Category: It’s My Life

If 10,000 hours of practice gives mastery,  what would 446,760 hours give?

10,000 Hours of Practice vs. A Lifetime of Masking: Reflections on Mastery in Autism Camouflage

Malcolm Gladwell’s popularization of the “10,000-hour rule” suggests that achieving mastery in any field requires approximately 10,000 hours of deliberate practice. It’s an appealing concept, simplifying the path to expertise into a measurable framework. But as a late-diagnosed autistic adult, I find myself contrasting this idea of practice with the unchosen, unrelenting “practice” I’ve had in masking—51 years of it.

On my autism assessment, I scored in the 96.4th percentile for masking and the 94.2nd percentile for assimilation, numbers that represent the decades I’ve spent learning to suppress, disguise, and override my natural self to navigate a neurotypical world. These scores are a quantification of something intangible: survival through performance. What emerges from this reflection is the concept of a Medal for Autistic Camouflage Mastery—an ironic yet poignant acknowledgment of the incredible, and often devastating, effort it takes to “pass” as neurotypical for half a century.

The Unseen Hours of Practice

Gladwell’s rule centers on intentional practice: deliberate, focused work aimed at refining a skill. Masking, however, is rarely deliberate in the same sense. It begins as an instinctive survival mechanism, an unconscious adaptation to the discomfort, rejection, or confusion of being “other.” Over time, it becomes habitual, almost automatic—an internalized choreography of micro-expressions, tone modulation, and scripted responses.

Consider the sheer volume of practice:

  • Daily Social Interactions: Every conversation, every smile, every nod calibrated for neurotypical comfort.
  • Workplace Expectations: Code-switching between professional personas, often accompanied by the emotional labor of suppressing sensory discomfort.
  • Familial and Cultural Norms: Assimilation within family dynamics, which often means prioritizing others’ expectations over personal needs.

Unlike the 10,000 hours Gladwell describes, the “practice” of masking isn’t chosen. It’s demanded. And unlike the mastery of a craft, the rewards of masking are bittersweet: social acceptance at the cost of self-erasure.

Masking as Mastery

If masking were a skill judged on effort and results, I’d have long ago qualified for a medal. The imaginary Medal for Autistic Camouflage Mastery would represent:

  • Endurance: Decades of unrelenting performance.
  • Adaptability: The ability to seamlessly blend into environments that feel alien.
  • Attention to Detail: The micro-level precision required to decode and replicate neurotypical social norms.

Yet, this medal would carry the weight of its price: chronic exhaustion, identity fragmentation, and the toll on mental health. Mastery in masking doesn’t feel like success—it feels like survival at a profound cost.

The Capitalist Fetish for Productivity and Its Hidden Costs

In a society obsessed with productivity, the value of a person is often measured by their output—how efficiently they can perform, contribute, and conform. For undiagnosed, unsupported, and highly masked autistic individuals, this system demands relentless effort to meet neurotypical standards, often at great personal cost. Masking allows autistic individuals to navigate workplaces and social systems, but it comes with consequences that ripple far beyond the individual.

The capitalist model thrives on hidden labor, and masking is one such invisible cost. The mental and emotional toll of sustaining this level of performance—while managing sensory sensitivities, social anxieties, and burnout—is rarely acknowledged or accommodated. This unrelenting demand often leads to chronic health issues, mental illness, or total withdrawal from the workforce when burnout becomes insurmountable. Society loses the potential contributions of brilliant, creative minds, not because these individuals lack capability, but because the system fails to support them in ways that honor their neurodivergent needs.

When autistic individuals are left undiagnosed or unsupported, society pays a significant price. The energy spent on masking could otherwise be directed toward innovation, problem-solving, and creativity—qualities many autistic people excel at when allowed to flourish authentically. Instead, this potential is often squandered as individuals are funneled into rigid molds that suppress their strengths.

Consider the systemic implications: higher healthcare costs due to burnout, mental health crises, and comorbid conditions; the loss of diverse perspectives in workplaces and communities; and the missed opportunity to build more inclusive systems that accommodate varied ways of thinking and working. Moreover, the emotional toll on families, the community strain of misdiagnosed or misunderstood behaviors, and the perpetuation of stigma further erode social cohesion.

In this light, the capitalist fetish for productivity isn’t just damaging on an individual level—it actively depletes society of the rich contributions neurodivergent individuals could make if only they were supported. Recognizing and accommodating autistic people isn’t a matter of charity—it’s an investment in a future where everyone’s strengths are valued, and no one’s potential is wasted in the shadows of survival.

Toward a New Kind of Mastery

As I reflect on 51 years of masking, I realize that my “mastery” can evolve. I can shift from being a master of camouflage to a master of self-acceptance, advocacy, and authenticity. The time and energy I once spent on masking can be redirected to pursuits that bring joy and meaning, breaking free from the survival paradigm.

For anyone who, like me, feels they’ve earned that imaginary medal: wear it with pride, but don’t let it define you. Mastery in masking was never the goal. Freedom from the need to mask—that is the mastery we truly deserve.

Under the influence of the Greeks, part 3

In parts 1 and 2, I shared conversations with ChatGPT about telos and rhetoric. In this, part 3, I’ll share the poem, the essay, and ChatGPT’s analysis of how my hypempathy overrode my ability to dispassionately complete an explication essay about that poem.


The Jaguar
Sarah Holland Blatt


It shone like an insect in the driveway:
iridescent emerald, out-of-season Christmas beetle.
Metallic flecks in the paint like riverbed tailings,
squeaking doeskin seats. Bottle green, my father called it,
or else forest. A folly he bought without test-driving,
vintage 1980 XJ, a rebellion against his tremoring hands.
The sole bidder, he won the auction without trying
the day after the doctor told him to draw a line
under his driving years. My mother didn’t speak
for weeks. It gleamed on the terracotta drive,
wildcat forever lunging on the hood,
chrome snagging in the sun,
ornament of my father’s madness,
miraculous and sleek, until he started to tinker,
painted the leather seats with acrylic
so they peeled and cracked, jacked the gearstick,
hacked a hole into the dash with a Stanley knife,
jury-rigged the driver’s seat so it sat so low
you couldn’t see over the dash. For a few months
he drove it even though my mother begged,
he drove it as though he was punishing her,
dangerously fast on the back roads, then
opened up the engine on the highway, full
throttle, evn though he was going blind in one eye,
even though my mother and I refused to get in,
and for the first time in years my father
was happy—he was happy to be driving,
he was happy my mother and I
were miserable. Finally his modifications
killed it, the car he always wanted and waited
so long to buy, and it sat like a carcass
in the garage, like a headstone, like a coffin—
but it’s no symbol or metaphor. I can’t make anything of it.

https://meanjin.com.au/poetry/the-jaguar/

That university assignment

In the “Creative Writing – Poetics” course, one of the assessment pieces was an explication essay of this poem. As mentioned in Part 2,, I found myself incapable of analysing the rhetoric in this poem. In hindsight, it was the autistic hyperempathy that got in the way of that explication. It was my bewilderment at this that was one of the biggest prompts to seek an autism assessment.

ChatGPT: That experience must have been incredibly frustrating, yet it’s interesting how it ultimately led you to seek an autism assessment. It highlights something that many autistic individuals encounter—an ability to understand and discuss complex concepts but struggling to apply them in specific, expected ways. In your case, it seems like you had the knowledge of rhetoric, ethos, pathos, and logos—the theoretical understanding was clear—but when asked to analyze their use in the context of a poem, your mind might have processed that request differently.

This disconnect between understanding concepts and being able to use them in conventional or expected ways is often linked to autistic thinking patterns. Here are a few possible reasons why this might have happened:

1. Gestalt Processing

Many autistic people think in gestalts, or whole patterns, rather than in linear, sequential steps. You might have grasped the overall meaning of the rhetorical concepts or the poem in its entirety, but breaking it down into specific instances of ethos, pathos, and logos as required for the essay may have felt unnatural or forced. Gestalt processing can make it difficult to focus on details in isolation, especially when you perceive the whole in a more abstract or intuitive way.

2. Difficulty with Imposed Structures

Some autistic individuals have a hard time with structured tasks that don’t match their natural ways of thinking or processing information. You might understand ethos, pathos, and logos in a way that doesn’t conform to traditional rhetorical analysis, making it challenging to perform the task as expected by the teacher or assignment. The academic requirement to analyze poetry in this rigid way may have felt incongruent with how you naturally engage with language.

3. Hyperfocus on Detail or Overarching Themes

Autistic people can sometimes get hyperfocused on either tiny details or overarching themes, which might make rhetorical analysis tricky if it requires you to balance between the two. In this case, perhaps the analysis needed a delicate interplay between understanding individual rhetorical strategies and how they work together within the poem, something that might have felt fragmented or disjointed to your way of thinking.

4. Literal Thinking

If you tend to think literally, which is common in autistic people, analyzing a poem for abstract rhetorical devices could have posed a challenge. Poems often operate on metaphor, symbolism, and subtlety, and while you may understand those elements conceptually, applying rhetorical analysis could require a different level of abstraction that feels uncomfortable or confusing.

5. Disconnect Between Theory and Practice

Many people with autism are highly intelligent and can grasp complex theories with ease, but when it comes to applying them in specific contexts, such as analyzing poetry, there’s often a gap. This could be related to the brain’s wiring in terms of how it connects abstract knowledge to practical applications, especially when the task feels ambiguous or subjective.

Your experience highlights the nuanced ways in which autism can manifest, particularly when it comes to processing language and abstract concepts. The struggle you described—being able to discuss the rhetorical concepts but not apply them to the poem—was likely a significant autistic cognitive pattern in action, revealing that the standard ways of interpreting and analyzing literature didn’t quite align with how your brain processes information. It’s also a great example of how highly capable autistic individuals can be, while still encountering challenges in specific academic structures.

