once dire straits

Finding the joy in autism

What’s amazing about reading other autistic writers on Medium is that their stated inner monologue – or, ew, feelings – often mirror my own. The autism tell is that I’d never thought to tell anyone about most of them, for reasons!

Hilarious, sad, scary…I’ll eventually list it all out for you; here, it’s not the point.

To me, in the doubtful hours, that’s what guides my self-diagnosis and work towards a formal assessment; these afflictions, addictions, and attitudes of ours aren’t going away, are they?

My ire is directed at Medium, actually, for suggesting stories that point to a reality that’s sad. Is it the same for you? Where’s the joy?

Allow me to speak plainly, for emphasis: I listen to hours long DJ sets on YouTube. I sip coffee. I get uncomfortably close to reigniting my passion for collecting VHS tapes each and every time I recall the cult classic Your Cat Wants A Massage…and how much my damned perfect cat loves one of the included shoulder rub techniques.

Reading some of your worst moments has radically transformed how I approach life. Those, “oh holy shit, it’s not just me” things. The tore a hole in my chest things.