Managing my symptoms is much more useful to me than wondering what other people believe about it. Mostly I don't even tell them, so there's not a lot to wonder about what they believe. Even at work where I pretty much had to tell the employer (so he wouldn't feel so free to push me into "Aspie-unfriendly" roles), whether or not he believed me wasn't that important - he had a politically-correct nondiscrimination policy to live up to and I had an official diagnosis, so the only thing I worried about was whether or not he would feel confident enough to ignore my diagnosis. And even if he had personally believed me, it didn't necessarily follow that he wouldn't try to ignore the DX if he thought he'd get away with it. I always presumed that my well-being was less important to him than his own, and particularly his profit.
Managing my symptoms is a way of life for me. I tend to call it "comfort management," though that's too positive a term for it - discomfort limitation would be more accurate. It was always second-nature to me to do what I can to minimise the problems the disorder gives me, just as it's natural to treat any illness or try to solve or mitigate any problem that threatens my well-being. In a sense, everything I do is an attempt to keep myself content. Practically all the projects I get immersed in involve me focussing strongly on interesting tasks to take my mind off the physical discomfort that soon gets my attention if I have nothing to do. With those projects I seek to kill 2 birds with 1 stone - distracting myself from discomfort, and achieving an excellent and useful result I can feel proud of.