Mirror, Mirror.

On seeing my autistic traits* and myself more.

Mary Cassatt

The Coiffure

1890-1891

I can’t stop thinking about the table in front of us at the writing group, looking to see which books we’d like to swap for Christmas, and seeing a lot of moody and modern classics, Dracula, Perks oF being a Wallflower, Fahrenheit 451 etc, and my bright, colourful, hardback copy of Wander Women, a non fiction collection of essays by women including refugees and disability activists on the subject of women’s free and unfree movement.

Same, same, but different. All books to swap but why was mine so different? It was a book. But all the others were the same. Just not mine. Did i miss a part of the message about bringing a classic, a novel? What did i get wrong?

Nothing.

I’m at an age, and understanding of what neurodivergence is, where this just makes me chuckle a bit now and feel happy to share, whereas as a teenager and in my 20s I’d internally reflect on it, internalise it, try to analyse it, learn from it to try and get it right next time, and add it to a growing list of things i need to keep a track of getting ‘wrong’ so as to try not be so bold about getting wrong again. But this interaction early last month has stayed because it felt like the universe had been quite clearly showing me a very basic way a neurodiverse interpretation or understanding of something can be laid out in front of you, or seeing your traits reflected back so directly. I really enjoy the writing group and glad i can add a bit of quiet, adjacent difference, even if it’s just myself that sees it.

Seeing myself makes me smile now instead of wanting to hide further inside.

I see patterns and glaring differences when it comes to books and how they are talked about a lot the most. More so with the introduction of goodreads and booktok etc.

The format in which i like to hear other people’s thoughts and feelings about books has either been to read about personal connections to books rather than reviews and to sit in person and discuss a book. That’s it.

I do not like goodreads, I don’t like booktok (i don’t have tiktok anyway), i rarely pay attention to bookstagram etc. Which can be blunt, and hard to connect to other readers. But i don’t mind. I like running a book club, i like chatting about the book we’re reading, but i find it hard to connect or be interested in genre’s or authors i don’t care for. I’ve never tried to read a number of books in a year. i rarely note down which books I’ve read. I don’t read all the time, i love other things too. I find it hard to feign excitement if its to connect, or i don’t have the instinct to pivot the question or connect in a similar but different way.

For a different, but book related example, a couple weeks ago, chatting in a local bookshop with the owner, we were reflecting on what we’re watching over Christmas and not having the easy watch of Harry Potter now that a childhood interested, or in a lot of people’s cases, deep love, feels sad that it’s got such a connection to the author’s transphobia. I replied to the question if i was ever into HP by reflecting on getting the book as a child/teen from my grandparents on my birthday every year (it usually came out around July) and reading it, usually within a day or two but didn’t fall madly in love with the characters or world or writing. That’s all i reflected back.

What i could have said was, that i wasn’t fully into HP as a child because i got very, very into reading about Anne Frank. And death.

But that wasn’t asked. And I’ve learned over a couple decades now, that not many people love to instantly connect with either Anne Frank, or death. Actually, even if you have known someone a while. Sometimes it would connect more to people who also might have had a similar niche childhood melancholic interest, but perhaps not in a busy bookshop. Although in a queer space, probz.

(A bit of an aside, but related to stereotypical neurodivergent interests, my love for dinosaurs when i was younger was also more about an extinction and death thing than the animals themselves, but i do love a cute diplodocus.)

Although all of the above examples are highlighting differences, the skills of being able to focus on task in hand, exploring difficult topics in a clear way and being able to offer an opinion or solution a little outside of the box have been a massive benefit to me in my life so far. I think learning what i want to write about, how to write well but still being myself are going to continue this year, to be able to share more examples like this well.

I am noticing that my writing may start about one thing but share and highlight several others, perhaps may seem unfocused. But that is also how i often think and process. And so i am sharing like this for now. Perhaps as i learn to write more, and gain more practice, more essays and musings will deep dive more into the more niche thoughts.

*i do not have a formal diagnosis, i may never seek one, i’m lucky/privileged enough to not need one yet to help with accessing support at work or home life. Stress on the yet. I do think shing my own realisations and connection to neurodivergence is good for myself and for other people to see too.

When I searched for Anne Frank in my photo library on my iphone this photo popped up. The others were very hungover photos of her house, which i left a childhood friend’s hen do early to go visit.