Jessica Sergeant is a 31 year old living in Ontario with a Masters in Business Administration degree and is currently in the professional accounting certification program. She is passionate about travelling and visiting foreign countries. Since learning about her Asperger’s Syndrome, she is determined and on a mission to raise more awareness about this neurological condition and perhaps write a book about her experiences.

For 30 years, I have always felt different and felt that there was this invisible world surrounding me that I could not quite access.

I am profoundly Deaf and use American Sign Language to communicate. Even though the Deaf community has “included” me, I still felt “excluded” in certain aspects. Socialization seemed to be something that was an art that I have not mastered. There were invisible expectations that I was constantly struggling to meet. People seemed to know “their place” and I was trying to figure out “my place”. Too often I felt like I was the fish in a fishbowl – watching, but not really interacting. Desperate to know what was “different” about me, I asked several of my friends. They all had nothing more to say other than “You’re odd.” or “It is just you. Don’t worry. We accept you.” Armed with the knowledge that I was “different”, I did extensive research trying to pinpoint what it was about me that separated me from others. My search was fruitless and it was becoming hopeless.

It was not until “Lines in the Sand” via the TV series House, M.D. that provided her the answer she was seeking. At the end of the episode, Asperger’s Syndrome was introduced. Since she was unfamiliar with this condition, she researched it online. It was the beginning of her journey knowing that she is on the spectrum. The search for her “differentness” was completed and she came out more confident in knowing her place. A paradigm shift had occurred and she came to the realization that she was faking herself the entire time.

Jessica’s diagnosis of being on the spectrum explained why she had difficulties making new friends. People seemed to come and go in her life. Relationships were difficult to maintain and socialization was a minefield. The constant criticism of her social skills deficit was explained. Gone were the masks that she had put on in order to appear “normal”. Instead of focusing solely on hiding her deficits, she is focusing her energies on increasing her strengths.

Mika Woods is a 21 year old living in California with goals of becoming an Archaeologist.  Her hobbies include knitting, reading, watching movies and listening to music.  She desires to draw upon her personal experiences in order to help create unique educational and employment resources for individuals on the autism spectrum.

Hello my name is Mika. I am a woman on the autism spectrum.  I am a 21 year old with hopes of changing what it means to have Asperger’s.  I have goals which include continuing my college education to obtain a Bachelor’s Degree in Anthropology and becoming an Archaeologist.

I have a strong financial need as a direct result of my autism, and experience great difficulties in self-funding my desire for self-improvement through college; however I continue to try and find part time work as I seek out financial resources.  It is my hope that by obtaining a degree and pursuing a successful career in Archaeology, I can provide a positive example for those with disabilities.

As long as I can remember I have always had trouble making friends, carrying on conversations with others, making eye contact and fitting in. I’ve had challenges with focusing on reality and keeping track of things, as well as being a loner and never really feeling like one of the gang.

During my years in school I didn’t focus much on making friends with girls my age, but rather finding a boyfriend. Although later on in high school my social skills did improve, I still never had many friends who were girls. While still in high school I was officially diagnosed with Asperger’s. This helped to change how I personally viewed myself and how I handle life. It was at that point when I began my journey to understanding Asperger’s and to comprehend myself.

Although I have made progress with understanding my Asperger’s,  I still continue to make efforts toward more progress. It is my great hope that by understanding Asperger’s I can help create educational and employment resources to help others like me. I hope that by earning my degree and becoming an archaeologist, I can show others with disabilities that it is possible to graduate from college and have a successful career.

I think the greatest gift one can give to a person with Asperger’s or Autism is time and support.  If more people took the time to truly understand autism and how it affects individuals like myself, then unique resources could be created which would benefit all people on the spectrum.

My name is Cynthia Parkhill and I learned at age 39 that I am on the autism spectrum.

