Why some days I am tired of being autistic…

I am fed up of being autistic today!

I have no energy for masking at the moment and know that this means I will either appear totally unstable or I’ll muck up everything I have worked so hard to create.

It makes me want to give up as there seems no point.

Situations remind me that no matter how hard I try, how well I mask, and how fantastic my skills are – I am still really crap at being a neurotypical person. But I’m not neurotypical so why does it matter?

Because autistic people are not valued as whole people. My skills can be appreciated but the rest is still measured in deficits.

People assume I want to be more normal, or I’ll somehow learn to fit in. I don’t. I won’t.

I want the whole of me to be appreciated.

I often find neurotypical people dishonest, vague, inconsistent and tricksy. I still love many of them though. I accept I find those aspects of their persona difficult and confusing. I may not even like how they do things sometimes. Perhaps they occasionally annoy me. But I still love them and wouldn’t dream of writing them off as lesser, or as a broken version of me.

We are all perfectly imperfect human beings.

That’s why I’m fed up of being autistic today. I’m tired and overwhelmed and have no fight left. I get more tired anyway because my brain does so much more processing. On top of that I have to put all that effort into fitting in so I’m allowed to have a go at normal stuff like work and friendships.

My brain rarely rests. My body is usually alert to danger and ready to react.

Most people don’t realise this, and when I end up having to tell them so they’ll stop unintentionally hurting me, I feel humiliated and reminded of how the world is not designed for me.

That’s why I’m fed up of being autistic today.

So I’m taking it easy. I’m cuddling my dog. I’m taking care of myself and hoping tomorrow will feel better. 

Self-care is the only way. I have a capacity for joy that others may never achieve. I seek out those sounds that reset my soul. I notice the patterns the rain is making on the window and trace each tiny droplet until it has my full focus. I read those comments that remind me I am not alone. I move in ways that reminds me I am in here – I have a right to be alive.

I rest, I recharge. I don’t plan my next battle. I remind myself that this neurotypically biased world is not of my making. I look at the birds and the trees and I reflect on the words of Mary Oliver. I remember where I belong.