Getting the diagnosis didn’t correct anything, but it helped explain so much. My hyper focus. Issues with textures and tastes. Inability to recognize correct social cues, and not realizing when I’ve hurt or offended someone. Psychosomatic reactions to situations that stress me out. It was like I’d been living my life in a darkened room, and suddenly the lights were turned on.
There’s no cure-all medication for autism. No get-rich-quick scheme that could instantaneously make me ‘better’ or ‘normal’. But I began working with a therapist, identifying every area that I struggled in, and developed a plan to help me to continue growing as an autistic adult. Using my wonderful fake name and email address, I got involved with a few online autismcommunities, and found out I was nowhere near the only adult who’d gotten a late diagnosis.
I immersed myself in all things autism: blogs, community groups, podcasts. I learned about masking, which immediately became a key part of surviving life. Controlling how sensations impacted me was huge. Many athletes walk around with noise-canceling headphones, and I became one as well. I watched a movie calledFor Love of the Game, with Kevin Costner, where he’s a Major League pitcher. Whenever he was on the mound, he’d say, “control the mechanism.” He taught his brain how to drown out all the noise so he could completely focus on the task at hand. I was able to do that, drowning out everything in the stadium except for my teammates in the huddle with me, and the radio in my helmet where my coach gave me the plays.
But every now and again, I get lost. Where something that’s always been easy to handle is suddenly … not. For no real reason, it’s like I hit a wall, and can’t find my way around it.
Today, that wall is messaging Dr. A.
I have to get the ball rolling for this event, and the first thing is establishing a partnership with the veterinarian. I have no idea why this seems so monumental. It’s a conversation. Something I routinely do. Instead, every single thing I want to say sounds weird.
Hello, I like animals.
I really don’t want to do this.
Dr. A., I’d like to know your real name because calling you Dr. A is weird.
I really don’t want to do this.
Is there a way to be an MC without actually being seen? Like the wizard behind the curtain in The Wizard of Oz?
Is there a name for a man who’d rather be with his cats? Can a thirtysomething year old man have too many cats? What’s the male version of spinster?
I really don’t want to do this.
Not exactly sounding like an award-winning NFL quarterback right now, am I?
Goose meows at me from his perch on the massive cat tree I had custom made for my bedroom. When his eyes meet mine, I swear he nods in agreement. Yep, I sound like a wimp, and even my cat agrees. Maverick head butts me, then proceeds to make biscuits on my chest. “Well, at least one of you doesn’t think I’m a chump.”
Unknown
Hello, my name is James Young. I’ll be the MC for the Playful Paws event. The board wanted me to reach out to you so we can begin planning.
Flash yipsexcitedly as I stare at my phone in confusion. Who?
Me
How did you get this number?
Unknown
The board?
Me
I was unaware I’d be working with someone on this year’s event.
Unknown
It was sprung on me this week.
Me
Is the board worried I won’t be able to do it alone?
Unknown
No, I think they’re more worried about financials. They want to make the event as big as possible, to bring in as many donations as they can. Last year’s event wasn’t as successful as they’d hoped.
