Tea, Biscuits, and Autism

Here's a link: http://www.autism.org.uk/get-involved/media-centre/news/2016-10-27-employment-gap.aspx Think a moment about the stat. 16% of autistic adults in full-time work. Sixteen percent . That is desperate and shameful - and it doesn't even consider how many of those lucky sixteen percent are able to fulfil their potential and develop their career. Another link: https://www.wearethecity.com/nine-ten-uk-companies-not-considering-neurodiverse-candidates/ If only 10% of workplaces make accommodation for neurodiversity, that inarguably presents an obstacle to autistic and other neurodiverse people, it will contribute to the employment gap, and any proposals to address the problem should be both welcomed and encouraged However, it only gets us so far. Before adjustments can be made to help an autistic person in the workplace, they have to be in the workplace . Granted, very few people enjoy interviews and assessment centres, whether neurotypical or not - but for aut

Today is Time to Talk day, run by the campaign Time to Change. And I want to talk about this. Of course, as you're reading this, it's not Time to Talk day (that was February 1st); it's taking me a while to get this blog together, I'm not a spontaneous person, things take time and they take preparation. I promise, however, that I am sat here writing on the relevant day. Firstly, and above all else, I need to clarify something: I have no objection to Time to Talk. It's a great idea. It is hopefully benefiting many people, encouraging those with a wide range of mental health issues - or those affected by such issues in others - to find support from friends and family and colleagues. It is an important thing. It is a good thing. Far too often, we are afraid to discuss mental health, because of the stigma attached. I won't go into that matter here, better to link to the official site: https://www.time-to-change.org.uk/about-us/our-impact . So yes, it's a g

This is by no means the worst thing I've read about autism: Nevertheless, it struck a nerve, and pushed me over the line from 'maybe I should write a blog' to 'yep, definitely need to start writing a blog'. Over the past year, I've found myself increasingly assertive in opposing misconceptions and lies about autism wherever I find them. At the heart of these, so often, is the idea of autism as a disease - one you can catch, one you can perhaps cure. When this rears its head, you'll often find scientifically-literate folk fighting back - and I'm glad they do, it's important work. However, there's a personal perspective that I always want to add, something very simple yet so often overlooked: I am not a disease. Look at that tweet. It's not shouty and crazy, it's not full of woo. In a very level and apparently considered (if scientifically nonsensical) manner, it presents autism as a dreadful condition that one can catch from a p

Before we began with the questions, and there were a lot of questions, I was told how it would work: the questions, then I'd go out into the waiting room for a while whilst they discuss my assessment, reach some conclusions, and if there was any uncertainty, I'd be asked to come back for further questions, further assessment. Certainly, the impression seemed to be, that second stage of assessment was more likely than not. Then the questions came, and I answered best I could, and as planned, I was asked to wait outside. No sooner had I sat down than they called me back; diagnosis of autism, no further assessment required, not borderline, clear as day, autistic. Lurch back eight months: a helpful therapist called Liz, a curious rounded room in the turret of an odd-looking building, asking me if it had ever been suggested I might be autistic (no, never). I did some informal tests, was put on a waiting list, eventually got that assessment. But Liz told me something else, she to