Queerly Autistic

I accept that this isn’t the kind of grandiose statement the great poets of our time will write songs about. But it is a huge, empowering revelation for me.

I have lost count of the times a headline has flashed with a tagline that sets my heart racing and none of the details I need to actually understand the situation.

There’s too much to write about, to think about, to be worried about. And it can be so overwhelming that I end up unable to do anything. 

You claim to be against cruelty. And yet you will stand by and abet the cruelty that neurodiverse people face every day.

I feel obliged to give constant apologies for existing as a neurodiverse person in a neurotypical world.

In the end, there was simply too much to talk about. So I’ve decided to talk about scarves. 

I hate to burst anyone’s bubbles, but I do not speak for the Autistic community.

I sobbed as I delivered my speech. It was so cliche, I might as well have broken into a teary rendition of ‘For Good’. But it was all true.

It took an internal war before I realised that these pills may be something that I would need for the rest of my life – and that that was okay.

I don’t want to be an interfering busybody lecturing on the rules of the train carriage, but I’d rather be that than the meltdown monster I become when it all gets too much.