Listen ya’ll…. When the tf did everyone become autistic & who tf is your diagnosing provider?!
Listen, this ain’t a post to bash people with non-neurotypical behaviors, but what the hell happened to just being different?
When I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2006, believe you me it wasn’t some shit you just broadcast. There were jokes about being crazy, wishy washy, mean. The shadier the better. It’s actually how I built such tough skin. You learned to move through the world with your diagnosis like a secret you carried, not a banner you waved. It was isolating as hell, sure, but it also meant you had to develop real resilience, real coping mechanisms, real self-awareness beyond a label.
But now? Looking at the landscape of digital media, self-diagnosis is everyone’s new shit. And me? Well, I see right through it.
The Illusion of Victimhood
Diagnoses give you the illusion of victimhood. Ask me how I know.
When I was first diagnosed with bipolar, I milked that shit. I cussed you out? Oh, I’m having an episode.
You won’t do what I need or want? Oh, I’ll do a little cutting because you hate me and you’re triggering me and clearly you don’t understand my struggle.
You see how dramatic and manipulative it is? You see how easy it becomes to weaponize your pain, to use a diagnosis as both shield and sword?
Yes. And that’s exactly how I feel about you grown ass adults self-diagnosing yourselves with being “on a spectrum”.
The Death of Just Being Fucking Different
Just because you don’t like to be in social situations doesn’t mean you’re autistic. Just because you don’t have the confidence or self-awareness to speak up for yourself doesn’t mean you need a clinical label. Just because you saw some random online graphic with a checklist that includes “doesn’t like loud noises” and “prefers staying home” doesn’t mean you get to diagnose yourself with a neurodevelopmental disorder.
We are people. People are different. And we are supposed to be.
But somewhere along the way, we lost the ability to just be weird, to be introverted, to be socially awkward, to have quirks and preferences and sensitivities without pathologizing every got damn thing. We used to call this having a personality. Now we call it a disorder and slap it in our bios like it’s a personality trait.
Marketing Made Us All the Same
This goes back to my theory about how marketing and influencer culture is pushing society to be one clump of a being, which makes you easier to market to without the need for segmentations. But that’s another rant for another day.
Actually, fuck it, let’s touch on it now.
Look at how back in the day houses used to have color and personality. Burnt orange kitchens, wallpapered bathrooms, shag carpets in colors that would assault your retinas. People expressed themselves through their spaces, their clothes, their choices. It was chaotic and beautiful and human.
And now? Muted. Boring. Uniform. Everything is beige and gray and “minimalist.” Everyone’s wearing the same Zara basics, living in the same IKEA apartments, posting the same aesthetic to the same feeds. We’ve been sold the idea that there’s one right way to be, one acceptable aesthetic, one proper lifestyle. And anyone who doesn’t fit into that narrow box starts looking for a diagnosis to explain why they’re not like everyone else.
It’s crazy. We’ve created such a tight, suffocating mold of “normal” that being human—being messy and different and complicated—now requires a medical explanation.
Self-Diagnosis Is Easier Than Growth
Here’s the real truth: self-diagnosis is easier to do than to be actually mature enough to acknowledge that all people aren’t the same and your uniqueness is OK.
It’s easier to say “I’m neurodivergent” than to say “I’m uncomfortable in social situations and I’m working on it.” It’s easier to claim a diagnosis than to do the hard work of understanding yourself, sitting with your discomfort, learning to navigate a world that wasn’t built for your specific preferences. It’s easier to find a label that explains away your struggles than to develop the skills and self-awareness to address them.
And look, I get it. Labels can be helpful. Real diagnoses from real professionals can be life-changing, can open doors to treatment and understanding and community. I’m not saying mental health diagnoses aren’t real or valuable. What I’m saying is that we’ve created a culture where every quirk, every preference, every way you differ from some imaginary standard becomes grounds for self-diagnosis.
Not being like everyone else doesn’t mean you have a disorder. It just means that you are an individual.
Bring Back Individuality
I want us to go back to the days where individuality was praised. Where being weird was cool. Where you could be shy or loud or sensitive or blunt or creative or logical without needing a diagnosis to justify your existence.
I want us to stop scrolling through mental health infographics on Instagram and deciding we have every condition described in pastel graphics. I want us to stop using diagnoses as identities, as excuses, as ways to opt out of growth or accountability.
I want us to be brave enough to just be different. To be complicated. To be human without needing a label to make it acceptable.
Not whatever this stale shit we are living in is now.
The Real Question
So when tf did everyone become autistic? When did every personality trait become a symptom? When did being an individual become something that needs a clinical explanation?
And more importantly: who the fuck is your diagnosing provider? Because I’m willing to bet for most of y’all, it’s a TikTok video and a comment section full of people who also self-diagnosed after watching the same video.
We deserve better than this. We deserve to be complex, multifaceted, different people without pathologizing our humanity. We deserve to bring color back into our lives—literally and figuratively—and stop trying to fit into beige boxes that were never meant to hold the fullness of who we are.
Let people be fucking different. Let yourself be fucking different. Without the diagnosis. Without the label. Without the need to explain or justify or medicalize every way you don’t fit a mold that was bullshit to begin with.
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