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You mean everyone doesn’t shrug?

I was standing in the supermarket queue today with my husband and our 9-year-old daughter.
I’m a big fan of queues. It’s one of the things I like best about being British. Queuing is the right and fair thing to do and we usually do it well. A couple of weeks ago when I was standing at the fish counter being all polite and patient with my trolley, a late-middle-aged woman walked right in front of me and got herself served before me. I was furious. I’m still drafting a letter to my MP in my head demanding that all queue jumpers be deported regardless of age. Seriously though, if we suddenly stopped queuing I wouldn’t cope. It’s one of those social rules I get and follow easily.

But getting back to today: While we were waiting in the checkout queue, I thought about my new awareness of my difference. I had a good look at everyone around me and I’m pretty sure no one but me was standing with their shoulders all sort of squidged up, and a bit shruggy and self-protective with their arms pulled in stiffly by their sides. Everyone else’s shoulders seemed to be down and rounded with loose arms. Is this what it’s going to be like? I thought. Am I going to keep thinking about how I’m different from everyone around me now?
Already this morning I had thought about my overreaction to the empty almond butter jar: “WHAT AM I GOING TO PUT ON MY TOAST NOW?!?!”
That’s because I have Asperger’s?
Is it?
I don’t know.

I had also thought about how Mum always says how I cried to be left alone as a baby, and was the only one who just wanted to sleep, whereas my sisters cried for attention.
That’s because I have Asperger’s?
Is it?
I don’t know.

In the car on the way to the supermarket, I had to close my eyes and shut out one of the stimuli making an assault on my senses. The radio, our daughter’s incessant chatting, the movement of the vehicle, the bump of the gear changes: I felt exhausted.
That’s because I have Asperger’s?
Is it?
I don’t know.

Part of it is because I’m tired and emotional, I expect. I felt overwhelmed again last night. And so, so emotional. I’ve spent days looking up psychologists online, trying to find which ones are close enough to me, which ones are clinical psychologists, which ones do autism assessments in adults and not just children, and waiting to see which ones will answer my emails and questions. It’s time-consuming and confusing. But not as confusing as the chaos in my brain. I’m analysing everything, and thinking about the future and the past. I got into bed last night and cried my eyes out.
Who am I?

I don’t regret this, I don’t regret any of this. I decided earlier that a good metaphor would be the feeling you might get if you were about to get married, and a good friend revealed to you what a completely deceitful, cheating, dishonest tosspot your future spouse is. There would be initial pain and lots of rearranging of your past and your future in your head but eventually you know it would be the right thing to do, and you would be better off with a new plan.

A few people have asked me if I really need to get diagnosed. And the answer for me is Yes. I want someone who works with Asperger’s every day to look at me, listen to me and recognise me. If it stigmatises me, so be it. The best way to describe it right now is I feel like I have windows but I can’t see through them yet. They need cleaning to clarify what I’m dealing with.

After a walk on the beach with Richard and our 9-year-old I came home and did a bit more research. I filled in an austic spectrum questionnaire and got another high score on a website written by someone who works with people on the autistic spectrum. She writes:
My view of Asperger syndrome is that it is simply a different way of thinking and thought processing. Asperger syndrome only affects a small part of the brain and, similar to dyslexia, does not change personality.
More at:

I found it reassuring and self-validating in a way.

I’m still me. I always was.

But please don’t take all the almond butter!

2 Comments Post a comment
  1. Rachel, I feel your going through a similar analysis of your brain as I have in recent years. When you have any type of different brain wiring to what is thought as normal, you analyse, review, ask questions, constantly seeking answers.
    I was told that when we find we have a life changing diagnosis, we go through the same five stages as grief and you will go in and out of these stages.


    • Hi, Lesley. You are right. There is definitely some processing going on that it taking over my life and putting me through some strong emotions. Good to see you here. xxx



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