Life Behind the Camera: Observing the Neurotypical World from the Autism Spectrum By: Michelle Zeman

 

Imagine that you are a photographer covering a story. You aren't the story's subject - your only purpose is to zoom in, adjust the settings, and click the button. The subject(s) of the photo are the story - they know what to expect and how to respond given the situation. However, you're not in the picture as the photographer - you're just observing. You aren't asked to be in the photo, let alone be involved in the story, outside of clicking the button. You see the final image, and you publish it online, and when people see it, they comment on the people within the photo and the event that occurred. That is what life is like from my perspective of being on the Autism spectrum - I am on the outside looking into neurotypical life.

 

Growing up, I didn't have many friends. In elementary school, I went to a Christian school. You would be incorrect if you think a Christian school is different from a public school in terms of how friendships are created. There were still cliques - the popular girls, the sporty kids, the music kids… and then there was me. Technically, I would be a "music kid" because I was involved in band, choir, and piano classes growing up. However, friendships were few and far between because I behaved differently than my peers. I was considered the "weird" kid because I fit in with the younger kids. I would play with them because they chose me, whereas kids my age would exclude me. It didn't help that I was bullied heavily throughout school, which made it that much harder for me to interact with others. Because of this, I hardly ever initiated friendships or relationships.

 

This continued throughout my years of schooling. I hated group projects because I would have to choose a partner, which meant I had to initiate something. If I knew someone and they were willing to work with me, I would automatically cling to them. However, if I didn't know anyone or if they were one of my peers and didn't choose me when I thought they would, that was hard for me to handle, and I'd almost shut down. I appreciated the autonomy of selecting a partner but hated going out of my way to partner up.

 

Recently, I got a taste of how hard it is to initiate friendships when I attended a conference in person. At the meeting, there were a bunch of tables where we could choose to sit; I ended up at a table by myself. Some people came in and sat at my table, which was great because I started talking to a few of my tablemates. However, by the next day, a couple of them had moved from my table to another. Was it something I said? Did I smell bad? It was hard not to take it personally. Though there were opportunities for me to join some of the post-conference activities, I didn't find the appeal in them - perhaps if I had shown some interest, I would have thought initiating friendships was more straightforward. Whatever the case, I learned a lot and spent time with my family afterward. Even though no one in my family knows what it's like to have Autism, they grew up with me and accepted me no matter what.

 

 

In many ways, life on the Autism spectrum has been a series of moments where I've been behind the lens, observing the social world of others without fully stepping into it. Like a photographer capturing life from the outside, I've learned to see friendship, connection, and belonging as things I can watch, understand, and even appreciate—but sometimes struggle to reach out and grasp. While this perspective can feel isolating, it has also shown me the value of the moments and people who choose to be close to me, like the younger kids I played with or the family members who know me so well. These connections may not always follow the traditional path, but they are steady and meaningful in their own way. Though the challenges of initiating friendships and finding my place in a world that often feels distant remain, I've found comfort in knowing that even if I'm on the outside looking in, there's always room for my perspective and place in the bigger picture. I am one person on the Autism spectrum, but I have a voice that deserves to be heard.