When your autistic issues begin to change…

Throughout life there have been a bunch of issues, that for me have been difficulties. Always been that way, before diagnosis and post diagnosis. Well always that is until recently they began to change somewhat.

The only catalyst I can ascertain as the locus for these changes is the introduction of T blockers on Oestrogen into my systems. This may be a coincidence of course, and it may be that the locus for change is as much about being able to be me, and beginning social transition as well as medical transition.

For me, throughout life, autism issues for me have predominantly been on the social register of what are considered autistic issues. This is not to neglect and pretend that I don’t have any communication issues, and there is some significance in those too, but what has been the most difficult aspect of being autistic for me, has been dealing with the social aspects.

The not really wanting to be that social – or at least resigning myself to that being the reality.

The difficulty in relating in social settings.

The abject fear of getting it all wrong

The inability to make good and lasting friendships.

The dealing with people en masse.

The not being able to keep friends when I have managed to make some.

The getting the reciprocity of it all wrong, almost every time.

And I am sure this is an incomplete list, I don’t pretend for a moment it is complete in any way at all.

I am though, somewhat intrigued by how much of the things in that list have changed somewhat or are in a process of morphing into something different. It is intensely interesting to me, that the commonality point for these changes is squarely in the point of transition. I think even my ex partner would be in agreement on that point.

For certain, having the change in hormone balance for me is a wonderful and amazing thing that has incredible effects on my body systems, not least of which is my emotional systems which are more stable now than they have been my entire life. But, also, for certain, is the absolute surprise of how some of these autism things have or are changing or becoming easier to manage and deal with.

I remain, and always will an ardently out and proud autistic individual. I am proud to be autistic, not because autism is something wonderful, though it has aspects of that to it, but that autism is intrinsically a part of me. I am proud to be autistic because I am proud to accept, celebrate and walk my journey of life as the person I am, and that person is an autistic person.

This is no thought bubble on trans autistic people suddenly finding a cure all for autism, not by a long shot. I still have my issues. I am still a sensory seeker in many situations and on occasion I have my sensory input issues too.

What I now find though, is, that I seek out social interaction, I am more able to be spontaneous in those interactions, I am able to reciprocate, manage relationships better and certainly far less avoiding of new situations and gatherings of people which are not only small and intimate.

It’s a strange sensation, it’s a very strange and in a sense odd situation to be in. 40 odd years of all of these things being so intensely difficult. Difficult in fact, to the point of experiencing relentless bullying by others and a sense of never being able to be much of a success at anything. To suddenly find oneself feeling an intense desire to be with my people more, to experience life in a more social realm than in a realm more like that of a hermit.

Of course, it’s all a learning process, and change isn’t instant by any stretch of the imagination, and by no stretch of the imagination do I think I will ever be a successful socialite of the world. But, to find myself receiving joy and fulfilment from social situations, to find myself finding those situations easier to manage, even, dare I say it, enjoyable and desirable is, to my mind, nothing short of miraculous.

I am convinced at this point that much of this is due largely to transition. It may be due to the insertion of medications into my system or it may be due to the process of discovering who I really am, accepting that, stepping into it and walking it. I suppose it’s impossible to really know whether it is one or the other, or a combination of the both.

I personally suspect it is a combination of the both. The self acceptance allows the thought processes to begin, the desire to make those things better. The medications I think, then provide the change in hormonal systems and emotional stability to act out what is already changing in internal desires and so forth.

Of course, we will never know for sure, it’s just my thoughts on the matter. I think though, importantly, is the idea that if this is true for me, how many others might it also be true for. In terms of both autistic trans* people and allistic trans* people. Is my experience a common one, or is it something unique.

Of course every single person’s life and experiences are unique to themselves, but it is worth thinking and at least wondering, about this in terms of the greater autistic trans* community.

Not a lot of research has been done in terms of the large number of LGBTQIA+ identifying people who are autistic, which it seems is even more pronounced when it comes to the Trans identity, whatever identity that may be, genderfluid, agender, NB etc. One study I read at spectrum.org in 2015 put the likelihood of autistic people being transgender as 7 times more likely than non autistic. It’s a huge increase in prevalence I think you would agree.

If this figure is correct, and even if it is not quite correct, anecdotally it is really clear that there is an increased prevalence of trans people who are autistic than non autistic, then I think it is pertinent to wonder, how much being able to transition, or, not even transition but to be able to explore, accept and be the person that one is, will have positive impact on the ability to experience life and to have the best possible life outcomes for those autistic people.

It seems to me it would be remiss for us to not think about this in a sustained way. It seems to me that this is a fertile area of research into the trans autistic experience. Research that respects and involves those trans autistic people as equals and not simply subjects would of course provide the most fertile and informative results.

Maybe it’s just me, but I am pretty convinced that we owe it to our trans autistic tribe to investigate these ideas and discover whatever it is we can, learn what we can, because it is incumbent on all of us with any capacity to do so to work to enable all autistic people, trans and cis, to have the best and most wonderful life outcomes as possible.

Red pill or Blue pill…

It was 8 months ago yesterday that I took that first pill that marked the first step of a medical transition. It was 7 months ago yesterday that I added the second pill to the mix. Both those moments were seminal moments of life. I can’t help but be reminded of Morpheus and Neo and the Red and Blue pill scene. A scene that can with hindsight be read back into given the Wachowskis own transitions. But thoughts of that are for another time I guess.

Prior to that day 8 months ago, and of course the many months of processing and questioning immediately before it. The conversations with others, the therapy sessions, the realisations and so forth, life was just, in a very real way just somehow wrong. It was a wrongness that is not easily described but it is a wrongness nevertheless.

After a month of T blocking tablets I was to take my first little blue pill that contained that almost magical substance Oestrogen. It marked the end of a journey marked in many ways by futility and failure and the beginning of a new journey, a new fork, a major deviation into a new time, a new way. A way that was not marked by that sense of futility and failure but with hope and possibility.

To say it’s been somewhat of a wild ride is somewhat of an understatment, and to pretend it has been 100% positive experience also would be nothing short of a lie, but more of that in a moment.

Vividly, I recall sitting on the couch the day after taking that first little blue pill, and just after taking the second, sitting, with a sense of calm, a sense of rightness, a sense of balance; a sense of something I can’t describe as anything but a discovery of the feeling of what it was to be the me I was meant to be. I still can’t describe it any better now, than then, but I have had so many conversations over the months with other trans people who describe very similar experiences. Indeed, in that moment of feeling I posted on social media, in a safe group I was in, that somehow everything felt right with the world in a way it never had, I couldn’t describe it but that’s how it was. I was overwhelmed with affirmations of others.

