Starting a new job brings excitement, anxiety and the hope of making a good impression. You want to show what you can do and prove to yourself that you are capable. But for me, it also raises another question: when do I tell them I’m autistic?

I know there is nothing to be ashamed of and that asking for reasonable adjustments does not make me less capable. Yet knowing this doesn’t make saying the words any easier.

“I’m autistic.”

Even saying those words aloud can feel incredibly vulnerable. I work as a mental health professional and alongside neurodivergent people, so I understand the psychology behind my anxiety and know which adjustments help me. But understanding why something feels difficult doesn’t necessarily make it feel any less difficult.

The conversation I’m already thinking about

I don’t talk about being autistic with many people. Only a small number of people know, and they are people I trust and feel safe with. Telling someone I barely know, particularly a new manager, feels very different.

I usually disclose my autism on job applications, but when it isn’t mentioned during an interview or by the employer, I find myself wondering whether they have seen it, whether they are waiting for me to raise it or whether it has been missed entirely.

Then there are the practical questions. Should I mention it during an interview, email my manager after receiving an offer or wait for an occupational health appointment? Who should I tell first?

There seems to be an expectation that disclosure should be a straightforward conversation. Yet even deciding when and how to have it can feel overwhelming.

The vulnerability of being known

I want to make a good impression when I start a job. I want people to see that I am competent, enthusiastic and care about my work. I worry that disclosing my autism might change how people see me before they have had the chance to get to know me.

I don’t want every mistake I make while learning a new role to be attributed to my autism. I don’t want to be seen as difficult or incapable because I ask for something that helps me work well. I want the opportunity to demonstrate my abilities without someone making assumptions about what I can or cannot do based on a diagnosis.

And yet, if adjustments would help me do my job well, I may need to share something personal to access them.

That is the conflict: I want the support, but I am frightened of the conversation and what I might have to reveal to get it.

There is also a power dynamic. I may be telling someone who evaluates my work and decides how I fit into the team. Although I know my autism should not diminish their perception of my competence, I cannot be certain that it won’t.

Disclosure means trusting someone with information they cannot unknow. They may respond with understanding, but before the conversation happens, I don’t know how they will react. That uncertainty is part of what makes it so vulnerable.

When asking for support becomes another barrier

We often talk about reasonable adjustments as though the difficult part is simply identifying what someone needs. Sometimes, the hardest part happens before that: deciding whether to disclose, finding the words, explaining yourself and managing the uncertainty of how someone might respond.

For an autistic person, this can require considerable thought and energy, particularly when already navigating unfamiliar people, expectations and routines. Initiating a conversation about your needs can feel like another demand at a time when you are already trying to settle into a new environment.

There is also an expectation that you will be able to explain exactly what you need. But starting a new job means entering a different environment, and adjustments that helped in previous roles may not be enough. You might know what you have struggled with before without knowing exactly what will help this time.

Asking for support requires you to recognise a need, decide whether you feel safe enough to explain it and communicate with someone who may know very little about autism. You then have to manage their response while trying to make a good impression.

The thing that is supposed to help you access support can sometimes feel like another barrier to accessing it.

I think we need to pay more attention to the effort involved in asking for adjustments, not just the adjustments themselves.

Knowing my rights doesn’t make it feel easy

There is a difference between knowing your rights and feeling able to use them. You can know that reasonable adjustments exist, that asking for support does not make you less competent and that autism meets the definition of disability under the Equality Act 2010. However, when you are sitting opposite a new manager, trying to explain something personal, those facts can suddenly feel very far away.

This isn’t just about legislation or workplace policy. It is about wanting to be accepted, wanting to be seen as capable and worrying that sharing something personal might change how someone perceives you.

I can remind myself that I have valuable skills to offer and every right to ask for support. I can recognise that my anxiety is filling the uncertainty with possible negative outcomes. But I still don’t know how my manager will respond. They may be completely understanding and make the conversation much easier than I expect. Until then, I have to sit with not knowing.

Understanding my anxiety doesn’t mean I can simply reason myself out of it. Sometimes, the difficulty isn’t knowing what I need. It is not knowing how someone else will respond when I tell them.

What if we made disclosure less frightening?

I am still figuring out how I feel about all of this. I don’t think there is one perfect way to disclose your autism, or one perfect moment that makes the vulnerability disappear. Perhaps, rather than expecting autistic people to become more comfortable with disclosure, we need to make the process less dependent on vulnerability in the first place.

Workplaces can help by normalising conversations about adjustments, making it clear who employees can approach and offering different ways to communicate, including written options. They can recognise that needs may become clearer over time, rather than expecting someone to explain everything perfectly before they have even started.

Most importantly, managers can listen without making assumptions and recognise that a diagnosis does not tell them everything about someone’s abilities, strengths or support needs.

Adjustments are not about lowering expectations. They are about removing unnecessary barriers so that someone can meet them.

The courage to be understood

As I start this new job, I am still wondering when I will say those words, how I will say them and who I will speak to first. I don’t have a perfect script, and I don’t know exactly what I will need yet. I am still learning that knowing I need support and feeling comfortable enough to ask for it are two very different things.

Saying “I’m autistic” can mean sharing much more than a diagnosis. Sometimes, it means allowing someone new to see a part of you that you have spent a long time keeping private, hoping they will understand what it means to you.

Maybe that is something we need to talk about more. If we want autistic people to feel able to ask for the support they need, courage alone should not be what makes that possible.