My mother may have been a nurse in a psychiatric ward, but she could never seem to accept that I am disabled. I don’t know whether either of my parents ever suspected I was autistic, but they never pursued a diagnosis for me. Even when I was a teenager and my difficulties managing a neurotypical life became more and more clear, my mother still couldn’t accept that the reason was anything other than laziness. She opposed me getting evaluated for depression, she opposed me getting evaluated for ADHD, and I still don’t think she believes that I’m autistic.
Continue reading Growing Up Under the Autism Radar
Astro Autistic 