On Autism

It was over a year ago in May. Brent and I went together to see the doctor who had run hours and hours of tests on me. And together, we faced her...awaiting the results.

"Without a doubt, you have all of the traits of a person with high functioning autism, Sara," the doctor said. For a moment, I was shocked. Then, a wave of relief overtook me.

We discussed the other diagnoses that had been assigned to me years before, ones that clung to me like a ball and chain around my ankle: OCD, depression, anxiety, PTSD. She explained that when other doctors had seen "OCD" they didn't understand that I was rigidly following rules that my employment had depended upon when I worked in childcare and as a short order cook. Hand washing was a requirement. The depression and anxiety: those were situational and often followed times of change and transition that persons with autism struggle with. And well, the PTSD was situational as well. I had since made strides to overcome the issues that surrounded that.

So, autism. I was no foreigner to the word or the diagnosis. Six months earlier, my beautiful son was diagnosed himself. And if it wasn't for that, I wouldn't have ever had the inkling to get myself tested.

The similarities were uncanny...the need for certain sensory input: soft blankets, soft clothing, tight hugs; the avoidance of loud noises, crowds, etc; the awkward feeling when no one seems to understand what you're trying to say because you cannot make the words in your brain match the ones coming out of your mouth. And, this annoying "but they LOOK so normal" statement that follows persons who are different on the inside but don't have a glaring "look" of being differently-abled on the outside.

So, well. High functioning autism. Asperger's, it would have been known as before the powers that be changed the DSM. High intellect, need for routine and dislike of change, quirky, socially awkward.

The running joke in our house is that "I am Sheldon Cooper." If you've seen the Big Bang Theory, you know what I'm talking about. There have been so many episodes that Brent and I have watched together and looked at each other with this ever knowing glance of "truth."

And here I am, Same Sara. I'm honored for you to join me in this journey as I have officially just came out: I am autistic; I am learning to embrace it just as I encourage Jackson to do the same everyday.

Note: Anytime I mention my son, Jackson, in a blog post, I read it with him and ask his permission. I ask for feedback and make necessary changes to make this place be a safe place for him too.