When I first found out I was autistic, I didn’t take it well. (Spoiler alert- things have changed a lot since then.)

 

I remember my conflicting response to having the news broken to me: the cross between relief that there was an explanation for my ‘weirdness’, and the grief of knowing I’d never be ‘normal’ like I was ‘supposed’ to be (back in the days when I thought becoming normal would actually be a good thing).

On top of that, I was the only autistic person I knew. So I needed the knowledge that I wasn’t completely isolated – and more than that, assurance that my brain wasn’t ‘wrong’ just because it was different.

 

This discussion has come up recently on Autistic Not Weird’s Facebook community [all links in this article open in new tabs, so clicking won’t interrupt your reading], and it’s been on my “articles to write” list for a while. And, given the sheer number of newly-diagnosed (and undiagnosed) people who look for help and insight for the same reasons as I did, I’m now pushing it to the front of the queue.

 

When we find out we’re autistic, reactions can vary.

These days – completely by accident – I have a reputation for being a positive autism advocate. (From my perspective, I only ever try to be an honest autism advocate. Maybe I’m supposed to be more negative about being on the autism spectrum, but these days I’m just not.)

But I wasn’t always positive. Not long after I found out, I began to see “autism” as a synonym for “everything that’s wrong with me”. That was because of my massively negative self-perception, and the fact that people around me – including those in authority – seemed to be defining me by my weaknesses rather than my strengths. After Asperger Syndrome was mentioned to me, I suddenly had a word for all these weaknesses.

 

By the time my diagnosis came, I began to recognise it for what it truly was: permission to be myself. I could go for the rest of my life without feeling like a “faulty” person just for not being like everyone else.

Autism was an explanation for previous life events that had confused me. Autism provided context for why I’d struggled in some areas of my life while being amazing at others.

Most of all, it triggered the realisation that all my previous attempts at changing my personality had been damaging myself rather than fixing myself.

Imagine a Mac in a world of PCs, full of computers who think everyone should have right-click buttons and judge those who don’t. It’d be easy for that to Mac to think of itself as ‘inferior’ to other computers, rather than recognising the strengths it has that the PCs don’t. (Or at least it would be easy, if computers were sentient beings.)

 

Of course, all those realisations took a while. If you’re reading this, you’ve likely found out about your autism/Asperger’s quite recently. So here’s my advice to you, from a guy who’s been there.

 

1. This doesn’t change who you are.

Do you remember the person you used to be, three seconds before you learned that the word “autism” applied to you? Three seconds later, you were still exactly the same person. Hearing the big bad A-word didn’t suddenly spark an entirely new personality, or any new characteristics for you. It simply offered an explanation for the characteristics you already had.

Whether your opinion of yourself is positive or negative (remember that mine was negative), knowing that the diagnosis hasn’t altered you can be a bit of a comfort. At a time when you feel unsteady, it’s useful to reach for the things that remain constant.

 

In fact, this same advice is offered to parents of newly-diagnosed children too. (Learning that your child is autistic can be quite a frightening experience if you’ve been taught to believe that autism is automatically A Bad Thing). I’ve told a number of parents that their child is the same awesome person they’ve always been, and it’s helped.

So don’t panic. You’re still you. Don’t stop seeing yourself as yourself just because someone mentioned autism.

 

2. A ‘grieving period’ is ok, if you need it.

Not long ago, I asked my Facebook followers what their reaction was the moment they found out they were autistic. The majority gave an answer along the lines of “feeling relieved”, or “thinking ‘wow, that explains a lot’”. But some people cried. Some saw it as yet another reason to hate themselves.

Of course, it’s possible to have both reactions at the same time. Emotions are complex enough for us to experience conflicting or contradictory feelings. Like I said, I certainly felt conflicted.

 

If you find out you’re autistic and you’re sad for the whole day, that’s fine. If you’re sad for a week, that’s fine. I won’t give an expected or average length of time, but people certainly need time to adapt to the news and what it means for them.

(For reference, I may not have felt great when I realised I had Asperger’s, but I immediately understood myself better. At the time, that was enough- because my self-esteem was awful anyway. When my mental health started to recover, I started to see my neurology in a very matter-of-fact way, neither liking nor hating it. Another few years passed before I stood up to  give a speech for a parent group in Cardiff and said “I have Asperger Syndrome and I bloody love it.” Which leads nicely to my next point…)

 

3. Despite what the world tells you, autism isn’t actually A Bad Thing.

I bet the first time someone explained autism to you (even if they just talking about it in passing), the first thing they mentioned was either all the bad stuff, or the savant/genius stereotype. Aside from that last bit, the advantages of autism barely enter the conversation.

