Blissfully Being: Expressions of PosAutivity: #AutismPositivity2014

Being Autistic is lovely. How could it be otherwise to me? If I am happy with who I am, would I not be happy with at least the major concepts I have of who that person is? Certainly, I have things I’d like to tweak, improve on, lots of them, actually, but the general concept of who I am is okay with me, and that is lovely.

I don’t know what it is like to not be autistic. I am hypersentitive, even for an autistic person. Like many females on the spectrum, I am an outstanding mimic. I can almost pass, if not as neurotypical, at least as pleasantly eccentric, and I work it! It is how I get through the social world when not on stage. I have no problems on stage. I find it curious that not being a social creature is the major prism with which autism is viewed. How can that be? Do we not all avoid things that are not in our list of desires, instincts, and strengths? Is it a pathological deficit if an athletic person is not good at flower arranging? Why is the instinct and ability to socialize in the way most people do considered the very essence of being defined as human? I am so very human, and love my fellow man deeply, effortlessly. Really. It is lovely.

My feelings seldom get hurt, and that is certainly a lovely thing! When I say I am hypersensitive, it has nothing to do with being someone who is acutely emotional. It may be very nice to be that way, but I am not, and it is lovely. The sensitivity I experience every moment of my living is sensory, and is the very essence of my being autistic. It can be lovely. Or not. It rules everything.

I used to think everyone experienced life the way I did. Now, I know they don’t. I used to think that the ways colors and sounds and touch hurt was something everyone felt, but that I was such an awful, weak, person that I was the only one who found it overwhelming. Everything made me cry, even tasting some things. Everyone else seemed to be having such a great time but me. I hated myself for that. It was not lovely. I made it lovely.

I developed a set of skills that both protect me and enable me to make my way through life. I filled my world with the colors, sounds, taste, and lifestyle that are extremely pleasing to me. I use my abilities to do the things I am good at, and avoid the things that would cause me the greatest harm. I don’t drive, because that might harm others if my sensory system skews my perception. Harming others is my greatest fear and my emotional Achilles heel. I can take all that life throws me except that. I have buckets of courage and valor with my stubborn mindset. Except when it comes to hurting someone’s feelings in some way. Even thinking about it makes me fight tears. I cannot take hurting, and so avoid risk of doing so. When I do hurt, it haunts me forever, even if amends are made. So, I love. Purely. Simply. With trusting abandon. It is lovely. If I struggle following a conversation, if the onslot of background noise and sensory attack of strange surroundings makes it hard to socialize, I can simply love, and that is often enough. It is not a matter of treating everyone wonderfully. It is the discipline of purely seeing them as wonderful. We are all incredibly profane and divine. I choose to see the divine. It’s that simple choice that simplifies all social obligations. It is lovely, and so are you.

 

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