Growing up, I never saw myself represented in stories. There was never a place for the kind of girl I was – one who didn’t quite fit in but didn’t understand why, who preferred fictional worlds to the real world, and who often rambled on about the things she loved, oblivious to everyone else’s obvious disinterest.

I didn’t know I was autistic until the age of 22, but I was always autistic. A young autistic girl, an autistic teenager – and now an autistic adult who finally knows who she is. But the journey was long, difficult and lonely, and I often wish I could go back in time and tell my younger self that it will be okay. Just hang in there and keep going.

Because I struggled. At its lowest, my school attendance was 68%. I was frequently pulled out of lessons by the senior leadership team, or headteacher, and asked to explain myself. Why was I having so much time off school? I was jeopardising my future. I was told by one lecturer at college that I’d never achieve anything with my attitude, despite the fact I was getting good grades and was otherwise an exemplary student. But it still wasn’t good enough.

I couldn’t explain why I’d get ready for school in the morning, into a uniform that instantly made me feel stressed as soon as I put it on, and yet have a meltdown seconds before having to go. I had every intention of going – and then suddenly the world would crash down around me and I couldn’t leave the house. It was a hidden secret explained away by excuses of illness. And the more I had to pretend I was okay, the greater the toll it had on me and my family.

In my last year of secondary school, I was bullied and ostracised, desperate for friends because suddenly I had none with no clue what I’d done wrong – and then I started writing. If friendships were so difficult to make and keep in real life, I decided I’d write myself some friends instead. A group of fictional friends who were accepted for who they were, who kept me company and helped me to process and heal from the trauma I carried with me from my school years.

My first book, The Paper & Hearts Society, the book I produced during some of the hardest years of my life, was published when I was nineteen. It’s difficult to write a post like this without it coming across as an inspirational tale that defies the odds, an autistic girl who overcame her difficulties and then everything was miraculously fine. Because while I’ve found a job that feels right for me and how my brain works, it hasn’t magically solved all of the problems that come with being an autistic person in an overwhelmingly neurotypical world.

Despite having an autism diagnosis now, it’s not always easy to navigate. The sensory difficulties or the social mishaps don’t go away completely, and every now and again I’ll have a meltdown and feel terrible about it. But I know myself better than ever before, I’ve found a community to belong to, and I would never change the fact I’m autistic. I love my autistic brain. And, most importantly, now I get to use everything I’ve learned about myself to help other autistic girls – and it is the greatest honour.

My latest book, Real When I’m With You, is the book I wish I’d had as a young autistic teenager who wanted to find her place in the world. It’s my first book with an autistic main character; her name is Effie, and she doesn’t feel like the main character in her own story. She’s stuck in a toxic friendship – something lots of autistic girls experience – and she has to fight to be heard. She doesn’t feel seen. But over the course of a summer, and finding a group of fellow neurodivergent teens who she can be herself around, Effie learns to follow her heart and embrace who she is.

Effie isn’t me, and her story isn’t mine, but I like to think there are aspects of her character that lots of autistic girls can relate to. She has special interests and sensory difficulties, she’s creative and funny. She finds friendships tricky ­– but when she finds the right people, she realises her own worth. She’s allowed to be proudly autistic; she doesn’t have to shy away from who she is.

I write for the autistic girl I once was – but also for the autistic girls of today who desperately want to see themselves represented, to know they’re not alone. So to the autistic girl I once was, and to all the autistic girls out there, I say: your story matters and deserves to be told. You’re allowed to be the main character of your own story.

Bio

Lucy Powrie is a neurodivergent author whose dream is to fill bookshelves with as many books featuring proudly autistic and ADHD characters as possible – just like her.

She makes bookish videos as lucythereader to an audience of over 40,000 subscribers, and enjoys passionately sharing her love for old books, the Brontë sisters, and the BBC miniseries adaptation of Pride and Prejudice.

When she’s not writing or reading, she can be found cuddling her corgi, Margie, and looking after her herd of adorable guinea pigs. She lives in the South West of England.