Of course, life is very good at throwing us curve balls, and very soon everything was to change. My marriage would be over, my relationship with my children forever changed, my place in the home essentially removed. As much as my then partner is a supportive and good person, when it has come to me being trans, it has been a huge struggle for her. I respect that she has found this difficult, I really do, however, her actions in some cases have been extremely difficult and painful for me to deal with.

There were moments over the last months that it has been like living two sides of a single coin. On the one side has been the joy, the wonder, the growth of transition, of being allowed to be the real me and discover so much more of who the real me was. On the other has been living in a state of poverty, of experiencing great emotional pain in the loss of my home, the loss of any sense of financial security, the loss of extended family.

Really, it’s been quite the experience of joy and pain co-existing together in what I think is quite a remarkable way.

In the midst of this though, brilliant, wonderful and amazing things have happened. I have discovered new friends, I have been able to experiment and discover things about myself that I had kept so hidden and pushed down so deep that they had been for so many years finding their way out of me in bouts of anger and rage, leaving me living life in a demeanour that was nothing short of ugly.

There’s no question, transition, well, it’s bloody hard. Every relationship comes under revaluation, you become an Olympic champion in the sport of looking over your shoulder to evaluate whether those whispers were about you or not. Going out in public is often an act of defiance. Those are just the realities. All of that happening in the midst of your body changing your emotional world becoming different than it ever has been as your hormonal system finds a balance it has never had.

As an autistic trans woman, I had pretty much given up on the idea of work and career. The statistics, the way society was, seemed to be telling me to forget about it. I had pretty much told myself, just be happy that you can be you, just be happy that you can write, be happy that you can be involved in some advocacy and support stuff. Be happy and satisfied with that.

I was in fact wrong. Three weeks ago I began a new career in a corporate organisation. It still seems somewhat surreal and that I need to pinch myself to assure myself it’s not just a dream. But, it isn’t a dream. And the thing is, it would never have happened, it could never have happened if it had not have been for that moment of decision to begin the process of medical transition.

Without the results of that, I would never have been able to be the positive force I was in being involved in some key projects run by a research organisation.

Without that I would never have been able to be in a place where I could calmly stand before a roomful of corporate executives and make a call to action about employment for autistic people.

Without any of that I would simply not have been able to be in the place of employment I am in today.

Transition is a journey of ups and downs and lefts and rights. It involves joys and sorrows, losses and gains. It is unpredictable in the extreme, you will never predict how many will stand with you as true friends and allies, and who will turn out to not stand with you.

I’m drawn back to that moment, two little pills, taking a month to come together and really begin to do the work they were meant to. I am drawn to that moment, a catalyst moment of change.

Choosing to take those pills, making the choice to begin medical transition, was to akin to being Neo in The Matrix and taking the pill that would enable the beginning of discovery of just how deep the rabbit hole goes.

Recruiters, businesses, HR departments – do you have the courage?

I’ve been in my job now for just two short weeks, and so far it has been an overwhelmingly positive experience. Sure, nothing is absolutely perfect, and I am beginning to get over all the internal training and reading of documents, but it’s a good place to be. Firstly and foremostly it’s a good place to be in just having a job. More than that is that it’s a good organisation that actually cares about their people and wants them to do well.

If it hadn’t been for the alternative process, finding myself in this position would in all likelihood never have happened. I would have or had the likelihood of failing at multiple points along the way. I could have stumbled in managing to match myself to the position to apply for, or I could have stumbled at the point of writing an application letter, of putting together a resume that was appropriate. Interviews are not set up to be places of success for autistic people, and going through a typical interview process was again a point of stumbling and failing.

There are so many points on a recruitment journey in which an autistic person is prone to stumble or fail. Mostly, those stumbles and failure points are not a reflection on how well the autistic person would be able to be successful in the position at all, but, about how well they are able to navigate a recruitment process that is, to put it bluntly, stacked against them from the beginning.

In Australia, where I live, the statistics of employed autistic people are staggeringly bad. It seems autistic people as a group have the worst employment outcomes of just about any disability group there are. Somewhere in the vicinity of 40% of us have employment. And by employment, well, that’s what they call the workplace participation rate, and it means as little as a couple of hours a week. Essentially 6 out of 10 autistic people have no work. Of course, there are some who are not able to manage work, but that is certainly a very small minority. Most of us, want to work, are capable of work, would add value and be able to be successful in the organisations that gave us a chance.

I spent the preceeding four years as one of those 6 out of 10 with no work, it was agonisingly difficult, a constant assault on my sense of self-worth, my resilience to keep going, my belief in myself as a person with something of value to give to the world.

I know I was not alone. I am beyond fortunate to have been able be a part of a couple of things, that placed me in a position where a couple of the right people were able to see that I did have value to offer the world, and those people were able to make contact with another who was able to institute a recruitment process outside of the normal.

But, here’s the thing, it shouldn’t have needed to take the formation of that perfect little sequence of events for it to happen. With all the education, history and knowledge housed in the human resources world, it’s about time they realised that sometimes they need to do things outside of the typical in order to achieve the best outcome.

I did have to have a couple of interviews, but they were in a setting that put me at ease, conducted more as an informal conversation and exchange of ideas and discussion around things I had done, could do, and where and how I might fit into the organisation. A very different experience to sitting in a boardroom or the like in front of a panel of people firing questions, which had to be answered in the right way, all the while negotiating and working out the hidden social communication frameworks that are to be adhered to.

Last year in Queensland and South Australia, a company decided they wanted to give a different way of doing things a try, they totally changed their recruitment process with a view to getting some autistic people into jobs with them. The company runs piggeries, and so is not the old stereotype of autistic IT nerds sitting in front of PC’s coding away. An alternative application process was devised. Potential applicants spent some time at the piggery and both potential employee and employer got to see how each other was, in effect an extended trial. Both employee and employer got the opportunity to work out if the situation was one that would be of benefit to them both. At the end of the trial, the majority of these autistic individuals were employed. A very wonderful outcome that impacts the lives of a bunch of autistic people in inimaginably positive ways, and at the same time provides value, productivity and so forth for the organisation they have been employed by.

