Division of the "Autism Community".

I have to be honest here; the vast majority of parents aggravate me in ways that can't be healthy. By the same token, as do some of the autistic adults I've "met" online. Our shared diagnosis does not automatically enamour me to my fellow autists and, as much as I'd hoped to finally find a group of people I could connect with and find some mutual understanding, it simply isn't working out that way.

As a parent/step-parent of children on the spectrum, ranging from a non-verbal and... what's the politically correct term here? Severe?* Profound?* So flappy we have to make sure he's got air space lest he take off?* 6 year old to a highly talkative, very sociable and far less obviously affected 7 year old, with an echolalic 4 year old and speech/language delayed 5 year old somewhere in the middle, you'd assume finding parents in similar situations, with whom I could talk autism with, would be easy.

*Please note, these labels are simply a jesting/less serious way of pointing out the difference in development between the boys; L has a range of co-morbid conditions that would place him in the "severest" category in terms of medical diagnosis. We tend to steer away from functioning labels but in this instance, I was trying to make it clear that we experience the many variants of an autistic spectrum disorder, not just one "subset". As it stands, L needs the most additional help to cope in our world and is as yet unable to communicate basic needs to unfamiliar caregivers or more specific needs to familiar caregivers. Our other boys have different additional conditions that make them all extremely unique; not to mention the fact that their personalities are all different to begin with. Of course, they're all just as autistic as each other (or myself!). 

Though there are a plethora of us (parents/caregivers) out there, on the boards and social media groups, almost all of the interactions I see between folk on there quite literally leave me with the urge to scream as loud and as long as physically possible. Thankfully for my family and neighbour's sake I've taken a major step back from the online world, barring use for research purposes of course.

From those who believe their child is a diseased burden who requires daily bleach enemas, to those who believe their child is a misunderstood genius who's behaviours should be accepted no matter how alarming, distressing or aggressive they are to other people (which includes others with additional needs) and every problem in between, no matter how bloody pedantic (I'm looking at you, identity-first vs person-first - how about we all just go with whatever the autistic person in question would prefer?), it's a minefield of delusion out there. Add in the parents who use their children as Like-Bait, entering either their child or themselves into beauty contests and using autism to gain sympathy and attention, and you're left with very little actual advice and support going on in these so called support groups. 

 Considering my diagnosis highlights the difference in thought, specifically my "black and white thinking", compared to that of "typical" folk, it amazes me how so many allegedly "typical" people seem to see the world and it's many conundrums in an all or nothing, black and white way.

Of course there's only one cause for autism, and it's *insert cause of the month*.

 Of course all autistic people should be called autistic (or vice versa, each person who has autism should be informing people they have autism). 

Of course my child should never be corrected for his behaviours (or vice versa, of course my child should be constantly corrected, fuck self esteem). 

Of course the reason my child didn't receive an invite to the party is because he's autistic and people just don't understand!

It couldn't be the multitude of other perfectly reasonable explanations, could it? It couldn't be a simple error in memory, or a lost invitation, or a limit on children, or simply that the child in question doesn't particularly get on with your child? Not because he's autistic, but because that's life. Not everyone can get on with everyone. Some people clash - children are NOT exempt from this. Who needs an entire class of friends, anyway? How many people from your early school years are you still close with? But I digress...

That's just a small taste of the frenzy of strong opinion and rigid thought occurring daily within the caregiver groups. Now let's move on to the (I must agree, far more rightfully outraged and generally more in the know) group, the autistic adults and young people (or those with autism, for those who like that) of the internet.

I feel some shame and sadness admitting this, as I'm overly aware I'm talking about people who most consider to have a disability, but a large percentage of this group have also set off triggers in my ever-ready to implode mind. As a parent, I understand the toll having any child attempt to rule your life, let alone one with various additional needs and the strongest will in the world to boot, can do to a person. As a daughter, I understand my parents were, at times, put through a living hell raising me. They had no answers or doctors to tell them what was different, just noncommittal ideas such as mood disorders or anxiety. They did the best they could, they made mistakes and, as a teenager, I held onto those mistakes. As a parent/young adult, I've let (most of them) go.

