
Forgiveness and Permission: Why seek an adult autism diagnosis?
One of the first things anyone asks when I reveal that I received an autism diagnosis at age 37 is “What’s the point of getting
One of the first things anyone asks when I reveal that I received an autism diagnosis at age 37 is “What’s the point of getting
As an autistic adult who was not diagnosed until she was thirty-seven, it is so often the subtle differences in communication, processing and assumptions that
It’s official – I’m a bad listener. In the white-hot energy of an introductory conversation, I will not ask you questions. I won’t inquire about
I am anxious. I’m anxious about the virus. I’m anxious about medical tests and the fact that I have not had any work this month.
There is an expectation, an implication, a pressure when you are the parent of an autistic child. Sometimes that pressure is very clear – when
I have not left you crying in a very, very long time, gorgeous boy. This morning I did. I left your classroom as tears were
I may not be as vocal as you, gorgeous boy, but uncertainty scares me just as much as it scares you. When you started school,
This is not a post about climate change. This is not a post about the ecological nightmare that our planet is facing. It probably should
We are luckier than many, when it comes to sleep. After a rocky start, like most babies, my boy started sleeping through the night at
Today is an ending. It is the final day of pre-school you and me, snuggled on the sofa. Today, little bean, is the last day
I first began to suspect I might be autistic about a year after my son was diagnosed. I have always had a tendency to obsess
Little boy, I cannot lie to you. I know the status that truth holds, in your beautiful and remarkable mind. It is the greatest imperative,