What Is Autism? A Question That’s More Than Medical

By Erik Fuhlbruck 

I saw this question in a recent Substack and it got me thinking a lot, To ask what is autism is to ask something like, what is the ocean? Or what is that strange, majestic creature darting through its depths, unseen by most? 

The simple answer is that it is a diagnosis, a label. But it isn’t. It never is. It has so many more layers of complexity and is unique to each person on the spectrum. 
Not when it’s your life. Not when it’s your eyes, your nervous system, your every breath. 

If you search for an answer, you’ll most likely find clinical descriptions. Unless you search a little deeper. Autism is a neurodevelopmental condition. A different wiring of the brain that affects how someone communicates, processes sensory input, regulates emotion, and relates to the world around them. 

But if you stop your digging there, you will have missed the point. 
Because autism isn’t a disorder you have. It’s a piece of you just as your feet are. It’s a world within a world. And to truly understand it, you have to ask more than just “what is it?” Perhaps the better question is to ask “how does it feel to be autisic” 

For me, autism means not being able to connect with many other people on the level I wish to. Its isolation born from necessity at times. The need to retreat from sensory overload and also needing to recover in quiet while the world keeps spinning loudly around me. 

It’s being the odd one out. The one people can’t quite place in a particular category, just different. The one who feels too much, too deeply, too distictly. 

And yet at the same time, it is also the reason I can focus on a single problem until I solve it. It lets me feel at depths that shake me. It gives me the ability to see from all angles, notice patterns, feel many emotions (even if late), and think consequences to my actions. 
It’s why I have such a strong sense of justice. Why I’m loyal, sometimes to a fault. Why I love so hard and value all creatures on this earth. Why I feel a sacred bond with animals, with the earth, with truth. It is my yin and my yang. My double-edged sword. My lifeblood. 
It cannot be separated from me, for it is in the blood that brings me life. 
It is me. 

Autism is not inherently a tragedy or a path that only leads to doom. The tragedy is how much of the world responds to it. Autism becomes a disability not because of what it is, but because of where it lives, within systems and societies that weren’t built to accommodate difference. They are built to keep progressing and any individual who cant hold to neurotypical standards we are just a burden. We’re told we’re broken when we struggle to conform. Told to mask our “un-nerving tendencies” such as stimming in public. To pass. To mimic. And when we finally burn out,. When the weight of pretending becomes too much for us to hold any longer. We’re told we were never “that autistic” to begin with. People want autism to look like a job requirements list. Clear. Predictable. But it is far from that. It’s complex. Acrimonious. Radiant. It’s like the waters in the drake passage, stormy and unpredictable. It’s also a calm stillness, like the Sargasso Sea. And often, like both at the same time. 

Autism isn’t something I carry in my pocket like my wallet. It’s foundational to how I understand the world. I don’t “have” autism the way you might have a cold or the newest iPhone. I am autistic. I always have been, even if I didn’t always have the language for it. That doesn’t mean I’m just a collection of known traits. It means that everything I am. The way I make decisions. It is my values, my way of sensing, my rhythms and thoughts. The way I experience the world around me is filtered through this beautifully different lens. And at where I am in my journey of recovery and understanding, I can honestly say I wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

So what is autism? You can memorize the clinical terms. You can learn the diagnostic criteria. You can even recite the history of the word itself. But if you want the truth, you have to go deeper. You must feel it like the ocean. Not just noticing its waves but let them carry you. Autism, for me, is not a puzzle to be solved. It’s a current to follow. 
A truth to live. 
A way of being that is often difficult but undeniably mine.