The Prank That Left Me Humiliated

And why an autism diagnosis freed me from shame.

Five years ago, the leaders of an overseas mission team I was on decided to play a prank on our group.

A few days before the start of our trip, they told us that our flights had been cancelled and we'd instead stay put for two months in a different country from the one we'd prepared for.

I couldn't hold back my tears. Perhaps the biggest hurdle my autism brings me is struggling to cope with change, and in that moment, I felt terrified.

We'd spent three months in training and preparation for this trip. On top of that, my Mexican visa would run out in a few days and I needed to leave the country.

After a minute of hushed silence broken only by confused whispers and my panicked sobs, the leaders hit us with a second announcement: it was all a joke.

The room erupted into laughter.

I remember sitting on that couch in disbelief. While everyone else breathed sighs of relief, I struggled to breathe.

I was told to stop overreacting and not to take it so seriously, but it was too late. I felt like my nervous system was failing me and the tears just kept coming.

While I sat there with salty cheeks, the leaders told us it had been a test in how ready we were to "go with the flow". And as all eyes turned to me, the only person who clearly couldn't "go with the flow", I felt humiliated.

Just days prior, we'd each had the chance to share our biggest fear or flaw with our leaders, and I'd explained to them how hard I find it to process unexpected change. To have that vulnerability used against me in such a public way left me feeling broken.

I looked around at everyone else in my group and wondered why I couldn't be like them. What was wrong with me? I hated that I couldn't "lighten up" and find it funny. I just felt hurt and so, so ashamed.

I've thought about that moment a lot in the past few years. That day, and the trip that followed, have affected me in so many ways.

Even writing about it now has me feeling sad for 20-year-old Maddy, who didn't know she was autistic back then but knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the way she saw the world was "wrong". That she was the odd one out. That despite trying her hardest to cope with change and uncertainty, she'd failed. Again.

It would be another two years before she was diagnosed autistic, and it would take longer for her to stop feeling the shame of not being like others.

Since talking about autism more openly, I've had so many people ask me "why bother?" about getting diagnosed as an adult. "What's the point?" they wonder.

Friends, this is the point.

Because someone like me might spend their whole life being told there's something wrong with the way they see things. That they don't fit in. That they need to try harder to be like everyone else.

And they WILL try. They'll try so hard that it leaves them depressed and burnt-out and ashamed. And it still won't be enough.

This is why labels are important. This is why it's a beautiful thing when people get diagnosed, at any age.

Because you know what getting diagnosed did for me?

It told me I wasn't crazy or imagining things all those years - there was a reason I felt different and a reason I struggled.

It told me I was made this way and it wasn't something to be ashamed of.

And most importantly?

It told me I wasn't alone. That there were others like me.

And knowing that...

Well, it’s more powerful than you can imagine.