International Women’s Day

It’s International Women’s Day, and I haven’t done anything to prepare for it. I haven’t made any wishes or baked a cake… there’s a chance I don’t know the etiquette.

Perhaps instead I shall talk about autistic women and celebrate them.

I’ll begin with one of the reasons I started this blog (mainly so you’ll know who to blame): There is a fantastic woman called Sarah Hendrickx, she’s an autistic, autism expert and speaker. She writes beautifully, understands intimately, and is an all round good egg.

Last year someone recommended I watch one of her talks on YouTube. It was inspiring, so I did some googling and the fates were apparently with me.

I live in a sleepy town in Wales where nothing happens ever. Sarah lives far, far away. But according to her talk schedule, not only was she coming to the area, she would be arriving imminently.

I’m not great at spontaneous when it comes from an outside source, but I am great at focus on an interest. I hunted down the organiser (metaphorically) and fired off an email asking about availability on the day.

The day was for professionals, families and Autistics. I got a response telling me it was full. My heart sank.

You know when they say “your heart sank”? I love that description. It’s so right. I literally hunch over and breathe out, and my chest lowers. It does sink.

But there at the bottom of the email was an extra bit. Something along the lines of “but if you are a close family member or an autistic, then we will make space for you” they even added that I didn’t have to disclose which I was if I didn’t want to.

That was the first time I had said “I am autistic” to anyone who wasn’t immediate family.

It seemed like a badge of honour.

My husband took the day off work. There’s no way I could have attended alone, all that stress, and all those people.

I’m not going to lie, it was a really difficult day. People assumed I was a professional and leaned into me and over me, and touched me. My husband kept having to pretend he was moving to make a space around me. Everything inside said “run!”

I didn’t run. I wanted to hear Sarah speak.

There were the introductions (small talk, it’s all small talk even when it’s on a stage… make it stop!), then they began talking about last year’s responses to questionnaires about making the space accessible.

Which was great. It was great that they did that, and that they were trying, but then there was something said about the brightness of the lights, and could they dim them. Five minutes were spent switching switches and changing the room from one thing to another.

And that little voice that said, “Run”, started to scream. Instead I did a little smile, and squeezed my husband’s hand, hard, with my sweaty paws, so that he would squeeze back.

I did what I always do when the floor is filled with faces, I looked up at the ceiling. I pointed out where the old building had made way for new technology to my husband. It soothed me. That expanse of white. That pattern and detail.

Someone kept looking over their shoulder at me. Again and again. I smiled, but they looked confused. I realised they were trying to reassure the autistic teen girl behind me. Another professional invading my space.

No one’s fault. All from a good place.

“RUN!” Screamed the voice.

But I didn’t. Because finally the small talk was over and Sarah was speaking.

I don’t know if you’ve ever heard someone talk about their own life and just been astonished by the similarities. I laughed at her jokes, I wept at one point (and I never do that in public).

It was the first moment that it really clicked that I wasn’t alone. I’d been talking to people online, some of them were like me, some of them seemed very different, but it wasn’t the same as that human contact.

A social worker next to me whispered to someone, “It’s true, women are really under-diagnosed” and they both nodded. I felt like a secret, even in that room, even there.

I wanted to speak to Sarah. I usually want to run away and hide, but I wanted that connection with that person so like me. I didn’t want to miss that chance.

In the break I walked up to the old library. Now empty of books. Creaking and groaning with its unfulfilledness. It had longing, that room. The windows were salt stained, and they smudged the sea outside.

I stood on tiptoes to see the waves. Like a small child. I needed to see them move.

The door opened. Someone else was coming in to my empty, echoey space. I hid around a corner and pulled my husband with me. I didn’t want eyes on me.

Like a bird trapped in a room I looked for escape without being noticed.

The best thing about that day… there were two best things, but this one was my husband’s response to everything I did. He told me I could leave if I needed to. He reminded me that I wanted to speak to Sarah, when I tried to shrug it off as too hard. He was my rock. I tied myself to him, so that I could flit about as I needed to, knowing he could draw me back at any time.

Finally it was lunch, and I managed to steal a moment with the speaker. It was warm and easy, we laughed. She asked if I blogged about autism… or something like that. Chances are she mentioned blogs in passing and I took it as an instruction. Who knows.

Either way I began this place – and it is a place for me. It’s my space to talk about this side of me, to let myself out. It’s my free therapy session. I can’t begin to express how much good it’s done me.

That very first blog post, those words that poured out of me in one long flow, Sarah shared it. And that led to other people finding me, and suddenly I didn’t just have one person to learn from, I had a whole group to rely on.

A human soup, from every walk of life. All brilliant in their own ways. All of them. We don’t all agree all the time, because… why would we? We’re just people after all. Flawed and talented and individual. We just all process the world through that filter of autism, and that’s not a huge thing to have in common, it’s just a shared angle for experience.

On International Women’s Day my hope for the future is that women will be able to seek diagnosis and be understood; that we will no longer be turned away when we don’t present as an autistic stereotype; that support circles are created or expanded for subjects like motherhood or relationships or where to find bearable bras for those with sensory issues.

Because one person can make a difference. They can make the world a better place. They can make someone feel good about themselves. They can make one day that little bit easier. Because it matters.

