It’s been a voyage of discovery raising our daughter. And not just learning about her, either. We have sat in meetings with professionals whilst they assess her behaviour, and been shocked by the statements they have made. Being told that behaviours that you thought were perfectly normal are actually ‘stereotypical’ for a specific condition has raised some eyebrows: both my husband and I have responded “but I did that!”
It seems that the penny has been in the air for quite some time – around 40 years in our case – but it is becoming more and more apparent that there is a strong hereditary aspect to her autism. The only difference is that we are committed to making sure that our fae doesn’t feel like she needs to conform, nor pretend to be something she is not. After so many years of faking it, both my husband and myself are very adept at it, but the mental toll is astronomical.
I taught for 12 years (I may have mentioned this before once or twice!) I fell into teaching because I ended up doing a degree in the sciences. I don’t regret my degree, but I absolutely regret taking advice from a well-intentioned but misguided parent who insisted that I would be lonely if I took a career in writing, which would have been my preference. So, I ended up teaching. It was exhausting! I was good at it, don’t get me wrong, but the constant social interaction burned through my reserves twice as fast as anything else.
Every night I collapsed and needed a nap before attempting paperwork. I could never understand how my colleagues had the energy to go out to the pub, clubs or even stay up and watch TV. I had no life outside the classroom and paperwork. I never seemed to find a balance. A room (or café – I’m very fond of working in cafés providing I can have noise cancelling ear plugs!) and a keyboard, and I’m very happy. I only have three real friends and they all live at the opposite end of the country to me – I chat online with them as and when I can. Apparently the total lack of want for actual human interaction is unusual, and for a lot of my family they can’t get it. I don’t want to talk to people.
I have been assigned a counsellor – they keep insisting all my ills will be cured if I would just, please, interact with the community. I tried; I went on a walk with 5 people who are supposedly in the same situation. They felt better, I needed to sleep for the rest of the day. I don’t want to be social, it’s too much. I can cope with my husband and my daughter, and that’s it. My husband is the same – it’s why he works from home. We are always in. All the delivery drivers and postmen now use us as a local delivery depot as we take in all parcels for the street.
I don’t understand why extroverted people think that introverts need ‘curing’. We don’t, but after years of faking it, you would be surprised how many people think that I’m loud, chatty and generally out-going. It took me until the birth of my daughter to realise that I was none of those things, and if I didn’t have alcohol to help the situation, all I wanted to do was go home and sleep.
So we’re weird, quiet, and have no interest in interacting with anyone most of the time; and that’s ok. And if my fae grows up to be the exact opposite, that’s ok too. The only thing she has to be is herself, and not pretend to be something she’s not.
I wish someone had told me that as a child.
Raising the Modern Fae 