This guest post is by Abigayle Ulin, an autistic adult from Idaho who has worked in healthcare since high school. She is pursuing a bachelor’s degree in social work and hopes to earn a master’s degree so she can continue supporting adults with significant, persistent mental health challenges. Abigayle is applying for the Spring 2026 Making a Difference Autism Scholarship through KFM Making a Difference, the nonprofit founded by Kerry Magro. Kerry was nonspeaking until age 2.5 and was diagnosed with autism at 4.
Autistics on Autism: The Next Chapter shares stories from more than 100 autistic adults about what helped them while growing up and pursuing their dreams. All proceeds support KFM Making a Difference initiatives, including this scholarship program. To invite Kerry to speak at your school, company, or organization, submit an inquiry here.
By Abigayle Ulin
Growing up, I was always the weird, quirky kid. It was not necessarily said to make me feel small or sad; it was simply a label people gave me. For a long time, I accepted it as the best explanation for who I was. It was not until I received my autism spectrum disorder diagnosis at age 24 that I finally had an answer to so many questions I had asked about myself.
As a child, school was never a place where I excelled. I was not unintelligent, but the way things were taught did not click for me. I read at about a third-grade level until I was in tenth grade, and my test scores were usually below average. An earlier attention-related diagnosis explained some of my difficulties, and treatment helped with certain symptoms, but it did not explain why I felt so trapped and alone. I knew I did not need to be “fixed,” but I did need to understand myself.
Instead of leaning into the support I was offered, I learned to mask. That mask quickly became comfortable. I watched the people around me and hid the parts of myself that made others uncomfortable or made the labels “weird” and “quirky” stick even harder. I looked normal, but inside I felt trapped.
High school brought a change. Although I continued to struggle in the classroom, I discovered that my passion for art went far deeper than coloring. For the first time, I was good at something—great, even. I won awards, had a piece selected for a gallery, and made friends. Art became part of my identity. It gave me something I could focus on intensely that other people accepted, and that felt good.
Even with art, I still felt as though something was missing. My friendships did not always feel as deep as I wanted them to be. Art gave me belonging, but it also became another layer of the mask I woke up and put on every day. Deep down, I wanted to be the weird kid who liked unusual things. I wanted friendships and connections with people who would accept those differences.
Eventually, the mask began to come off. I realized I did not want to spend my life pretending to be someone I was not. I stopped filtering out every part of myself that made me stand out and began trying to live more truthfully.
Around the same time, I made the difficult decision not to attend art school as I had once dreamed. I realized I needed something different for myself. Being the “gifted art kid” did not automatically translate into adult life, and I did not want to be defined only by the one thing I could produce. I needed room to grow and evolve, and at that point art alone was not giving me that room.
The years that followed were filled with change. It is hard to rebuild yourself after what feels like a lifetime of half-truths and hiding. Letting go of the mask took time. I had to find out who I wanted to be and what I could bring to the world. I confronted parts of myself I had never thought I would be ready to face.
Receiving my autism diagnosis at 24 changed everything. It did not change what I had lived through, but it gave those experiences a framework. For the first time, I understood myself better. I did not need fixing; my brain simply worked differently. I felt almost peaceful when the doctor explained the diagnosis to me.
With that new understanding came growth.
Today, my life looks very different from what I once imagined. I have built a family with a wonderful partner who sees me as I am—someone around whom the mask can always stay off. I can be myself without fearing judgment.
I am also going back to school to pursue a degree in social work. The decision felt natural. I want to help people who are overlooked or unrecognized, as I once was. I know what it is like to struggle without the right support in your corner, and I want to stand in someone else’s corner in the way that person truly needs.
My journey has not been straightforward. For many years, I felt left behind. Looking back, though, those experiences helped shape the person I am, and there is not much I regret.
It is never too late for self-discovery or to build an authentic life. A late diagnosis does not have to be a bad thing. It can become the beginning of new understanding and new opportunities.
I am still the weird, quirky girl—but I am much more than that. I am a woman who has built a future for herself, removed the mask, and grown into someone she can be proud of.
Kerry Magro, a professional speaker and best-selling author who is also autistic, founded KFM Making a Difference in 2011 to help autistic students receive scholarship support for post-secondary education. Help us continue this work by making a tax-deductible donation here.
You can also invite Kerry to speak at your next event by submitting an inquiry here. Kerry speaks with schools, businesses, government agencies, colleges, nonprofits, parent groups, and conferences on autism, employment, college success, mental health, inclusion, and bullying prevention.
