Tuesday, 29 January 2013


It is terrifying to wake up to carpool to work.  It is early morning.  It is cold.  I know my schedule, I have a plan, and this gives me security as I walk to meet my colleague’s car.  
But then, there’s another friend in the car, and this friend is having an emotional crisis.  And it’s not my crisis and I don’t understand what she is feeling or how I can fix it, so I sit silently, rocking in the back seat of the car, sipping my tea and stimming.  
Suddenly, my day is unpredictable.  My day is chaotic.  Every thing I touch seems to break.  I no longer remember social rules; I regress to a younger version of myself and avoid eye-contact, deny people the opportunity to engage in conversation, and refuse to speak unless it is of something that I am interested in.  
I had an Autism Day today.  I met a trigger at 6 in the morning in a navy blue Nissan and now, 17 hours later, I find myself curled up on my desk chair, unable to think, kicking my feet uncontrollably into the bottom of the table.  My knees are bruised now.  
It is embarrassing when I encounter my own weaknesses.  I suppose that’s what I’m getting at here.