When I was going to school, there was no “autism spectrum” as it is understood today, so I had absolutely no explanation for why I was so different from everyone around me — ridiculed and shunned in school and often at-odds with members of my family for so-called “picky eating.”

For most of my life, I felt alone and out-of-place, like an alien from another planet. My only friends were my cats, for whom I felt a rare kinship.

I was drawn to science fiction and fantasy, as well as to authors’ work and fiction set in the Renaissance, the Regency and the Victorian age. Among the characters in the Star Trek franchises, I could most relate to Mr. Spock, Data and Seven-of-Nine.

I was fortunate in young-adulthood to discover a medieval reenactment group, the Society for Creative Anachronism, where I could pursue my interests in historical costumes and build relationships around those interests.

I met my husband through the SCA and acquired my first experience meeting deadlines as a publisher of newsletters for local and regional groups. Even though I am not currently active in the SCA, I think this early newsletter publishing served me well later in my professional capacity as a newspaper paginator/editor.

It was while I was working in my present occupation that I learned I have Asperger’s syndrome and from time to time, I write newspaper columns about these experiences.

Learning that I have Asperger’s syndrome was such a relief for me: reading Dr. Tony Attwood’s book, “The Complete Guide to Asperger’s Syndrome,” was like reading my own biography. Finally, I made sense and, moreover, there were people in the world like me! Reading other people’s narrative accounts also strengthened my understanding of our similar experiences, our gifts and challenges.

Today, two particular concerns for me are to raise the profile of adults on the spectrum and to advocate zero tolerance for bullying.

If you’re past a certain age, you simply can’t provide proof of diagnosis in childhood, because the diagnostic criteria were not even recognized then. This excludes an entire generation of adults from any help that they might need.

My dream is to curate a definitive library collection that is tailored for adults on the spectrum. Perhaps some of the books in that collection will even be authored by me.

Twitter:  http://twitter.com/cynthiaparkhill
LinkedIn:  http://www.linkedin.com/in/cynthiaparkhill

You can learn more about Annie Hussey at her website and her Facebook page.

My name is Annie Hussey and I am a 23 year old university student, professional speaker and mentor from Barrie, Ontario Canada. I have been speaking since the age of sixteen for school boards and organizations across the province. As well, I also serve as a mentor and life coach to several young adults on the spectrum. Currently, I am in the process of writing a book, expanding my speaking opportunities, and aiming towards a career in supporting and consulting others with an ASD. Recently, I have even presented on a panel of girls on the spectrum at the Geneva Centre’s symposium, one of whom was Temple Grandin.

Growing up with a diagnosis of Asperger Syndrome has been challenging, but over the years I have tried my best to adapt to it. As a child, I was completely oblivious to other people, preferring to escape into vivid imaginary worlds complete with geography and characters. I was very difficult during school as I clung to preferred activities, got very upset over any sort of change, and overreacted to sensory stimuli. Over the years, my difficulties decreased as knowledge of AS became widespread and the school staff developed awareness of it. My interests became more socially based, and by high school I became completely determined to tackle my problems with socialization. I joined a youth group where I practiced my skills with people with disablities, which expanded into friendships with neurotypicals during college and university. I feel that having a sister with a developmental disablity as been an asset to my skill development as her peers were accepting and nonjudgemental, and I never felt intimidated by them.

Despite my successes, I feel that it is important to highlight my daily struggles as well. Since childhood I have had symptoms of anxiety and depression, which were formed as a response to feeling out of place in society and among others. I still struggle with my mood and can sink into depression during periods of change. Although I surround myself with supportive people today, I have lost friendships because of a lack of understanding towards my behaviours. Still, I am not allowing these obstacles to bring me down. Just as I have done in the past, I am continually working at harnessing my potentials and focusing on my strengths. I embody a message of hope and perserverance which I spread to everyone I meet. I meet so many parents, teachers and support workers who become hopeless and worry about the future for the people they know. I tell them that there is not only so much potential success in people on the spectrum, but they can become catalysts in harnessing these strengths and talents. There are so many people that have supported me thoughout the years, and a single thank you to them is not enough.