In fact, even autism charities tend to present autistic people as struggling all over the place. It’s actually a pretty big dilemma that charities face – the choice between saying “autistic people are pretty awesome” and people thinking we’re just fine without help, or showing autism as a dreadful lifelong curse and raising more money to help autistic people.

One unwanted side effect of all this awareness (even though it’s helped vulnerable people enormously) is that autism is often seen by the public as a disadvantage first and foremost. This is unfair. We should be aware and considerate of autistic people’s struggles, but not let autistic people get defined by their struggles alone.

 

And this negative stereotyping can obviously be harmful to autistic people: parents often come to me and ask “how can I help my teenager who firmly denies s/he’s autistic?” Often they deny it because they don’t want all those negative stereotypes being applied to them. And who can blame them?

If their understanding of autism was more geared towards the positives, maybe that would help them understand how their brain truly works. After all, here’s an article describing some of the positives of being autistic. (Obviously, not all of these traits will apply to everyone. Because we may share a neurotype, but we’re still individuals.) And you know what, here’s another.

And actually, since writing this article I’ve been given permission to share this brilliant infographic from Harriet Cannon. See which ones apply to you.

Not all of them will, of course. Because, again, we’re individuals.

I won’t lie – I kept my Asperger’s a secret for years, largely because I was afraid people would start seeing me negatively. Now I’m happily and openly advocating for autistic people. But it took me a long while to build myself up to that. For years, the knowledge was reserved for just me and very select group of friends and family.

On that note:

 

4. Decide who to share the information with, and why.

Just because you’re autistic doesn’t mean that people have to know. Don’t get me wrong – it can help if others know, but it’s hardly a requirement. Like any other diagnosis, it’s nobody’s business except your own and those you choose to share it with.

 

When I first wondered who to tell, I was very selective. So selective that I literally kept a list of people who knew, in the order they found out. (Yeah, slightly autistic trait right there.) In the year between my finding out and my first diagnostic appointment, the list reached 22 names. Sounds like a big number, but I knew hundreds (if not thousands) of people at the time, and saving it from the others was quite an effort.

My suggestion to you is simply this: it is entirely your own choice whether to share your knowledge with, but have a solid reason for why you wish to do so.

 

Because honestly, results may vary. I got pretty lucky with reactions from friends and family, but that was largely because I planned everything carefully and only told those I really, really trusted. My parents’ first reaction was to disagree with me, but that very quickly changed after they’d listened to me and the research I had done. Some of the headteachers I worked with (I was training as a teacher at the time) had already worked it out for themselves, and the others just asked “is there anything we can adapt in order to help you?”

My closest friends gave the best answer of all: “This isn’t going to change the way we think of you or anything. If you need support we’re always here for you, but you’re the same Chris we’ve always known. Nothing’s changing unless you want it to.”

 

Of course, there were a few people who gave negative reactions. But stuff them. Save your emotional energy for those who respond positively when you share news that means something to you.

 

5. If you feel isolated, find other autistic people.

I say “if”, but isolation is hugely common for autistic people. If you feel alone, you’re not alone in feeling alone.

If you actually like being alone (which is different to being lonely), that’s fine. But if you want to find relatable people, there’s no shortage of them. There’s an increasing number of local support groups (or general social groups) popping up all over the place, as more and more adults realise they’re autistic and don’t want to feel isolated.

You’ll see this picture in other articles of mine too. I don’t mind using it repeatedly, because the message is important.

Of course, the internet’s there too. In fact, I have no idea how autistic people managed before the internet came along and brought isolated communities together. I keep talking about Autistic Not Weird’s Facebook page because it’s relevant to what I’m writing, but I’ll drop the link here just in case you’re tempted. It’s a very supportive community (it’s a public page, but feel free to join just to lurk!). And if you know of any other good communities for autistic people, please leave them in the comments.

 

6. Decide whether you need support.

[Edit- since writing this article, I’ve written a piece specifically about Navigating the Autism Diagnosis Journey as an Adult. There’s the link, in case it helps.]

I’m going to be honest here: support for autistic adults isn’t great. It does exist, but don’t set your expectations unreasonably high. (In fact, the first doctor to see me didn’t offer me a referral because she felt there’d be no services post-diagnosis.)

