The United Nations some years ago designated April 2 as "autism awareness day." I never thought much about it until Simon got his diagnosis just before he turned 4. Then observing similarities in his life with my own childhood, and the suggestion of a therapist that I too was likely in the same neurological category, autism wasn't something to be aware of, it was something I lived. Then last year I sought a legitimate diagnosis, and things changed in ways that I still don't completely understand. As I've said before, I view my life differently looking back, and in the context of every day.
In recent months, I've gone down the rabbit holes of autism identity and activism, and to be totally honest, a lot of it is toxic and deep in grievance. There's disagreement about what it means to be autistic. This shouldn't be that surprising, I suppose, because as a "spectrum" disorder, it includes people who are non-verbal and unable to care for themselves, as well as complete geniuses. Some people object to it being called a "disorder." These sentiments aren't useful to me.
I don't want people to be "aware" of autism. What I want people to do is accept that some people are not wired the same way. They are different, not inferior. When we're kids, we're often picked on for being different. When we're adults, we may have largely adapted to a neurotypical world, but it can be exhausting to conform to it. Sometimes the social cues that are obvious to you are not to us, or maybe they are but we find them deeply illogical.
The calendar says today is autism awareness day, but at my house, it's Saturday.
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