The wild adventure of reading and self-exploration marches on as I wander through the autism realm. It’s like I’ve been handed a pair of magic glasses, and suddenly, everything from my past starts to make sense.
When I cast my mind back to my younger years in Brazil, I can’t help but chuckle. One thing I’ve always despised is noise. My house was like a perpetual festa, with TV, sound systems, and boisterous folks cranking up the volume all day long. Even the neighbors joined in, and one delightful soul decided to turn her house into a booming church, complete with a microphone and the loudest speakers known to humankind. For a kid like me, finding a sanctuary free from sensory bombardment was a pipe dream.
Now, fast forward to the heartwarming moment when my dear mother, just five years ago, said, “I’m sorry for not realizing you needed some peace and quiet.” In her eyes, how could she ever imagine that her own flesh and blood wouldn’t thrive amid that delightful chaos? Who could blame her? That was her normal and how she had been raised and learned to live. At least now we share a good laugh about it.
College days were another comedy sketch waiting to happen. Picture me, struggling to focus during those never-ending classes while my classmates chatted and interacted like they were in a caffeine-fueled TED Talk. Meanwhile, I hit my five-minute mark, mentally checked out, and began my solo quest to muster the strength to keep my eyelids from staging a rebellion. By the end of the class, I had just enough energy to manage a conversation as captivating as a damp cardboard box.
So, what’s my solution? I embarked on a heroic journey to find textbooks and study in solitude. Thanks to my meticulous method, I became the Sherlock Holmes of self-education. Exams weren’t exactly a piece of cake, but somehow, I managed to get better grades than most of my college buddies. Oh, you better believe I’m gently patting myself on the back for that!
Then, there was that unforgettable relationship. Long before I proudly waved my LGBTQ+ flag, I was entangled in a romance with someone who saw my need for alone time as a love deficiency. It was like I had a magnetic pull toward solitude, and she had a gravitational pull toward perpetual togetherness. She couldn’t comprehend why I wanted my personal space, and I couldn’t understand why she needed me around 24/7. Guilt? I was drenched in it. I adored her, but my inner compass kept pointing to “Me Time” every couple of days. It was like I needed a solo adventure in the quietness – or whatever that meant to me at the time – of my room to recharge. Now, in the grand theater of hindsight, it’s like watching one of those French cult movies where the characters just don’t get each other.
So, here I am, looking back at a life filled with eccentricity, puzzles, and moments that now make me wonder, “Could it be that I’ve been too tough on myself all these years?” Autism, my newfound friend, has given me the glasses to see life through a different lens. Who knew?