If you do feel you need some support, what specific support do you think would help you? The clearer the answer in your own mind, the better you’ll be able to express it to a professional.

And bear in mind the support may not be autism-related. Personally I ended up getting therapy for anxiety. Not specifically linked with my Asperger’s (it was more associated with how I was being treated), but it was what I needed.

 

I wish I could specifically advise how to get support in each country, state, province etc. All I know for sure is that in Britain, most professional help is initiated by seeing your GP (and seeing another if the first one says no, as mentioned at the start of this point). If you have differing paths which have worked for you, please leave those in the comments too.

 

I hope this helps!

For those who feel like they’re the only autistic person in the world, I can assure you the feelings of isolation are unwarranted. More than 1% of the human population is on the spectrum, and – speaking as a guy with a maths degree – 1% is a much higher number than we give it credit for. And I hope that in time you’ll see autism as the source of a great load of your strengths, rather than make the mistake of focusing on negativity alone like I used to do.

 

If you’d like a printable version of this article – either for yourself or for an autistic person you know – please do get in touch. I’ve had to disable right-clicking and highlighting on my site (since my work started to get stolen literally every day), but I’m quite happy to send it out voluntarily to those who ask. Facebook’s generally the best place to send me a message. (Oh, and if your autistic loved one happens to be a young person who feels isolated or alone, the Autistic Not Weird book was written with them in mind!)

 

On that note, Autistic Not Weird also has Twitter and Instagram communities, and I also make plenty of advice videos on YouTube too.

And finally, writing for ANW has now become my job! So if you’d like to support the work I do for autistic people and their families worldwide (in exchange for some nice rewards), here’s a link to my Patreon page.

 

Take care, and I wish you all the best in your journey of self-discovery.

Chris Bonnello / Captain Quirk

-  

Are you tired of characters with special needs being tokenised and based on stereotypes, or being the victims rather than the heroes? This novel may interest you!

Underdogs, a near-future dystopia novel where the heroes are teenagers with special needs, is soon to be released through Unbound Publishing. A character-driven war story which pitches twelve people against an army of millions, it balances intense action with a deeply developed neurodiverse cast.

Amazon.co.uk link for British readers
Book Depository link for overseas readers
Pre-order link for the already-commissioned sequel!


Chris Bonnello is a national and international autism speaker, available to lead talks and training sessions from the perspective of an autistic former teacher. For further information please click here (opens in new window).
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14 Responses

  1. Inside The Rainbow

    I’m proud and happy to be autistic. The only thing I ever grieved for was all those years when I didn’t have a clue who I was or why I couldn’t fit in no matter how hard I tried. With an early diagnosis and support, I would have had a happier life. I would have accomplished more. I wouldn’t have have been bullied as much. That said, it was the 70s/80s and I was one of many autistic people who were misunderstood or ignored. I was finally diagnosed at 47. I’m much happier now. 🙂

    Reply
  2. Rosa

    About a year ago an autistic friend of mine said the following to me: ” I keep recognising your behaviour! My, you really are autistic, aren’t you?” ( he had only spoken to me on one or two occasions before this scene)
    All I could say was: “Huh? What do you mean?”
    (This was a rather interesting twist on the usual “You are not really autistic, are you?” or the “You don’t look autistic…” which NTs love to say.) I was fairly angry, no, make that very, very angry with him for saying that, but I didn’t have the heart to disembowel him for “auting” me He seemed so happy and delighted and thrilled about his discovery. Even my mild protestations that he might have been mistaken provoked an alarming and rather sad reaction. I just let him calm himself and let him carry on as if nothing had happened.
    Autism in adults. So, what does that mean? Determined to find out, I googled it and was “info-dumped” by articles on autism in kids. I raided the local library for books but their supply was surprisingly meager. So I started my own library ( seriously, I bought virtually every book I could find.) I did some online tests and I had to admit it, I do have a surprisingly high autism content. So, after having read up on the subject and read many,many blogs written by autistic adults I have finally accepted that my friend was probably right. Now all I have to do is decide whether or not to make it official and have myself assessed…..