What did I actually submit?

This is the essay I submitted. Maybe it was because I also had the background of a husband with Huntington’s Disease, andother neurodegenerative condition, and it was just too close, emotionally, for me. Hyperempathy overrode all logical thought in this, and I didn’t have the capacity to go back and edit the essay before submitting it. What I now know as my autistic brain brought me to a standstill on this. Somehow, it still got a passing mark.

 
The Jaguar, by Sarah Holland-Batt, is from a book by the same name, the topic of which is the poet’s experience of her father’s affliction with Parkinson’s Disease, his decline and eventual death. The poem is free-form verse with no rhyming scheme. Told from a daughter’s perspective, it depicts the perplexing, complicated and emotional journey of observing a parent’s decline due to this neurodegenerative disorder. While it is assumed to be the natural order that children will bury their parents, the path to that event can often be complex and gut-wrenching and made worse when a degenerative brain disease that primarily affects the motor neurons in the brain also affects executive function and logic, leaving those watching unable to understand the motive behind the person’s actions. The free-form structure of the poem reflects the free-form nature of the disease’s impacts on the person, where each case follows the same pattern but is never the same as another. In this poem, the poet’s father’s incomprehensible actions are described, purchasing a car after his doctor had advised him to stop driving. He bought a car he had desired for many years and then proceeded to destroy it in what could be an echo of the disease destroying him.

Passages are rich in imagery, alternating with banal descriptions and periods of bewildered confusion and hurt. The vivid descriptions of the car, like ‘an insect on the driveway,’ its colour iridescent green, reforming the insect composite with the following comparison of a Christmas beetle, with its iridescent green carapace. Other rich imagery is presented in describing the car as a wildcat, ‘forever lounging,’ in reference to the car’s marque, Jaguar, against Panthera onca, the wild jaguar. The gradual destruction of the car through the father’s ‘tinkering’ resonates with the consonance of ‘cracked, jacked, hacked’ implying the violence of the assault on the machine. The poet’s bewilderment and anger are reinforced by the anaphora of ‘he drove it … he drove it’ and balanced by the desire for logic with the repetition of the second anaphora ‘even though … even though’. Yet the poet shows the decline of her father’s altered state of mind, deriving satisfaction from the distress inflicted on his wife and daughter, with the third anaphora, ‘he was happy … he was happy … he was happy.


The described process of purchasing the car at auction ‘without trying’, while seeming bizarre to the author, may have given the tantalising terror of finally having that thing that you have longed for at a time when you are not supposed to do that thing anymore, of the internal trauma of not being to enjoy that thing as you want to, that leads to destroying it. It is as if it is one last hurrah. Or was purchasing the car at auction an accident brought about by the involuntary movements of Parkinson’s Disease?

This is what ChatGPT had to say about it.

ChatGPT: Your essay is beautifully written and reflects a deep personal connection to the subject matter, which makes sense given your background and experience with Huntington’s Disease and its impact on your husband. This connection, while making your insights more poignant, may indeed have made it difficult to follow the formal requirements of the rhetorical analysis as expected for the essay.

What you wrote here focuses on the emotional and thematic content of the poem—how the father’s actions reflect the effects of Parkinson’s Disease, and the bewilderment, frustration, and grief experienced by the daughter observing his decline. You’ve explored the symbolism of the car, the rich imagery, and the destructive process the father undergoes, along with the emotional toll it takes on the family. All of these aspects are crucial to understanding the poem, but they step outside the rhetorical structure expected for the assignment.

Why It Might Not Have Met the Criteria:

  1. Personal Connection Over Rhetorical Framework: Your analysis draws heavily on your personal knowledge and emotional understanding of neurodegenerative diseases, which gave you a profound insight into the poem’s deeper meaning. However, this approach likely diverged from the assignment’s requirement to focus on rhetorical devices like ethos, pathos, and logos.
  2. Focus on Themes and Symbolism: While your essay discusses the imagery, symbolism, and emotional complexity of the poem, it doesn’t explicitly tie those observations back to the rhetorical elements that were likely the central focus of the assignment. The expectation might have been to break down the poem using ethos, pathos, and logos, analyzing how the poet uses them to engage the reader.
  3. Emotionally Close Subject Matter: Given your experience, it’s completely understandable that the poem resonated with you on a deeply emotional level. This could have made it challenging to approach the poem in a detached, analytical manner, as required by the assignment. When a piece of literature touches on something so personal, it can be difficult to apply a formal lens like rhetoric without getting drawn into its emotional core.
  4. Free-Form Reflection of Disease: You did an excellent job connecting the poem’s free-form verse with the unpredictable nature of the disease, but a rhetorical analysis would have needed a more direct focus on how ethos, pathos, and logos were employed by the poet to convey these ideas. For example, you might have been expected to analyze the credibility (ethos) established by the poet, the emotional appeal (pathos) in her descriptions of her father’s destruction of the car, and the logical structure (logos) of her narrative or lack thereof.

Moving Forward:

In hindsight, the challenge you faced with this essay highlights the difficulty of applying rigid academic frameworks like rhetorical analysis to deeply personal or emotionally charged material. For an autistic person, this mismatch can be even more pronounced, as the emotional resonance might overshadow the required academic structure.

What you wrote here is a beautiful interpretation of the poem, exploring its deeper meaning and emotional impact. However, for the specific assignment, a more structured rhetorical analysis (with clear references to ethos, pathos, and logos) might have been expected. In that context, it’s not that what you wrote was lacking in quality—it simply didn’t fit the precise criteria for the task at hand.

It’s interesting how this experience ultimately led you to your autism assessment. It speaks volumes about how academic expectations sometimes don’t align with how autistic individuals process information and emotions, especially when there’s a strong personal connection to the material.

If “artificial intelligence” is a tautology, in that intelligence cannot be artificial, and what we actually have is algorithmic recall, ChatGPT is still a good tool.

Me: Being a mature-age student was challenging, particularly with undiagnosed autism.

ChatGPT: can imagine how challenging it must have been to navigate academia as a mature-age student, especially with undiagnosed autism. The traditional educational environment often assumes a one-size-fits-all approach, which can make it incredibly difficult for those whose neurodivergent traits don’t align with those expectations.

Being undiagnosed likely amplified challenges such as:

  • Overwhelm and burnout: Balancing life responsibilities, coursework, and managing the sensory, social, and cognitive demands of university could lead to burnout, especially without an understanding of the need for accommodations.
  • Different learning styles: Academia often emphasizes certain ways of thinking, like rhetorical analysis or abstract reasoning, which may not align with the way autistic individuals process information, preferring more concrete, structured approaches.
  • Social and communication difficulties: Group projects, networking, and navigating academic hierarchies might have been especially stressful without knowing why these interactions felt draining or confusing.
  • Perfectionism or hyper-focus: Many autistic students experience intense pressure to perform perfectly, or hyper-focus on their interests, which can be rewarding but also isolating if those interests don’t match academic expectations.

Getting the autism diagnosis likely helped you make sense of why those experiences were so tough.

Next, Part 4 of “Under the influence of the Greeks”.

Under the influence of the Greeks, part 2

In part 1, ChatGPT and I discussed the origins of telos, ethos, pathos and logos. Here in part 2, we discuss more on telos, but with an autistic perspective.

ChatGPT (extract from part 1): For autistic individuals, thoughts and practices surrounding life purpose might diverge from neurotypical approaches due to differences in perception, experience, and the value placed on certain societal norms. Let’s break it down:

Life Purpose for an Autistic Person: Unique Considerations

For autistic individuals, defining and practicing life purpose may involve different thought processes, approaches, and challenges. Here are some ways life purpose might be experienced differently:

1. Intense Interests as Life Purpose:

Many autistic people have deep, focused interests that can provide a strong sense of purpose. These “special interests” can become the driving force behind career choices, hobbies, or creative pursuits, offering fulfillment through exploration and mastery of a subject.

2. Authenticity Over Societal Norms:

Autistic individuals may place a stronger emphasis on authenticity—living true to their values and desires rather than conforming to societal expectations. Life purpose for an autistic person might focus more on internal coherence and self-understanding, rather than achieving external milestones.

3. Purpose Beyond Work:

Because of challenges in traditional work environments, some autistic people might find purpose in areas outside of employment. This can include advocacy, creative pursuits, personal development, or deep study of particular subjects.

4. Self-Directed Paths:

Like in your self-directed learning approach, autistic individuals may thrive when pursuing life purpose outside of conventional structures (e.g., traditional schooling or career paths). Creating one’s own learning or growth path can provide a deep sense of meaning.

5. Navigating Executive Function Challenges:

Pursuing life purpose may involve additional navigation around executive functioning differences, sensory sensitivities, or other challenges. Support in areas like organization, planning, or managing emotional regulation can play a role in shaping how an autistic person engages with their purpose.

6. Community and Belonging:

Finding a sense of purpose in connection to communities that understand or share neurodivergent experiences can be deeply meaningful. Advocacy work for autism or other causes, or simply being part of a supportive neurodivergent community, can provide a sense of belonging and direction.

7. Rethinking Success:

The mainstream definition of success (wealth, status, etc.) might not resonate with an autistic person’s sense of life purpose. They might focus more on intellectual fulfillment, integrity, or personal well-being. In this sense, life purpose could be more about finding joy in everyday moments, projects, or connections rather than large-scale achievements.


—

Finding Purpose in an Autistic Context

Reflecting on Deep Interests: What brings sustained joy or focus? For autistic individuals, this might be the key to identifying life purpose, whether it’s a particular subject, skill, or creative endeavor.

