I whirl down the widening gyre of words until the real world is a memory. When I'm reading all the nuance I’m too stiffened with overwhelm to comprehend in Real Time is unrolled like a Persian rug.
For some of us with autism, pursuing a friendship beyond the surface superficialities imposed by polite society is fraught with difficulty and self-doubt.
A return to blog posts written in a snatched hour or two, the excitement of sharing, and the triumph of curiosity over fear - that's the idea anyway...
It took 25 years, 5 psychiatrists, 4 diagnoses and a string of shortsighted doctors before someone realised the issue was autism – and that someone was Me.
Here I am, back in the blogging chair. My plan to nix other writing commitments (no frivolous blog posts or freebie feature articles – I iz a serious writer now) and pour all my creativity into ‘The Book’ didn’t pan out as I imagined...
As the world opens up for men it shrinks for women, to a space the exact size of your body and no more. Because, first and foremost, a body is all you are.
When it comes to carefree escapism Medieval Times Dinner and Tournament holds the crown.
One day, I reached for it and it was gone...
Time, so boundless at first blush, is a shrinking prison, and it now seems to me ever more important to know the truth, to render the furrows ploughed into memory as accurately and authentically as possible. How else can you know who you are?
If people realised how hard autistics have to work to connect, they’d understand… empathy is a two-way street.