Even if I touch one person who is affected by an ASD, personally or impersonally, that gives me enough hope to carry on.

Lynne Soraya works for a Fortune 500 company in the Midwest, where she has learned to harness her unique mix of aspie talents to build a successful career.   In her spare time, she blogs for Psychology Today magazine, as well as very sporadically at her personal blog “The Aspie Life” (http://aspielife.blogspot.com/).

What is the value of a story? I’ve written nearly all of my life…but, for many years, it remained a private thing, a tool to work through my more difficult problems. Almost a decade ago, I found myself facing one of the most challenging periods of my life. I discovered that I had Asperger’s Syndrome, a condition on the autism spectrum.The first thing I did was read – anything I could get my hands on. Then, as I always have done when faced with an issue to work out, I wrote. What I found was that the acknowledgement of the Asperger’s label filled in a gap in the story of my life, which I had never been able to explain. It tied up loose ends. It made the picture of my life whole.

What I found along this journey, was that other people’s stories held vital clues for me to make sense of my own. And as I explored my own experiences, I began to wonder…if others’ stories were so valuable to me, was it possible that others might be helped by my story? This was how my blog began…first at “The Aspie Life” on Blogger then at “Asperger’s Diary” on Psychology Today.

The aim of my writing is to use stories, mine and others’, to build awareness and help others like me. It is my hope that the stories, information, and resources I share will help the world at large to learn that while life on the spectrum can be a difficult at times, it can be a rich and valuable life.

Those on the autism spectrum have a great deal to offer the world – the challenge is to harness their strengths, and work with their differences. Tolerance and understanding is key. Ability comes in all configurations.

This fall, for the first time, I’m teaching a college course on autism — a special topics in literature course with 30 students. While, officially speaking, I’ve been planning this class since February, literally speaking, I’ve been planning this class my whole life. It’s a class that excites me a great deal, but it also has, only three days into fall term, made me physically sick with anxiety.

I am autistic, and I am a teacher.

I have not told my students this — that their autism teacher has autism. I know that at least two students know, simply based on our personal interactions outside classroom contexts. And I also know that my students need only type my name into Google to figure things out. But, nonetheless, I have not physically mouthed these words; I have not admitted my autistry; I have not suggested that I am obsessed with Simi Linton or the Electric Light Orchestra because I’m autistic, that I wring my hands and pace because I’m autistic, that I speak softly or walk with a Melanie-specific bounce because I’m autistic.

Today I was struck by something a student said in class, a comment on the exhaustion of passing. “I just never thought about what people with disabilities have to do to play normal,” she mused. “And it’s fascinating to me because we’re talking about this same thing in another class I’m taking on the Deaf world.” My student then proceeded to discuss this other class, a class taught by someone very dear to me — my dissertation chair, a disability studies guru, a scholar who has written often on the line between being deaf and hard-of-hearing, a woman who has, in many ways, modeled for me what it means simply to be.

I wish I could say that, at that moment, I’d done or said something profound. But I didn’t. I nodded, wrote “passing” on the whiteboard, and called on the next raised hand.

I am practicing the art of being visible, of not passing. I am an autistic woman, and I’m always learning what this means. I hope, and soon, that I too might someday model this for another student, for another teacher-to-be, for another person who just wants to be.

—

I wasn’t diagnosed until I was 13. Until that point I was just the maths-absorbed geeky girl who never had friends. Oh, and who played the piano with a level of emotion that was otherwise not displayed in her being. Now, though, seven years on, I see myself as the maths-absorbed geeky girl who is musical, and who also has autism, which is why she is who she is.