    Reply
    • Kat

      I definitely am purchasing and pursuing every book ever written pertaining to life as an ASD adult.
      …1 month in to being totally “aut” (I adore that term, person above,) in my social sphere (still debating pros and cons of auting myself at work,) thus far almost no negative feedback.
      Which is great cuz I’m in a major crisis depression mode after my partner of 3.5 yrs (whom I loved deeply, with whom I was cohabitating and with whom I was co-parenting my son) told me 6 Wks sfo/on Valentine’s Day that he couldn’t stand being with me anymore and I had to move out ASAP- after giving me feedback for months about how shitty my ASD traits were for him.
      Yeah …so naturally after that experience, I meet all the PTSD criteria now, too. Add it to the list of brain struggles, why not.
      I must say that while the first week after confirming myself as Autist via online research and practically hacking into the top diagnostic tests, and admitting it to myself and my partner at the time, there was relief for me and even partner… for about a week.
      Since then (Nov 1 2018/ 5 mos ago I can’t belive it,) I’ve been stuck in major depression. Like the author said- the “oh that’s why my life’s been like this” feeling has paled in comparison to the “ok so my life will never change and I’ll keep losing jobs and opportunities and friends and love because of this.”
      🙁
      This all has led to breakdown and I can’t work right now. Working super hard with therapist and Life Skills for ASD Workbook and obsessive research and lists re: getting by as a lady on Spectrum.
      Next stop- Self Advocacy meeting next week… finally ready to brave meeting strangers and encounter/connect with my very first autistic people. #community

      Reply
  3. Lorrie

    Chris – I just discovered your website today, and in just 2 articles, I have found information that I feel will immensely help my 14 year old son understand more about coexisting with Asperger’s in his life. I cannot thank you enough for your writing! This is a blessing to me at a time when things are tough enough for a teen.

    I would absolutely love a .pdf version of this article to share with him.

    Reply
  4. B.A.K.

    I was always called introvert or anti-social but because my mom explained that the term meant sonething along the lines of emotionless and I knew i had emotions I never even thought about myself as autistic. When I saw a weird meme about autism recently i got curious and soon realised that my categorizing of everything, love for excel spreadsheets and ability and annoying tendency to analize everything combined with the extreme hate of loud noises, people forcing me to be social or change my routine were pretty good signs of it. I did a lot of online tests because I was in denial of it but with none turning out negative I am researching how to have a visit at a psychologist or how i can explain it to my parents.

    Reply
  5. Vulpes lagopus

    A good friend of mine told me very recently that they were wondering if they might be on the autism spectrum, and when they explained the traits that had led them down that path, I had a moment of realization: “Holy crap, I do that too!” So I read a few articles, took a few questionaires, and sure enough, I scored “autism possible” every time and kept finding explanations even for behaviors I’d never thought about in depth. If I really am autistic, I’m on the lower end of the spectrum, but I’ve still found these explanations to be quite valuable, and sometimes even amusing. Who knew that walking around on tip-toe was an autistic thing? I never would have guessed. And after reading a few of your articles, Chris, I’m almost positive I’m on the spectrum.

    Now I know why I have a hard time retrieving a certain item unless given VERY specific instructions as to it’s whereabouts.

    Now I know why I completely missed unstated information that my peers seemed to pick up intuitively.

    Now I know why I can hold energetic discussions for hours via a chat interface, but my brain shuts down when I have to talk verbally.

    Now I know why I LOATHE small talk but love explaining math concepts or the mating practices of deep sea anglerfish.

    Now I know why the elementary school P.E. teacher thought I was a complete idiot.

    Now I know why I would get distracted and daydream during the simplest of tasks.

    So in summary, my reaction to my self-diagnosis was a positive one. I was excited to discover the reasons behind why I do things the way I do them. I was relieved to discover that the reason I couldn’t “just be normal” was because I’m NOT normal. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

    My parents were also enthusiastic about my self-diagnosis, fortunately. They didn’t say I might be putting two and two together to make five. They also didn’t say, “Oh great, we have an autistic child! What else could go wrong?” They were as excited as I was to find explanations behind my eccentric behaviors. For that, I’m grateful. I’m hoping this will lead to increased patience and mutual understanding on both sides.

    Thanks for the encouragement, CaptainQuirk! Keep up the good work!