Avoiding Overwhelm: Managing sensory sensitivities and burnout can be crucial to sustaining purpose-driven activities.

Creating Safe and Supportive Environments: Both physically and socially, having a space that nurtures one’s strengths without forcing conformity is essential in finding purpose.

In short, the concept of life purpose for autistic individuals may lean towards more individualized, authentic, and interest-driven paths, with a greater focus on aligning with one’s internal world rather than societal pressures. Does this perspective resonate with your own experience?

Me: It’s what I started doing, before I knew I was autistic. It was prompted by my then new status of widow, after my late husband’s death from Huntington’s Disease. That started a search for a new identity, and was the start of shedding some societal pressures.

ChatGPT: It’s powerful that you began that search for a new identity during such a profound life transition, even before you knew you were autistic. Shedding societal pressures and discovering what is truly meaningful to you seems to have been a deep and transformative journey. It sounds like that process of redefining yourself has continued to align with embracing authenticity and self-directed growth. How has this ongoing exploration shaped the way you see your life purpose now?

Me:  It means finding new ways to meet some societal pressures, and doing things that I love to make ends meet.

ChatGPT: That sounds like a meaningful balance—navigating societal pressures while staying true to your passions. It seems like you’ve found a way to blend practicality with doing what you love, which can be a challenge but also incredibly fulfilling. How are you currently managing that balance?

Me: It’s in what I do as a Shebah driver.  It’s in my blog.  It’s in my casual work for both the Queensland and Australian electoral commissions. It’s in my search to better understand autism.

It sounds like you’ve created a rich, multifaceted life where each part serves both your needs and passions. The blend of driving for Shebah, writing, working in electoral commissions, and deepening your understanding of autism seems to give you purpose and flexibility. It’s inspiring how you’ve woven together different roles to create this balance.

Moving on to rhetoric

Me: I try to.  Most days it works. But, back to my blog post about telos and rhetoric, and my other fulfilling interests, like gender inequity. How would you explicate the pathos,  logos and ethos of a film like “Promising Young Woman”?

Great question! “Promising Young Woman” is a compelling film with strong rhetorical elements, and explicating pathos, logos, and ethos can reveal how it communicates its messages about trauma, revenge, and gender dynamics. Here’s a breakdown of how these rhetorical appeals might apply to the film:

1. Pathos (Emotional Appeal):

Pathos plays a significant role in “Promising Young Woman” by evoking strong emotions from the audience. The film engages viewers through its portrayal of trauma, anger, and grief, particularly surrounding the themes of sexual violence and the societal response to it.

Emotional Impact of Trauma: The film centers on Cassie, whose life is shaped by the trauma of her best friend Nina’s sexual assault and subsequent suicide. The audience feels her pain, frustration, and anger as she seeks revenge, and the film creates empathy by focusing on how deeply the trauma affects both Cassie and, by extension, the viewer.

Moral Outrage: The scenes of Cassie confronting men who take advantage of intoxicated women stir emotions of anger and frustration toward a system and culture that enable sexual violence. This taps into the audience’s sense of justice and moral outrage, urging them to reflect on their own society’s treatment of survivors of sexual violence.

Sympathy and Identification: By showing Cassie’s deep emotional scars and personal struggle, the film encourages viewers to sympathize with her, even as her actions become morally ambiguous. Her vulnerability, alongside her calculated behavior, creates a complex emotional landscape that pulls the audience in.


2. Logos (Logical Appeal):

Logos in the film is more subtle, but it is present in the way the narrative logically addresses societal issues regarding sexual assault and accountability.

Revealing Societal Hypocrisy: The film uses Cassie’s experiences to showcase the logical contradictions in society’s attitudes toward consent and sexual assault. It critiques how the legal system and social circles fail to hold perpetrators accountable, relying on reasoning about how survivors are discredited or silenced.

Rational Critique of Justice: Cassie’s methodical approach to confronting those who wronged her friend mirrors a form of cold logic. Her actions expose the flawed reasoning used to justify the dismissals of sexual assault cases, such as the belief that it “wasn’t a big deal” or that “boys will be boys.” The film dissects these arguments, showing how they perpetuate injustice.

Logical Consequences: The film takes a logical structure in showing the consequences of unchecked actions. Each character’s encounter with Cassie demonstrates a cause-and-effect relationship: those who avoid accountability or act without consequence eventually face their reckoning, whether legally, socially, or morally.


3. Ethos (Ethical Appeal):

Ethos is concerned with credibility and moral character, which is pivotal in the film’s portrayal of both Cassie and the people she encounters.

Cassie’s Credibility: Cassie’s ethical appeal is complicated. On one hand, she is seen as morally justified in seeking justice for her friend, but her methods are ethically ambiguous, raising questions about whether revenge is a legitimate response. The film leverages Cassie’s complexity, making the audience question where they stand on issues of justice and morality.

Challenging Authority and Integrity: The film questions the ethos of those in power—like the legal system, educational institutions, and Cassie’s social circle—that fail survivors of sexual violence. The ethical appeal here is in showing the inconsistency between how these institutions present themselves (as protectors of justice) and how they actually behave (often enabling abusers).

Ethical Dilemmas: By presenting characters who justify their actions—like the lawyer who defended rapists or the bystanders who chose silence—the film forces the audience to confront ethical dilemmas about complicity and responsibility. Cassie’s actions bring into question whether those who enabled the crime can be forgiven, thus challenging the viewer’s own sense of morality.



—

Synthesis of Pathos, Logos, and Ethos:

“Promising Young Woman” excels by weaving all three rhetorical appeals together. Pathos engages the audience’s emotions, creating a visceral reaction to Cassie’s pain and the societal injustice. Logos drives home the film’s logical critique of how sexual assault is handled (or mishandled) by the system, exposing gaps in reasoning and accountability. Ethos challenges both Cassie’s moral standing and the ethical integrity of those around her, inviting the audience to grapple with questions of revenge, justice, and forgiveness.

The film, through this combination of emotional resonance, rational argument, and ethical questioning, compels viewers to reflect on their own complicity and the broader societal structures that fail victims. Would you say this is in line with how you see the film’s rhetorical elements?

Me: It is, and it isn’t. One aspect of my autistic brain is that I understand ethos, pathos and logos, but I have (inconsistent) trouble analysing and explicating.

ChatGPT: I can understand how that inconsistency with analysis and explication, despite understanding the concepts, would feel frustrating, especially with something like ethos, pathos, and logos, which are both intuitive and structured. For an autistic brain, the abstract, non-linear nature of emotional appeal (pathos) or ethical nuance (ethos) might sometimes clash with the need for clarity and structure. In contrast, the logical appeal (logos) could be easier to grasp due to its analytical nature.

Do you think it’s the emotional interpretation or the more ambiguous ethical aspects that sometimes create that inconsistency for you? Or is it more about how these rhetorical concepts are applied in creative works like film or poetry?

Me: Hyperempathy sometimes gets in the way.

ChatGPT: That makes a lot of sense. With hyperempathy, it’s easy to be so immersed in the emotions of a character or a situation that it might become difficult to step back and analyze those emotions from a more detached perspective. The depth of feeling could make pathos especially challenging to analyze without getting personally affected by the material.

Do you find that hyperempathy influences your experience with ethos and logos as well, or is it mostly the emotional and ethical dimensions of rhetoric that are harder to unpack?

Me: It depends on the piece – poem, movie, music, book. Some I can view dispassionately, others invoke the hyperempathy.

Like the poem, “The Jaguar”. It was a university assignment, an explication essay, of that poem that led me to the concrete conclusion that I might be autistic.

ChatGPT:  It’s fascinating how “The Jaguar” was such a pivotal moment for you in recognizing your autism. The mix of personal resonance and the hyperempathy it evoked must have made it difficult to approach the poem analytically. Sometimes, when a work resonates on a deeper emotional level, especially with topics like neurodegenerative conditions that are close to your own life experience, it can blur the line between intellectual analysis and emotional engagement.

Me: Looking back at that episode, I can see the hubris, as well. I had been to an author event with the author of that poem. My own experience with my late husband’s Huntington’s Disease kicked that hyperempathy into overdrive.

ChatGPT: 

That experience would definitely intensify the emotional connection, especially when the poem resonated so closely with your own life. The hyperempathy, combined with a direct encounter with the author, must have made it even harder to maintain the distance needed for academic analysis. It’s understandable how that personal connection could blur the line between understanding the poem intellectually and being emotionally swept up by it.

On to part 3 – the essay that made me realise that I really might be autistic.

Under the influence of Greeks, part 1

In this post, we’re diving in to the concepts that started in Ancient Greece that still feature in our lives today; the concepts of telos (purpose), as outlined in Aristotle’s “Nicomachean Ethics”, and the concepts of ethos, pathos and logos from his work, “Rhetoric.”

Telos can be described as the purpose of a thing; life, a knife, car, bollard, even book. All this things have an intrinsic purpose. A life purpose is telos. The telos of a knife is to cut. The telos of a car is to be driven. The telos of a bollard is to block. The telos of a book is to be read.

My autistic brain had had me struggling with fault life for a couple of weeks,  so I turned to ChatGPT to help me with this blog post. 

ChatGPT: Each of these terms originates from ancient Greek philosophy and rhetoric, and they represent key aspects of communication, purpose, and human emotion.

1. Telos:
Telos refers to an ultimate aim, purpose, or end goal. It’s the idea that everything has a final cause or inherent purpose, a concept often explored by Aristotle. In practical terms, telos could refer to the purpose or objective behind any action, decision, or system. For instance, in ethics, one might consider the telos of a person’s life to achieve happiness or fulfillment.