I teach maths part-time, mostly to kids with Special Needs labels, and my autism probably makes that an easier task in some ways. I’ve tried to influence my boss’ decisions on the workplace to be more sensory friendly – we are finally now in a room with more natural light and with less “artificial feel” lighting. After the shock of the change last week, this week we have already had a marked improvement in concentration and general coping ability compared to the dingy, dark room with really yellow lighting that we were in (it also has made me feel much more at ease and able to do my job, which is a bonus!). I guess the insight I have can provide ways to practically make a room more conducive to studying in a way he, as a neurotypical (NT), can’t. Hopefully any new students on the spectrum will find the environment more suitable from the start.

I try to hide my autism (not sure how successful I am at this, but I do try). I was having a conversation with someone who knows I’m autistic and who has an autistic child in the street a few weeks ago, so wasn’t bothering to do the “stare at his mouth as that is nearly his eyes” or the “make my voice go up and down in a way to make it seem less flat” which I generally do. Then, a member of a choir I direct appeared [I live in a small town and I am known by lots of people] and suddenly I needed to be back to the “quirky yet not autistic choir director” role. I think that my need to hide the more visible sides to my autism probably stifles me at times – the finger wiggling, the tapping my forehead (my stimming techniques), the doing maths aloud in public places (this makes me feel more able to cope, the London Underground is somewhere I really struggle, so end up doing some quite involved sums to keep me functioning), lack of eye contact, flat monotonic voice – all just part of me being me, but what I try to hide. The autism which is part of me (and I would not change as it gives me the enthusiasm for my maths and the view on the world I have) seems to be not acceptable to others. The visible “slightly odd” features of me are picked up by those NTs around me. It takes a lot of effort to not include those features in my behaviours whenever I am outside my own home. Maybe one day I’ll feel comfortable enough with my inbuilt natural behaviours to show them to most people, but I don’t at the moment.

How can I write abut half a century lived under false pretenses, as either “normal” or “mentally ill” when I am actually “none of the above”?  I’m a midlife autistic woman with three daughters and two sons on the spectrum.  When I was young, in a large East Coast city, there was no talk of autism and it was not a word that entered anyone’s mind when a child was having problems fitting in.  I began reading at three years of age, and throughout my school years showed lots of scatter in abilities.  I was always the last chosen on the playground, the class klutz, the one with the hairtrigger temper and the one with the invisible target all the bullies could see on my back.  I had strong skills in music, writing, theater, analysis and art and could remember anything I learned in context, but very limited skills in rote memorization or in math.  I was permitted to take all my school classes independent study by the middle of high school, at least in part because my inability to “fit in” made me such a challenge to teach in a classroom setting.  Through high school, college and after, I often felt misplaced on the planet, and had cycles of depression and rage.   While academically successful (I have 2 undergraduate and two professional degrees), I always had a hard time figuring out social expectations and fitting into professional social roles.  One advisor told me years ago; “you are just going to have to become so good at something that people will HAVE to deal with you on your own terms.”  That was, of course, while I was being labeled with all kinds of things, mostly psychiatric,  that did not really fit and wondering if there would ever be a place for me in the world as I knew it.  While working on my second college degree, I was finally tested for learning disabilities (having previously simply been considered an “underachiever”) and a peculiar “atypical” pattern (since then defined as non-verbal LD or NVLD) emerged.  Each time it looked like one piece of the puzzle that was me fell into place, several others were dislocated.  Through it all I persevered, knowing that there must be some reason why I seemed so unlike most people I met on my journey.  In my late 20s I was introduced to science fiction fandom, and for the first time met other bright women with learning disabilities who were more like me than any I had previously met.  I have since formed the opinion that many others share, that the largest group of unlabeled spectrum inhabitants on the planet can be found attending worldcons and other SF gatherings for fun.

When I married at nearly 30, it was to a man who while not diagnosed, shows strong Asperger behaviors. He was a successful niche businessman and his social network, insofar as he had one, was in science fiction fandom.   I had learned that emotions were important, but he had no vocabulary for discussing them and little recognition.  He rarely was able to grok my feelings or to express any emotion, was limited in sharing any household tasks, I felt horribly taken for granted, and after fifteen years and four kids, we parted ways.