As a parent, particularly as a parent on the spectrum, I've made awful, lifetime of guilt inducing mistakes. Lots of them. People often ask me whether being autistic gives me a better handle on parenting autistic children. My answer is almost always the same; it means I understand where their behaviours come from and how they're feeling (most of the time) as I have the same mindset and many similar behaviours. My actual reaction, though? I always aim to be fair, calm and understanding. More often than I can bear, my reaction is stern, snappy or hysterical. Every day is a new day, a day I try to stay calm because that's what they need, and what I need. To that end, I understand when a parent of a child, whether said child is on the spectrum or not, has to vent to another person about their delightful wee beastie breaking the family dog or smearing on the TV again. I even understand when that parent shouts at the child, not because I agree the child should be shouted at or punished per se, but because it's an impossible ask to expect a human being to be calm and reasonable 24/7 in the face of a 5 year old expert in *psychological warfare.

*Note, this is intended as a joke; anyone seriously considering their 5 year old is a master manipulator or difficult for the sake of it probably needs to take a step outside, breathe some fresh air and screw that head back on properly ;) behaviour is communication, as they say! 

So when I read posts from largely childless autistic people chastising parents and caregivers for needing space to vent about their life (considering most of those with this line of thinking find the child screaming their frustrations out acceptable, is it not the parents right to vent their emotions too?), or for admitting they lost it/punished unfairly, when all the experiences the accusers have are being the child, not the person with all the responsibility in the world on your shoulders, it angers me. I absolutely understand that it's so hard to fully comprehend feelings and situations that you personally haven't experienced yet for many people on the spectrum, so I get it. I get why you can't always see the struggle on this side, but it doesn't make it any easier to take.

As much as I love hearing the views and thoughts of my fellow autists, and as much as I agree with most of their points, how some of us (myself included) speak to others is creating just as much division as the "NT" caregivers' accusations that our ability to speak/communicate online makes our thoughts and ideas invalid and not pertinent to their "low functioning" child. When we expect each and every person to accept and love us for who we are, we seem to forget that the person who was rude or aggressive to us this morning may have their own battles, be it ASD or mental health or other neurological condition causing personality changes or aggressive behaviour. They could simply be anaemic and their body and mind worn out! But, instead of taking all this into account, we make the assumption that their reaction, or lack of reaction, is directly related to our neurological differences or behaviours, become flustered, righteous and angry at the lack of understanding and accommodations in the world, and begin using NT as some form of insult. Don't even get me started on those of us who feel we're better than others, that being born this way makes a person somehow superior to the regular masses - narcissism is an extremely unattractive trait and it's one of the ugliest mindsets I've come across in the community. Thankfully it seems to be a very small minority, and isn't limited to those on the spectrum; as mentioned above, some parents also seem to have an unhealthy idealist view of their child's neurology.

Believe me when I say, I do not tar all members of either group with the same brush, hence the use of terms like "most/many people". It's an opinion and therefore it's heavily influenced by my personal experiences. It is not fact, nor am I personally blaming any one person or group. I wish I could put out a broadcast to the entire community and find a way to explain that helps every single person understand each other, and each other's personal battles of the mind, each person's trigger points, each person's reasoning. I wish I could be more of what I seek; balanced and fair-minded and able.

This post has been quite an emotionally charged piece of writing and, as such, I rushed myself and neglected to mention the positives when I first wrote it out and pressed publish. I've edited to add the following:

In real life I've been lucky enough to find a number of wonderful people who've supported and advised me in times of need. None are perfect but their help and general presence in my life have been invaluable and I like to hope I've been there for them in the same way when they've needed it.

I'm certain there are many other people like this out there, somewhere. I believe, perhaps, they're more the silent type. Perhaps they avoid the social side of the internet, or limit themselves to reading and rarely responding. Perhaps they tried and gave up, seeing how large the problem is. Perhaps they're just getting along, living their lives quietly and shaking their heads whenever they happen across situations like those I see online. Perhaps there's a secret underground group filled with agreeable, balanced people and, one day, when I stop having temper tantrums over strangers on the internet, I'll get a letter with one of those neat wax seals and instructions on how to find the meet. Or perhaps I'm simply destined to alienate and be alienated.

