outstanding. I was diagnosed at age 38.
There is a grieving process that happens after a diagnosis later in life. But it’s not grieving for the autism, it’s grieving for the effort that you’ve had to put in your whole life trying to be someone you’re not.
It’s grief for the you that carried that huge backpack of techniques for appearing normal, without knowing why.
It’s grief for the times you misunderstood situations, not because you were stupid, but because you weren’t capable of understanding them without support. Because the rationale behind them was alien.
It’s grief for the times you thought you were going mad, when you were just suffering from a sensory overload.
It’s grief for the times that you forced yourself to interact, even though you were already socially exhausted, because that’s what people do and you didn’t want to be different.
It’s grief for something intangible. Something that you can’t even be sure…
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