The Myth of ‘High Functioning’

You look fine (except for that lazy eye).
You’re articulate (I mean, kinda sorta maybe sometimes).
You’re married (3x even!).
You have kids (they are FABULOUS - like seriously, I don’t have enough formatting options to highlight this enough).
You ran a meeting (surprisingly well).
You made a joke (even at inappropriate times).
You didn’t cry when the lights were too noisy (I said what I said).

So you must be high-functioning, right?

That label "high-functioning" gets thrown around like it’s a compliment. But let me tell you: for a lot of us, it doesn’t feel like one. It feels like dismissal wrapped in a gold star. I put it right up there with “you’re so strong” and “you’re a ROCKSTAR” in terms of gag-worthiness.

What Does “High-Functioning” Even Mean?

Let’s start here: it doesn’t mean anything. Not clinically. Not consistently. Not helpfully.

It’s a social judgment. A perception of how "normal" or "independent" someone appears, without any real insight into what’s going on underneath. It's like rating a tornado based on how clean the air looks.

The person who doesn’t make eye contact and has visible stims? “Low-functioning.”
The person who scripts conversations, masks every emotion, and collapses after every social event? “High-functioning.”

Fun Fact: I make eye contact when I feel “forced,” but it’s very broken and excruciatingly painful. My stims are visible, but subtle. I mask some emotions, but at other times, I lose it. We’re at about 70/30 on the scripted v. non-scripted conversations. So, where does that leave me, and people like me (there are SO MANY)? I’ll tell you where it leaves us. It leaves us in the messy middle.

Do you see where I’m going here?

It’s not a spectrum. It’s a scale of palatability.

The Cost of Seeming "Fine"

When you’re labeled high-functioning, your needs are often ignored. People don’t see the recovery time. The burnout. The shutdowns. The hypervigilance. The silent panic behind a polite smile. Except Bud. Bud sees it all! Have you met Bud?

I’ve been praised for how well I “handle things.” Meanwhile, I was dissociating in bathrooms, emotionally unraveling behind closed doors, and holding a glass of orange juice with two hands just to keep from shaking.

But no one saw that. Because I knew how to make them comfortable (or at least comfortable enough to pretend everything was fine and assuage any prickles of actual humanity they might be experiencing). That’s what masking is for.

Functioning Labels Are Rooted in Ableism

Let’s call this out for what it is: a comfort metric for neurotypicals.

High-functioning means “not inconvenient for me.”
Low-functioning means “I don’t know how to relate to you.”

But functioning isn’t a fixed identity. It’s contextual.
I can write this blog post, but I might forget to eat for two days. Except for those dang Kraft singles, of course.
I can speak clearly (ish) in a video (with lots of scripting and edits), but not answer the phone without a script.
I can create a trauma-informed course, but I melt down from surprise noises.

None of that makes me more or less autistic. It just makes me human.

So, What Should We Say Instead?

Here’s a thought: what if we described needs instead of labeling people?

Instead of: “She’s high-functioning.”
Say: “She does well in structured environments but struggles with unexpected changes.”

Instead of: “He’s low-functioning.”
Say: “He needs full-time support with communication and daily tasks.”

Describe the support. Describe the environment. Describe the context. But stop labeling people like they’re machines on a factory line.

The Bottom Line

“High-functioning” sounds like a compliment, but it’s really a trap. It creates expectations that break people. It minimizes support needs. It turns invisible labor into assumed ability. It makes those of us like me have to write blogs like this to try and convince folks that we’re simply NOT ok!

You don’t see how hard someone is working just to seem okay.
You don’t know what it costs them to hold it together.
And they shouldn’t have to break down before they get help.

Let’s stop using language that makes people invisible.

Autistic people are not defined by how easy they are to understand.
We are not your comfort barometer.

We are complex, adaptive, struggling, thriving, falling apart, and rebuilding—sometimes all in the same day.

And we deserve to be seen as we are, not as how “functional” we appear to be.

If you’ve ever been called “high-functioning” while silently falling apart, you’re not alone, even though it feels that way.

Share this post with someone who needs to understand the cost of masking.
Download the Draw It Out Worksheet to decompress without needing words.
Or listen to the Words Are Hard podcast episode on labels, masking, and real communication.

You deserve support that sees the real you, not just the version that’s easy to digest.

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About the Author
Gal is an autistic artist, late-diagnosed at 49, and the creator of AuRTistic Expressions—a space where neurodivergent truth meets creative survival. Through blog posts, printables, courses, and the “This Might Get Messy” podcast, Gal explores what it means to unmask safely, communicate authentically, and make art that doesn’t ask for permission. Stick around—there’s plenty more where this came from.

Cover Photo by Andreas Haimerl on Unsplash

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