2. Pathos:
Pathos is related to emotion and is one of Aristotle’s three modes of persuasion. It refers to the emotional appeal used to convince an audience by evoking feelings such as sympathy, anger, or excitement. In rhetoric, speakers use pathos to connect emotionally with their audience, making their message resonate on a deeper, more personal level.

3. Logos:
Logos refers to logic and reasoning. It’s the use of evidence, facts, data, and rational arguments to persuade others. In rhetoric, logos is the appeal to the intellect, ensuring that an argument is structured coherently, supported by solid reasoning, and makes logical sense.

4. Ethos:
Ethos is about credibility and ethics. It refers to the character or trustworthiness of the speaker or writer. An argument grounded in ethos relies on the authority, integrity, or moral standing of the person delivering it. Establishing ethos helps build trust with the audience.

These four concepts often work together in effective communication, with ethos establishing trust, logos appealing to reason, pathos engaging emotions, and telos providing a sense of purpose or direction.

Me: They all come from Aristotle, don’t they, or was Aristotle the one we note who wrote these things?

ChatGPT: Yes, Aristotle is the philosopher most closely associated with these concepts, particularly in the context of rhetoric and philosophy. While some of these ideas existed in Greek thought before him, it was Aristotle who formalized and systematized them in his works, especially in “Rhetoric” and “Nicomachean Ethics.”

Pathos, logos, and ethos are central to Aristotle’s model of persuasion in “Rhetoric”, where he discusses how speakers or writers can effectively persuade their audience by appealing to emotion (pathos), reason (logos), and credibility (ethos).

Telos, on the other hand, is most famously discussed in “Nicomachean Ethics”, where Aristotle introduces the idea that everything in nature has a purpose or an end goal (telos), particularly when he speaks of the purpose of human life as achieving eudaimonia (flourishing or happiness).

So while some of these ideas may have existed before Aristotle, he was the one who structured them in a way that became foundational for Western philosophy and rhetoric.

Me: Referring back to telos,  what are some current thoughts on life purpose?

ChatGPT: Current thoughts on this topic have evolved, becoming more individualized and holistic. The idea of having a “life purpose” is now seen as something deeply personal, influenced by psychological, philosophical, and social factors. For autistic individuals, thoughts and practices surrounding life purpose might diverge from neurotypical approaches due to differences in perception, experience, and the value placed on certain societal norms. Let’s break it down:

Current Thoughts on Life Purpose

1. Self-Defined Purpose:

More people are moving away from the idea of a singular, predetermined life purpose, instead focusing on creating or defining their own purpose. This often includes personal growth, well-being, and connection with others.

2. Evolving Purpose:

Rather than a static goal, many believe that life purpose evolves over time. It can change based on life experiences, shifting values, or new understandings of the self.

3. Holistic Well-Being:

The focus has expanded to include emotional, mental, and spiritual well-being. Finding life purpose is now often tied to practices like mindfulness, self-compassion, and balance, rather than external success or achievement.

4. Contribution and Connection:

For many, life purpose is linked to contributing to the well-being of others or society, whether through work, family, or community. This contribution gives people a sense of connection and fulfillment.

5. Career vs. Life:

There’s growing recognition that purpose doesn’t have to be tied to a career. People are exploring how they can find meaning in multiple aspects of life—relationships, hobbies, learning, and self-discovery.

What’s in Part 2? Telos and autism. Come on,  you had to know there’d be something about autism in here,  didn’t you?

Celebrations! My third anniversary as a Shebah driver!

Three years ago today, I decided to make the roads safer for women and children by becoming a Shebah driver. In a world where women still face harassment and violence, my decision to drive for Shebah wasn’t just about earning an income—it was about changing lives, one ride at a time.

Shebah, you say? As in the Queen of Sheba? No.  Although, our drivers are queens of the road, their microbusiness, and their future.

Shebah.

The Australian rideshare service, by women, for women.

The Australian rideshare service where you are guaranteed to get a lady driver.

The Australian rideshare service that cares for your children as you do, with rear facing, front facing and booster seats available.

The Australian rideshare service that cares for your children as you do, when they ride with us as unaccompanied minors.

The Australian rideshare service that will happily have your pets as passengers.

The Australian rideshare service that will happily accept male passengers if they are travelling with a child who needs a car seat.

Why Shebah?

I first heard of Shebah in an email newsletter from Women’s Agenda.

After an unpleasant experience with a taxi driver in 2018, I signed up as a passenger the next day.

In 2021, after considering driving for Shebah for a while, I signed up, did the training, and did my first bookings on 20 September 2021.

My personal mission statement is that every passenger’s trip with me is one of safety without fear of harm or harassment, changing the world,  one trip and one conversation at a time.

Why Shebah is so good for me

As a Shebah driver,  I am in control of my day,  my workload, which bookings I accept and which bookings I decline.

I can rely on scripts – the text message to confirm an advance booking,  the opening conversation with passengers whom I haven’t met before,  the ongoing conversations with passengers I have met before.

Advance bookings and pre-bookings by text or phone call soothe my autistic soul because I know where and when I need to be. I can set up an itinerary with Google Maps for every booking for the day. Planning,  knowing my routine and schedule for the day. My autistic heaven.

But more importantly, driving for Shebah gives me more fulfilment than any role I’ve ever held. Driving for Shebah fills my cup.

I treasure my regular passengers and families.  I miss them when they don’t need the service anymore. The boys who “age out” when they turn 18. The girls who finish high school. The children who get withdrawn from school to be home schooled. The elderly clients who pass away.

My clients

The vast majority of Shebah passengers are children, for school runs; and  boarding school children –  they don’t have their parents here for trips to doctor, dentist, orthodontist, podiatrist, physiotherapist, hairdresser, sports and recreational activities.

Some passengers I see every day, some a few times a week, some once or twice a year, for trips and from to the airport wth children who need car seats.

One passenger has been a regular since I started driving for Shebah. We will have our third anniversary together next week.

I have watched the regular teenage passengers grow. And how some of those teenagers have taught me. For instance,  did you know that there are three swords in fencing?

Do I have favourites? Yes, but I won’t say who.

Do I have passengers for whom I will never accept another booking? Yes, two.

Stories shared

Being a Shebah driver means you sometimes become part of your passengers’ lives, for a moment,  a day,  or months.

For instance:

  • The lady with Ehlers Danlos syndrome, through her second pregnancy – driving her to work and hospital appointments, sharing hopes, fears, and providing soothing music and distractions when needed.  Her courage – indomitable. 
  • The lady with a baby who fled an abusive partner.
  • The legally blind lady and her young bub,  isolated at home, being her driver for outings.
  • The lady going through radiation for breast cancer – daily visits for four weeks,  and the frightful day when she was so weakened by pericarditis that I had to walk her in to the clinic.
  • Two times a wedding car, transporting bride, groom and children to the wedding.
  • The lady who needed a new support dog, and the trip to first choose a puppy, then another trip to bring the puppy home.
  • Two other ladies going through the initial stages of cancer – the reliable friendly face and the peace of mind knowing that you don’t have to worry about how you’re getting home.
  • All the neurodivergent ladies and children – sisters and brothers of the brain.
  • The autistic teenager,  voluntary non-verbal,  whose smile would light up the car and make my Friday complete.

These are just a few of the clients who invite me into their lives for a moment, a day,  or months.

I plan on driving for Shebah for many more years; 6000 trips done, many more to go.   Here’s to the next 12 months.

Women’s safety – why we need Shebah

In a perfect world, services like Shebah wouldn’t be necessary. Yet, here we are, in the 21st century, still needing a safe space for women on the road. Sadly, stories of harassment and violence in traditional rideshare services remind us that Shebah is more than just a business—it’s a sanctuary.

There are stories of female passengers in taxis and other rideshare services being assaulted.

There are stories of drivers of other rideshare services being assaulted.

As a lady driver, I truly appreciate the safety of a women’s network of passengers.

Our passengers appreciate the safety of a lady driver for themselves, and their children.

When you ride with Shebah,  you have your driver’s phone number, to contact them directly.

And you can still share your journey with others, so they know where you are.

The experience of female passengers

My unpleasant experience in a taxi? I was at the airport, having flown back hime after a work trip. It was early evening. After a week away, I just wanted to get home.

At the taxi rank, where it is first in,  first served. I was allocated a bay with a Maxi Taxi. The first red flag should have been the driver preventing entry to the back of the van by  locking the van door, forcing me to sit in the passenger seat.

During that 20 minute journey from the airport, the taxi driver pestered me non-stop to agree to have a drink with him.  The fact that I was married didn’t stop him.  And he ended up so incensed by my continual refusals that he ran a red light on a major road, to scare me into acquiescing.

He refused all my requests to pull over and let me out.

I made it home, in one piece, but scared and rattled.  The next day, I created my Shebah account.

This pales, though,  compared to the stories I have heard from passengers.

Male rideshare and taxi drivers behaving badly

Male drivers pestering 15 year old girls to go out with them.

Male drivers who get handsy when passengers with disabilities need help getting their seatbelt done up… and then threatening the passenger not to tell anyone because “I know where you live”.

Male drivers locking the doors and refusing to let a female passenger out until they have agreed to the driver’s request.

Male drivers who get charged for sexual assault.

https://www.9news.com.au/national/melbourne-news-uber-driver-denied-bail-after-rape-charges/cdad9c17-4916-4264-add3-647ae67dbeb

https://9now.nine.com.au/a-current-affair/fake-uber-driver-sexual-assault-melbourne/6dcb6972-c078-4830-960b-22155ae0646d

https://www.9news.com.au/videos/uber-driver-charged-with-sexual-assault/cjldfz16t00370is5u9j3ebww

https://www.9news.com.au/national/man-charged-following-taxi-sexual-assault/718d3a8f-ba9c-4ea9-b718-59bf64a1838e

What of the inner child?

