Being Myself



I'm done. I'm not going to try to cover anymore, I'm tired of putting on my Normal Boots and walking out the door with a limp. I'm sick of not being myself for the whole of every day. That's it.

The way I act is the way I am and there's no more Little Miss Whatchulike. I won't go out of my way to be what I think people expect. Why should I?

I used to think I had to behave like a real live grown-up to keep the money coming in. Would people want the full me tutoring their children? Do I not have to keep up appearances talking to parents? Can I really leave the aspie door all the way open?

The answer is a simple one: there is no door. The aspieness is there all the time, sometimes hidden, sometimes parading in full view. I can see it clearly in others so why not let everyone see it in me?

I have seen some surprised faces lately. You see, I hadn't realised that my decision to be fully myself had already happened. I think it was sometime last week when I stopped trying to be as expected. There has been so much to do lately, so much to cope with, both physically and emotionally, that at a point in the middle of last week my brain must have thrown up its metaphorical hands and let loose the balloons.

I remember thinking Susie's parents looked a bit confused while I was talking and then later, when I was explaining something to Janine's dad, his face twitched as he processed it and then he grinned. Hugely.

The next day I was hugging. Good grief, I was hugging! Freaking hugging! It was a necessary hug, love was needed and I did it! It was only later I realised it hadn't hurt and I was still all in one piece.

Being Me has been a revelation. All the way me, the true face showing, the smile and the tears. This is me, the aspie woman, the one in the patterned frock, wearing snowflakes on the hottest day as a way to keep cool, the one falling out of her car because she doesn't do pavements, the one who can't work a retractable eraser and lets small boys paint battle stripes on their faces with her marker pens (erasable!).

What A Relief. It's like walking out onto the back steps in summer and finding a place where a cool breeze blows by. From now on it's going to be real in real life and no more worrying.

There is so much in life to worry about, after all. Why worry about being yourself as well?

Amanda



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