It’s been three weeks since I’ve diagnosed myself an Aspie girl. Three weeks since my doctor just nodded and said she wasn’t surprised. Three weeks since I showed my significant others the list of traits, and got a round of nodding heads for my trouble. Three weeks since my whole life turned upside down, righting itself in the process.
Today, I told my mom. Today, I decided to start this blog. Today, I’ve decided to share my journey, my joys and fears, my past and present, my experiences. Today, I decided to find my voice.
There is precious little to be found for Aspie women out there, grown and functioning to whatever degree they’ve managed to function in the world. It’s building, but I think the best asset in the future won’t be the clinical diagnosis path, but the common ground bond with other Aspie women. There is something about spending your entire life outside looking in, until one day someone taps you on the shoulder and you turn around, realizing what you were looking for was standing outside with you all the time.
This blog will not always be pretty, or happy. I’m not always pretty or happy. I am counter culture in many ways. I am openly bisexual, polyamorous, Pagan and now, Aspie. I strive to always be honest, to myself and to others. This is my chance to have a voice. It’s hard for me to know when not to share things. This way, if people want to read, they can. If you don’t want to know all about me, even the awkward stuff, keep movin’, Junior. I don’t intend to hold back. I NEED this. You’ve all been duly warned. 🙂
I am sure initially, I will be copying the ideas I see in other Aspie posts, writing a lot about how and why I found this world, why I choose not to pursue a formal diagnosis. It’s mostly for my own thought process, to help to calm the jumble, and to have something to look back on on the days I question my sanity. I also hope this gives my loved ones and people who would like to know me an insight into what it’s like to be me, why I do the things I do, what I’m trying to do to make it better for those who must deal with my quirks, or not deal, because I’m very good at avoidance. I’m doing this for my daughters, so they can see me practice what I preach: courage isn’t doing things that doesn’t scare you, it’s doing even when you’re terrified.
I am scared of being judged, but I am terrified of being misunderstood. I am scared to speak, but I’m terrified to keep silent. I’m scared to live, but I’m terrified to die without giving it my best shot.
Join me, if you dare.