These four children, three girls and a boy, were all born enough before the 1994 DSM revision that when I took them for help because they clearly were not socially any more adept than their dad or I and they all had speech, temper, and sensory issues, they received the label: Autistic like behaviors – because they could all speak and three were female.  Like me, my daughters showed both gifts and challenges.  One was creatively gifted but could not succeed in the schools’ assessments because her fine motor skills didn’t permit her to draw nice enough images based on perfect circles for their staff to believe she was creative.  One had significant SI issues as a preschooler and major executive function and articulation issues, with language issues.  She is terribly bright but got “MR” services as a preschooler because there was no other way to pay for early intervention – and thank goodness for that.  One spoke very late, had odd articulation and also sensory issues – we had to close all the windows when hair washing time came to keep the shrieks in and signed with her before she figured out how to speak.  Because all the kids showed far more promise than their motor skills would express, I decided to teach them at home in the elementary years, and did so for six years, from the time my eldest was 6 years old and in grade one.  From home teaching, we placed the children all in a very small Jewish day school, where they excelled, and from there they continued to public secondary schools and colleges.  None got formal diagnosis, but all got at least the educational and to some extent the social accommodations they needed in order to find their ways.  Each has some strong interests and all are following their dreams.  All have been through many of the issues, such as depression, that often coexist with life on the spectrum.  Several have allergy and dietary issues that sometimes coexist with the spectrum as well (notably whey and gluten intolerances).

About a year after divorce my youngest was born with multiple medical issues.  By the time he was 5, health professionals started mentioning the “A” word….and being surprised when I laughed and pretty much said “duh!” without looking horrified.  I’d actually been pretty certain that I fit the definitions since taking a grad seminar on autism back in 1980, and figured my kids also fit there, though I had not mentioned it outside the family for fear of discrimination due to all the negative press.    I struggled to remain employed and make a living, at times having to rely on help from family.  Sometimes finances would be stable for as long as a couple of years, then things would slip again.  It was finally, five years ago, through unemployment and the frustration of staff in a displaced worker program who wanted me to be someone else’s problem that a full diagnostic workup was paid for.   Not a big surprise, I received the labels of HFA/Asperger Syndrome, and was referred to Vocational Rehabilitation.  They had no idea of what to do with me either, but that, as they say, is another story.

Formal diagnosis was a huge relief.  It explained my perceptions, experiences, skill gaps, and gifts far better than previous wild guesses and garbage pail labels de jour.  When I told two of my previous counselors of the diagnosis, they both noted that it did fit well, and that, had they not had their hands tied by available DSM labels at the time, they would have considered it.  I threw caution to the winds and began focusing on visual arts, through the medium of photography, instead of trying to fit in elsewhere vocationally.  Giclee prints of my images may be purchased through websites at http://www.janesprints.com and http://www.janesclassiccarphotos.com.  Through the fifty year process of false starts, a step forward and three back, I have learned a few things, which may be of use to others.  Believe your own perceptions – nobody but you knows exactly what you see and how your unique brain interprets it.  If you are looking to find social contacts, first become involved in activities for which you have a passion – hiking, literature, photography, whatever floats your boat!  Nothing is impossible – if you work at it,  and remember that you need to consider those who are NOT on the spectrum as puzzles, in order to understand how they view you and how to get around their particular rigidity.  And finally (this from my late dad, who most likely was also on the spectrum, via Wm. Shakespeare) “This above all, to thine own self be true” even if the stand is not popular or supported by others you may meet.  Because women present differently on the spectrum than males, we truly are in need of different supports.

