It's academia, they want you to grovel and abase yourself before they bestow upon you the privilege of attending their school. They want to impress upon you how exclusive they are. How much you need them.

They want it to be clear to you that education isn't a product for you to buy. It's a membership in their club that they are going to make you pay for with both your money and your time.

They aren't selling you something. They are gatekeepers who get to decide who is "worthy" of their school. They want you to humble yourself before them and grovel some.

It's academia.

I went through this with both my first and second wives. The first getting her bachelors, masters, and PhD. The second getting her PhD. It's a process and they do want you to jump through hoops.

It's not a process that favors the autistic. They like charming, witty, highly verbal people who are pretty and have good affects. However, most of them also want to be diverse and provide opportunities for the disadvantaged and underrepresented.

You have to swallow your pride and take the chip off your shoulder. You are going to have to play the "survivor of abusive childhood/autistic/woman/borderline disabled" card. That, plus test scores, transcripts, and heartrending essays on how you have worked to get an education so that you can provide a better life for your son. Those are your strong cards, your edge.

Make your admission be about those and the interviews will be formalities.

It's stressful, it's arbitrary, it's massively frustrating, so what. It is what it is. All your life, you have taken what was given to you and worked with it. You can do this.

I agree though, admission interviews are hellish for the autistic. I didn't get into MIT because I blew the interview.

I got nervous when he asked me about my "passions" and went on a 35 min. monologue about simulations, game design, computers, and FRP games. This was 1975, almost no one had heard of D&D, wargames, or strategy simulations. He also didn’t find my ability to make chain-mail or edged weapons, and my participation in the Society for Creative Anachronisms as “rounding” as I thought they were. Needless to say, he didn't recommend me for admission.

Don't be like me.

Control the narrative and tell them the story that you want to present. Make them want to be part of your success story instead of the assholes who crushed your dream. It's going to be hard, it's going to go against your grain, it's going to give you anxiety. But look how far you've come.

You can do this.