Swimming Uphill

So what’s it like spending a weekend camping at a Fringe Theatre Festival, when you’re autistic? Tiring. That’s probably the word. Tiring both physically and emotionally. I am so glad that I went, and so frustrated that I didn’t have the energy to do more, to see more, to connect more. I hadn’t been to … Continue reading Swimming Uphill

The Duck: An Autistic Play

I’m in hiding. I don’t have time to be in hiding, it’s possibly the worst thing I could be doing at the moment, and yet hiding is where I am.   I feel like I opened the floodgates because a beautiful butterfly fluttered by, and now the waters are rising and I can’t get the … Continue reading The Duck: An Autistic Play