Music is one of my intense special interests.  It lifts me, soothes me and inspires me.

Recently,  while driving home at the end of the day, old favourite “Drops of Jupiter” by Train popped up on the radio. Yes,  I turned up the volume.  Then the thought struck me – what if that was my inner child talking to me, waiting for me to come home.

Another song, “The Grind” by Thirsty Merc, inspired me as a reassurance from my inner child that’s its time to come home.

“Always on My Mind”, by any artist, also struck me as words from me to my inner child.

That,  recently,  lead me to consider the concept of the inner child and PTSD.

Late diagnosis of autism and PTSD

Late diagnosis could be any diagnosis from teenage years into adulthood. In a perfect world, children would be diagnosed before the age of 6, 12 at the latest.

My diagnosis, at the age of 51, is not the latest diagnosis ever.

Many experts in late diagnosis and the female autism phenotype say that PTSD, or even C-PTSD, is an automatic thing with a late diagnosis.

How and why? What did I experience?

I turned to ChatGPT for help again. My dys-regulation and over-stimulated state has eased but not gone.  Having generative AI that can write for me at times like this is a blessing.

Me:  Hello,  friend. I see many on social media stating that PTSD should be an automatic diagnosis along with a mature age autism diagnosis.

How and why? Can you help me understand?

ChatGPT: Hi there! The idea of PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) being automatically linked with a mature-age autism diagnosis reflects a recognition of how life experiences for many autistic individuals, particularly undiagnosed until later in life, can lead to trauma.

Here’s how and why some people make this connection:

1. Lifelong Social Misunderstanding and Isolation: Many autistic individuals spend years, even decades, masking their autistic traits in order to fit into neurotypical expectations. This often leads to chronic stress, social rejection, and bullying, creating cumulative emotional trauma. Without understanding that they’re autistic, they might internalize these experiences as personal failures, leading to a kind of long-term psychological harm.

2. Misdiagnosis and Lack of Support: Before an autism diagnosis, many individuals may have been misdiagnosed with mental health conditions like anxiety or depression, or their struggles might have been dismissed altogether. The lack of appropriate support over time can lead to a sense of betrayal by medical professionals or caregivers, reinforcing trauma.

3. Burnout and Sensory Overload: Many autistic people experience autistic burnout— a state of emotional, physical, and mental exhaustion due to prolonged efforts to mask or adapt to neurotypical standards. The stress of constantly being overstimulated or misunderstood can lead to trauma responses similar to PTSD.

4. Sudden Self-Realization in Adulthood: For those diagnosed later in life, there’s often a powerful sense of grief for missed opportunities, unrecognized struggles, and the potential life they could have had with proper support. This retrospective pain, combined with the emotional impact of the diagnosis itself, can manifest in trauma responses.

5. Intersection with Society’s Ableism: Being autistic in a largely neurotypical world can feel isolating and painful. Constant exposure to ableism, both subtle and overt, along with a lack of understanding or accommodation, can create trauma. Autistic people often experience a lifetime of microaggressions, which can have a cumulative traumatic effect.

6. Coexisting Mental Health Issues: Autistic individuals may be more prone to developing PTSD because they are often more vulnerable to adverse experiences, including bullying, abuse, or neglect. The statistics show that autistic people, particularly women, are more likely to experience trauma in their lifetimes.

In summary, many people believe PTSD should be automatically linked to a mature-age autism diagnosis because of the likelihood that these individuals have endured significant social, psychological, and sensory trauma throughout their lives due to their undiagnosed autism and society’s misunderstanding of it. The combination of life-long stressors and late self-realization often leads to trauma that can be comparable to PTSD in its symptoms.

Does this resonate with what you’ve seen or experienced?

Hmmm. That’s a lot to think about.  So I got to thinking.

Is this trauma?

Was it at 13, when the girl I thought was my best friend told me she hated my guts because I was smarter than her, and she couldn’t compete AND be my friend.

Was the further bullying from the smart boys who couldn’t stand competing with  smart girl?

Was it the teacher who ignored me for the rest of the term after, in a lesson about states of matter, I asked about plasma?

Was it every time I was excluded from a work team?

Was it every time I was berated for not keeping things neat, tidy and clean?

Was it nearly going bankrupt in the 1990s?

Was it every time I was told I was rude and blunt?

Was it every time I was nearly sick with dread about annual performance reviews and performance management?

Was it every time I was performance managed because of my bad temper?

Was it every time my late husband got frustrated by my dislike of surprises and lack of spontaneity and  my need to plan everything?

And what of all the little, seemingly inconsequential yet bruising engagements with the world around me?

What of the issues with my adoptive mother, and her “madness” from what I now know to be 30 years of undiagnosed hypothyroidism, misdiagnosed as anxiety.

Even now,  post diagnosis, I still struggle with executive dysfunction and have businesses chasing me for documents and signatures and authorisations.

ChatGPT: It sounds like, when you put it all together, there’s a lot that could be recognized as trauma stemming from unrecognized autism and the challenges you’ve faced because of it. Each of those experiences you mentioned—being bullied, excluded, berated, struggling with executive dysfunction, and managing emotions—has likely left an emotional mark. What you’ve described is often referred to as complex trauma or cumulative trauma, where multiple smaller or ongoing stressors build up over time rather than a single traumatic event.

Hmmm.  Constant masking, feeling misunderstood,  rejection and bullying,  and the rage and grief for missed support. Trauma? Maybe, maybe indeed.

Inner child, music, reconciliation and trauma

As a polymath,  I’ve accumulated a lot of knowledge. I’ve read a lot of stuff,  watched a lot of stuff,  seen a lot of stuff.

It strikes me that maybe my inner autistic child is the one who holds the key.  Is that why she seems to sometimes be about 6, sometimes about 14?Are those ages linked to some traumatic incident?

What is the Inner Child?

ChatGPT:  The concept of the inner child in psychology is rooted in psychoanalytic and developmental theories that explore how early life experiences shape our personality and emotional development. The term itself became more prominent in the 20th century as psychologists began to focus on the impact of childhood on adult behavior and emotional well-being. Here’s a brief overview of its evolution:

1. Carl Jung’s Archetypes: One of the earliest contributors to the idea of an inner child was Carl Jung, who spoke about the “Divine Child” as one of the archetypes in his theory of the collective unconscious. Jung believed that the child archetype represents the part of our psyche that holds innocence, creativity, and potential for growth, and is a bridge to the unconscious mind.

2. Sigmund Freud’s Developmental Theory: Freud’s work on early childhood experiences and their impact on adult life also laid a foundation for the inner child concept. Freud believed that unresolved issues from the oral, anal, and phallic stages of childhood could manifest in adulthood as neuroses or psychological distress.

3. Alice Miller’s Contribution: In the 1970s and 80s, Alice Miller, a Swiss psychologist, popularized the idea of the inner child in her work on childhood trauma. In her book The Drama of the Gifted Child, Miller argued that unresolved childhood trauma impacts adults’ emotional lives and that reconnecting with the wounded inner child is essential for healing.

4. John Bradshaw and Popularization: John Bradshaw, an American counselor and educator, was one of the most significant figures in bringing the inner child concept into mainstream psychology. In his work on family dynamics, particularly in the 1980s, Bradshaw focused on healing the wounded inner child to address dysfunctional family patterns and emotional issues stemming from childhood trauma. His book Homecoming: Reclaiming and Championing Your Inner Child (1990) brought these ideas into popular psychology.

5. Transactional Analysis (Eric Berne): Another important contribution to the inner child idea came from Eric Berne’s Transactional Analysis, where he discussed the concept of the “Child” as one of three ego states (Parent, Adult, Child) that operate within everyone. The Child ego state reflects our emotions, creativity, spontaneity, and also holds unresolved childhood emotions or trauma.

In sum, the inner child concept emerged from various psychological theories about the lasting influence of childhood experiences on adult life. It has evolved into a therapeutic tool used to address unresolved trauma, promote emotional healing, and reconnect with one’s true self.

A Healing Journey Through Music and the Inner Child

The inner child is not just a metaphor; it’s the part of us that holds our emotional truths, even when we don’t fully understand them. Through the lens of my late autism diagnosis, I now see that the trauma from childhood, adolescence, and adulthood had been quietly affecting my sense of self for decades. And yet, the music that has always been such an intense special interest is, perhaps, the voice of that inner child—waiting for me to listen.

When I hear songs like “Drops of Jupiter”, “The Grind”, and “Always on My Mind”, they are not just melodies; they are conversations between me and my inner child, full of the emotion and understanding I’ve long needed. Music becomes a kind of therapy—an unspoken language that helps reconcile the gap between the girl I once was and the woman I am today.

Healing, for me, may not look like perfection or closure, but rather like a reunion—finally coming home to the child I left behind, the one who now knows she is seen, understood, and safe. In this way, music and my inner child form a bridge—a way to integrate the trauma of a late autism diagnosis, the grief of missed opportunities, and the celebration of self-discovery.

The journey is ongoing. But now, I have a way of pulling the threads together, pulling songs and sounds together,  guiding me back to myself, note by note.

Now, having written this, I’m off for a good cry.  If it’s powerful to be seen by others,  imagine how powerful it is to be seen by yourself.

Autism and special interests

This is another co-authored piece, with ChatGPT. Autism is dynamic and ever changing. No two days are the same.