Image courtesy of The Sum of All Affections

Revision of Division of the Autism Community (love that title):

Now well into 2017, I've recently been given pause for thought and have decided to revise some earlier statements; some because they were based on a perspective twisted by a negative outlook at the time of writing and some simply because the terms were deemed inappropriate or offensive by some members of the community and I respect their feelings enough to alter the text. I know it's hard to convey tone at the best of times for some of us; the internet only adds yet another barrier. I'd like to thank a fellow advocate for pointing out some of my more obvious f*ck ups and highlighting areas that he deemed triggering and insensitive, albeit not necessarily in the kindest of manners but as honest as ever.

I originally worded things quite poorly, particularly in terms of how large the scale of the problem I'm talking about is. At the time, my negative thinking/outlook lead to some very concrete, black and white thoughts. I tried to ease it off by using the words "many" and "majority" but in fact, it's a minority I'm speaking of. The large majority of autistic people I've met in real life have been fantastic people; same goes for the online community. That being said, some of the LOUDEST in the online community can be somewhat aggressive if not cruel in their deliveries and have left people (including fellow autists, some of whom have spoken up since I first shared this post) devastated in the process.

Now, I know bluntness is an issue for many (myself included) but I believe that with mindfulness and self awareness comes better prospectives for anyone hoping to gain listeners and share their knowledge and understanding, along with personal satisfaction that you've done everything within your power to do the right thing, regardless of the outcome. I believe that the forceful nature of certain individuals (who may be a minority but are many the numbers add together) are doing the cause more harm than good in some instances.

We all have bad days, we're all grasping onto our last spoons and some days we have none spare. It's understandable and it's almost expected for you to lose your sh*t once in a while; whether you're on the spectrum or not. We all have our limit. Sometimes we may go weeks or months stuck in the same fog; snappy replies and emotional reactivity levels at an all time high for continuous periods. Sometimes it might come out of nowhere and surprise you. It'll happen; if it hasn't already it's bound to and if not, you're a lucky sod :)

When that happens, we can only hope that the people around us (virtually or in reality) already know from past experience that we're not the sum of our off days or our, at times, difficult behaviour. We rely on the idea that the positive energy we bring most of the time, the support we offer and the good we do is enough to keep people from walking away when the going gets tough. As harsh as it is, a hand that continuously gets bitten will eventually stop feeding us, so we know in our hearts that people need those good days to balance out the damage inflicted; perhaps it's untrue and  perhaps it isn't, but it's what we believe (or at least, it's what runs through my head as I agonise over whether they'll forgive me, this time; I certainly can't speak for others but like to assume I'm not alone in this painful but logical process).

The problems arise when it's nothing but anger, threats and insults being unleashed. When there's only darkness and harsh truths and no remorse let alone compassion or understanding. If that shoe fits but makes you uncomfortable, then perhaps it's time to take it off. If it's inapplicable, if you know you bring light to peoples lives in some way, any way, if you try to keep your mind open as and when possible, then you know you're trying and you know these words don't apply to you.

The second thing I'd like to address in this revision is the wording around my description of young children. As was pointed out in the comments section, both the terms "feral wee beastie" and "5 year old expert in psychological warfare" were pointed out as being insensitive in nature. I understand that the term feral may have very negative meaning to some, so I'm more than happy to swap it out for something with less controversy surrounding it. However, I'd like to take this opportunity to explain it's a term I've used for as long as I can remember; a term of endearment I use for children of all neurotypes and that has absolutely nothing to do with autism or a lack thereof. While on the subject, I'd like to clear up that the Feral One's nickname has nothing to do with his neurology and everything to do with his personality, interests and our family's personal sense of humour. As a young infant he wore animal print cloth nappies, had long curls and an amber necklace, communicated with animals long before he did with us and spoke in a series of meows. He also climbed everything, danced like a hippie and liked to chew chicken off the bone. He's one of four autistic children and the only one with that nickname. See where I'm going?