There have been a few different organisations in the media in recent times, how they are getting jobs for autistic people in programs, but overwhelmingly these programs have been firmly and squarely centred within the IT industries. Organisations like SAP and HP should be greatly applauded for being involved in these programs. It is a good thing. It is though, a drop in the ocean.

The organisations that have contracted with these IT giants, need to think more broadly than just IT. That we autistics are all IT experts is one of the most pervasively incorrect stereotypes that persist about us as autistic people. Just like allistic people we are as diverse as the day is long.

We are artists, writers, tradespeople, drivers, managers and anything else you care to name. Yes negotiating the world of recruitment has challenges for us, and given the statistics of our workforce participation, we are not managing these challenges well at all.

When we fail to meet these challenges successfully we miss out, we are often forced into entrenched poverty. But it’s not only us that miss out, it’s the rest of the world that misses out on sharing our lives, our contributions, our expertise and the gift we bring by just being human colleagues and friends.

The statistics are damning, very damning, autistic people are here, wanting to work, ready to work, and are a source of great potential success for businesses that take a chance and give us a shot.

This is important, because, time and again it is shown that we will fail along the typical recruitment journey, but also time and again it has been shown when an alternate path is provided that we can in fact do the job, deliver the productivity and skills that an organisation is looking for.

Doing recruitment differently is not just about making it easier for us autistics to get a job, though it is certainly that, but is just as much about making businesses more productive better businesses delivering better service and products to their customers, and therefore being more successful.

If we do it a bit differently, think outside the box, both autistic people, and the companies that recruit them will benefit greatly.

The question of course, and yes it’s the big question, the elephant in the room if you will, are organisations, recruitment departments brave enough to try, to give it a go, to test the water.

I hope they are, because things have got to change. I spent too long in unemployment, and I have too many autistic friends still in that position still. For as long as it goes on the gift to the world that we can give is thwarted. It’s time to change that.

I wonder if business has the courage to try.

Seizing the moment

I am currently sitting in a cafe, my local, a bit of a favourite cafe in fact. The coffee is good the atmosphere is great, and as I sip away at my coffee and let my fingers tap away at this keyboard, I am somewhat reflective of the week that has been.

It really was four long years of feeling defeated and unable to move forward, it really was a period of burnout and a long time to make the connection that burnout was at play. But, that time is over, and suddenly the world seems brighter, more possible, more able to navigate, and more able to survive and thrive as an autistic person in an allistic world.

It’s late Sunday morning, and thoughts are already turning to navigating the next week ahead. Week two. The daily early morning getting up, which has not been a thing, the navigating the public transport system, the what is acceptable dress code in this new corporate environment. It’s a lot to think about, to process, and it does have an impact.

I spent my first week at work essentially doing internal training, something essential to success in my new position, and it has really made me quite tired and worn me out significantly. I’ve had many jobs across my adulthood, in quite a range of industries, but this, this is the first time I have ever been a part of a large corporation. To say there is a learning curve is an understatement. It’s a good learning curve, one I want to successfully navigate, but it is there nevertheless.

I’ve written previously about the four long years, and they were definitely long and hard years. However, as I reflect I am able to see, to realise moments along the way, moments that made a difference, moments that inevitably led to the moment I entered into this new position I have. Moments that put me on an inevitable trajectory back towards success. In reality that trajectory didn’t have to point to exactly the position I have gained, but they did point to change, to success, to re entering career.

Certainly there have been moments along the way that in and of themselves almost felt like they were where that trajectory led to. The moment I was contacted by a publisher to pitch for writing my memoir is one of those. Being contracted by an organisation to develop an elearning platform another. In and of themselves they almost felt like endpoints of a trajectory out of hopelessness, out of what felt like the life of failure my unsupportive parents always said I would result in.

So what is the point of it all then. How do we know what the little moments are, well, the truth is, I think, that sometimes you have a sense of a moment of prime importance, and sometimes you just don’t. Sometimes you have to just go with it, sometimes you have to grasp the situation yourself and make your own moments.

The key I think, is grasping on to the opportunity and doing with it everything you can. Don’t be scared to speak up, lean in to the conversation and contribute. Sure they all sound like buzz words, or cliches, and that is in a sense true, but it is also a fact that it’s true.

In order to do some of this stuff, as an autistic, it is actually got layers on top of it that, allistic people, as far as I can tell, don’t have to deal with. An example of this is the constant self talk I engage in as to the accuracy of my reading of the situation, whether that be a social situation or a body language situation or perhaps a tone of the room situation. That layer is always going on, and perhaps it is going on for allistic people too, but for me, that layer has a processing aspect to it.

It’s a processing aspect that’s hard to explain. As an autistic person, a lot of social stuff, communication stuff is discrete learned stuff, it’s not automatic, it’s not innate, it has to be deliberately learned and applied in some way. Oh for sure, we learn it through multiple sources, formal and informal, but learned it must be. Certainly, learning it is of benefit to us in the greater scheme of life, but I don’t think it ever becomes an automatic thing. There will always be a processing aspect that has to be applied in a situation before we can grasp on to that situation and seize it and make the most of it. It’s hard, it takes focus, concentration, and is intensely tiring. But, I believe, we can do it. I sit now in an employment situation that confirms it.

I have found the most clear way I have been able to describe this layer of processing in situations is to ask you to think about say a social situation between people, one person is allistic on autistic. The allistic asks a question, the autistic is expected to respond, wants to respond, but in kicks an inner dialogue of processing. First is the idea, the question, is this a genuine question, or is it just social chit chat – do they actually want me to answer this question truthfully or not? There is the first pitfall we are prone to, what type of answer is required.

Next comes the aspect of the actual response, once a decision has been made by the autistic person to respond, the processing kicks up a gear and suddenly as an autistic, you find yourself riffling through the drawers of an internal filing cabinet, you might be lucky and find the response you think fits quickly or you might find it takes you multiple drawers or even multiple filing cabinets to find the answer that you think fits. The complexity of the interaction would play a role in that part of it I’m sure.

But here’s the thing, whilst this sounds like a whole extra layer of processing, and it is, it sounds like, the autistic has the right answer, but in reality the right response is almost impossible to find, and that’s because every single human interaction is unique and no matter how many, h0w good, the learned responses are, they never fit exactly the situation. In effect we almost always get it wrong, how wrong we get it kind of plays out in how awkward inept we appear.