    Reply
    • CaptainQuirk

      Hi! 🙂 Thanks for the comment, and congratulations on your new self-discovery! I’m glad your parents were really supportive too.
      I’m really glad you’ve found ANW encouraging- thanks for letting me know!
      Take care,
      Chris

      Reply
  6. Aspie OldieWonk

    Getting a diagnosis at the age of 50 was a relief but also extremely difficult, because it *did* change who I was. I realised I had learnt ways to live and work in a neurotypical world, yet these had brought along huge frustrations, regular periods of depression and job changes. Unpicking my masking from my “real” self has highlighted lots of areas where I struggle to fit in – in my job, with my wife and kids, with people I know. I am now trying a major career change, with a 50% cut in salary back to the level of a graduate, and probably looking at a family separation. But this is the only way I think I can protect my mental health. Relevant ongoing support is difficult to find, although I’m finding it useful to develop autism groups, and try to help others avoid the problems I’ve faced.

    Reply
  7. tahrey

    Man, I know I should probably be opening up to the people I know, and getting on with the support groups that are offered to me via courses I’ve been on, but there’s a heavy dose of social anxiety as well (I sort of feel like it feeds off the aspergers*, if indeed it’s not even some kind of weird two way thing) and it’s just too terrifying and overwhelming. Plus I don’t really know what I’d get out of it, other than a chance to alienate even more people … even whilst increasing withdrawal off the back of that, and off depression coming from a long period of unemployment (itself somewhat prompted by work issues caused by the condition). What to do?

    *heck it was hard enough writing that, here. I could feel the familiar terror and dissociation welling up as I wrote the last sentence above. Maybe it’s just that I managed to miss a dose of the meds last night, but really they only do a token job of balancing things out – I wasn’t much better yesterday, or over the weekend when I was actually visiting friends for the first time in ages. Just kind of … adrift.

    Reply
    • tahrey

      Like … give me a bridge to jump off. And I’ll probably still be here come the morning because that’s too much effort, involves going outside, and high places are scary. But I’ll be entertaining the thought as that fear is probably no worse than what I felt just there. Confronting this stuff is difficult. Getting lost in the internet is easier, and helps mask the eroding sense of self and total loss of identity (jesus, brooding teen much). For some reason, reading these positive, helpful and encouraging pages just makes it worse; the depression makes it impossible to see how they can be applied to my own life, other than recognising the examples where the attempts also failed.

      Reply
    • tahrey

      Bizarrely just a few hours after I wrote that, I got another email about the next local group meet. It seems they have actual subjects to talk about at each one now; last time’s was the “access card” (a handy dandy thing you can hand over to staff at events venues explaining whatever additional needs you may have or concessions you require to make use of their facility), which seems rather redundant as neither I nor anyone I met through the “autism confident” group course (which did very little of what I expected or that it was sold to me on the basis of, after more than a year waiting for the place, and the potentially most useful sessions got cut short by a couple of people dominating an out-of-control discussion that the supposed leader/presenter did bugger all to rein in) would appear to have a severe enough impairment in any of the areas the card covers to actually qualify for it. Notwithstanding that going to such events is pretty rare in the first place, given a) lack of disposable income (due to lack of employment…), b) general anxiety over going to such things, which in itself leads to not really having anyone to go with, and such events are rarely enjoyable on your own. Hmm.

      Next meeting, for which no subject seems to have been established, is next Wednesday. I’m free for it. Still not entirely sure if I fancy, or can be bothered going. I’m not really sure of the point. I have plenty of my own friends who I struggle to communicate with fluidly or keep up with in a reasonable manner. Do I want to add more onto the list, with whom I have nothing in common other than a neurotype? (Great word, by the way – I’m totally stealing it. It would have been a useful thing to have in some of my other posts here)

      Last time I ran with that kind of reasoning, joining up with the uni Anime & Manga club and trying out being friends with some of the other members (largely to see if I could learn a few words and other things to impress the Japanese girl who was often in the same group in my Biology classes), it didn’t go well. Other than liking a particular style of visual entertainment, we had nothing in common; it was an even flakier association than being friends with someone just because they support the same football team. Once the conversation has run out on that particular subject, where do you even go?

      Oh hey, I’ve got aspergers. “Neat… so do I”. OK … now what. Erm… oh right, we both happen to have brown hair, how about that. Um… right. Good. See you next week then.

      It seems about as likely to succeed as those daft icebreaker type challenges in group-assessment interview sessions, where you have two minutes to find ten things that everyone in your randomly thrown together group has in common with each other, without being allowed to resort to clothing, physical characteristics, or things that any two random humans in the UK could reliably call on (something that I’ve had to endure at least three times this year, and it’s never gone well). A recipe for distressing awkwardness, without even the potential to defeat it with maximum ridiculosity, because there’s unlikely to be anyone handing out top hats, monocles and brightly coloured bow ties (though I will hand out an electronic cookie to anyone who gets that reference). I can’t even take my own, because the hat was nominally stolen by a half-cut Irish (breaking absolutely no stereotypes whatsoever) friend-of-a-friend when I dropped him off at the airport and happened to have it still in the car from a previous function, exchanging it for his inflatable saxophone. And no-one’s going to tolerate me rocking up with THAT as a prop.

