Tea, Biscuits, and Autism

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...