In the end, I believe, autistic people, want to be able to seize the moment, take the opportunity to succeed. We are certainly capable in the most part of much more than the general public often believe us to be. We want the opportunity, what we need is support and assistance to grasp it.

An example from my experience was that I had ascertained that at the end of an event, I had an opportunity to say something meaningful. I had processed, and believed, that room was in a place to hear it, I believed it to be important, I dared, even, to believe, it may make a difference for my autistic tribe. The problem was, the event was just about ending, the closing remarks were being made, and I needed a support person to assist me in grasping the opportunity that was there. I was able to to this, a quiet word in the ear of the right person who was able to get me to the front of the room and furnish me with the microphone.

I am absolutely convinced I would have been unable to grasp that opportunity to seize the day in that moment without being able to reach out to that person. That opportunity would have been missed and I would have regretted yet again not being up to the task of grasping on to a moment. But, I did have support, I knew, what I had to say was important, I knew it could resonate and due to the audience amplify into organisations. I believed it would plant seeds that would grow and that opportunities for my tribe, especially the younger people of my tribe, the autistic kids now, the autistic kids still to be born, would be able to negotiate employment options in a better, fairer way that would assist them in competing for employment in a way that was not stacked against them for a start.

I never for a moment felt that when I grasped that moment that it would make a difference for me. I really didn’t, but it did. In the most amazing, unexpected and wonderful way.

To my tribe I say, whenever you can seize the moment you see and speak up for yourself and our tribe. You never know how it will ripple outwards, amplify and change lives for others or yourself.

To those who are not my tribe I say, if you see that we are taking a moment, trying to seize that moment, putting ourselves out there to speak up, know that this takes extra effort, try to look beyond our faltering and awkwardness and tune into the essence of what we are saying. That’s the rub, I guess, It’s just bloody hard for us to do, so when we do it, it is because it is bloody important. So please, do all you can to listen to us, to understand what our message is and when you agree, amplify it.

There are many who like to call themselves allies to autistic people, some are good allies and some are just terrible allies, in fact not allies at all. As much as we don’t actually want to admit it we do need good allies. We need good allies to not speak for us, but to amplify what we have to say. We need good allies that don’t try to be our voice, but that help us to find our voice.

To those of you that want to be good allies, do that, stand with us as we find our voice, and then when we do work to amplify our voice, not speak for us, but to amplify our voice.

The moments are there to sieze, and just like most humans, autistic humans want to seize the moment too. Stand with us and assist us to do just that.

Seize the moment.

Words Matter

If there’s one thing I am convinced about, it is that words, really do matter. It would be foolish as someone who regularly writes words for the consumption of others to think anything different to that fact. So yes, words, in my humble thoughts, matter greatly.

What comes with that is how we use those words, allowing them to serve as weapons or messages of freedom. Words are often used to codify a persons wholeness in an apparently simple and complete way. As an autistic person I have experienced this first hand, as a parent I have experienced it second hand. As a woman, with a trans history I have experienced it many times over throughout my life.

Some years ago, the word neurotypical became a word of choice used by many to signify, codify and define a person who wasn’t autistic. It is a word thrown about in dismissive, weaponised and erasing ways of the experiences of non-autistic people. This is in itself is actually quite a horrendous act, though mostly, I don’t think it is intended to be weaponised it so often is. And large swathes of the autistic community need to check themselves on this.

So often we find ourselves objecting to the objectifying language that is used about us, to describe us, to categorise and sideline us, and yet, many of us happily use the word neurotypical in exactly the same way. In my view, we need to stop it. We can’t on the one hand demand respect for our choice of language around our identity and at the very same time use language that is simply wrong to describe a group of people. It is just so hypocritical to do so.

The word neurotypical does not mean not autistic. It means having a neurological makeup or wiring, if you prefer, that is considered typical. What that means is a lot more complex than just non-autistic.

We all live in a world that is neurodiverse, as autistics we are neurodivergent. We are not neurodiverse ourselves, but neurodivergent members of the neurodiverse world. That neurodiverse world encompasses those who really are neurotypical and those who are neurodivergent. The kicker is of course, that being autistic is only one way of many ways one can be neurodivergent.

What appears to be the most consistently accepted identifier of non autistic people is the term allistic, when one uses that term about another one is simply saying that the person is not autistic. It is not an in anyway meant to silence or erase a person, but merely to state a known fact that the person is non autistic. They may also be neurotypical or they may be otherly neurodivergent.

What constitutes an accepted neurodivergence is not a set codified thing, it is a changing environment, as it should be, as we learn more about just how diverse human neurology is. Some well accepted examples are Bipolar, ADHD, Dissociative Disorders, of course not an exhaustive list.

The thing to get one’s head around in all this is that one can be allistic and neurodivergent, and one can be allistic and neurotypical. What one can’t be is autistic and neurotypical. The key is that neurotypical does not equal non autistic.

When autistic people use it to mean that they are disregarding the experiences and realities of many many neurodivergent folks and making it harder for the neurodiversity paradigm to be accepted over and above the pathology paradigm.

Over the years I have had conversations with many about this, and I have found that many react badly when presented with this information. I have had this experience with parents of autistics, groups of autistics – especially groups that like to hold on to the Aspergers label, and health related people.

Enough is enough. It’s about time we just stopped saying neurotypical when we mean allistic. If we mean allistic say allistic. If we happen to know 100% that the person is also neurotypical then perhaps then it’s cool to use the term, but given that it’s unlikely for any of us to know whether or not a person is identified or diagnosed with a neurodivergence, just because we happen to know they are allistic, the best course of action is to simply use allistic. If you mean non autistic say allistic, if you mean not neurodivergent then is the time it is ok to say neurotypical.

As an autistic I want my experiences, my existence, my right to exist acknowledged, accepted and celebrated. It is outrageous to think I can do this whilst walking all over the rest of the neurodivergent community’s right to exist, be acknowledged and celebrated.

So perhaps the best rule of thumb is simply don’t use the term neurotypical about another person unless they specifically identify that way and make it clear that that is the case.

It’s like it’s swallowed up in goodness

I wrote recently about how it’s been a long four years. Years of financial struggle, a lot of change some really great things along the way, but, there’s no hiding the fact that these last four years have been bloody hard.

In that time I have lost a lot, relationships, home, friendships, choosing to be true to yourself has its implications. Many of them are too wonderful to put words around, but some of them are just really fucking hard.

It was really hard when I had to move out of a home situation and deal with not waking up surrounded by my children.

