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nightlightsukI saw this quote on Another Site(tm) a few days ago and stuff:-
"Being late-recognized autistic means you spent some nontrivial part of your life not understanding that a lot of the friction you’ve experienced in life is due to disability you didn’t know you were compensating for. It makes for some really complex grieving."
And it hit bloody hard. At the time I had another tab open, and I was looking for books about the Magic of Autism. There are a few around for adults, but a lot of them are dry, dusty medicinal tomes that are of precisely zero interest. Many of the books I saw were either specifically for kids, or aimed at parents giving advice on how to help their autistic kids. And I am so very, very glad that kids today now have that chance to get help and advice, and parents can learn from those books and help their kids.
Because[1] until fairly recently, there was pretty much nothing. If you grew up in the 80s and 90s for example, autism was barely known about and kids at that point were just labelled as shy, lazy, difficult, problem children. If they had ADHD, they were off their head on the chemicals in the food, and the lucky ones were called hyperactive. There was a meme somewhere that said "Boomers claim there were no autistic kids when they were at school." And underneath it said "The autistic boomers" with a picture of Spongebob and a few other characters muzzled and tied up in a cellar.
I spent many happy years at school being bullied for reasons that in retrospect were very clearly tied in with being autistic. I was told that I was shy and needed to try harder to fit in. Make friends. Smile more. I was phenomenally crap at sports and PE lessons were a nightmare, but I was told to just "try harder" which... made no difference. Not surprising when you have 3 left feet and your arms take several minutes to realise that there's a cricket ball gunning for your head. Happiest days of your life, my arse.
My first boss was - and please excuse the expression - a total sack of shit with no patience at all. I don't know if it would have made any difference had he known that I was autistic, and I'll never know. I enjoyed the time I spent working at a library, but there were times when it was extremely hectic and overwhelming. Again, had anyone known, the librarian may have been able to say "take a break if it gets too much" but again, he didn't know. Oddly enough because neither did I.
I've been sent on various Jobcentre courses that were highly unsuitable for reasons linked to having the power of autism, and it was frankly hell. Whether the Jobcentre would have given a damn anyway is another matter, as they're hardly known for their caring attitude. But as it does officially class as a disability, I'd imagine there must be some laws in place that mean they have to make some exceptions and so on. Again, too late now.
And I had major panic attacks partly caused by getting overwhelmed by one thing after another. Which in turn was partly caused by a mother who thought she knew everything there was to know about phobias, insisted I clearly had agoraphobia, she'd be the genius who would find the cure, and the only solution was to get out there and face the fears. Which I tried, and that just made it worse. Shopping malls and extremely packed record fairs are wonderful places to go if you want a meltdown. Autism can't be cured, and if you break your limits, it has repercussions. In my case I was extremely ill from 1993 till about 2012 due to overwhelming stress, among other things. Sadly, 2012 or thereabouts was when my mum was no longer around - I don't really like to think of the obvious connection there, but there's no getting around it...
So yes, going back to that original quote, there's nothing that can be done now. "It is what it is." Even so, I wonder how different things could have been if they'd been able to spot what was wrong from a much earlier age. I might have avoided some 20+ years of constant panic attacks and nearly croaking from losing masses of weight due to being too stressed to scoff the nosh.
And the fact that it's an actual disability - and until July this year I had that disability and didn't know for 50+ years - is quite the eyeball opener. I'm glad I know - better late than never - but it does feel like I've suddenly been nudged into an alternate timeline and the previous me has kind of slipped away. I don't know... it's tricky to put that into words but it's a strange feeling. I guess I'm grieving to some extent for the person I could have been if I'd been given help.
And that is why I am so glad those books for children are now around, and that they're given much more help, and generally the chance of early diagnosis is a lot higher now. They can avoid some of that and have a better chance of becoming who they're really meant to be.
(To be fair, I don't know much about what "help" is available now, but there must be something. It surely can't be a case of "you're autistic, best of luck!" And whatever that help may be, I'd prefer to know long before Prime Minister Farage takes over in 2029 and closes the entire NHS down and has me euthanized.)
[1] I was told never to start a sentence with "Because" but I'm a creature of Khaos so I do not care.
