[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.
Before April came around, I'd been mentally conjuring up my plans for activism, amplification, signal boosting, the promotion of acceptance, and whatnot. As it happens, events have conspired against me, and I haven't been as active in railing positively against the "awareness industry" (as fantastic new blogger Little Sparrow puts it) as I'd hoped to be. … Continue reading #AutismAppreciation: 7 things that make me a valuable employee
I completely agree with this. Even acceptance isn’t enough for me. We need to get truly positive.
Ah, yes. Autism Awareness Month.
Once more, we meet again.
(Ok, it really starts tomorrow, but I’m already looking over the horizon in weary resignation.)
Last April was my first time writing about this phenomenon, as it was my first time experiencing it…well, no, not my first time as an autistic person, because I’d been that all along. But it was my first time knowing that I was autistic, knowing that I was one of the people the world was allegedly being made aware of.
Did all that awareness work? It hadn’t up to that point; as I wrote last year, all of the previous “awareness” months hadn’t made me aware that I was autistic, so clearly the type of “awareness” being spread was not so helpful in that regard. From the generally baffled and surprised reaction I’ve gotten from people as I’ve started to tell them I was…
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This is so perfect. I have to confess, I’m feeling pretty raw about this particular month. Stressful time at work, minimal downtime, the comparative recentness of my own diagnosis…whatever it is, I’m finding it far less easy than I’d anticipated to be the activist I wanted to be at this time. But this post sums up my feelings so well.
Like I mentioned in a recent post, April is probably going to expose my Activist Face. Not every post will smack of activism. But I reckon that a greater portion of them will than is typical for me. I think it’s possible that my subconscious is railing against the backdrop of blue heaped upon our fields of vision for a month out of every year, and my instincts tell me to issue a haughty retort.
It makes me shudder, more than a little, when someone makes the remark that autism “stole” their child. They blame vaccines. Or environmental chemicals. Or maybe the age of their partner or themselves when their child was conceived. Or perhaps mom took too many over-the-counter pain relievers during pregnancy. Or maybe it’s a mystery.
But they believe that someone or something took their child away, and with him/her, the accompanying hopes and dreams, and maybe…
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