There was one aspect I simply cannot apologise for or put across in a less controversial manner: a shared diagnosis is not solely enough to form a friendship with, in most cases. The people I've formed friendships with, online and in real life, are all incredibly unique individuals; some with a similar mindset to my own, many others with differing opinions and beliefs. Some share one or two interests with me, some are friends through circumstance, proximity and experience. They're a beautiful mix of neurodiversity; some deemed typical, some diagnosed ASD, some with other conditions or a mix of many. Some extroverted, some introverted; some a mix of both depending on the day. Some politically minded, some absorbed in nature and deeply spiritual, some who paint their feelings and some who bury them. It's my own expectations here that are the issue; I expected to feel at home and less bizarre. Instead I discovered that I'm simply different no matter what community I'm a part of. That's hardly the community's fault, but it's my experience nonetheless.

Finally, I'd like to encourage feedback of all kind; constructive criticism is always welcomed over criticism alone but I will never silence a commenter unless the comment contains explicit or vulgar content. Transparency and freedom of thought is paramount, in my personal view; this blog is a sum of experiences and I welcome all contributions, regardless of whether we agree on the topic at hand. Thank you as ever to my readers and I apologise if I caused you any personal distress with my poor wording. 

Drama Club, the Worst Walk Home Ever and "why I don't get left to my own devices"

Last week, the Soulful One took part in a free trial for a local drama academy to see how he took to it (at £100 a term, I'm not taking chances or assuming he'll enjoy the class and/or listen to the teacher) and I'm happy to say we'll be back again this week.

We took both pairs of ear defenders as the Feral One was joining us (no childcare and the class happens to fall on one of the days the Space Cowboy is busy with his boys), of this I'm very glad as it was indeed quite a noisy class! FO brought his big motorised Thomas toy along which, unfortunately, was just as noisy; as the bathroom was located a few feet away from the main hall I set him up in there away from the chaos - don't worry, it was a very clean bathroom ;) this way I could watch them both.

SO joined the other children around the teacher; he listened very well for the first 20 minutes or so. Once everyone was up and out of the comfort of the circle on the floor, he began spinning around (as he tends to do when his mind wanders and it's a busy environment) and forgot to pay attention. I brought him out after a few minutes of this, gave him some juice and asked him to try again. He managed to follow what she was asking of them for a few more minutes before lapsing back into spinning.

Meanwhile another little boy had decided from the outset he was NOT taking part, and made his frustration at being made to stay very clear and very... verbal... :) sweet relief from the shrieks was found when he noticed the Feral One and Thomas in the bathroom. They somehow managed to share without having what I (and, I think, his parents) were expecting to be a WW3 style blow-out, so all was swell in the end. He actually gave it a bit of a go toward the end, once the pressure was taken off - nice to see him turn it around, whoever he was!

I kept watch over the Soulful One as he ran about the place - which was fine as the others were also running, though with purpose and doing actions, he wasn't causing a distraction to the others and the teacher seemed completely unfazed by his antics. I called him over once again when they were being asked to line up in groups as he was, in typical SO fashion, rolling up and down the gym equipment at the end of the hall, completely oblivious to the ongoings nearby. More words of encouragement, more juice and a bathroom break later I guided him back to the group - this time, he managed to follow what she was asking of them for around 10 minutes. Although a little erratic and highly comical, he copied actions and (sort of) stayed where he was told to when asked; he even said a phrase on cue! Proud is an understatement :) 

With less than 10 minutes left, I began getting the Feral One prepared for leaving and we stood together watching the last few minutes of class. SO lost interest again and went back to his gym equipment but I didn't push him any more. He did, however, managed to sit down for a minute at the end while everyone gave themselves a clap, received welcome packs and said goodbye. We were just leaving when I turned and walked head first into a table leg (one stacked upside down on another), smacking just under my eye and instantly howled out the word "F**K!" amidst a sea of small children and their parent(s).

This was the start of the Worst Walk Home Ever.

