Author: Queerly Autistic

The definition of success seems to depend very much on the frame that you’re looking at it through. And the frame of my ‘success’ is the neurotypical gaze. 

My brain is juggling so many things, and if you throw something else at me without warning, the likelihood is that I’m going to miss it altogether or drop it before its first rotation is complete. 

His phone call to the charity was shared as a courageous exposé. I had to stop watching after three minutes because I was on the edge of a memory-scarred panic attack. 

The horrible cough-and-cold mixture is the ultimate magnification of all the things that push those sensory overload buttons in my brain. 

These characters were my very own line-up of autistic headcanons. And I identified more with them than I did with the very few characters who were written as ‘autistic’ from the beginning.

My journey is my journey alone- but I hope that there are some elements of what I have learned that can help. 

A century later, arms companies hold remembrance day events, paying with money steeped in the very red the poppies on their lapels bade them never spill again.

I don’t remember much of my childhood. Is this an ‘autism’ thing, or an ‘everyone else experiences this but I can’t read or replicate their bullshit’ thing?

I have a major personal conundrum: I enjoy spending time with people I like, but I have a severely limited supply of social energy to do so.

I didn’t want to be asexual. I didn’t realise that I didn’t have to relinquish my beloved bisexual identity in order to make some space for this little bit of ace. 

When neurotypical people talk about anxiety, they’re not willing to talk about the other, less sympathetic, manifestations.

I don’t know how old I was when I first learned that I had to shout ‘fire’ if someone tried to grab me.