Photo © bcgovphotos | Creative Commons / Flickr [image: Person with light skin and dark hair in a ponytail, wearing a blue surgical face mask, at a desk with hand sanitizer and vaccination paraphernalia. They are looking at someone off camera, and pointing to their right.] By Kate On Monday, March 15, I was lucky […]
Photo © VCUCNS | Flickr / Creative Commons [image: A person wearing a black tank top getting a vaccine injection in their shoulder.] by Kate On Monday, February 15, I was lucky enough to get my first dose of the new Moderna vaccine for the COVID-19 virus. I say lucky, but in reality, it was a
Photo © Subconsci Productions [image: Instruments on the wall of a doctor’s exam room.] TPGA is observing Autism Acceptance Month by featuring accounts from autistic people about the differences accommodations (or lack thereof) make in their lives. Today, Kate talks about her experience trying to participate in a TMS research study, how distressing the entire
I recommend having a Santa Claus talk with any autistic kid over ten who hasn’t figured it out yet. It’s better to get the whole thing over with.
Kate A year from now, I turn thirty. A year from now, many people my age are married, with a kid or two on the way. At the very least, they are living on their own, and supporting themselves. Living with your parents is okay in your twenties, but your thirties? That’s just too long
Kate When I was a fifteen years old, my psychiatrist told me that in ten years’ time, there would be a machine that would scan my brain and tell the doctors exactly what medicine to give me to make me normal, to make me whole. That was thirteen years ago, and though I have
Kate It happens, not every day, but often. You’re at a social gathering, feeling good, feeling alive, and this conversation leads to that leads to “Oh yeah, I’m autistic. I have Asperger’s syndrome.” And the almost-inevitable response. “Really? You don’t look/seem/come off as autistic.” I can never quite decide if this is supposed to be
Kate We are scarred, we adults on the spectrum. We are scarred, both inside and out. Our lives are twisted paths littered with diagnoses. We have fought for years to get to where we are now, and still it isn’t good enough. We are scarred. We went to schools where there was no help. Sometimes
