[Trigger warning: discussion of ableism, and mention of applied behavioural analysis (ABA). Also a hefty dollop of snark, because, well, this topic brings that sort of thing out in me.] A few weeks ago, a friend shared on Twitter a very annoying graphic she'd come across in a parenting group, featuring an acrostic using each … Continue reading I’m not “gifted”.
I think it is funny, in an ironic way, that so many people try to tell us how to identify and refer to ourselves. They say we shouldn’t use identity first language when we say we are autistic. We should say we are people with autism because we are people first. via the language of identity, … Continue reading Sharing: the language of identity, or “I am not an autism parent” — Michelle Sutton
I talk to myself. An awful lot. When I do this, I'm almost invariably verbalising my thinking about, and processing of, the thing I'm doing at that particular moment. This isn't the same as the inner monologue that runs incessantly over everything that I do; the one I hear at every waking moment, but which … Continue reading Director’s Commentary
It's a whole month since I last wrote a blog post, which seems an awfully long time. A couple of weeks ago, I celebrated one year since it was formally confirmed to me that I'm autistic. I'd been intending to write about it around the date of my "autiversary", but I've been pretty short on … Continue reading One year on
[Image description: a collage of four photographs, depicting freshly harvested produce from a small personal garden. Clockwise from top left: a hand holding five ripe red strawberries; a lime green plastic bucket, about a quarter full of new potatoes, still with soil on them; a metal colander containing an assortment of fresh salad leaves and … Continue reading Our little patch of green
[Feature image description: close-up view of the trunk of a Weeping Willow tree, viewed from behind the metal railings of a bridge, diagonally leading away from the bottom left to the top right of the image. The tree is resplendent with masses of bright green leaves hanging downwards. Behind the tree and its branches, a … Continue reading The same crap, on top of everything different
I often struggle to translate my thoughts into either speech or the written word. Sometimes I lack the particular executive functioning powers required to organise and synthesise what's in my mind, to present it to an external audience. At other times, the very fact that I have set myself the task of writing means that … Continue reading Lost for words
It is what it is. I find myself having to say this so often. It's supposed to be a mantra of mindfulness. Of accepting what is, because that's all there is. Right here, right now. At the moment I find myself regretting so much, despite how often I try to convince myself that regrets are … Continue reading It is what it is.
I was very well-behaved at school. It wasn't that I always agreed with the reasons for complying, conforming, or doing a particular thing I was asked; I simply found the idea of being told off or criticised in front of others too stressful to contemplate. I drew far too much attention to myself as it … Continue reading Logic, behaviour, and discipline
It's been one of those dazzlingly sunny spring days. The kind that I value far more than the summer days we Brits tend to experience (which I find veer far too alarmingly between overly hot and disappointingly cold and wet). And I've been tired out by an exhausting term at work, and successive nights of … Continue reading A thing I really miss.