Holding my face in equal amounts of pain and shame, we left the centre and crossed the road to the shops. I sent the Space Cowboy a text to let him know we were beginning our walk home and to tell him my tale of woe, we stopped in the shop to get some treats and I bought a bag of chips from the nearby chipshop for the boys to share at home. Feeling like I'd successfully recovered from my earlier mess up, we headed home.

Ten minutes into our journey, the Feral One vocalised his need for the toilet. I swallowed panic and asked him to hold it as long as he could, we were nearly home (lie). SO was walking slightly ahead as he tends to do, so got to the subway first. He likes to climb up the sides and, as FO and I got closer I noticed a cyclist coming toward us on the path... right as SO started running from his spot on the side of the subway. They almost clashed but luckily the cyclist was able to weave and I reached him about the same moment. I chastised and apologised, we moved on and I sent another text to tell SC of the scare.

We were now just ten minutes from home, crossing by our local skate park, FO repeatedly letting us know he needed the toilet and SO sulking after being told off. I didn't hear them at first, I still had my ear plugs in from being in the centre, but then I turned to see a group of young lads asking me to throw their ball back over into the court they were in. I accepted, walked a few feet into the field and tossed it over. We started walking again when, a few minutes later, I went to check my phone for a response. It wasn't in any of my pockets, so I put the bags on the pavement and checked them again, then checked through the bags.

Panic rising, I started back at a light jog, shouting for the children to follow. I reached the spot I stopped to help the boys and searched all around; nothing. I began to cry - I don't like admitting this, even partly anonymously on here. I've tried many therapies and distractions, mindfulness and meditation but nothing has ever been able to stop my tears from falling during times of panic.

 Taking hold of the boys' hands I began to head back to the spot where I sent my last text but it was useless - the phone was gone. As we walked past the skate park again, I checked where I'd walked again but when I came back - this part was what broke me - my poor boy had given up and was stood in wet pants and a little puddle. I sobbed as quietly as possible, hugged him and told him how sorry I was for making him wait. We hurried home as fast as we could but the tears just wouldn't stop - only the Soulful One was dry eyed.

We threw ourselves through the back gate - I'm not sure I've ever felt more relieved to be back in our "safe space". I started running a bath for them and put a movie on in their room for them to sit while we waited for it to fill - I'm both ashamed about the the next part of this story and shocked at the ferocity in which it happened. As I've done in the past during extremely stressful situations, I harmed myself. Badly. Not badly enough to require hospital treatment - just steri-strips at the walk-in centre later on. My arm is still bruised from the bite marks and 3 of the 17 cuts on my arm and leg are still weeping. I'll remember this one for a long time - not least because of the scarring. I cleaned myself quickly and wrapped flannels around my arm and against my leg, hiding the evidence before bringing the boys in for their bath.

Quickly bathing the boys, I reheated their chips and rang the Space Cowboy from the housephone. I'd somehow managed to stay calm(ish) around the boys, especially once we'd reached the house. Within moments of hearing his voice I broke down again - I couldn't calm down enough to articulate what had happened in any way, shape or form. He eventually said he couldn't understand and was going to have to hang up if I couldn't calm down. He had to hang up. When he got home 40 minutes later, I was rocking myself back and forth in the middle room and the children were in their beds - granted I'd forgotten teeth brushing, school reading book and, very likely, a few other things too.  

Now we're here. We're trying to find out about the possibility of having another carer stay with me during the hours SC has to be away - I'm simply not equipped to handle stressful situations. This is part of the reason SC stays with me every other time - the time he has with his boys is just not a time he should have to part with. He cares for me for 156 out of the 168 hours in a week. He deals with everything; medication, communication/translation, travel, emotional outbursts and everything in between. He's my hero but he's also human, he can't be here every single minute of the day. Unfortunately, autism and its co-morbids don't have a pause button and neither does life, nor it's stresses.

Change and the inevitable.

If there's one thing most people know about autism, it's that it and change do not mesh well. One thing people may not realise, however, is that even positive changes can throw our lives and minds into turbulence, often leading to strange or unwanted behaviours; big changes in an individual's life may even lead to depression. 

