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Much like the hypervigilance that’s common to trauma survivors with PTSD, masking is a reflex that comes out most intensely when we experience uncertainty or social threat. And recognizing oneself as a disabled person certainly doesn’t make the world seem any less confusing or threatening. However, accepting ourselves as Autistic does free many of us (perhaps for the first time) to question whether it’s fair that we be expected to live in such a concealed, apologetic way.
It means reexamining the stereotypes about Autistics (and other disabled people) we’ve been exposed to via media, education, and formative experiences in our youth. It requires we question society’s most deeply cherished values, and notice where there are gaps between what we’ve been told we should be, and how we’d actually like to live.
This part feels like a weekly struggle, because I realized I am too scared to tell people that I’m Autistic after experiencing negative reactions and responses to my already-labeled “weird” behavior. I feel like 3 people most of the time, and I’m not sure how to bring those 3 me’s into something cohesive that I can be proud of.
I think some weird things I’d like to put out there that I can’t really share with others IRL is that I love making horrible song parodies and I’ve written several books and short stories that I’ve never shared with anyone.
My favorite Pokémon games were Diamond and Sapphire. Camerupt and Drifblim were my favorites. Cosplaying at a con was the most fun I’ve had interacting with others. I sometimes miss not knowing I’m autistic…but I’m working on it.
Yeah the book mentions conventions being a gathering place of special interests, so neurodivergent folks kind of flock there in droves. I love making and wearing costumes but haven’t touched any of them since before covid.
That’s awesome that she won an award! The cosplay community is incredibly cool.