I am 47 years old; I was born in the ’70s, y’all. No longer a spring chicken.  I’ve been around the block countless times, but only about 10% of my life has been lived knowing that I am autistic.

Oh, I knew I was weird. I mean, it doesn’t take long for kids in grade school to start picking on the girl with glasses, who had to sit in the front row (so I could physically see the chalkboard) and who read the phone book for fun and could repeat all the other kids’ phone numbers when prompted. That kid is not “normal,” no way no how.

Skipping second grade and still being at least a year ahead of my peers in math while also reading at a college level doesn’t exactly help.

But when I stop and think about my life, the relationships I had may not have been numerous, usually 1-2 close friends at a time, they were deep, fulfilling, and joyful. I never cared about being popular… I cared about continuity and dependability.

When I grew up and went to college, I essentially plotted out my entire schedule a year at a time, finding all the classes that represented the intersection of fulfilling a requirement or two and being interesting to me. If it weren’t for the fact that THE LAST class I needed to pass was only offered in spring term, I would have completed my bachelor’s in 3-1/3 years, without taking any summer classes.

I distinctly remember wondering WTF I was supposed to do with my life after that. I considered grad school but resented how whatever studies I was offered info on seemed to delve ever more deeply into some type of siloed topic and I craved the interdisciplinary. My bachelor’s was in environmental science, with a focus on public policy. I even spent that final winter and spring terms taking on a minor in economics just for the fuck of it. I enjoyed the topic and I was otherwise gonna wait around for that final class. I needed to be doing something!

But after all that, I felt like I had school figured out. I knew how to get what I needed and not arouse suspicion or stir up too much trouble. The workplace, on the other hand, now that was the new challenge I needed.

So I went to work. And 25 or more years later, I haven’t figured out shit. I have no idea why businesses merge. I have no idea why some folks who work for the government think they shouldn’t have to work hard at their jobs because it’s difficult for their employers to let them go. I have no idea why people hire, fire or promote other people. Because all too often, it has NOTHING to do with job performance, skill or education. Our workplaces are built on lies and layers of incompetence dragging good people down, discouraging them and causing them to become disengaged and disenchanted with the entire concept of work. This is not how life is supposed to be.

What I have learned is that I am resilient AF! I can put up with damn near anything and come out on top. I can plow through massive amounts of work and my brain untangles the craziest workplace knots with relative ease. Because I enjoy my work, I can just keep on going. It’s not that I don’t want to do other things, but it’s just a default thing to do. I also get paid hourly so it’s not like I’m doing work for free.

Since April of 2023, I’ve actually been on a reduced schedule, working 30-35 hours/week. But this week, I’m gonna hit 40 again, I think. Beyond that, I had a crown put in at my dentist, a number of meetings for my non-profit, band practice and regular house stuff. Frankly, I’m not sure how I’m keeping up.

And then it hit me… This feels good in ways I haven’t felt for over a decade. Prior to the second company merger in the last 20 years of my employment, I was doing pretty great at work, if a little frustrated about losing our on 3 promotions. I had recognition from my department head and was selected to be a part of a new department. Lots of fun work and, while there was no additional money involved, I was excited to feel like there was an opportunity for growth.

But no. When the merger occurred our new department disappeared, my boss/mentor was let go and the rest of us were offered our old jobs back, take it or leave it. This was the beginning of the end of my job satisfaction.

So there I was, now working for the primary competitor of my company and I get to be one of the first people to travel to the new company headquarters in Ontario, Canada to learn and teach about our respective data systems. I lived there for 17 weeks of the first year and damned if I got ANY work done in the office when I was there. Rows of desks in what was essentially a poorly maintained warehouse looking building with fluorescent lights and people mingling and talking all around you at all times. Rarely a night went by when I wasn’t working until 1-2 in the morning, scribbling notes in my notebook about how our data systems could talk to each other, translating terminology, etc. Then I’d wake up at 6 am and go into the office for another day of training/torture. It was sensory hell.

At the same time, I never felt as engaged and productive in my professional life as I did during that year. I had every confidence in myself and what I was ultimately tasked with and how I could hit it out of the park while getting what I needed in the exchange and creating new resources to help everyone move forward with the merged department. I was exhausted and exhilarated on a daily basis.

Long after that year, I was identified as autistic and I have to say, the reframing I have had to do on many of my life experiences has been illuminating and tragic. I am continually having new memories visit me, as though they are lined up for a flu shot, to receive their new analysis. What would I have done differently had I known? What part of this event might I feel differently about? If the event caused me shame in the moment that has stayed with me and been building my entire adult life, is it possible to give myself grace now and retroactively?

But reframing isn’t free, exactly. Removing the scaffolding of shame can be a messy process. I might not be “shoulding” all over myself, but I am loosening the ties that bind my actions to only the narrowest of middle of the road, i.e. most likely to be widely socially acceptable, and I’m starting to take up more space. It won’t be long before I will no longer be someone folks can ignore, for better or worse.

And I sometimes think I’m gonna miss that straight and narrow, buttoned up feeling, comforting as though it was swaddling a baby. A very productive baby.

I miss that feeling of productivity.