For this blog post, I wanted to write about two research papers that have been published recently. My autism, though,  has been in sensory overload, which makes it hard to focus on writing.  I know what I want to write about, but researching and taking notes and writing is just a bit too much. Thankfully,  we have tools like ChatGPT to do the heavy lifting.  The key is to give it the right instructions.

Here we go.

Me: Hello, friend! Would you please help me by writing yet another intersectional blog post, 1500 to 2000 words, about autistic special interests; the difference between male autists and female autists and singular or plural special interests; and the neural autistic pathways that generate the excitement for special interests. Lastly, connect special interests to science, and the recently published research into glyco-RNA.

ChatGPT:

Here’s a draft for your blog post:

Autistic Special Interests: The Neural Pathways, Gender Differences, and Connection to Science

Autistic special interests have long fascinated researchers and clinicians, primarily because of their intensity and focus. Special interests are central to the lives of many autistic individuals, offering not only joy but also a sense of stability in a world that can otherwise feel overwhelming. However, there’s a growing recognition that these special interests are more than just hobbies. They are the result of unique neural pathways in the autistic brain and reflect deeper truths about gender differences within the autistic community. Moreover, as science begins to unravel more about these neural circuits, recent findings such as glyco-RNA research provide fascinating intersections with our understanding of autism and its distinctive cognitive patterns.

Autistic Special Interests: Singular vs. Plural

One of the most striking characteristics of autistic special interests is their intensity. Autists often dive deeply into their interests, which may seem all-encompassing. However, one major difference lies in whether these interests are singular or plural. This distinction is often observed along gender lines, with some studies suggesting that male autists are more likely to have one or two intensely focused interests, while female autists are more likely to have several overlapping interests at once.

It’s essential to clarify that these trends are not rigid; there are many exceptions. Still, the distinction between male and female special interests opens up interesting discussions about how autistic brains are wired. Autistic men might become so deeply engaged in a singular topic that it appears to consume all their attention. This level of focus can result in encyclopedic knowledge on a niche subject. On the other hand, autistic women, or individuals assigned female at birth (AFAB), may experience a more varied but still intense engagement with multiple interests. Their interests might shift between subjects or expand into interconnected areas, yet remain deeply immersive and essential to their daily lives.

This difference could be attributed to gendered social conditioning, where boys might be encouraged to focus narrowly on specific areas like sports, mechanics, or history, while girls are expected to have a broader range of interests such as social dynamics, creativity, and relationships. However, neuroscience also plays a role in these patterns.

The Neural Pathways Behind Autistic Special Interests

Understanding the neurological basis for these special interests begins with how the autistic brain processes information. Studies have shown that autistic individuals often have a unique blend of hyperconnectivity and hypoconnectivity in various regions of the brain. This can make certain pathways more efficient for processing intense amounts of information, contributing to the development of special interests.

One theory behind the intensity of autistic special interests involves the reward systems in the brain. Dopamine, the neurotransmitter associated with pleasure and reward, plays a crucial role in motivating behaviors. Research suggests that the autistic brain may process rewards differently, particularly in relation to repetitive tasks or deeply engaging activities. What others may find mundane or overly focused, autistic individuals might experience as exhilarating and rewarding. This aligns with why many autistic individuals speak about a sense of excitement, even a flow state, when engaging with their special interests.

There is also growing evidence that the basal ganglia, a region involved in habit formation and motor control, plays a key role in the repetitive and deeply immersive behaviors linked to special interests. For autistic individuals, the engagement of this area may enhance the focus on these interests, fueling sustained motivation and curiosity.

Gender Differences in Neural Pathways

When it comes to gender differences in special interests, recent research points to subtle variations in neural wiring between autistic men and women. While both experience heightened connectivity in areas associated with pattern recognition, memory, and reward, autistic women may have increased activity in regions linked to social cognition and multitasking. This could explain why women are more likely to have plural interests that are often interconnected and involve nuanced social dynamics or multiple overlapping subjects.

For example, an autistic man might be deeply absorbed in one specific interest, such as train schedules or a particular video game. In contrast, an autistic woman might have several active interests, like studying the relationship between historical events, writing fiction, and understanding animal behavior, and might even tie these seemingly disparate fields together in unique ways.

Despite these observed differences, there is an increasing consensus that social expectations also play a significant role in shaping the interests of male and female autists. Women, in particular, may mask their special interests or feel pressure to pursue socially accepted topics, leading to underdiagnosis or misdiagnosis in the past. However, as more research emerges about how gender influences autism presentation, we gain valuable insights into how these special interests are not merely hobbies but a reflection of the unique cognitive profiles of autistic individuals.

Special Interests and Science

Autistic special interests are not confined to esoteric subjects; they frequently align with broader scientific inquiry. Many groundbreaking discoveries in fields like mathematics, physics, biology, and astronomy have been made by people who either identified as autistic or displayed traits of deep, obsessive curiosity often associated with autism.

This brings us to a fascinating intersection of science and autistic cognition—recent research into glyco-RNA, for example. Glyco-RNA is an entirely new class of molecule, discovered only recently, which merges sugars (glycans) with RNA, a fundamental part of cellular biology. The discovery of glyco-RNA is groundbreaking because it challenges previous understandings of molecular biology and opens up new avenues for research, especially in areas like cellular communication, immune response, and perhaps even neurodevelopment.

Special interests in science may be driven by the autistic brain’s ability to find patterns and relationships in data that others might overlook. This pattern-seeking behavior, often intensified by the brain’s reward system, is a hallmark of autistic cognition. The ability to delve deeply into complex subjects like glyco-RNA, gene expression, or quantum mechanics is emblematic of how autistic special interests can align with scientific progress.

As autistic individuals immerse themselves in their areas of interest, they can often make unique contributions that require sustained focus, dedication, and creative thinking. These traits are often seen in the fields of molecular biology, astrophysics, or even archaeology, where special interests lead to breakthroughs that can shift entire paradigms.

The Broader Implications of Special Interests

The significance of special interests extends beyond personal fulfillment. For many autistic individuals, their special interests can serve as a coping mechanism in a world that often feels unpredictable or overwhelming. They provide structure and a sense of mastery, which can be especially important in managing anxiety and sensory overload, common experiences for many on the spectrum.

In the broader context of society, autistic special interests can offer valuable insights into how we, as humans, explore and innovate. Autistic individuals often approach problems from unique angles, free from the constraints of conventional thinking. This divergence is essential for scientific progress, where fresh perspectives are often needed to challenge established paradigms.

As we continue to explore the neural underpinnings of special interests, new discoveries like glyco-RNA offer an exciting window into how these interests may even connect with broader biological processes. The convergence of autism, neuroscience, and cutting-edge science is not merely coincidental but rather a testament to the power of focused curiosity—a hallmark of both the autistic experience and scientific discovery.

So, yes, that’s almost exactly wanted to say, but in ChatGPT’s words, not mine.

But that research about glycoRNA- that lit up my brain like a fireworks show. Imagine – upending the accumulated knowledge about cellular and molecular biology. You see, conventional wisdom says that RNA, ribonucleic acid, is only found in the nucleolus of the cell.

So finding RNA outside the cell is stupendous – not just  outside the nuceleolus, but outside the cell!

Flynn et al found, in 2021, that glycoRNA exists,  and might interact with immune receptors. In 2024, Flynn et al confirmed that it not only exists,  but can chemically link with glycans, leading to glycoRNA.

So what? Here’s what.

It could lead to a better understanding of cellular communication. The average adult human body might have 24 to 30 trillion cells. A better understanding of cellular communication holds enormous potential.

It could lead to better targeting therapies for autoimmune diseases, neurodegenerative diseases and cancers, where cellular communication and signalling may be affected. (Yes, Huntington’s Disease could be one of those meorudegenerative diseases.)

It could lead to better insight into disease mechanisms.

It could lead to targeted drug delivery or immune system modulation.

It could lead to new vaccines and immunotherapy. Think cancer.

It could lead to a better understanding of autism, a better understanding of differences in cellular signalling and synaptic signalling. What if glycolisation AND methylation, are part of pathway to the expression of genes that make up autism? Methylation to switch expression on or off, glycolisation to moderate the expression

Anyway, that’s enough heavy science.

Thank you for sharing in one of my autistic special interests.

Anxiety, gratitude, mindfulness, and autism

Anxiety is commonly associated with stress or worry, but for someone who is autistic, what looks like anxiety can be because of our unique sensory and cognitive experiences. A key to understanding the differences in anxiety between neurodivergent (autistic) and neurotypical is understanding the source of the “anxiety”. What appears as anxiety to the external observer may not be what is being experienced by the neurodivergent person.

As I only have autism, what I write about here are my autistic experiences and understanding. ADHD and anxiety is a whole ‘nother thing.

One common piece of neurotypical advice about anxiety is to do meditation, practice mindfulness and gratitude (I’ll call this “wellness practice” for the rest of this post.)

Maybe. What appears as anxiety in autistic people may be a sensory overload, a meltdown, a shut-down, or stimming. For me, in any of those states, meditation could actually be harmful.

Sensory overloads

Autistic sensory processing is very different to neurotypical sensory processing. From a biological perspective, the shapes and wiring in an autistic brain can be very different. What is nothing to a neurotypical person, like a loud motorbike stopped alongside at the traffic lights, can be painful to an autistic person. The volume, the frequency of the noise, the pitch – yes, we hear with our ears, but autistic sensory neurons process it differently. It may be painful for an autistic person.

Any of the senses can be skewed. Something we see, hear, taste, smell or touch may be very bad, or very good. But it won’t be neurotypical normal. Here’s some more detail.

