I can do a whole lot of things, and superbly well too. But autistic executive dysfunction is a very real thing, and I need help with the simplest stuff, without which, I am unable to do all the marvellous things as marvellously as I can. Autistic persons need support, no matter ‘where on the spectrum’ we may seem to be. That is why functioning labels are harmful. Stop referring to us as ‘high’ or ‘low’ functioning, we are autistic, we are humans. Start trying to understand how you can support us to do the things we can do well, so that we can in turn help you do the things you cannot do well.
This thing. It has been making its rounds on Facebook. (I haven’t bothered to check Pinterest yet. I don’t think I have the energy to look for it actively.)
I am not deliberately wanting to be contrary about normative social humour (despite my reputation for being so). I ‘get’ the joke and generalised implication. However, the creator of this thing and the 95% of humanity on social media who support the message have not given an iota – not even a split second – of thought to the paradigm of ‘Other’ or even acknowledging the existence of this silent, ‘invisible’ ‘Other’ in this sweeping pronouncement. Who are these ‘Other’ people?
Me. Autistic people. People with neurocultural sensory-cognitive-proprioceptive differences. Continue reading →
We are almost halfway through September. The mind has been churning in frothy, heaving, cyclical waves. Anxiety grows ever more verdurous. I have no idea how I will pull it off, but the show must go on. It doesn’t feel all that long ago when I presented “Little Sweets” – but almost year has since passed.
As we trundle along, too many thought trajectories run through my mind, tripping over each other in a tangled mess of tentacles. This winter’s monumental feature has been the intense battle with sensory gremlins and physical exhaustion from the fight. I am extremely relieved that spring has sprung at last, yet wishing for time to move slower so I may achieve more as I stumble as quickly as I possiby can towards the finishing line. Continue reading →
Another nonverbal day. The last few days have been even more of a struggle than usual. Is it even possible, without completely losing the plot? Yes, it seems so. I am still here. Still relatively coherent, very much alive (the pain tells me that, very clearly so), but in a surreal state of high-pitched silently shrieking fugal stretto. At the same time… oh no, there’s that Pina Bausch Le Sacre dance scene again! How do they all coexist? I do not know. They just do. It’s all ‘going on’ in there, a palpable, concretely physical unfolding in the abstract realm of my brain. Yep. Go figure. Continue reading →
The autistic life is not terrible. Just very challenging. In fact, some days, the struggle is monumental and overpowering. But the wonderment is so glorious and beautiful, the thrill so resonant, I will not exchange it for anything less – even if it is a 5% compared to the 95% of struggle. Continue reading →
Brunch for two! – soggy fries, fresh salad, and chicken wings!
Fancy macaroons! – Lucy approves, of course.
Mumma, why can’t I have any chocolate? Momma says, chocolate is bad for doggies, so you may have a green lipped mussel treat instead!
The Molton Brown box.
Someone I was close to in my former life used to say that it is most important to engage in ‘networking’ – gathering around oneself a collection of useful people with talents and abilities that can render practical support, as well as appear ‘socially appropriate.’ Well, despite her having spoken with such disdain about my little motley collection of friends, comparing them most unfavorably next to her own ‘network’ of wealthy so-and-so types, she has now resorted to ingratiating herself with my eclectic, ‘socially inappropriate’ lot, after I walked away from the entire scene. I guess one such as her can never have too many willing hands to hold, ready ears to listen, and practical services to offer. That’s fine by me, really, if she is in such dire need for attention and affirmation, and if my (former) friends are unable to see the wood from the trees, she deserves them and they her.
The Butcher Box has arrived! I am overwhelmed, but Lucy is pleased.
Beef bone broth.
Cutting up the ribs for dehydratiing
Doggy biscuits. Beef bone broth. Dehydrated ribs. Freezer choking full of meaty delight. Senses overwhelmed. Body disintegrating. Collapsing in a wobbly heap on the floor, no tears, just dazed and faint. Fading, melting, leaking slowly down the sinkhole of executive duties, into the abyss of mocking dysfunction. Continue reading →
Working on granny crochet piece – Lucy is mumma’s little helper
Recycled lunch – dinner plate
Rubenesque – does my bum look big from there?
Poor scholar’s lunch – egg & potato mash, rice cakes, tea and a small serving of choco mousse!
Cuddle pup – working on granny crochet in bed with my Angel
Dinner time! – Hoki fish cubes on rice
Engulfment. A consummation. Completely devoured, imbibed with palpable force. A concrete visceral knowledge. Empathy with the elements that bring both delight and grief. Feeling resonances of clemency and violence. A pragmatic and empirical embodiment, the beauty of intersecting with the elements is not a romantic notion but a sensory exuberant peace, and there is really nothing fanciful about a splitting headache derived from wet, damp cold. Reality is just what it is.
Soggy dissipation. It isn’t cold, why are my legs screaming so? A tight, wet, cold cast is set around legs and feet, so tightly bound, frozen pain pounding at the walls, crying to be set free. Continue reading →