Just some autistic chick.
Seriously. I’m not an expert (on this subject, anyway). I have no formal training, I have no deep connections within the community, I’m definitely not anyone who should be seen as a face for said community. I’m just a late-in-life-diagnosed autistic woman who has a lot of stuff to say and got tired of typing it out and not doing anything with it.
There’s boundless diversity within the autistic community, and I certainly shouldn’t be seen as representative of anyone but myself. You’re going to hear it a lot here: If you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person. And that’s why I’m just Some Autistic Chick — one of many. I have a job, and a partner, and too many dogs, and a passion for writing, and quasi-perfect pitch. And for as long as I can remember, I’ve felt like a weirdo. And recently, I discovered that I’m not a weirdo — I’m just perfectly normal for alternate definitions of “normal.”
So that’s what you’re working with here.
But why just some chick?
I’m not trying to selfishly guard my anonymity, or anything. I’m sure that over the course of this blog, enough information will be revealed that a creepily determined armchair detective could discern my identity. I just… don’t want to make it too easy for said armchair detective. I’m talking about some pretty personal stuff here, and while I’m often happy talking about myself and about autism — I kind of like it, in many cases, because there are so many misconceptions and such that need to be resolved, and I love being able to do that — there’s such a thing as being too transparent. I’ve got to keep some stuff to myself.
Also, like I said, I have a job. I have two jobs, in fact — I have a full-time job, and I also freelance. And you know what happens to some people who are open about their disability? (But is it a disability? you might ask. It’s a good question, and I’ll address it later on.) They get discriminated against. They find themselves unable to advance in their career, because higher-ups assume they can’t do something, or assume they don’t want to take on the extra work involved in doing something, and there you go: career stagnation. That means I could potentially lose freelance clients and promotions at my full-time job because of things I reveal about myself via this blog, and, like… nah. Y’all are great, and I love you, but you aren’t worth it.
Like, no offense, or anything.
But you are worth a lot. So buckle up and learn more about me than you ever wanted to know, anonymity notwithstanding.