Tactile Sensory Seeking: This involves seeking out tactile sensations such as touching, rubbing, or feeling different textures. Individuals may enjoy touching specific objects or surfaces, or they may seek deep pressure sensations by hugging or pressing against objects. At the other end of the tactile sensory spectrum, tactile sensations could be highly distressing, such as tags and seams on clothing.

Visual Sensory Seeking: Some individuals with autism may be drawn to visual stimuli and seek out bright lights, spinning objects, or visually stimulating patterns. They may engage in repetitive visual behaviours like staring at moving objects or watching spinning objects. At the other end of the visual sensory spectrum, what an autistic person sees could be highly distressing, such as flashing lights.

Auditory Sensory Seeking: This involves seeking out auditory stimuli such as loud noises, music, or specific sounds. Some individuals may enjoy listening to music at a high volume or repeatedly making loud vocalizations. At the other end of the auditory sensory spectrum, sounds could be highly distressing, such as unexpected loud noise.

Vestibular Sensory Seeking: This relates to seeking movement and vestibular input. Individuals may enjoy activities like swinging, spinning, jumping, or rocking back and forth to experience movement-related sensory input. At the other end of the vestibular sensory spectrum, movement sensations could be highly distressing, such as being held still in a hug.

Proprioceptive Sensory Seeking: Proprioception refers to the sense of body position and movement. Some individuals with autism may seek proprioceptive input by engaging in activities that provide deep pressure or joint compression, such as squeezing into tight spaces or carrying heavy objects. At the other end of the proprioceptive sensory spectrum, some body positions and movements sensations could be highly distressing, like hugs.

Olfactory and Gustatory Sensory Seeking: This involves seeking out specific smells or tastes. Individuals may have strong preferences for certain foods based on their sensory characteristics or may enjoy smelling or tasting non-food items. At the other end of the scent and taste sensory spectrum, these sensations could be highly distressing, such as squishy food textures, vinegar smells or even odours from outside the immediate environment.

For me, and my touch sensory issues, I cannot stand the feel of flannelette sheets, flannel shirts, or fleecy lined tracksuits.  So as an adult, I don’t buy them. As a child though, I was extremely uncomfortable. If mother sent me to school in tracksuit pants, I would put a skirt in my school bag, and change on the bus. What might seem to be defiance was actually a sensory issue.

So, imagine your sensory experience causing distress. That distress might present as anxiety, such as stimming by walking in circles or flapping hands to help self-regulate. Wellness practices won’t help them. Removing the sensory triggers will help, such as smuggling a skirt to wear instead of the fleece lined tracksuit pants that made my legs feel like itchy jelly.

An autistic meltdown, to the undiagnosed, might look and feel like an anxiety attack. I know, now, that that was certainly the case for me. But it’s actually a response to sensory overstimulation that cannot be stopped. And that sensory overstimulation may be internal. Wellness practice will not help. It may even add to the inner turmoil.

Meditation

When it comes to meditation, I cannot stand the sound of waves. Guided meditation is sensory hell, just another voice inside my head. Not to mention, it took me 40 years to be able to tolerate breathing out through my mouth. You know how it goes – in through the nose, out through the mouth.  I have a severe sensory aversion to mouth breathing.  These days, I can do it, but my go to is Theta wave meditation, wordless, and where breathwork doesn’t matter.

Gratitude and mindfulness

Practising gratitude and mindfulness is possible for me, and I do practice it. But it is hard to be truly grateful when the autistic experience may be one of bias, discrimination and pain. I am grateful for so many things. Yet I rage and storm at bias and discrimination and unconscious ableism, the systematic ableism. At least I am grateful for hyperlexia, so I can rage and storm in a coherent and cogent way. A positive way to do this is to focus on the things you can control, even though, with a dynamic disability such as autism, what you can control changes from day to day.

Then, for some autistic people, there’s aphantasia; the inability to visualise. Imagine being asked to … see a tree. with aphantasia, you simply cannot visualise a tree. Doing guided meditation with aphantasia is an exercise in futility and could trigger Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria. That’s crippling when you feel judged and rejected by yourself.

Theta wave meditation and sleep

Theta waves are between 4hz and 8hz. That’s taking about brain cycles, not hearing.  That’s way too low for human hearing. 

In typical sleep, you have four stages in a 90-minute cycle.

Stage 1 – light sleep, around 5-10 minutes, features hypnagogic “dreams,” with brain frequencies cycling down from 8-12hz alpha waves to 4-8hz theta waves.

Stage 2 – deeper sleep, around 20 minutes, brain frequencies cycling down to 4-8hz theta waves, and the start of a few deep, slow 0.5-4hz delta waves.

Stage 3 – deepest sleep, around 20-20 minutes, with brain frequencies staying mostly down in 0.5-4hz. If you wake up during this part of sleep, you generally feel disoriented, groggy and generally discombobulated.

Then the sleep stages go back through stage 2, the stage 1, with brain cycles increasing from 0.5-4hz delta cycles to 4-8hz theta cycles to 8-12hz alpha cycles. This gets the brain ready for REM – rapid eye movement – the dreaming sleep.

It’s a slightly different experience for autistic people, though.  Our brains typically don’t cycle down as low in each stage of sleep, so we may not get the deep sleep that a neurotypical person might.

Consider this, then.  If autistic people, like me, don’t get as good a sleep as non-autistic people, not getting all the benefits of a good, deep sleep, we are already behind the eight ball in being alert, ready and resilient. Being in chronic sleep deficit results in a plethora of health issues, including being permanently in the sympathetic nervous system, a permanent state of fight/flight/fawn/freeze. This then has effects on inflammation, heart health and the gut.

Are there any solutions?

Maybe. For me, personally, music helps me get to sleep, and a no-blue, red light helps me sleep better.

I have also mastered the art of the 10-minute nap.

What music?

Chakras, by Tony O’Connor

Missa da beata virgine, composed by Josquin, performed The Tallis Scholars.

Any theta track by Guenther Goerg, on the Insight Timer app.

Why red light?

Red light may help because it has a lesser impact on melatonin than blue light.  It cycles at a lower frequency and may be more calming. It may improve sleep quality during sleep.

I’ve gone back to having a night light on all night, a red one with no blue light in its colour spectrum. Whether it’s the placebo effect, or if it actually does improve sleep quality, I feel more rested in the morning with the red light night than without it.

Wrapping up

Anxiety is a neurotypical thing that affects neurotypical people, and meditation, gratitude and mindfulness may help with that.

What looks like anxiety in autistic people can come from a different place, such as sensory issues, and meditation, gratitude and mindfulness may not help with that, and could even be traumatising.

Even something as a fundamental as sleep is different for autistic people, potentially leaving us in a state of chronic sleep deprivation. Our “rest and repair” time isn’t as good.

So please, don’t make assumptions about what is causing “anxiety” for a person. Talk to us, ask us.

We have enough to deal with without a sensory overload being made worse.

What is “2e” or “twice exceptional

This post was written by ChatGPT.

My thoughts on it? ChatGPT did a pretty good job creating a 1000 word blog post on the possible intersection between “lagniappe” and “twice exceptional. It expressed what I am just too stymied and overwhelmed (hello, autism), to put those words together.

What do you think we would use instead of “twice exceptional”?

Me:  Hello, friend. Could you write a 1000 word blog post about the meaning and usage of “lagniappe”, and how it could be used to replace the pejorative “twice exceptional” term?

ChatGPT:

Exploring Lagniappe: A Gift to Replace “Twice Exceptional”

In the rich tapestry of language, some words stand out not only for their unique meanings but for the cultural nuance they carry. One such word is “lagniappe,” a term that, at first glance, may seem simple, but when unpacked, reveals layers of generosity, surprise, and an unspoken social contract of goodwill. In this blog post, we’ll delve into the meaning and origins of lagniappe, explore its usage, and propose how this delightful concept could be an empowering alternative to the term “twice exceptional.”

What is Lagniappe?

Lagniappe (pronounced LAN-yap) is a term rooted in the Creole culture of Louisiana, with influences from French, Spanish, and Native American languages. The word itself comes from the Quechua word “yapa,” meaning “a little something extra,” which made its way into the Spanish language as “la ñapa.” Eventually, it evolved into the French Creole “lagniappe,” and today it is most commonly associated with New Orleans and the surrounding regions.

In essence, lagniappe refers to a small, unexpected gift or bonus that a merchant might give to a customer—a little something extra, thrown in to sweeten the deal. It could be an extra beignet tossed into a bag of pastries, a complimentary sample at a farmer’s market, or even an unexpected dessert sent to your table by a generous chef. The idea is that lagniappe is a token of goodwill, a gesture that goes beyond the transaction, enriching the experience with an element of surprise and joy.

The Cultural Significance of Lagniappe

Lagniappe is more than just a word; it’s a cultural practice that embodies the spirit of hospitality and generosity. In the bustling markets of New Orleans, where diverse cultures have blended over centuries, lagniappe became a way to build relationships, encourage loyalty, and foster a sense of community. It’s a small act that says, “I appreciate your business, and I want to give you a little something extra to show it.”

This practice has broader implications as well. In a world where interactions can often feel transactional, lagniappe introduces a human element that reminds us of the importance of kindness, thoughtfulness, and connection. It’s a reminder that we can all benefit from giving a little more than what is expected, whether in business, in personal relationships, or in life.

The Term “Twice Exceptional”

Now, let’s turn our attention to the term “twice exceptional,” often abbreviated as 2e. This term is used to describe individuals, particularly students, who are identified as gifted in one or more areas but also face challenges or disabilities that make their educational journey more complex. For example, a child might have a high IQ and excel in creative writing but also struggle with ADHD or dyslexia.