My name is Barbara Protopapa and I’m in my late thirties with high-functioning autism. My diagnosis came at age two when very little was known about autism.  My mom said that I was born with autism. Before and even after I was diganosed, my parents were told that I was and always would be profoundly mentally retarded and never speak or live a productive and independent life. Specifically, doctors told my parents to institutionalize me. My symptoms included being withdrawn and engaging in many repetitive behaviors such as flapping my hands, waving my hands in front of my eyes and getting into trances in which I continously stared out the window for a half-hour. I also banged my head and rocked back and forth; I did not talk or become toilet trained until I was almost five and had gastrointestinal problems as well.

Developmental problems also were a factor related to my autism. Shortly after my diagnosis my parents were told to put me on a diet consisting of only organic foods, fruits and vegtables and vitamins. There were also heavy metals in my system and it took a long time before I made any progress. I’m the sixth child of nine and my father worked over 105 hours a week. My mother was overwhelmed but both of my parents did the best they could for what they had to work with. There were few services or programs geared towards autism and to make matters worse my parents were not aware of them. For example, When I was 3, I was terminated from places like Easter Seals and the Potential Development Center (to name a few) because they felt they could not help me.

When I began attending school, there was nothing in place for individuals with autism. From Kindergarten through 12th grade I was placed in special education classes in five inner city schools. The programs were not effective because they were a haven for children with behavior, drug and alcohol problems. The teachers could not teach because they had to spend all of their time trying to control the other students. There were no books, learning materials, homework or even written assignments, and I realized I had to educate myself throughout those years, as well as after high school.

The lack of intervention continued to follow me after I graduated from high school in 1990. I took adult education, GED courses, and college prep courses to brush up on my academic skills. When I entered the job market, I found that I had to make more of an effort to be more professional and aware of work ethics, like what to do to get ahead in the market. I managed to get entry level temporary positions to gain experience and a work history. I’ve been employed since my early 20′s and with the money that I’ve earned from working; I was able to obtain my driver’s license, a car and an apartment. I also attended college and got B’s and C’s without tutoring or academic assistance. My employment history includes but is not limited to clerical work, retail, childcare and working for various cleaning companies. I am fully functioning and employed at The Rich Center for Autism and have a part-time cleaning job at a local law firm. I also attend and participate in many conferences and other autism related events. I also speak nationally and share my story and experiences with others, which I have been doing for several years.

I learned I had autism shortly after my 24 birthday.
I had recently run into a high school crush whom I would stare at awkwardly from afar even though we were technically friends. I was well known as the odd one amongst my corillo, the group I hung out with in high school. We were the rockers, devil worshipers with black nails, or so everyone whispered behind our backs. But I wasn’t really a part of the group, I was just too “scary” to hang out with anyone else. I had just moved to Puerto Rico in 7th grade, but by 10th I had learned some Spanish and I was ready to conquer high school and be super popular. It started off alright, until a boy got a crush on me and began following me around constantly. He would compliment my hair and face and tell me I was the woman of his dreams. He asked me what I would do if he grabbed me and kissed me and I told him I would bite off his tongue. I did not talk much before then but high school was a whole other level of confusion and awkwardness, starting that first week with the guy who followed me around until he graduated. I became more confused by the day, knowing I was missing things, but not knowing what, being frustrated and getting into fights because I missed cues. I was really good at math and would rarely go to class, when I would I would get A’s and B’s. The other students claimed I had an affair with the teachers, but I didn’t learn that until I graduated. I learned about prom on the day of the dance.

This isn’t to say I was unpopular, because I wasn’t. I have two very sociable, attractive and popular younger brothers and I was pretty cute myself at the time, too. But most of my friends were really my brothers friends who talked to me and who came over often. I was very unhappy at that time. I knew I didn’t have friends like other people did and I sensed that my style of friend making was “wrong” somehow. I always said the wrong thing and I always seemed to be in a fight, except I didn’t know I was fighting and of course, I was always wrong. I remember my father telling me “you know you always seem to have these problems and you always say it’s not your fault but when everyone else says it is, I can’t help but wonder…” and I remember that high school was the first time I was asked if I had autism. I assumed the boy was mocking me and left, not knowing that my expressionless face, odd vocalizing style and “blank” staring was a dead give away. I graduated with the highest college entry exam scores in my school and headed off to college.