As an adult looking back throughout my childhood and adolescent years, it's easy to see the triggers behind certain periods of erratic behaviours - divorce/my father leaving lead to a disastrous change in behaviour back in early childhood (I believe I was 5 at the time), every time I changed teachers or classes, or a new person entered my life. When I changed schools at 13, I developed a phobia of the new school and my attendance went from 95%+ to 0% over the course of 3 months. I haven't been able to handle any education setting for more than a few months since - even then, it's hit and miss over whether I can overcome the anxiety that plagues me when I think about entering a classroom. 

When my therapist passed away, I fell into a pattern of substance abuse and extremely negative behaviour - I lost all sense of myself for months, until a friend pulled me out of it, and I slowly adjusted to life without my old friend.

When my partner moved in, I became a nervous wreck - in part because my "safe place" was no longer mine, but in part because of the sheer shock of how much change had to take place to take the next step in our relationship. 

And this week, because we've adopted two beautiful baby bearded dragons and have their vivarium set up in our room, I'm back in "that place" again. My brain is scattered and I'm regularly forgetting daily tasks I'd previously "nailed". I'm losing words, more anxious than usual and seem to be ready to snap at all times. I even feel physically worse - the pain in my joints seem even more acute, my body's aching like I spent the entirety of yesterday in the gym and my sensory "issues" are even more prominent - ears buzzing, headaches from simple daylight, completely intolerant to light touch and the feel of most fabrics setting my teeth on edge. 

I'm desperately trying to keep a hold on myself and just. stay. calm. 

But it's not quite that simple when your whole being has been affected. I'm sure many of you will relate to the fear of change - it's not an unusual trait in people. Even if you don't quite experience the full range of reaction's I've mentioned (though I'm certain quite a few of you will), it's easy to understand the new and often bizarre behaviour that can crop up when a change is made or just happens in a person's life when it's explained by those who experience it. I'd like to invite anyone who does to share their thoughts too; sharing your experiences may help others in the same situation, at the very least it brings solidarity and comfort to others who'd otherwise feel alone.

Hopefully I'll adjust to life with our new friends soon - I'm otherwise extremely positive about their arrival, very excited to be caring for them and literally bouncing with the want to hold them, feed them and watch them 24/7. I think the children may be feeling a tad shut out, as they're also acting out more than usual. Or maybe I'm just more sensitive to it. Who knows? Perhaps our new additions to the family have inadvertently caused a reaction in them too. Despite the upheaval their arrival's caused, you can't deny they're definitely sweet enough to be worth it. 

Appearances can be deceiving...

I'd like to explain my intentions behind this post before writing it. Although the pictures and information may shock some, I feel it's important to show the difficulties "highly functioning" autistic people often face; with self awareness comes shame, guilt and often self hated. Although we share many of the traits from the more severe/"lower functioning" end of the spectrum, we are completely and fully aware of the implications of our actions, things we can't control or need help with, but none the less feel such shame when we see the repercussions of certain behaviours - meltdowns are a good example. During my worst meltdowns, if approached I will lash out. I have almost no control over this - if I'm hysterical then it's a given that if you come close, you're going to take a hit. I despise this part of me, as I'm not an aggressive person. 

My intention is never to hurt another person, my only aim is to keep them far, far away from me. It becomes primal, like a mother's need to protect her child. People often mistake this for aggression, in fact people often seem to assume I'm just a bad person, a bitch, a "pyscho". If people were just aware of how to handle such situations, such as backing off when asked and remaining calm and reasonable, the situation would likely never escalate to include physical contact or aggression. Most of the people I see are fully aware of these issues, they're not exactly rare occurrences, and for the most part things are handled okay.

Still, people sometimes lose it. No one's perfect. Sometimes people forget, sometimes they're temporarily unsure of what to do, so go on instinct, to comfort; the exact opposite of what is needed. Sometimes, they're too emotionally involved to stay calm, and antagonise the situation unintentionally. This Monday gone, after a few days of almost constant upsets, the latter happened. The why is unnecessary information, as at this point I was triggered by pretty much anything. 

