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Me and my autism

I have been thinking a lot lately about identifying as autistic, and why - especially as a person who thought I knew quite a bit about autism - it took me so long to realise that I have it myself. There are still a lot of misconceptions about what autism is and how it displays, particularly in females. When I was learning about autism in the late 90s, the lack of theory of mind was an essential part of diagnosis, and we were taught that autism is much less common in women, but much more severe. As I’ve been doing more recent research, I’ve found I don’t really identify with a lot of the prominent autistic female narratives that I’ve found in books or blogs. For this reason I’ve decided to explore this in a series of short blogs as I get a chance to put my thoughts down, partly as a way of making sense of it myself, and partly for any other women who feel different but don’t quite know why. My life as it is now has been shaped by my autism, of course, but also by the unique set of c
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Navigating the world of work

I have had a very mixed experience with the world of employment. I often feel like I haven’t really achieved the things I’m capable of, haven’t got where I want to be in my career. Where I’m capable of. I don’t quite mean that I haven’t reached the pinnacle of my career yet, I mean that I, as I am today, right now, ought to be doing better than I am. I’m pretty sure this is not a uniquely autistic thing, but there are a few things I need to unpack about why  I’ve struggled in work, so that I can move on and do better. I also really want to do this in a balanced way, so I can work out what I do well, as well as what I struggle with. To the outside world, I think I look quite successful. People are often saying nice things about ‘amazing’ things I’ve done, but I have come to the conclusion that they are using completely different measures of success to me. It’s quite difficult for me to marry up these positive comments with how I feel inside - again, not exclusively an autistic thing
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Diagnosis

I am taking part in the Instagram Chronic Illness January Photo Challenge, and I thought I’d try and write a few blog posts to go along with the pictures I’m posting. Today’s theme is ‘Diagnosis’. One of my main motivations for writing about my experience with autism - aside from using the process of writing to help me work through my thought process - is to provide another voice for women who have lived a significant portion of their lives without knowing that they’re autistic. I’m certain I will know other people who are on the spectrum, but haven’t realised it, and if writing honestly about my experiences can help someone else make a connection with their own life then I feel I ought to do it. So - diagnosis. The first thing I did, before I even thought about seeing my GP, was an awful lot of online research. The process of thinking ‘oh my goodness... I think I might be autistic... everything suddenly makes sense...’ was quite a nervewracking one, because what if I was wrong?
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Christmas

This year was my 39th Christmas as an autistic person, but the first Christmas that I have known  I’m autistic. It’s been interesting. One of the things I have found a little weird about exploring my autistic brain is that I keep getting these little moments of “Oh, that’s  why I’ve always done this...”, and this Christmas has been no different. I had a big one today. I’ve been reading lost of posts from other autistics on Twitter talking about coping with Christmas - the sensory overload, having to be social, and how they survive it all - all the while thinking that I’ve never really had issues with Christmas. I did have a little weep yesterday (Christmas Day itself), but that was because I had a stinking cold and didn’t get enough sleep... wasn’t it?? Today I had a bit of a realisation. My husband dances with the village Morris side, and Boxing Day is a big day for them. As I was driving over I had a sudden flashback to last year, sitting crying in my car waiting for Husband to f
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Stimming for mental health

Yesterday was tricky. I was doing a new thing that I'd never done before, and which necessitated me being around lots of noisy children for a prolonged period of time. (Tap dancing in a showcase, if you're interested.) When we got home, I told my husband that he was not allowed to talk to me until I came out from under my duvet. Up until now, my duvet has been pretty much my only coping strategy, and as life is going through a difficult phase I feel like I'm using it all the time. Often I get home from work and go straight to bed. I've been eating meals in bed. I've been working in bed. It's good, because it does help me feel better, but it's quite limiting, and it's affecting my relationships with my family, particularly my children. We had planned to go out for a family walk yesterday afternoon, but for one reason and another I ended up walking quite a lot of it by myself. I was feeling stressed out and overwhelmed. My brain was going at 100 miles
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I say what I mean, and I mean what I say.

Autistic people aren’t supposed to be any good at communication. It’s this word that is always used - deficit - like there is something wrong  or something lacking  from the way we choose to communicate. Granted, autism is a spectrum, and some people on the spectrum do find communication difficult, and aren’t very good at it. But then, some people who aren’t  on the spectrum also find communication difficult, and aren’t very good at it. I am *exceptionally* good at communicating my feelings, thoughts, opinions, and desires to other people. I say *exactly* what I mean, no more, no less. The trouble is, I have realised as I’ve got older, that most people don’t like this at all. This is what drives me crazy. People are always reading things in to what I say that just aren’t there - and I’m  supposed to be the one with a communication problem?! I have been called manipulating, accused of always needing to get my own way, undermining, being bossy... it’s really upsetting, and absolutely
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Sensory issues?

I thought I couldn’t be autistic because I didn’t have any sensory issues. Then I remembered how much I hate stickers. Thin, shiny bit of paper that stick to your skin. Urgh. And then they peel up at the edges and when you brush up against them they make a flicking noise... it makes me cringe. I hate going on training courses where they make you wear name stickers. I have learned to tolerate it, but I will take them off as soon as I can. The trouble is, taking them off involves touching them, and then when you try to throw them away they get stuck to your fingers... While I’m on the subject on thin, shiny bits of paper, I also can’t stand receipts. When I was younger I literally couldn’t touch them without feeling a bit sick. Now I have desensitised myself enough that I can hold one with a thumb and finger until I can find a bin to put it in. Or I stuff them into a particular pocket of my handbag (which I can then steel myself to empty all in one go). If I’m shopping with my husban
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Noise. (And a bit on music.)

I've chosen noise as my next topic to explore as it's one that fascinates me, and I haven't quite got my head around it fully yet. I have a very mixed relationship with noise. I'm a musician by trade, and a music teacher. I LOVE noise. When I was teaching secondary music I could quite happily sit at my desk surrounded by a class of thirty kids playing keyboard while I marked my A level essays, and still be able to pick out the ones who were hitting the demo button instead of doing their work. My classroom was noisy and chaotic, and I loved it. On the flip side, sitting in a restaurant trying to have a meal I can literally lose the ability to speak, because I can't process the level of noise around me. Or maybe it's the type of noise - people speaking, glasses clinking, plates and cutlery, waiters walking around... I remember feeling a complete failure because every time I would go out for a nice meal with my ex-husband we would sit in silence. I found it rea
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