Breaking the Stigma Surrounding My Mental Health and Autism

Why has it always been so hard for me to talk about my mental health? Why does admitting that I feel overwhelmed or anxious sometimes feel like a weakness? And when autism enters the picture, why does my silence get even louder?

There’s this unspoken rule society handed down: I’m supposed to be tough. Unbreakable. But here’s the truth, I feel too. I struggle, I hurt, I cry, and sometimes, I break. And that’s okay. What’s not okay is the stigma that has stopped me from asking for help.

It’s time for me to change the narrative. It’s time for me to break the stigma surrounding my mental health and autism. It’s time for me to talk about the things I’ve been too afraid to say out loud. So, let’s get into it, no filters, no judgment, just my real talk.

The Weight of Silence: Why I Didn’t Speak Up

Ever heard the phrase, “Man up”? It’s toxic, isn’t it? I’ve heard it too many times. It tells me that showing emotion is weakness, that asking for help makes me less of a man. This cultural baggage is heavy, and it’s been passed down through generations.

I was taught to be “strong” and “brave.” Crying was labeled as “girly,” and showing vulnerability? Forget about it. This conditioning led me to suppress my emotions, which eventually led me to self-isolation. When I faced mental health challenges like anxiety, depression, or burnout, I often bottled it up, fearing judgment or ridicule.

Now, add autism to the mix. As an autistic man, my hill to climb became even steeper. Society’s lack of understanding about autism, especially in adults, created a double stigma for me. I was expected to “act normal” and blend in, leading me to constantly mask my autistic traits just to fit in. This masking was exhausting and often led to burnout, anxiety, and depression. Yet, I stayed silent, afraid of being misunderstood or labeled as “broken.”

This silence is deadly. Men are far more likely to die by suicide than women, partly because they’re less likely to seek help. It’s not about weakness; it’s about fear, fear of being judged, fear of looking “less manly,” fear of not being understood. But here’s what I’ve learned: Asking for help isn’t weak. It’s one of the bravest things I’ve ever done.

Autism and Mental Health: Breaking My Double Stigma

Autism is grossly misunderstood, especially in adults. People still think of it as something only kids experience, leading to stereotypes that didn’t fit me as an adult who learned to navigate the world differently. As an autistic man, I often struggle with sensory overload, social interactions, and communication challenges. This constant battle to “fit in” leads to anxiety, depression, and even identity crises.

On top of that, the stigma surrounding autism made it even harder for me to speak up. Society expected me to be assertive, socially adapt, and emotionally resilient, traits that didn’t always align with my experiences. This created a double stigma for me: The pressure to conform to neurotypical standards while also meeting unrealistic societal expectations of masculinity.

But here’s the kicker: I’m just as capable, intelligent, and valuable as anyone else. I just see the world through a different lens. And that’s not a weakness, it’s a strength. I’m breaking the stigma that labeled me as “less than” and starting to celebrate my unique perspective.

My Story: Breaking My Silence

Let’s get real because my story has power. It breaks down walls, shatters stereotypes, and reminds me that I’m not alone.

I’ve battled depression for virtually my entire life. I always felt different. For years, I tried to “act normal,” masking my autistic traits with alcohol. It was exhausting, leading to severe health issues and anxiety. But I stayed silent, convinced that talking about my struggles would make me look weak.

I also struggled with depression but kept it hidden, fearing I’d look “less manly.” But bottling it up only made it worse. After THE TRIP THAT SAVED MY LIFE,  I started sharing my story and hearing others’ experiences made me realize I wasn’t alone. I learned coping strategies and, more importantly, that vulnerability isn’t weakness. It’s courage.

By sharing my experiences, I found healing, community, and strength. And I know I’m not alone. There are countless men out there, carrying heavy burdens in silence, waiting for permission to speak. I’m giving myself that permission.

Why I Need Open Dialogue

Talking about my mental health and autism isn’t just important, it has been lifesaving. I was on a path of certain death. Open dialogue breaks down stigma, normalizes vulnerability, and fosters understanding. When I share my story, I inspire others to do the same, creating a ripple effect that breaks the cycle of silence.

Open dialogue also educates. It challenges misconceptions about autism and mental health, replacing ignorance with empathy. By having honest conversations, I can create a world where I don’t feel ashamed to seek help, where I am understood and accepted, and where my mental health is treated with the same care as my physical health.

The conversation starts with me. It starts with checking in on my friends, listening without judgment, and sharing my own story. It starts with making mental health a normal topic of conversation, just like sports or movies.

Final Thoughts on Breaking My Stigma

It’s time for me to shatter the stereotypes. It’s time for me to redefine masculinity to include vulnerability, compassion, and emotional honesty. It’s time for me to break the stigma surrounding my mental health and autism once and for all.

I feel too. I hurt, I struggle, I cry, and I heal. And I deserve a safe space to express it all without fear of judgment. If you’re struggling like I was, know this, you’re not alone. Your feelings are valid, your story matters, and asking for help is a sign of strength, not weakness.

I’m creating a world where I don’t have to wear emotional armor, where I am celebrated for my uniqueness, and where my mental health is just as important as my physical health. I’m breaking the stigma, one conversation at a time.