I know that sounds pretentious but you will soon know why). It has nothing to do with how intelligent I am but everything to do with how my brain works. Here’s a short gist: I think in pictures! Visual thinking is a trait of having a neurodivergent brain. But what do I mean by that?

School Days: Struggles and Surprises

Let’s trace back to my school days for some examples. As a kid, between 6-10 years old, I struggled with languages. I couldn’t, for the love of god (just to emphasise), remember all the days of the week or even write my own name properly. I also used to get anxiety walking in the school hallway, fearing someone might hit me because kids ran left and right at lightning speed during recess. My parents and teachers weren’t thrilled about it. Especially for subjects requiring memorisation, I was weak. But there was something I was good at: observing things.

To increase cognitive development (knowing almost nothing about the autism), our school ran little activities. One such activity involved placing random objects on a table, making the kids observe them for a while, and then listing all the objects from memory later on. To my teachers’ surprise, I was extremely good at this. Not only could I remember all the objects, but I could also imagine their exact positions in extreme detail. Heck, I’m in my mid-20s, and I can still remember some parts of that table.

There are countless other examples: I could solve the Rubik’s cube at age 9—it was intuitive for me to imagine where each piece should go. I could solve math problems better than I could spell my own name because it was easier for me to imagine 2 apples plus 2 apples equaling 4 apples. When asked to write down the differences between planets and stars, I wrote that stars are stationary and planets move around the stars, which is true if you consider only what we had in our 3rd standard science book. Again, I am not saying I was genius or anything of that sort, I am just giving you few hints on how my mind works.

Growing Up: The Evolution of a Visual Thinker

These autism traits didn’t end in childhood; it only began there. Later in school, I got better (okay, not good but decent) at my studies. I loved solving math problems. Out of all the subjects, I loved geography and absolutely adored physics (especially mechanics). I started building a little lab at home with all sorts of electronics, from old radios to new remote control cars—I disassembled everything! One of the happiest moments of my life was sitting in extra math lectures. I can still remember the morning sunlight reflecting off my notebook, how the ink absorbed into the paper, how drawing a freehand circle had that little imperfection, and how my brain was full of ideas for solving problems with fewer steps. I know this sounds weird, but it’s true.

The Dark Side: Social Challenges and Misunderstandings

But there’s a dark side to all this. Although I enjoyed solitude, I always hated going out and mixing with people (because I had to). As a kid, you have to mix with people around you. In a small town in India, there wasn’t much to do other than going out (especially before the age of smartphones/internet). So, I only went out to play occasionally and only mixed with friends who were as “weird” as me. I was good at certain topics in specific subjects (like mechanics in physics, geometry in math) but bombed in others (like electrodynamics in physics, algebra in math). This led to mixed feedback on whether I was smart or just lazy; never autistic.

Things got serious in 11th-12th standards. On one hand, I was interested in science subjects (physics, chemistry, math, electronics), but on the other, I had no clue how to “study” to get good marks and a good college. This damaged my reputation of being smart both internally and externally. 

But this was never my fault; it was my brain playing tricks. It doesn’t understand feelings—my own or others’. I only comprehend basic emotions like sadness, anger, or happiness/motivation. My feelings don’t translate into words easily, so I never fully understood what was happening to me, and I still struggle to express my feelings in words. And that was when I was in my teens and the competition was all time high. I just couldn’t understand the stress or anxiety I had about the exams or other things. To this day, many people don’t understand why I don’t understand my emotions which is funny.

Higher Education: Discovering a New Path

As a neurodivergent, I never learned how to learn. Normal learning techniques don’t apply to people like me. I don’t learn languages the same way neurotypical people do. When forming a sentence, I visualise every word in my head and then arrange them grammatically before speaking or writing. This is a slower process, hence my preference for writing over speaking. Visual problems are different; I can imagine entire physics mechanics problems in my head and solve them effectively. But I struggle with algebra, where I don’t understand why certain terms mean something.

I took up computer engineering later on, where coding is crucial. I struggled to learn how to code initially. Although intuitive, it wasn’t visually stimulating until I started building my own projects and applied a top-down approach. But this story isn’t just about struggles; I found my fascination with machine learning. It’s easier for me to imagine neural nets. My fascination with ‘intelligence’ led me to neuroscience, and one day, someone suggested I might be on the spectrum.

Acceptance and Advocacy: The Bigger Picture

I’ve been fortunate to have a supportive household, school, and industry, and I hope for a future where my surroundings understand my different brain. But many don’t get it. I’ve seen my neurodivergent friends struggle with our low emotional understanding, seemingly unconventional interests, and social anxiety. Add to that society’s fierce competition and conformity bias, and you have a system that stifles anything different.

When I share these stories, some might view them as excuses for not achieving material success, but that’s not my intention. I simply want to stress that everyone’s definition of life and success is unique and shouldn’t be forced onto every brain—because every brain is different! That’s why we don’t label them as “normal” brains; we call them neurotypical. There are typical brains, but no brain is normal!

To those who are neurotypical: 

All I want to say is this: as a non-genius, non-Einstein human with a ‘different’ brain, I’ve been fortunate to have a nurturing environment, yet I still struggled a lot when times were tough. This is not just my story but the story of millions. Dyslexia, ADHD, Asperger’s (ASD), and other learning disabilities are unknown to many teachers and parents. Especially in the Indian education system, there’s a lack of awareness.

If you or your child have faced struggles or displayed unique strengths, consider seeking a diagnosis. Early recognition can be life-changing, providing the support needed to thrive.

As neurodivergents, it’s your responsibility to raise awareness. Your different brains should be celebrated, not just tolerated. By sharing your stories, you can help others understand that these differences are not deficits but variations that contribute to the richness of human diversity.

If my story resonates with you, or if you’ve noticed similar traits in yourself or someone you know, don’t hesitate to explore further. Get that diagnosis, seek support, and embrace the unique strengths that come with thinking differently. Together, we can build a more inclusive and understanding world where neurodiversity is celebrated, where having a different brain is not considered a curse but recognized as a beautiful mind!

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