"Being late-recognized autistic means you spent some nontrivial part of your life not understanding that a lot of the friction you’ve experienced in life is due to disability you didn’t know you were compensating for. It makes for some really complex grieving."
And it hit bloody hard. At the time I had another tab open, and I was looking for books about the Magic of Autism. There are a few around for adults, but a lot of them are dry, dusty medicinal tomes that are of precisely zero interest. Many of the books I saw were either specifically for kids, or aimed at parents giving advice on how to help their autistic kids. And I am so very, very glad that kids today now have that chance to get help and advice, and parents can learn from those books and help their kids.
Because[1] until fairly recently, there was pretty much nothing. If you grew up in the 80s and 90s for example, autism was barely known about and kids at that point were just labelled as shy, lazy, difficult, problem children. If they had ADHD, they were off their head on the chemicals in the food, and the lucky ones were called hyperactive. There was a meme somewhere that said "Boomers claim there were no autistic kids when they were at school." And underneath it said "The autistic boomers" with a picture of Spongebob and a few other characters muzzled and tied up in a cellar.
I spent many happy years at school being bullied for reasons that in retrospect were very clearly tied in with being autistic. I was told that I was shy and needed to try harder to fit in. Make friends. Smile more. I was phenomenally crap at sports and PE lessons were a nightmare, but I was told to just "try harder" which... made no difference. Not surprising when you have 3 left feet and your arms take several minutes to realise that there's a cricket ball gunning for your head. Happiest days of your life, my arse.
My first boss was - and please excuse the expression - a total sack of shit with no patience at all. I don't know if it would have made any difference had he known that I was autistic, and I'll never know. I enjoyed the time I spent working at a library, but there were times when it was extremely hectic and overwhelming. Again, had anyone known, the librarian may have been able to say "take a break if it gets too much" but again, he didn't know. Oddly enough because neither did I.
I've been sent on various Jobcentre courses that were highly unsuitable for reasons linked to having the power of autism, and it was frankly hell. Whether the Jobcentre would have given a damn anyway is another matter, as they're hardly known for their caring attitude. But as it does officially class as a disability, I'd imagine there must be some laws in place that mean they have to make some exceptions and so on. Again, too late now.
And I had major panic attacks partly caused by getting overwhelmed by one thing after another. Which in turn was partly caused by a mother who thought she knew everything there was to know about phobias, insisted I clearly had agoraphobia, she'd be the genius who would find the cure, and the only solution was to get out there and face the fears. Which I tried, and that just made it worse. Shopping malls and extremely packed record fairs are wonderful places to go if you want a meltdown. Autism can't be cured, and if you break your limits, it has repercussions. In my case I was extremely ill from 1993 till about 2012 due to overwhelming stress, among other things. Sadly, 2012 or thereabouts was when my mum was no longer around - I don't really like to think of the obvious connection there, but there's no getting around it...
So yes, going back to that original quote, there's nothing that can be done now. "It is what it is." Even so, I wonder how different things could have been if they'd been able to spot what was wrong from a much earlier age. I might have avoided some 20+ years of constant panic attacks and nearly croaking from losing masses of weight due to being too stressed to scoff the nosh.
And the fact that it's an actual disability - and until July this year I had that disability and didn't know for 50+ years - is quite the eyeball opener. I'm glad I know - better late than never - but it does feel like I've suddenly been nudged into an alternate timeline and the previous me has kind of slipped away. I don't know... it's tricky to put that into words but it's a strange feeling. I guess I'm grieving to some extent for the person I could have been if I'd been given help.
And that is why I am so glad those books for children are now around, and that they're given much more help, and generally the chance of early diagnosis is a lot higher now. They can avoid some of that and have a better chance of becoming who they're really meant to be.
(To be fair, I don't know much about what "help" is available now, but there must be something. It surely can't be a case of "you're autistic, best of luck!" And whatever that help may be, I'd prefer to know long before Prime Minister Farage takes over in 2029 and closes the entire NHS down and has me euthanized.)
[1] I was told never to start a sentence with "Because" but I'm a creature of Khaos so I do not care.
