I just now remembered a dinner I had 5 months ago with an acquaintance, and realize I monologued almost the entire time in response to a question asked to me. I feel really bad about this now. She was probably too polite to say anything.
The degree of my social awareness makes me feel “too good” to be autistic. I now recognize this as a prejudice against the neurodivergent, a prejudice that unconsciously imposes shame on myself, but which I am making an effort to change.
This experience of late diagnosis for one man who, at nearly 50 years old, finally had an answer. This piece will make you laugh, and maybe cry, and ultimately want to cheer for this unforgettable journey to self-knowledge.