I am a cornucopia of comorbidities. I thought it
was just me, but turns out it’s all related to autism. Who’d a thunk?
There’s dyspraxia. Dyspraxia used to go by the charming name of “Clumsy Child
Syndrome,” and it’s common in autistics. I’ve been regularly
tripping on my own feet since kindergarten. Sometimes I have trouble
coordinating a knife and fork. And if you’re trying to give me directions,
please don’t tell me “left” or “right.” Just point, okay?
If I go out to lunch with a group, don’t ask me
to figure out what I owe if you want to leave before the waiter goes home. Just
tell me. If it sounds even halfway fair, I’m not gonna argue.
Add to that face blindness, or prosopagnosia, which I also won’t attempt to pronounce. Translation: You know
that well-dressed guy in the gray suit that’s always hanging around campus? We
met six times before I was finally able to recognize him. He’s the university
provost. Spelled B-O-S-S.
Not to mention my terrible short-term memory.
Your fifth step is safe with me, honey, because I probably won’t remember about
two-thirds of what you tell me. And it’s not that I wasn’t listening, either. I
drank in every word, I really did, and it mattered to me.
And so, when I talk to you, if it seems like
it's all autism, all the time, that's because it is. Every aspect of my life
has been steeped in autism and its comorbidities, and I’m only just now finding
out. It has always been there, it's never going away, and I’m good with that,
but it’s taking some getting used to.
My life, in context.
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