My F***ing Normal

So before I met certain people and got particularly educated in a certain way, I used to think of myself the way my family, most friends, some coworkers, and my ex husband described me: difficult. From an early age, I had resigned myself to that description and let it be a fact; a basis for questioning whether I was worthy of any kind of social acceptance, big or small.

Now, I know better. What I am is a person who is not neuro-typical. This is a fact, a real one this time, and no matter how hard, how well and how long I've tried to hide it, it remains me. I am never going to not panic when I hear a high pitched voice, or a repetitive sound, or things strewn on the floor of a house, or a crowd of people, to name but a few examples of what I've recently come to call my OCD reactions. (Before, I called them "interference").

As a child, I'd engage in long periods of isolation and repetitive motions to self soothe. Of course, I was told that such behavior was not favorable, being "withdrawn" was not conducive to being "happy" as a child. So, I had to go out of my way and beat the shyness out of me and act "normal".

I'm so fortunate to have met people who aren't "normal" in this city and who take it in stride. I noticed how all my quirky traits lined up pretty well with several non neuro-typical characteristics and behaviors. For the first time, I'm allowing myself to accept my quirkiness and actually relish in the luxury of giving it a name. So, yes, I will panic when more than one person talks to me at once, because that's my fucking normal.