It was really hard to lose the relationship with my wife, and with that the relationships with related family. All that stuff is really hard. It takes a massive emotional toll. The holiday times have been the hardest, with intense emotional feels that can only truly be described as harrowing.

Of course, getting to live as yourself, your true self, unlocking the closet and swinging open that door that had held captive so much for so long, so tightly and so completely has been an experience so intensely joyful that too is almost impossible to find words to put around.

The most consistent thing over these last four years or so though has been intense disappointment, in being unemployed, in consistently failing to find work, to trying and failing so many times. To feel unemployable and to get to a point of such intense disappointment in oneself that one has essentially given up on the very idea of ever finding stable work again, let alone a career.

Good things do happen, and this morning I walked into an office building and claimed my spot as a member of the organisation. I have a shiny new job, a shiny new spot to sit, a shiny new log on and email address and all those associated things that tend to go with a job these days. And I feel fucking fantastic about myself.

In all honesty I really had given up on myself, for so long that was pretty much where I was at. But as the day rolled on today it was almost as though just being there, each moment that passed, minute by minute, hour by hour, the disappointment, the negativity, the loss, the pain the everything was being swallowed up and devoured by this great new thing.

It’s not even as though I achieved much in a work sense today. It was all that first day kind of stuff in an organisation, reading about the organisation, learning about policies and procedures and all those sorts of things. Highly thrilling and exciting right. And yet, swallow up all that disappointment it did.

As a visible trans autistic woman, I really felt that it was all stacked against me so much that my sense of futility was justified. Oh how wrong that was, oh how defeatist it was.

So many times in my life have I heard that lesson about never giving up, and you never know if you don’t try. Well over the last month or so I’ve learned that lesson in spades. Today was just the culmination of that. Today was the day I walked in and laid claim to the opportunity I have been given.

It feels somewhat like I have just gained a whole new lease on life. I’ve traded in the old broken down sense of uselessness and traded up to a sense of hopefulness, a sense of purpose, a sense of belief.

In so many ways I have had to eat my words, well at least all the words I spoke to myself internally.

I know it is only day one and there is so much in store, but it’s good stuff that’s in store, not shitty stuff of the same type of had to deal with over these four long years, but good stuff. Stuff I can do that will be good, wonderful and real.

To my autistic friends, all I can say is don’t give up, there are chances for us.

To my trans friends, all I can say is the same, there are organisations that accept us, support us and even employ us knowingly.

To everyone I say don’t give up, even when it seems so dark, one phone call, one unexpected phone call, it can change everything!

It’s a cliché I know, but carpe diem, seize the day, and suck the marrow out of life. You just never know.

The horrible badness can be swallowed up before your very eyes, even, while you might not be looking.

Sensory Matters…It really does.

Sensory issues are possibly one of the most well known issues around autism and autistic people. I think in a sense it is a case of a being armed with a little information is a dangerous thing. What I mean by this is that assumptions abound about all autistic people on the basis, at times, of a person knowledge or relationship of one particular autistic person they happen to know. This is not a helpful or supportive situation for most autistic people.

The way the sensory world impacts us autistics is as wide and varied are there are autistic people in the world. Some autistic people have comorbid condition of Sensory Processing Disorder, some non-autistic people also have this issue too. Some autistic people are sensory seeking, some are sensory averse, some are neither, or a combination. For some of us it really depends on our stress levels, anxiety levels, sense of safety and so forth.

The take-away is that as with all things autistic we are all different, and that things are not static and simple.

As with all things, I can’t talk about or for all autistics. I can speak of my own experience, and in some respects what I know if my kids experiences and something of experiences autistic friends have related. I can’t speak of any kind of universality because there simply isn’t one.

I have seen autistic friends of mine have massive struggle with different sensory inputs, to the point that it is quite debilitating, similarly I have seen my daughter struggle greatly due to seeking sensory input, in particular tactile input and not being able to obtain it.

I have also seen my daughter struggle greatly with the impost of some sensory input impacting greatly on her ability to function, most notably her executive functioning capacity. Some of that input is what is often put up in almost stereotypical ways like the buzzing of florescent lighting for example.

Throughout her 23 years I have been amazed again and again at the intensity of her hearing. Keeping a secret with her in the house always provided an extra challenge. Whilst in primary school she was regularly in trouble with teachers for placing her head on the table or the floor. After investigation her reasoning for these actions were entirely logical. She was seeking the sensory input of experiencing the vibrations that went with writing with her grey lead pencil on the paper or with her head on the classroom floor she would be listening to the conversations and discussions occurring in the classroom next door.

It is as with many things a mixed bag, I also recall how she would be in pain when arriving home and the electro sonic pest control device had been turned on and we had neglected to turn it off. It took us some time to work out what it was that was the distressing sensory input, until with frustration and pain she yelled at us to turn that horrible noise off. And pointed clearly at the device, which was plugged into the wall.

It was as if instant relief had occurred and her demeanour, her anxiety, everything about the way she interacted and carried herself in that moment changed.

Sensory input matters, but it matters so differently and so widely for each autistic person and in different situations that it can be quite a journey in working out the best way forward for yourself and those you care for.

Personally, I find my sensory issues don’t have a huge impact on my daily life. There are some issues, and I do have to be aware of them and take appropriate action to ensure life is as best as it can be as I go about my day. I feel somewhat fortunate in that respect.

The only major sensory issue that is consitently difficult for me is the smell and present of mint flavour. It causes me intense discomfort and can easily bring on a case of vomiting. It is really quite uncomfortable. Coupled with this an issue I have with the process of brushing my teeth. I find that action, for some reason I am unable to work out to be a very unpleasant experience, the feel of it, the look of it, the everything of it. It is even quite uncomfortable to see others doing this simple hygiene task. When you combine these two things, finding a way for this to occur is quite a process. Finding a toothpaste for example that is not minty in flavour is a first step that seems at times almost impossible. There are alternatives but they are not common.

Apart from this generally I don’t have issues with sensory input. Mostly I seek it out, I seek out the touch and feel of things mostly and they bring me great joy and great comfort. At times extremely calming.

The issue I think I struggle most with, and it is unpredictable and hard to plan for and account for. I describe it as multiplicity of sound. I experience it as an inability to filter out extraneous sound sources and filter in the ones that I actually want to tune in to. A good example is in being in a crowded coffee shop and not being able to focus on the conversations I am involved in and becoming quite overwhelmed by the many other conversations and noises. I seem to catch snippets of sound sources all around but not enough to make sense of any of them. It is a situation that is quite difficult to manage at times and is extremely frustrating and annoying. It’s one of those things, I suppose, that I have a level of internalised ableism about, in that, I consider that I should be able to just deal with it.

