Being Autistic

Right now
Being autistic
Is giving me
Warm, fuzzy, lovely
Feelings.

It is so obvious
That it is who I am,
My identity,
My way of being.

Feels so right.
Lovely.
Like a big hug
Rocking
Happy
Autistic.

Loving that
I do not have to be
Part of society
In the usual way.
Happy inside my head
Just waggling my fingers
So lovely.
Nothing else matters.
For hours.

Smile smile smile.

One of my huge
Autistic traits
Is that my
Social imagination
Is very very poor.
(It scored me
Very high
On the ADOS).

That means
I cannot imagine
What it is like
For things to be different
From how they are
Right now.

I struggle to imagine
What it is like
To be someone else
(And, for the record,
I AM also an autistic
Without much
Natural empathy.
The empathy I have
I work hard
To achieve
Because I like the people
But I have to learn
And really work at it
(Unlike my spouse,
Who is a hyperempath)).

Anyway, I digress.

So, right now,
I struggle to imagine
What it is like
To be that other person,
That person who
Doesn’t want
To exist any more.

I remember that
There is a version of me
That wants to die
That finds life
Unbelievably hard
That constantly asks
“Why me?”
That hates the life
I am forced to lead.

A version of me
Who wishes I was
“Normal”
And could just chat
Could just be out in the world
Without sensory overload
Could just get up
And make a cup of tea
And go to work
Like so many
People can.

A version of me
Who is struggling
To come to terms
With being autistic
Because of the way
It limits my life.
And who is frustrated
Because they are unable to live
The life they had expected to.

A version who
Wishes they were
Less disabled.
And also wishes they
Fitted neatly
Into the gender binary
And didn’t
Cry and feel bad
At gendered toilets.

That version of me,
However,
Seems to be
Miles away
Right now.

That person has written things
I can hardly understand.
But that I will work hard
To process
Intellectually,
Academically,
And will publish here
From time to time.

But right now
The person who is here
Is content
To be
An autistic enby.
With a new identity,
A new name, even.

It’s all good.
Because it fits.
And it’s right.
And it’s me.

And at times like these
“Autistic”
Is the sweetest word
In the whole language.

Why did it take me
So long
To discover
How perfect
It is
For me?

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One thought on “Being Autistic”

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