We Are Not All a Little Autistic

"If we are all the same...why do I feel so isolated?"

“We’re All a Little Autistic” — Please, Stop Saying It

You might mean well when you say it.

Maybe you’re trying to connect. Maybe you’re trying to relate.

But when I hear the phrase, “We’re all a little autistic,” something in me goes quiet. Not because I don’t want to speak — but because, in that moment, I already know I haven’t been heard.

I’m autistic. Not a little. Not occasionally. Not on some sliding scale of preference.

Autism isn’t a vibe. It’s not a collection of quirks.

It’s how I experience the entire world — all the time.

What You Might Not See

From the outside, I’ve looked like someone who had it all together.

UK Armed Forces sergeant. Best sporting recruit. Fast-tracked promotions. Managing 28-person teams. Delivering under pressure. Medals, commendations, leadership.

But that was only one part of me.

The part I carefully engineered.

The part that helped me survive in a system that rewards consistency over honesty, obedience over vulnerability, and presentation over pain.

Underneath all that was a person who had no idea why the world always felt too loud, too fast, too confusing. A person who spent every interaction scanning, mimicking, calculating — just to avoid saying the wrong thing or not saying anything at all.

The Hidden Cost of “Looking Fine”

When I say I’m autistic, people sometimes say, “Really? I never would’ve guessed.”

As if that’s a compliment. As if not appearing autistic is the goal.

What they don’t see is the cost.

The years of panic attacks I hid.

The relationships I couldn’t maintain because I didn’t know how to say what I felt — or even what I was feeling.

The constant exhaustion from masking, adapting, pretending.

The quiet breakdowns. The nights I didn’t think I’d make it through.

What they don’t realise is that I spent most of my life not knowing I was autistic — just assuming I was failing at being human.

So No, We’re Not “All a Little Autistic”

That phrase reduces a complex, lifelong neurodevelopmental condition to a mood.

It makes it sound like autism is just being introverted, or liking routines, or not liking parties.

It flattens lived experience into a cliché.

And it does something even worse: it takes something that many of us have suffered silently through, been bullied for, shamed for, misdiagnosed over, and it makes it into a punchline.

It tells us: Your pain? That’s just being human. Get over it.

It turns our reality into everyone’s mild inconvenience.

And that leaves us more isolated than ever.

What This Means in the Real World

When I was navigating the criminal justice system, undiagnosed and unraveling, I couldn’t explain myself — not in a way that people could hear. I didn’t “look autistic.” I didn’t “act autistic.” And so I was treated like someone who should’ve known better. Who was just making excuses.

That phrase — “we’re all a little autistic” — kills disclosure.

It convinces people like me to stay silent.

Because if you’re just “a little autistic” too, then what’s the point of me telling you how much I’m struggling?

That silence leads to shame. That shame leads to collapse.

And in systems like law, healthcare, or policing, that collapse can mean the difference between support and punishment. Between understanding and dismissal.

What I Wish You’d Say Instead

Instead of minimising, try meeting us where we are.

• “I’m listening.”

• “I don’t fully understand, but I want to.”

• “How can I support you in a way that actually helps?”

  
  

You don’t need to relate to validate someone’s experience.

You just need to believe them when they say, “This is hard for me.”

Why This Hits So Close for Me

I created Praxis Pathways as an outlet to share what I have learnt. I hope I can bring people along on the journey. 

After walking through the justice system, autistic and suicidal, I knew something had to change. I needed to give people what I never had — a guide, a voice, a way forward.

But Praxis isn’t just about processes or forms. It’s about being human. It’s about recognising that neurodivergent people are navigating a world that was never designed with them in mind — and giving them something to hold onto.

Because we’re not all a little autistic.

Some of us are just trying to stay alive in a world that keeps telling us we’re too much, too weird, too sensitive, too logical, too robotic — while expecting us to be perfect, warm, and easy to understand.

That contradiction breaks people.

A Final Thought

If you’ve ever said the phrase “we’re all a little autistic,” I’m not here to shame you. I’m here to invite you to think more deeply.

Think about how different someone’s life can be behind the same behaviours.

Think about how exhausting it is to perform being okay just to make others comfortable.

Think about how powerful it could be if we stopped comparing and started listening.

The goal is not to relate.

The goal is to respect.

So no — we’re not all a little autistic.

But we can all be a little more human in how we respond.

Prevent. Protect. Proceed