But that’s the thing, I can’t just deal with it, it is the way my brain is wired and the way I experience the world. I can take precautions, I can make plans, I can have contingencies but I can’t control it, I can’t change it, I can’t stop it from happening. It just is a feature of me that I live with. No amount of anything will actually change it. All I can do is work on the best ways to react and respond when I find myself in the situation.

One thing that the world at large seem to be getting better at is considering sensory input for autistic people. Of course, in autism world things, the effort far surpasses other areas of the world. We see things like the removal of noisy hand dryers, or at least the turning off of them. We see changing the way teachers use displays in their classrooms. We see the removal of fluorescent lighting. All of these are good things and make a massive difference for those people that have issues with those things.

But, and it is a big but, well I think it is a big one, it is almost entirely focussed on making the environment better for the sensory averse autistic people and has minimal consideration for those that are sensory seeking.

The big question, I think, is in how to improve things, for all autistic people, not just the stereotypical sensory averse.

It’s not an easy question, and the only reasonable answer I can fathom, is wide and detailed consultation with the adult autistic community. It is in my view, fertile ground for some very valuable co-produced research. Research that could enable evidence based practice in establishing autistic safe place, autistic friendly environments, inclusive spaces.

It is most likely a massive undertaking, but we autistics, we do have a voice, we do have an understanding of ourselves, we can articulate through a varied and wide range of communication modes and methods our needs.

And of course the key is, that most likely an environment that is better for autistic people is quite likely to be a better environment for all people.

Sensory matters, not just sensory averse, but in all it’s guises and forms. It’s time to listen, learn and act, to make inclusive spaces inclusive of all not just those that fit a stereotype.

I Think it’s really over.

Sometime around a month ago I wrote a piece called Autistic burnout I bid you good day. It was the day I sat in a cafe waiting to interview for a new employment position. Well let’s be honest an employment position.

I talked a lot about the process I had been through in working out that I had been in burnout, and some stuff about that, and the sense of actually coming out of it. And, I think importantly, being in a place where I could take personal action in declaring it over, as it were, bidding it good day.

It was the end of February 2013, the day I walked out of the office of my last real job. I’ve worked out that’s pretty much 4 years and a quarter of time. It’s a long time to be out of work. The longest in my life if you ignore childhood of course.

It’s been quite the ride really. An emotional roller coaster to say the least. At the time that I ended that job, I was in the midst of seriously investigating whether I was or was not autistic. It had been on my mind for some time, I have two identified children, my partner felt I was and would happily tell me and others it was the case. Not in a negative way, just a factual way.

At times if I was struggling with stuff, to work stuff out, my partner would say maybe it is just your Aspergers stuff. This was pre 2013 and pre DSM5 so yes she did use the word Aspergers.

By the time I ended my job with what can only described accurately as an autistic meltdown, I had investigated a number of things read, spoken with psychologists I trusted, adults I knew had been diagnosed, I had taken every online test I could find. The consistent thing was, that everything was pointing to the very likely reality that I was indeed autistic.

I left that office in a very emotional meltdowny state. What followed was a bunch of phone calls and communications with my former boss, which swung on a pendulum of telling me how I was imperative to be part of the team through to bullying me into coming to have coffee and swinging on to threatening me with legal action for daring to call out their tactics as bullying. Well I called it bullying then, and no doubt it was, but I suspect gaslighting me is a more apt description.

I recall awaking to a phone message the following morning with a claim I had hacked the website. I had of course done no such thing.

It was a tumultuous time that marked the beginning of this four year period of unemployment. A four year period of burnout that seemed to be unable to be beaten.

I truly had come to a point of what I thought was no return. That my prospects of a career, of any real work, were beyond me. I had pretty much given up. It just seemed being a visible trans autistic woman advocating publicly placed me in a place that was somehow beyond being employable.

Things change, delightfully so. So much has happened in those four years. They have been really hard in many ways. As I sit here and think about them I am slightly amused, interested, amazed at how this period has been bookended by two events. I am sure I could find other significant things, but these seem to stand out to me in this moment as significant.

The first, less than a week after walking out of that office for the last time, that moment of standing my ground and refusing to be bullied into admitting things I had never done, was finding myself attending an autism diagnosis assessment session.

It was in essence that moment where legitimacy began. That moment, though I didn’t get the results for sometime after that, where I had an answer, the beliefs I formed were not somehow wrong, weird, strange, ridiculous and for want of a better word excuses for not managing myself in the world.

There was as I mentioned a time delay from assessment to results. This was largely due to not having employment and needing to find the funds to actually pay for the assessment. This nevertheless was simply a marking time between completion and results. A strange time, a time of flipping and flopping between absolute certainly it was all in my mind and I had made this whole being autistic thing up, and an inner knowing that it was true, as it has turned out to be.

When I did finally get my results I felt an instant sense of relief. I instantly knew myself better than I ever had, not that my self knowledge and insight had changed, but it had been legitimised. Strangely enough, especially given that I had been very much a proponent of a “Different Not Less” attitude with my children, where I felt a sense of grief, a sense of guilt and a difficulty accepting myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t accept my diagnosis, I knew it was right, but that I had a sense that it did make me less, it made me to blame, the difficulties of my children were suddenly, irrevocably, absolutely my fault.

Thankfully this was a reasonably short period of time and after some months, I launched myself into the online adult autistic community. I learned of many groups, I found my tribe online.

Having this tribe, these people like me, that I could relate to like no others I had ever been able to relate was instructive and supportive in negotiating a period of time that has in many ways been the most difficult of my life.

The second bookend experience, was the experience of being a part of the project team in the running of the AutismCRC Research Academy 2 over weekend just past. Over about the last year, a bunch of us have worked together to bring autistic adults and researchers together in an autistic space. A space where they could learn about research, talk about research, pull apart and put back together research questions.

I recall standing, delivering my content before my tribe and being somewhat petrified, that what I had to say was of no consequence. My fears were groundless and a number of my tribe were greatly appreciative of my words.

The Research academy was an amazing event. Lives were changed in immeasurable ways. Researchers, Board Members, CEO CFO alongside autistic adults as peers, as equals, working together, thinking together, laughing together, playing together.

