When this was started it was fuelled by many things. A desire to do something interesting and to share information about neurodiversity. Leanne and I ploughed a little bit of money and time into the site. We wanted it to be interesting and new and exciting and a whole host of other really happy words. I found myself often thinking this may take the internet by storm then I will have a lovely book deal and other things and hell, I even downloaded Tik Tok.
Because the way a hyper-fixation works this was my intention for all of two weeks. Then after this two weeks I remembered that I don’t actually have anything to say that is remotely new or interesting. Everything that I could talk about has been said by others in a far more engaging way. People have set up chat rooms and Facebook groups and speak to hundreds of thousands and they get feedback from other autistic, ADHD and whatnot types.
The scientific research papers aren’t that interesting to me as I am not a man of science. I am not even a man of letters. I am more of a man of vague, transitory interests. I can easily believe that the internet is littered with blogs and other social media that cater to various, fleeting special interests. I have read late diagnosed people who have made their diagnoses their special interest. They can, and do, tell you all about the rates of autism, the meaning behind all of these esoteric terms and how they navigate the world. They are mostly high achieving, amazing people. Who, often, see their neurodiversity as a superpower and whatnot. Or they are funny and this allows them to utilise their autism/ADHD/whatever perfectly.
But what about the millions of people who, like me, are not like that. The millions of people whose diagnosis only raised more questions and instead of being a superpower became a millstone necklace. Do they look for blogs from other ordinary autistic people? Well, according to the site statistics: no.
What of the millions of unemployed or underemployed people with autism? Of which I number myself. Do they spend the countless empty hours researching their conditions and co-morbidities? Probably not. Sunless afternoons stretch on and I am constantly having to tell people about the search for work and why I no longer can do what I was doing. It is a relentless boredom and relentless… nothingness.
What about that book I was going to write? Well, I completed one and should be editing it but I am not. I should be reading similar types of fiction but I am not. I should be researching agents and publishers that want the type of manuscript I have produced but I am not. More often than not I feel like Brian Griffin from Family Guy. A pretentious failure who claims the title of writer but cannot actually write. Once my own Faster than the Speed of Love comes out then I will be set.
On the socials I said that I have nothing of value to say and then someone mentioned “just write about your life” and I thought, that might be interesting and then I thought some more and it isn’t. For example, I woke up and did the school run and then I contemplated being something of a failure for some hours and ate some biscuits. Then my wife went to work and I collected my son from school. I apply for jobs that I could do and don’t hear back. I then think sod it and don’t apply for many more because I have a stupid mental block that means I want to be doing something “worthwhile” which has some value. My wife, correctly, tells me feeding, clothing and looking after my son is worthwhile but I can only see mundane office work as helping to make some rich bastard richer as I pretend to care about whatever nonsense I am having to do.
If I was to write more about the life I am existing in then it would be the same complaints ad infinitum. If I was to pretend to be cleverer than I am, a lifetime of experience in this field, then what is the value to it? I don’t fully understand my own autism or how it shackles me. I discover something about it and then I see the wake of missed chances and failure behind me. Yet, if I found something that engaged me and that I felt had a level of intrinsic value behind it then would I be better? Would I actually make a career for myself and do something that I, and others, can be proud of? Probably not. Something would happen and I would end up applying for jobs again.
I don’t even do being a househusband well. Hey ho. What more can be done?
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