I think there is some sort of post-diagnoses process that occurs. Much like the stages of grief. I was not prepared for this.
At first, it was so simple. This is it! This is wonderful. I can understand myself now and people can understand me too. And they all lived happily ever after.
No, they did not.
A couple of my loved ones told me not to tell anyone. I listened to Stephen Shore mention how you do not have to disclose, at a conference. I couldn’t understand this at the time, but I am starting to realise how even more terrifying the world is when you are outwardly autistic.
This is who I am. This is wonderful. I can understand and maybe even find a place in the world. It is that simple, surely? I think differently, I perceive differently, I communicate differently. But I still have something to offer the world, even though I do not know what that is. My real self is lovable.
No. She is not. She is inappropriate. She is rude. She is broken. She is a piece of shit. She is just looking for attention. She is not really autistic. I will be dead before anyone gives enough shits to tell me what I really am, if I am not autistic.
And so I am finding layers of anger bubbling up from all the years of living in this bullshit world of fake. People pretending everything is okay. Unable to look at what is real. Work through it. Set their emotional reactivity aside. Set aside their animal desire to compete. Let go of their suffocating control. To stop putting invisible expectations on people.
My reactions to the world are accurate responses. It is the pretending that everything is okay is what is messed up!
I told someone recently that I think I might be depressed. And they laughed.
They laughed because humans are so terrified of REAL that they laugh things off or dismiss anything that makes them feel awkward or uncomfortable.
I have contacted a couple of psychologists looking for someone who understands late diagnoses AS people/women. Telling them that I need someone to help me navigate life after this diagnoses. I have been rejected.
I have been rejected from a study on mental health in AS adults because I am over the age of thirty.
I have sent emails to non profit agencies (even autistic led) and have had silence returned to me.
There is no place for women like me.
Everyone I know is just getting on with life and I am stuck here, still isolated. Still alone.
Being diagnosed does not change your isolation, you just become more aware of how horrible society is, of how you are just another thing to be brushed back under the carpet. Whereas before you didn’t realise you were under the carpet.
Still, you are Nothing.
Becoming Asperger’s did not set me free as I thought it would.
I am still a piece of shit, only now I cannot it hide anymore.