Every day at some point, my Audhd reminds me that it’s on-call and ready for action. This usually happens before I open my eyes, as my brain floods with the day’s tasks, last night’s emotions, the history of the lemon tree (yes, there’s a history) and a million other things that Normies (in our house, they’re called norms or muggles 😉 ) don’t. Apparently, they simply get up and do things. They don’t require the million side quests we go through if we actually have the mana and executive function to get things done.
This is the time in a discussion where invariably, someone would throw out that infuriating old statement, “everyone does that” or “everyone’s on the spectrum”. Not only does it denigrate those of us traversing this insane landscape, but it disregards the bullying, insults, shame, and invisibility of the spectrum child.
There are some of us who consider our neurodivergence to be a superpower at times. I feel that way a lot of the time. As a late diagnosis, I’ve had a lot of self-reflection to catch up on and … omg the carousel of emotions as my mind recalls moments in my life from my “now” pov. Just wow. I had to work at trying to release some of the shame of being the really weird kid, of being too talkative, of wearing masks ALL THE TIME, and most of all, never really knowing who I actually was.
Now, from my perch in my 67th year, I have no doubt the world outside my home never knew Janet. I knew inside what and who I wanted to be and my differently wired brain simply demanded I wear masks instead. That I people-please instead of learning how to ask for what I needed. There are a lot of twists and turns on this path and no damn road signs. I wish my mother knew for me and my sister what my daughter knows for my granddaughter. When I was little, we were just weird kids. The “retards” (god how that rankles me now to even type it) and the kids always in trouble or never seen, hiding behind long bangs.
Today, my daughter is armed with a library of information and research about the spectrum and her child, who’s getting more verbal by the day. We’ve learned in the past six years about our family’s history (yes, autism is genetic), and it explains so many, many things. Suddenly, people in my past, their behaviour, and their responses to me, make sense. Sad sense, but sense.
My mother knew somehow instinctively what she was dealing with. She was a gentle-parent before it became popular. My daughter’s parenting is so much like hers, she says she gets it from me, so of course that makes me tear up.
I’ve heard some late-diags say that they wished they’d never found out. Never been diagnosed. Ignorance is bliss, they declare. And I can definitely understand their reasoning. But for me, learning about this, even late in life, is worth all the brain-exploding truth I’ve had to accept.
2025 – jj thompson
LIFE on the HALF SHELL 