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.
When neurotypical people talk about anxiety, they’re not willing to talk about the other, less sympathetic, manifestations.
It seems appropriate, on this World Mental Health Day, to admit that I’m struggling.
I often hold my queerness hand in hand with my autism. They are what make me beautiful and unique. They are also what paints a target on my head.
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.