College was an unmitigated disaster. I could pass the classes with little effort but I would usually quit in the first few weeks. My previously favorite professor once called me “evil” in front of a class because I thought it was more rational to save a litter of kittens in a fire than a human child, if I could only save one. I made 2 friends the entire time I tried, neither of which I speak to now. But I became reacquainted with my high school crush who was then studying psychiatry. We talked once in a while but I was still a wide eyed quiet girl. Out of no where, my mother decided to leave Puerto Rico. Unlike my brothers I had no friends (which I discovered after being hit by a car and realizing I had no one to talk to) and no job to afford an apartment, so I was forced to move in with my father for a while. Around this time I rediscovered art and was accepted into a prestigious art school. I decided to make friends no matter what and moved in with some high school acquaintances and began volunteering at a children’s museum. The museum was where I really began to leave my shell.

So, around my 24th birthday I had decided to move back to the US. I hadn’t seen my old crush in years when I happened to run into him in the mall. I was so talkative he literally stared at me in shock with his mouth open. We talked for a while and began hanging out more often. I can not remember why but at some point we argued over the phone. I do remember he said “you sound autistic. I think you have autism.” and for the first time I wasn’t offended or felt mocked. I actually began to study autism and it was… everything. Every bit of me that I tried to hide because it was “bad” and other things that it had never occurred to me to think of because I assumed everyone else thought in the same ways. I studied autism like I had studied for tests and I prepared a battle plan. I learned the names of the things I did and why and I found ways to stop them. I had to be honest, their were sooo many things, like collecting papers, boxes and boxes of papers, and holding conversations in my head until I lost track of real conversations. All those things I had to redirect. But there were other things that I had learned on my own. My brother and mom helped me analyze for years. I would tell them conversations and act them out and describe expressions and they would tell me what they thought it meant. And I hated my face, how it looked the same in pictures so I kept taking pictures until my smile was right, day after day. Learning to regulate the sound of my voice was hardest and I don’t even know how I did that but it was good by the end of college. I got very good at mimicking, too. But learning was so much easer this time around, that I knew what to look for. I wasn’t struggling in the dark, not realizing I was struggling any more. I do remember crying on the phone with my mother when I found out. She thought I was sad but I was soooo happy. I kept saying “But I’m ok now, I’m really NOT crazy!”

Currently I live in New Mexico. I don’t have a ton of friends, but the ones I do have are wonderful. They really try to help me accomplish my dreams. I have an art mentor, Valery Milovic, who is also autistic and she is helping me learn my way around the gallery scene. I was also accepted into a film apprenticeship program, to learn set painting. I make a living as a freelance writer, working from home at my own pace, when and how I want to, instead of forcing myself to try to socialize with tons of people in a service job all day. I have room mates because I’m not good at socializing. Dating is one of the arenas I still have trouble in but I’ve had as many boyfriends and dates in the past two years as I have in all the rest of my life. Growing older is really amazing, it’s helped me feel more at ease with myself and understand the world better. I have a lot of projects, including a documentary I hope to produce in the next year about the legal side of autism and how politics and autism are interacting. I also have a blog on green living that you can find at http://sustainablegreenandme.com. I like the person I am and I’m glad other people are starting to like me too, it’s exciting.

Autism Women’s Network was one of the first facebook groups I joined after learning I had autism. It has also become my go-to page on rights issues involving autism and the first place I look for quality info regarding sexuality in autism. I have been fortunate enough to make friends with some of the creators of AWN as well as contributors, like Liane Holliday, whose book Pretending to be Normal was the first one I read about being a woman with autism. Both Sharon and Liane have given me wonderful advice for improving the impact of my own projects as well as supported many of the endeavors I am working.