For the past week, stress levels in this house have been at an all time high. I've had meltdowns daily since Tuesday - and often not just the one. I'm struggling to adjust to the change in routine at home, trying to help/deal with the children's upsets, trapped almost 24/7 in a sensory nightmare and just generally feeling like shit. I'm dealing with two extremely upsetting situations right now, again no further information needed but all of these things combined have lead to one of the worst weeks of my adult life. All this on the busiest weekend I've had in over a year - my partner's brother's 21st birthday on the Saturday, my sister's wedding the day after. I was a mess. I even broke down at the 21st party. I've had anxiety attacks over the smallest hitches, snapped at everyone I love and my leg is now covered in fresh wounds. I'm bruised all over, I have two black eyes and pain all over my head. These injuries are almost all self inflicted - the others accidental during attempts at restraining me. 

This is the reality of my life. For the most part, I'm happy and live a good life. But bring about change, excess stress or too much sensory input and I'm a flailing, sobbing mess. I never give up trying to better myself and avoid these behaviours, but often it's beyond my control. I'm a 23 year old woman with two children, above average intelligence and some pretty bad ass abilities with puzzles, yet I need a full time carer to stay safe and function on a "normal" level. 

I'd like to note that my children almost never witness my full meltdowns - my partner/mother remove them or myself from the room if I'm showing signs of breaking down, and I either flee to my room or one of my safe spaces. I would never willingly subject my boys to any stress or turmoil; they are quite simply the best things I ever created. Despite the difficulties that come with parenting with autism - particularly dealing with my eldest son, who has his own difficulties and is awaiting his own assessment with CAMHS, I wouldn't change things for anything. The noise level, for one, can be unbearable. But they light up the world around them, their smiles should be prescribed as an antidepressant; no matter what happens, they are the most important beings in my life. 

Not many people know or see the reality of living with autism - high functioning in particular, unless they're living it. We can develop the ability to hide our issues from the outside world - often managing to keep it together out in the real world, then releasing all that pent up energy at home in the form of meltdowns, shutdowns or simply withdrawing from everyone around us, feeling the extreme need to be left alone. 

The following picture was taken a few hours after the above were - I've used basic market make up to cover up the bruising and viola; a "normal" 23 year old woman. You cannot see what hides beneath this mask, nor the one I've created for the rest of my life. 

This mask (both literal and figurative) is one worn by many. With make up, a false smile, and all the restraint in the world, I, and many others like me, can fool most casual observers; even those who are a regular part of our lives can be blind to the issues we face. Until we find a way to explain ourselves, or are examined by those who know what they're looking for, we are expected to just "get on with it". Without acknowledging the often vast differences in emotional and social development, or the issues that can arise because of these delays, we are left with one conclusion; we just can't "people" right. It's us. Of course, this isn't warranted shame - it's a result of being compared to our neurotypical peers for a lifetime. We fit in just enough to take a shot at an independent life, socialising and taking on education or careers - mainly surviving on intellect alone.  We fit in enough that people seem to forget that we're fundamentally different, and hold us up against the average person, find us lacking (or at times, scarily above average) and judge us harshly. We face criticisms and unless we wear a giant badge screaming "I'm Autistic! Please be patient", accommodations are so rarely made. 

I say we, not to speak for every single autistic person, but to speak for those who do feel this way and experience these things. I'm sure there will be many of you reading this thinking "no, actually I can't relate" and that's okay, in fact I'd say that's good :) but for the others who do what I do, who wear the mask and face judgement on a regular basis (often this judgement comes from within, in my case at least; no one disses me as much as I do) I want you to know, you're not alone. I see you, I hear you.

I'm sharing these pictures and this message in the hope they truly bring home the reality of what kind of things we deal with, mostly in private and away from the public's eyes. We don't have it easy, though with support and a positive attitude we can succeed just as much as the next person. Our difficulties make our successes even more amazing, the will power and strength it takes to overcome any challenges that arise and continue to that point just defies belief - I'm proud of every single one of you.