2 Years Ago I Was Diagnosed With Autism

This day.

Two years ago.

All the wrong answers or partial answers fell away, slotted in, to a final cohesive whole.

My whole answer.

I am autistic.

There is talk of being bound by labels. Like they are some kind of trap that constrains you. This label freed me. It was everything.

It was all the ways I didn’t fit. All the ways I didn’t work. It was the silver and gold that binds broken pots, that makes them stronger, more beautiful than before.

It was sense, identity, understanding — of myself and the world.

It was acceptance, tiny but growing, of my flaws. It was a sudden realization that I was strong, am strong, not weak as the world had me to believe.

It was courage to find my voice, to use it. To fight for change, in my name, for all the women after and before me. For my beautiful daughter.

My Missy who makes me happy and frustrated and elated and so full of intense pride and love. My beautiful mi amore who is my love, my heart, my reason for fighting when I think I cannot fight a second more. My daughter, who changed the way I see and experience the world, who gave me the greatest gift I could ever have hoped for and one I never expected.

To finally know myself.

I am autistic. I am whole.

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Getty image by Dreya Novak

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