I’m grabbing at thin air. My words plucked from a cloud in which a soup of experiences swill.
It’s true of all my writing that until start to pin my words to the page it’s as good as alphabet soup. Such is the autistic mind (in my case).
Contentious terminology was the subject of my last piece called When only autism will do, for which my favourite comment was a thank you for my badassery! This pleased me more than I can say.
So I’m back again at the coalface – or the cola face (as I just typed before correcting myself). Oh how I would like to be at the cola face right now – with my face in a cola. But I digress.
What I’m grappling with is self-definition but it’s all a bit drifty and hazy (the shifting sands of autism, to switch the metaphor).
But anyway – here I go (and the usual rule applies that I speak for myself).
I’m at an early stage of a late-life diagnosis which probably makes a quite a difference in terms of perspective. If I fall down in what I’m trying to say, I hope my kind readers will help pick me up, rather than throw rotting fruit. Which is kind of where I’m going with this.
Yesterday I bought chips from the chip shop round the corner from my studios. Kaz, the charming chip shop owner (and as it happens extremely talented photographer) was feeling it. It being the weight of world events. He sprinkled some wisdom along with the salt and vinegar. I’m getting old, he said (we’re roughly the same age). I’ve been mistaken all my life – and I’m praying for us to save ourselves from ourselves (referring again to global matters). I nodded, and left with a warm feeling (emanating from the chips probably) and the final golden nugget; the only thing that truly matters and can save us is love.
And swoosh! Into the sunlit street I bounced, past traffic and trees heavy with pink blossom, clutching the warm package of potato love!
I assume Kaz means self-love is important too. I hope so because I reckon it is.
But it is love in a wider sense (this is old fashioned I know) which I’m finding so missing lately. It’s been replaced by the kind of static you get from a nylon nightie pulled roughly over your head. Shocking and hateful – or rather hate filled human expressions are what we find reflected in so many media outlets that there are days when you don’t know where to look. Not enough love it seems.
Amidst all this static I find myself with a daunting task – staying afloat and making sense of it all as a newbie autistic. I’d really like to find some clarity about who I am post diagnosis (haha! even my diagnosis of Asperger Syndrome is contentious).
So I’m making a list I can hold onto, and if it helps anyone else in my situation I’m more than happy to share.
- I identify as autistic rather than Asperger’s.
- Question: can I be seen, heard, understood and respected as an autistic person by others?
- Insight: 2 seems tricky especially as I don’t fully understand me myself yet.
- Identity appears to shift in varying and wider contexts than my own four walls.
- The necessity of passing seems to affect 4.
- Neurodivergent (ND) as a term has both advantages and disadvantages.
- I’ve decided I like the bluntness of the word autistic better. I like the clarity and ‘shock’ value it brings. I vehemently dislike aspie and autie.
- I can be badass.
- BUT please – if I forget my manners give me a nudge!
- Note to self. A bag of chips is only ever two blocks away.
- Further note to self. Try not to drown in world events.
- Because even numbers feel right.