Published by Rhi

45 thoughts on “International Women’s Day”

  3. I never realised! Those excruciating minutes before the lesson, or the meeting, or the talk begins: small talk! No wonder the flight response eases as soon as the event actually begins.

    I have been reading your blog for a while now. Thank you for this insight, and for many others. You have helped me explain my reactions to people close to me who just didn’t understand.

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    1. Thank you so much. I’m so glad it’s helped.

      I know! It suddenly clicked, this is all small talk. I’m never interested in introductions, I want the content! 😄 it would be ok if it was all necessary, but 90% of it lacks purpose.

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    1. Damn you! I have tears! Are you who I think you are? I’d hate to tell you the feeling is mutual and then find out I think you’re awful really 😄

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  5. I loved this post. Particularly the bit about bearable bras…you cannot believe, really, the issues I have with bras. And as a 38D, going without is not really an option. Sports bras are worse – so tight! Lights, clicky heels, people looking…..Thank you for making me feel less freaky and alone.

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    1. Definitely not alone! I spent years in agony. I’ve finally compromised and usually wear “supportive tops” instead. But I’m not the most be-bosomed woman in the world 😄

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      1. 🙂

        It’s something that people and several professional colleagues have said about me – I have no diagnosis so no clue but your blog is fascinating.

        Someone in my family has recently got an adult diagnosis of ADHD however she had to go private for this and was certain when her son was diagnosed.

        Girls really do fly under the radar on the spectrum. I’m sure with more empowers liked yourself this could change hopefully. ❤

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        1. More and more are being diagnosed and noticed , but it’s a slow process. A lot of professionals still focus on male presentation.

          The more people read, the more hopeful I am for the future.

          It’s almost like there’s a quiet awakening going on at the moment. We just need to keep that movement going 😊

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  8. Pingback: International Women’s Day – Endo Alien

  11. It’s a good thing you started the blog, I, being one of the exploring women mentioned above, certainly have benefited greatly from reading it. Am I right in thinking that you enjoy the writing of it as well? Everything is so well expressed and beautifully worded.

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  14. Literally just found your blog from this post and I’m now eager to read more! I know exactly what you mean about blogs being that creative, free space and I loved your take on IWD- my blog was heavily inspired by the works of other similar-themed brothers too. It’s so interesting learning what IWD day means to different women and just how diverse and inclusive it is! 🙂

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    1. Thank you! I don’t know what I would have done without female autistic role models. I doubt I ever would have even found out I was autistic, which would have been really isolating. IWD is a wonderful thing 🙂

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  15. Wonderful human soup! Your prose is lovely. My progress toward self diagnosis started from reading Sarah Hendrickx’s Standard Issue article. Even though I have never had the urge to buy a B&B in Morecambe, I identified with the idea of sudden, insane plans. I’m forever grateful for that article and for her books, which sent me on a learning journey which has so helped me manage myself better.

    Like other comment here, I love your blog entries. They help keep me sane and keep me learning.

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    1. Thank you! Your comments help keep me sane and learning too 🙂

      I have definitely done the sudden, insane plans. They’ve all been my best decisions too.

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  16. Pingback: Because one person can make a difference. They can make the world a better place. They can make someone feel good about themselves. They can make one day that little bit easier. Because it matters.-From the author – Spread Sheet News

  17. Oh my gods! “bearable bras”. Okay, I completely grok the underwear subject, but being a man the idea of having to find a “bearable bra” is stupefying. It brings a new appreciation of something I don’t have to work through.

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  18. I’m still on the fence as to whether or not I have autism. My son was diagnosed a few years ago, but it’s obvious with him. He had temper tantrums until he was eight and at eleven he flaps his arms when he’s excited. Like him, I definitely have sensory issues. My mother has severe anxiety. So, I thought it made sense I’m pretty anxious, too, but maybe there’s more to it. How did you know for certain you had autism and was it hard to get diagnosed? I’m in the U.S. and there is no longer a separate Asperger’s diagnosis. All kinds of autism are now under the umbrella of “Autism Spectrum Disorder.” Because of this, I think higher functioning individuals may not be getting diagnosed as often.

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    1. I’m in the UK, so I’m not sure what the path would be in the US I’m afraid. Here it was a straightforward but long process, but again it does depend on who is diagnosing you. I was lucky that the doctor I dealt with had a special interest in adult women with autism.

      I wish I could be more help. It does seem increasingly common for parents to realise they’re on the spectrum after their children get diagnosed. Is there anyone dealing with your son who you could ask for advice?

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  19. My son was diagnosed by a pediatric neurologist. There’s got to be someone in my area who makes diagnoses for adult women. What do you think are the positives in getting diagnosed?

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    1. For me it’s been more around how I deal with myself. Having an expert tell me that I have to stop the treating my need for downtime as optional, has meant I actually take more time to recover from things that drain me. It’s also helped me stop dismissing sensory things. Most of the things it’s helped with have been down to me listening to myself more!

      These are all things that I was already working on when waiting for diagnosis.

      Having the diagnosis helped me realise that I do make sense, I just don’t make sense in quite the same ways as other people.

      It’s also helped the people around me understand why I do certain things the way I do. My husband says it’s helped him realise that when I need some time to myself, it’s not because he’s upset me!

      I know some people are happy to self-diagnose and make the adjustments they need. Personally I needed to know for sure. It’s what suits you.

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