Hello, I am Autistic
Adventures in not fitting in over forty
I’ve never fit in. Anywhere or with anyone. I thought for a time that it was because I was huge, white, living among pacific islander people, and just an awkward fucking teenager. But at 42, I can honestly still say I’ve never found my group, tribe, or clique.
Some of my not fitting in ness was explained when at twenty-five and in college, I was diagnosed with ADHD. This was super confusing. I had been diagnosed with a bucket full of learning disabilities in third grade, but not ADHD. I had well-documented problems with spelling, math, reading, retaining information, and spacial manipulation. Still, I was not like all the little boys I’d been in special ed classes with in elementary school that had been like chickens on crack trying to do complicated math programs.
I told the psychologist who diagnosed me, “Are you sure? I’ve never in my life been accused of being hyperactive.”
“That’s not a requirement. You report a significant amount of distraction symptoms. Why don’t you try a stimulant and see if it helps,” she nodded to me through her wire-rim glasses while handing me a script.
Ritalin was a kind of magic. I could sit down and read for the first time in my life. It was amazing to read and not think about seven other things while trying to follow the track of…