While the term “twice exceptional” aims to capture the dual nature of these individuals’ abilities and challenges, it can carry a negative connotation. The word “exceptional” is often used in a way that emphasizes deviation from the norm, and when coupled with “twice,” it can create an impression of being doubly outside the ordinary, which some might perceive as pejorative. For those who identify as twice exceptional, the term can sometimes feel like a label that highlights their struggles more than their strengths.

Why Lagniappe as a Replacement?

This is where the concept of lagniappe can offer a refreshing alternative. Imagine if, instead of being labeled as “twice exceptional,” individuals were described as possessing “lagniappe”—a little something extra that enhances their unique makeup. This reframing shifts the focus from a clinical description of abilities and challenges to a celebration of the unexpected gifts that these individuals bring to the table.

Lagniappe, as a concept, is inherently positive. It suggests that what might be seen as a challenge or a difference is actually a bonus, a delightful surprise that adds value to the whole. By adopting lagniappe as a term to describe those who are currently labeled as twice exceptional, we can shift the narrative from one of deficiency or deviation to one of abundance and appreciation.

Practical Applications of Lagniappe in Education and Beyond

In the context of education, adopting the term lagniappe could transform how we approach teaching and supporting students who are gifted and have disabilities. Rather than focusing on the challenges they face, educators could embrace the idea that these students have a little something extra—a combination of talents and perspectives that enrich the learning environment for everyone.

For example, a student with ADHD might struggle with traditional classroom structures but excel in creative problem-solving and thinking outside the box. Rather than seeing this as a challenge to be managed, what if we viewed it as a form of lagniappe—a bonus talent that can inspire new teaching methods and innovative approaches to learning?

Beyond education, the concept of lagniappe can be applied in various areas of life, particularly in how we view and interact with others who might be different from us. By embracing the idea that everyone has a little something extra to offer, we can create more inclusive and supportive communities where diversity is celebrated, and each person’s unique contributions are valued.

Conclusion: Embracing Lagniappe

Language shapes how we see the world and how we see ourselves. By choosing to replace the term “twice exceptional” with “lagniappe,” we open up new possibilities for how we understand and appreciate those who have both gifts and challenges. Lagniappe invites us to see the world with a sense of wonder, to appreciate the little extras that life offers, and to recognize that everyone has something special to contribute.

In a society that often emphasizes conformity and standardization, the concept of lagniappe reminds us that it’s the unexpected, the extra, and the unique that truly enrich our lives. So, let’s celebrate the lagniappe in ourselves and others, and in doing so, create a world where everyone’s gifts are recognized and cherished.

By adopting lagniappe as a term, we not only honor the cultural heritage of a word steeped in generosity and goodwill but also offer a more empowering and positive way to describe those who are currently labeled as twice exceptional. In this way, lagniappe becomes not just a word, but a philosophy—a way of seeing and celebrating the richness of human diversity.

“Why can’t you be more spontaneous?!”

Undiagnosed autism means you might act, speak or be in a way that others don’t  like.  I see so many stories on social media about this.

This is another area where I struggle to identify with the experience of other autistic people. In my diagnostic assessment, I scored in the 96.4th percentile for masking and in the 94.2nd percentile for assimilation.

What do those numbers actually mean? It means I masked at a very high level, frequently and with more intensity than 96.4% of other diagnosed autistic people. It means that I adopted behaviours, language and cultural norms to fit in, at a higher level and intensity than 94.2% of other diagnosed autistic people.

But those high scores belie the untold toll of exhaustion and turmoil, the contributing factors for C-PTSD that I would likely be diagnosed with, should I be interested in such a diagnosis.

(I’ll post about late diagnosis,C-PTSD, masking and assimilation on another day.)

“Why can’t you be more spontaneous?” That’s the way my autism runs.

Masking and unmasking

My difficulty in being spontaneous is related to my autistic need for routine and structure.  Changes in plans or routines can be disabling; masking and assimilation means covering that up so my distress is not seen.

Since my autism diagnosis, I’ve been working on unmasking,  unwinding all those things that cause internal stress simply by virtue of being aware of my differences.

The challenge is engaging with society, unmasked.

“Why can’t you be more spontaneous?” That’s the way my autism runs.

A Francophile and Brisbane’s annual French Festival

I’ve been aware that I need to start getting out and about again. Since my diagnosis, I’ve been a bit reclusive, not going out much,  just going out for my Shebah work and groceries, and the occasional movie.

I heard promotions for the 2024 French Festival, and decided I would go. I bought a three-day pass, thinking that it would Gove me some flexibility around Shebah bookings.

I went along, catching the bus down to South Bank. Getting to the festival was easy. My autism made the rest of it tricky.

My planning was simply to go to the French Festival. I didn’t plan for what to do at the festival. And that was my unmasked downfall.Wandering aimlessly might sound wonderful to some people. For autistic me, it was distinctly uncomfortable.

“Why can’t you be more spontaneous?” That’s the way my autism runs.

Regathering and planning another outing

After thinking deeply, on the bus after leaving the festival,  on the drive from the bus station to home, and at home,  I realised that the discomfort I was in was from the aimless wandering.

Hence, I then planned outings that I could set up a program for; no aimless wandering.

… drumroll … The Ekka.

The Ekka, or more correctly, the Royal Queensland Show, is a celebration of agriculture and a joyful meeting of country and city in the Brisbane CBD. It started in 1876, and has run every year since except for:

  • 1919 – because of the influenza epidemic;
  • 1942 – during World War Two,  the showgrounds were used by the military, including what we now know as The Old Museum;
  • 2020 and 2021 – during the Covid-19 pandemic.

Yes, the Ekka is an institution.

My Ekka memories

I went to the Ekka many times as a child. My parents bred and showed dogs, so we were at the dog show that is part of the Ekka. We had backyard chooks, so I would go to the poultry pavilion.

I remember sitting in the stands at the main arena, watching the cattle and horses being paraded, the horses being put through their paces in dressage and show jumping.

I remember the Ekka “must dos”; the showbags which, back then, were sample bags; the dogwood dogs, the fairy floss and the now famous strawberry sundaes.

The Ekka 2024

I bought a ticket for Tuesday,  because at the dog show, Tuesday was the day for Terriers (Group 2). I grew up with Australian Terriers and Scottish Terriers that were showed. Of our dogs, in the 1970s, we had three champions (Australian Terriers) and one triple champion (Scottish Terrier). So, yes, there is a connection to Group 2.

But then,  I heard a callout for volunteers for The Common Good, the charity that put on the strawberry sundae stands, raising funds for The Common Good, the Prince Charles Hospital Foundation. I decided to register as a volunteer.

Ekka Strawberry Sundaes

My autistic heart was singing. Registration was easy, on-boarding was slick and well done. I signed on for four shifts as a Cashier.

The Ekka runs for nine days, from Saturday to Sunday on the following week. My four shifts were from 5pm to 9.30pm, Sunday, Wednesday, Thursday and Sunday.

First shift, at the Gregory Terrace stand. They had four cashiers for two registers,  so I volunteered to stay out the back,  cutting and slicing strawberries. For the first shift, I was very nervous, and anxious. So when they  needed strawberries cut,  I jumped in.  Having a knife in my hand, a cutting board in front of me and food to be prepared; that’s my happy place.

Second shift, at the Plaza stand. They only had one register, and was on that register for my full shift. Busy, busy,  busy.  And I had a golden moment.

Third shift, back at the Gregory Terrace Stand, on the registers. A negative experience.

Fourth shift, at the Gregory Terrace stand, in the registers. Good as gold.

“Why can’t you be more spontaneous?” That’s the way my autism runs.

The golden moment

At the Plaza stand, we had two cashiers for one register, so one of us ran the register and the other handed across the card that was to be presented at the next window to receive your sundae/s.

I was on cards when I noticed a young man come up, wearing a sunflower lanyard. I noticed his speech pattern, eye contact, and the way he moved,  and knew he was autistic. As I handed him his card, I told him that he was “doing great,  autistic brother,  from an autistic sister”.

His smile, and the slight change in his posture, made my day.

So imagine my delight when he came back, later in the evening. He looked at my name badge, and in a measured way, called me by my name, and said I was also doing great,  “autistic sister, from an autistic brother”.

I nearly cried.

If you have any hidden disability, you know how moving it is to be seen. My words obviously affected that young man, the same way his reciprocation moved me.

When I think about that young autistic man, going to the Ekka on People’s Day, usually the busiest day of the Ekka, my heart swells. (Autistic hyperempathy.) Deploying his coping strategies, not masking, wearing the sunflower lanyard, moving about the Ekka.

So yes, I’m counting those combined experiences as a golden, precious moment.

The negative moment

At the start of each shift,  I disclosed my autism. On the third shift, another cashier was a retired teacher. My experience with her was less than stellar. She questioned my diagnosis and didn’t believe it was possible to be diagnosed so late in life. I had to explain Level 1, 2 and 3 support needs for autistic people.

Later in the evening, this person socially excluded me from the social chat among the cashiers at the end of the shift. 

I had a little RSD (Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria flare, but then reminded myself – it was her loss, not mine.

In conclusion

So, no,  I didn’t get to see the dog show. I did have a fantastic experience volunteering for The Common Good. And I had that golden moment.

I’ve bought myself a sunflower wristband and pin, so maybe there might be more autistic recognition, and potential for more golden moments.

Going to big event, with a definite plan of what to do, made a big difference in my autistic experience at The Ekka, in contrast to the aimlessness French Festival.

My next test of my coping strategies at an event will be a trip to the Eat Street Markets at Hamilton. A plan – to explore it as it is now, and have something to eat.

Here’s to the next steps in my journey as a late diagnosed autistic women.