I'm not proud of it. It is not something I accomplished or achieved.
I'm not proud of it. In fact, I'm deeply ashamed of it. It's something that I invest vast amounts of energy in concealing, compensating for, and controlling. My proudest Aspie achievements are managing not to act like an Aspie, at least on the outside.
I am, however, sometimes grateful for it. When I sit on the toilet reading about social life as captured in Playboy magazine, I am very thankful to be an Aspie. When the parents of my kids' friends start carrying on about who said what to who and/or unfriended who on Facebook, I am very thankful to be an Aspie. When I watch commercials on television, I am very thankful to be an Aspie.
Times like that make me think that, as much as this damn "difference" has cost me and as much trouble as it has caused, it has spared me from more, greater, and worse.
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"Alas, our dried voices when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless, as wind in dry grass, or rats' feet over broken glass in our dry cellar." --TS Eliot, "The Hollow Men"