      …I think I might have digressed somewhat. My only hope is that it’s in some way entertaining.

      Reply
    • tahrey

      Incidentally, in terms of available adult support, I may as well recount the pithy but all-encompassing answer I gave to a local “healthwatch” page on facebook, canvassing for people’s experience of adult after-care mental health and learning difficulty services in the area:

      “What support?!”

      It’s only two words but I think it sums up how I felt about it, and somewhat still do.

      It’s not entirely true that there’s *nothing*, but there’s *little*, and it’s hard to access, has huge waiting times, and is made up of such a flaky patchwork of various random, small-time, unintegrated, poorly funded individual charities and services that you’ve got a reasonable chance of the provider of the thing you’re waiting on simply ceasing to exist before you reach the head of the queue, and having to start over, if there’s even any “over” remaining to start. Or if they do remain in existence, then the person running your course may have quit / moved elsewhere / been laid off / died / etc (one or other of those affected not only my first attempts contacting the local services and getting in-work support, but also signing up for the aforementioned support group sessions, AND the person who was running the social groups literally just announced their departure at the same time as the date for the next session – quite who’s going to run that, or the three others timetabled through the rest of this year, is anyone’s guess).

      And no-one has any shared information (that would violate data protection of course, but if they were actually part of a well organised, integrated service that concern would vanish), so you turn up at their door as a complete zero (this is particularly challenging when it comes to counselling/therapy services; I’m currently in the introductory phase of my third or maybe fourth round of starting out with a new counsellor/therapist with yet another different service, my previous sessions yet again having been cut off more or less at random just as we were starting to make meaningful progress, with there being no clear offer of resumption, and no continuity whatsoever from one provider to the next … and the current one can’t even keep a steady schedule, it turns out, so I’ve no confidence in them lasting the course)… the levels of provision and philosophies are all different… etc.

      So there are services there, but they’re all so fragmented and divided from each other that it’s practically worthless. I could write what concrete benefit I’ve got from all the different lecture courses, work mentoring, access to work mediation, group therapy sessions, group lectures, one-on-one counselling sessions etc on the back of a fairly small envelope, and I wouldn’t be entirely certain I’m not remembering learning them from a free guided meditation phone app instead.

      Like… calm down using deep slow breaths in an 8-5-10 pattern. Close your eyes and try to feel your whole body top to bottom to ground yourself, and concentrate on a calming colour in your mind’s eye. Find five things you can see, four you can hear, three you can touch, two you can smell, and if possible one you can taste. Try to avoid catastrophising or black and white thinking. Habituate yourself to things that cause panic reactions by gradual, controlled exposure to them in a way that re-associates them with a calm or neutral physiological response instead of a flood of adrenaline. A lot of the problems with Autism and Aspergers actually have a sensory overload / lack-of-filtering basis, somewhat related to difficulties with reading encountered by “classical” dyslexics, balance/proprioception/hand-eye coordination with classical dyspraxics, etc. And… er…

      …shit, no, sorry, if there was anything else, it’s gone, lost in the maelstrom of confusion around it all. That’s all I’ve got for 3 or 4 years of wandering down this path, at least without digging out what are by now some fairly dusty and well-buried notes. Somewhere along the way I had to push some of the actual learning out of my brain in order to fit in the details of trying to organise the continuation of it. As well as all the bookkeeping/accountancy of last year, which was sort of intermingled with at least the end of that.

      We (me and my mum, as she was the one who ended up having the critical random conversation with someone else with the right connections) do have an appointment to see someone, and for some reason HER son, connected with yet another local AS support charity at the end of the month. In a random small office somewhere in the middle of Birmingham, on a Sunday. I don’t know why a Sunday. I’ve never heard of the outfit, and apparently they can’t offer any kind of regular meeting or support at the moment because they’re skint (and therefore, there’s a good chance they may fold completely). So I’m not entirely sure why we’re bothering, or indeed why we’re angling to potentially put even more strain on their nonexistent finances. But hey, who knows, it might work out for the better?! It’s yet another potential angle to explore.

      Reply

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