So much has happened in my life over these last four years. I have learned so much about myself, discovered so much about my community and my autistic culture.

In a sense, I stumbled out of my last job as searching, out of control in a way, nearly diagnosed autistic person. I enter my new job, walking in proudly. Proudly wearing my autism, my transness, in reality myself as I enter a new sector, a new company, a new industry a new kind of everything. But I do it unashamedly as me.

What they see is what they get. And they chose it. It still seems somewhat astounding and amazing that they did, but they did. Throughout the process I was me, I didn’t hide my autism, my transness, none of it.

These hard four years, years that included much joy, much loss, many instructive experiences and absolutely difficult times is finished.

On Monday I walk into my new career, at the door I dust off the disappointment of the past, the failings of the past, the mucking things up in so many ways because I had no clue about my own autistic reality. I walk in those doors dressed and visible wearing my autistic reality with insight and understanding that I didn’t have, an ability to advocate for myself, in order that the work I do will not just be the best for me, but the best for my employers.

These four years I have learned so much, I have changed so much, I have embraced myself in a way I never dreamed possible, and I have this sense that all of that, all of it has been leading to this moment.

I guess you could say I am, like many of my tribe, a late bloomer. But bloom I will, you can bet your blooming life on it.

Autistic space – it might be magic.

The majority of the world is not autistic space. From shopping centres to court rooms, from school playgrounds to classrooms, from office buildings to cinemas most of the world that humans inhabit could not be considered autistic space.

The world at large caters for and therefore creates spaces that are tolerable, palatable, and preferred by those of the non autistic neurological state of being. A generalisation, for sure, but it has a fair degree of truth to it.

My journey through life has most certainly been a varied one, it has contained many twists and turns, which, I would never have predicted, and yet here I am, sitting in a local cafe, typing words that for some people have meaning, for some people, have beauty, but for me, are somehow just a part of me, a part of me that flows out, that I hope has something to say to those they reach.

Life is full of moments. Some of those moments are incredibly instructive. Some are just moments that pass by without consequence, some are moments that we need to grasp hold of and turn them into moments of significance that can spark change, or at least that you hope will spark change. And some moments, are so instructive, so influential, so life-changing they can’t just be allowed to roll on past, it’s not possible to miss them, you don’t need to grasp on to them and turn them into significant catalysts for something special they just are.

As a late to diagnosis autistic adult, most of the moments of life for me, were encountered with a frosted over view, an attempt at making sense of them through a lens that was undoubtedly autistic, but which I had been trying to make non autistic. Another way of saying, I guess, that I was a great pretender. It wasn’t really until my late 30’s that I truly started to investigate the idea that I might be autistic. I talked with people, I read stuff, I did online tests. I eventually came to the conclusion that it was pretty likely that I was in fact autistic, I had taken a step towards identifying and accepting that reality.

Of course there were faltering along the way, times of denial, of internal ableism about my own neurology. By this time I already had two officially diagnosed children, and I was absolutely of the attitude when it came to supporting them that they were different not less and those that worked with them, for them etc, must see that, they must get along side my beautiful daughters and seek to understand where they were coming from, they must do this because everything they did, or didn’t do, if you got alongside them made sense to them, it had logical coherence when it was considered from their perspective.

Then came the next step for me, which was moving beyond self identifying and onward to an official identification against the official criteria interpreted by someone with the official skills to do so. To be clear, I have no issue at all for people who self identify themselves as autistic, if this is done, in such a way they have vigorously asked the questions of themselves and considered what the literature says. There is no issue for me with self-identification, provided that identification is not a whim and is vigorously considered.

For me, I second guessed my own interpretations, I self-doubted my own insight into myself, I doubted even my partners clear belief that my own thoughts were correct. In short, I couldn’t trust my own self identification process and required some confirmation.

So what does this all have to do with autistic space?

Well quite a lot if you bear with me. After a period of denial and feeling sad and sorry for myself upon receiving my official identification, I became able to accept my autisticness. It was as if, I flicked a switch and suddenly, accepting that this reality of my neurological way of being was ok, and not broken, not wrong, not to be fixed. I had spent a number of months in a sense of personal dissonance, in that, whilst I had been Pro neurodiversity with my children, I had not been with myself.

Once I flicked that switch internally and moved into acceptance, suddenly, almost instantly it was as if a veil, a cloud, a thick fog, a pair of glasses with frosted glass had been removed. Suddenly so many things became clear. So many things, it is quite difficult to even make a list of just how many.

Why it was, I found it so hard to make friends, why it was that I had not been able to make employment work successfully, how it was that anxiety had played such a role. Even things like understanding how I could be in an environment and suddenly, without any sense of knowing why, but I would become overwhelmed to the point I needed to drop everything and get out.

A new understanding of why I would be often interpreted as being negative or critical when in my mind all I was doing was being accurate or factual.

So many things, suddenly clicked into place in my internal consciousness and I was no longer broken, useless, somehow wrong but simply I was different to the majority of those around me.

Coming into the light of these realisations was only the first step. Connecting with others and discovering autistic space is like that realisation to the nth power. Autistic space can happen in a range of ways, in online spaces and offline spaces.

The first time one experiences autistic space is transformative.

I have had the privilege of being a part of both experiencing that first time myself, and I have been privileged to see others experience it for the first time themselves. It is a thing of wonder. It is a thing of joy. It is a thing of transformation, self-acceptance, I would almost go as far as to say enlightening.

It really is a space where the magic can happen. Where autistic people ignite a spark within them of self-belief, self-acceptance, and, begin to change the way in which they see themselves and their potential and value in their place in the world they inhabit.

It does need to be said, though, that a big conference with a quiet room and some autistic speakers, is not autistic space. Even when those things are done with respect and concern to make autistic people feel comfortable and that their sensory needs are considered. That is not autistic space, it is autistic friendly space but it is not autistic space.

Autistic space happens, when a space is created that not only accepts autistic needs but incorporates them in such a way that an autistic person does not feel compelled to conform to non autistic norms, if you like, to put on an non autistic mask.

Autistic space happens when the autistic way of being is the norm of the space. Where it is safe to express your autisticness without fear of negative reaction and consequence from the non autistic members of the space.

Autistic space happens when either autistic or non autistic people create such a space. You know it is autistic space you are in. It’s not necessarily something you can explain but you feel it, and you feel it somehow to the very core of your being.

