My Autism:

Like any life, some days are beautiful, some are miserable, and many are in between. My life consists of thought, of observation, of experience, and some confusion. I set goals, I plan (sometimes), I achieve or I fail. What makes me so different?

But I have felt different my entire life, only to be diagnosed in adulthood. I didn't know why early on, I was just "me" and I still am, only with a label and a better focus on how to interpret myself and the world around me. I consider Autism as my little instruction booklet to myself, a manual that helps sum up my difficulties and my abilities, though by no means defines me.

I am considered "high-functioning" despite that I've come to detest these sorts of labels (they denigrate any difficulties I may have: "successful" does not necessarily equate "easy"). Much of my social life consists of online chats and forums. Occasionally I feel lonely; most times, I'm too distracted by interesting things, such as studying or making art, to have the focus to truly care. I can be friendly, self-confident, funny, and painfully shy. Sometimes I need a change; most times I find comfort in my routine.

My interests are my life. I'm going into research. I'm both analytical and creative, however oxymoronic that may seem. I am a scientist in the art studio: picking apart behavior, designing questionnaires, inputting data-- drawing with colored pencils or fine graphite, painting in acrylic or water color, photographing nature or architecture. Always keeping an eye out for interesting angles and compositions, be they in art or science.

I worry about my future-- not so much my career, but my life as a human being, as a social creature designed to relate to other human beings-- though I'm clearly not designed so well in that respect. I worry about intimacy, about finding another person to share my life with, be they a wonderful friend, partner, or both. I worry about being seen as an equal, as a mature person by other people, yet at the same time I worry about not finding someone to mentor me in the things in life which I just can't seem to learn as naturally or as quickly as others. 

I am happy, but I worry that my happiness rests like on the edge of a knife ready to fall to either side and pitch me into misery. I worry that my happiness is dependent upon life's Predictability, Calmness, and Financial Stability moreso than most people-- each of these which, everyone knows, is rarely predictable and that few people go through life unscathed by this trio's inconsistency. 

I worry about large and small things. And I find enjoyment in large and small things. The large: in thinking one day I'll be successful in my chosen field. The small: such as enjoying a trip to Walgreens and buying some small trinkets that I loved in childhood and have never truly outgrown. --The feel of sun on my face after winter especially that first warm day, watching cartoons, and sadness knowing that one day, drawing nearer, my mother will pass away and my life, an extended childhood, will leave me and I will change forever.

I am autistic, but all these things, these worries and blessings, abilities and difficulties, though particular to me are not unlike those things most people enjoy and worry about. I suppose my point is this: despite that my brain is statistically ab-normal, despite that I have a label, despite that I may even view and experience the world in unusual ways, I am not so different. I am beautiful and ugly, happy and miserable, like any human being. And I am as much a Disorder as anyone else.