I recall the moment I knew I was in autistic space, real autistic space for the very first time. I was engaging in something of a monologue, and for what felt like the very first time ever, I experienced a sense that my tribe were with me, listening to my words, not interjecting to fill the moments of silence, almost hanging on the words that fell from my lips. Suddenly, my need to constantly check myself, to consider if I was going on about something and boring the hell out of them was redundant. I looked around the room to see my tribe nodding, to see faces that understood and empathised with my experience. Most of all, I felt safe, free and able to be the person I really was, and not just the public face I showed to the world.

Autistic space is that place, where, the autistic person is free to be the person they are. It’s that place where as an autistic, you feel the power of connection to your tribe, where it matters not, if you are a newly identified member of the autistic tribe, or a senior statesperson of that tribe. You are safe, accepted and celebrated, you are included and valued in a special and magical way that many of us, don’t experience in any other places we inhabit.

Yes, autistic space, it’s where the magic can happen, where autistics can be their best, where non autistics are welcome guests and contributors and because of this space, non autistics can gain an insight into the autistic experience that is not possible through interviews, surveys, therapy sessions, parent meetings or whatever.

Yes AUtistic space. It’s where the magic happens.

We all need a place of refuge…

Growing into an adult human is certainly a complex process. On the surface it can kind of look like you just, you know, input food, keep the ends clean and it all happens. Of course it is nothing like such a simple process as that, though, caring for the physical needs is certainly of paramount importance to the healthy development of a human person throughout the lifecycle.

But, I would say, the most important part of growing is a healthy sense of self, an understanding of one’s internal life, an ability to interface with that and to build resiliance in dealing with difficult times. In order to do this, I believe a really important part of this is a place of refuge, a light on the hill that is a place of safety, sustenance in the physical, emotional, mental and intellectual domains.

Without putting a too finer a point on it, my immediate family or origin was not a place of refuge, it was a place of horror. As a child I had to find other places that could be that for me. It wasn’t easy and it was never perfect but I did manage to find them. I have grown into an adult, and I put that down to the fact that I did find them, I am thoroughly convinced that I would never have managed that, without the places of refuge I found.

My father was and remains a monster, my mother is not a monster, but in order to survive she has taken on many of the behaviours of my father. My childhood was hell. There are lots of reasons for this, being trans and being forced to repress it, being autistic and undiagnosed, having terrible family of origin and moving house many times were all significant contributors to this being the case. Whilst my immediate family of origin was it’s own little fresh example of hell, much of my extended family, in particular on my mother’s side, was far from this, and was time and time again the only place of refuge I could ever find.

As a child, I was constantly told in my family that I was, useless, pathetic, bad, naughty, a failure, would never amount to anything. These messages were driven home with the force of rage filled beatings and sexual abuse by my father. As a neurodivergent trans child playing the role of a boy, attending multiple schools in multiple places across my schooling did little to assist. I was bullied relentlessly, I guess, for being different.

I did have a few teachers, who I think made attempts to push positive messages my way. They did so with a bit of ineptitude, for example, they would suggest on regular occassions that I was failing to perform to my potential or to expectation. They were, I believe without doubt, attempting to present to me that I wasn’t a useless failure that would amount to anything, but, that I was in fact an intelligent young person with potential to achieve my dreams.

Unfortunately I never heard or read it as that. I read it and heard it always as a confirmation of the messages I recieved from my family of origin. And if I for a moment tried to think of them in any other way, that family of origin was quick to dispell that and ensure I did receive it negatively.

Such was my family life. I don’t mean this to be a poor me post. My life was what it was. I survived it. I’ve moved through various phases with various levels of success and gradually, slowly but surely been dismantling and erasing the negative messaging I recieved.

I don’t know for sure, and this is not a piece based on research it is personal reflection and thought, but I believe the reason I have been able to do so is that the places of refuge I found, as a young child, were able to write some form of positive messaging into my subconscience. I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but I think this is true.

My grandparents were that place of refuge. They expressed love and acceptance of me, a light on the hill as it were, amongst endless flatlands of negativity and non acceptance. My grandma particularly always made me feel safe. She made it clear to me that, I was loved, important, valuable and all those good messages children should receive.

My Grandfather, was a strong, solid, and very safe man. He stood in contrast to the rageful monster that was my father. Interaction with my grandfather was not massive, but his presence, his being the safe man that he was, somehow encoded similar messages of being loved, important valuable and so forth.

My grandmother, never made it obvious, and yet, somehow I knew there was a special bond between us. That little bit extra she would give for me, that having me to stay nearly every term holidays, that always finding the money to take me out to a movie and a meal even when things were tight.

As I grew older, progressed through childhood and adolescence, it was my Grandma who was able to subtly and surely let me know she saw the horror, she saw how poorly my family treated me and proclaimed it to be not how it should be. Those little moments of exchange, somehow, whilst not a rescue were an incredibly important refuge. They provided an impetus to go on, an understanding that the internal messaging within me that always maintained the unfairness, the injustice of how I was being treated by my family was not just all in my head.

We all need a place of refuge, no matter how fleeting or pure, we all need it and I believe, it can be, the difference between life and death. I am pretty sure it was that difference for me.

Of course it wasn’t perfect, the cognitive dissonance I felt at knowing that they knew, and yet didn’t act to protect me was at times extremely difficult to bear. It seemed so inconceivable that they could understand, see the things that occurred and yet not act to remove or take steps for child services to intervene.

Extended families are complex things, relationships, history, disagreements and all of those things intermix with each other and have implications for the way actions or inactions occur I think. I think in the case of my grandparents, the fear of losing forever a relationship with their eldest daughter, compounded with nearly losing her through illness as a baby and an earlier extended period of non contact weighed heavily on their decisions in acting or not acting in terms of the situation they saw occurring with their grandchild in front of their eyes.

I think the take away for me, is that yes, we do all need a place of refuge. We really do, it may or may not be perfect, indeed, more than likely it will be flawed, as the reality is that we are all flawed as people. But a place of refuge, as perfect or imperfect as it may be, could just be the difference, between life and death.

My grandparents, they saw that in some sense, they provided an imperfect place of refuge, they very much played a role that is likely the reason I survived childhood and got to adulthood as the flawed human person I am. Perhaps you are or could be that imperfect but much needed place of refuge for someone else.

We all need a place of refuge, may we all be that place of refuge, as imperfect and flawed as we are, for another human person and in some way contribute to them making sense of all the shit that their life is.