An apology


I know I haven’t blogged in a while but I’ve taken a month away from Twitter.

I’ve just recently, within the last couple of days, returned.

I know my record on blogging wasn’t good before that. Again I apologise. I didn’t know what to write about and too much stuff I did write was the same old thing.

I lost motivation. I lost the will to write and, in fairness, the lack of interaction I got with my writing was such that I wasn’t convinced I was doing anything purposeful by writing.

I know they say it can be cathartic but, at times, it’s more a punishment than a cathartic experience and I found stuff just very tough to write. I’ve said it before, I’m not up on the latest theories about Autism so I don’t do in depth analysis, or, put it another way, the technical stuff. I leave that to the brighter and better qualified.

I have started on my book.

It’s three chapters so far. About me. My life, my observations re Autism and how it shaped me. It’s probably never going to see the light of day but who knows, perhaps it will appear in blog form one day.


I am back.

I will try to write more stuff. I’ll try to get something out weekly from now on. No promises.

I need inspiration. And that’s been in short supply. Lots of behind the scenes stuff.

But I am back.

So let’s see what happens.


Are you Autistic ?. My view.

Like many people both Autistic and Neurotypical, I settled down to watch “Are you Autistic ?” the other evening.

I have waited for the dust to settle before giving my thoughts because I did not wish to rush to judgement and I am aware that the views I am expressing may be at odds with the mainstream community view.

I am not on Twitter at the moment. I have felt detached from the community for a while now and even a cursory glance at tweets shows, regrettably, that I have no place in the community at this time. These are very dark times and it is best that I avoid, for the sake of the little of my sanity that remains, being upset by a group to which I cannot belong.

Still, I digress.

The two Autistic presenters were, I thought, excellent. Good humoured, enthusiastic and informative. It was good to see Autistic presenters although I did wonder if someone diagnosed later in life would have been an interesting contrast.

Anna Richardson, with whom I am familiar, was a disappointment. I asked myself why, when she had an Autistic nephew, she seemed to have failed to read even the most basic stuff about Autism. In a way I found her superfluous and having the whole programme introduced by the young ladies would surely not have harmed ?.

Simon Baron Cohen was, regrettably, less than inspiring. I never get much of a sense of enthusiasm from him and his constant “I see” and “Ah..”, during the diagnostic interviews was, to say the least, irritating.

Irritation was, unfortunately, how I viewed the whole diagnostic process shown in the film. Two individuals who, it would seem, have not previously sought diagnosis are, thanks to the power of television, granted immediate access to, apparently, the leading authority on us, for the purposes of diagnosis. It felt horribly contrived and I felt much sympathy for those who have waited years for a diagnosis but who weren’t handed it on a plate through a television programme.

That is not to criticise the two participants but merely to point out they were very lucky. Or so it appeared.

I found how they disclosed their diagnoses to us was a little disturbing. It had a “Jack in the box” effect of each of them emerging from a door to announce “I’ve had my diagnosis and it’s X”. Wouldn’t it have been better to witness the actual moment and see how SBC gave them the result ?. It made me uncomfortable.

I felt there could have been more in depth explanations of how daily life affects us and more discussion surrounding traits and I think, overall, the programme needed a second half or part 2 to give a deeper insight into Autism.

So that’s it. My views. My opinions.

I shall now return to the darkness.

Down, down, deeper and down.

I feel utterly dejected today.

Utterly miserable.

Utterly bereft.

Utterly lost.

I don’t know what I am doing and every little thing is just causing me pain. Every noise, every movement, every little thing.

I feel agitated, anxious, stressed and so so down.

I feel lost.

I am trying to work but it’s like a bad dream. It’s not quite real. It’s not substantial but more ethereal; a floating, wispy sense of reality, just so vague.

It’s that detachment from my last blog; that feeling of dysfunction.

Everything is irritating. It’s like an itch that I can’t scratch and its driving me mad. I want the world to stop so I can achieve some sense of lucidity; some sense of reality.

And I am so tired.

I know its catch up day. I know that we have a large amount of work to get through; I get that but my god, why does it have to be so hard ?.

I feel so trapped.

I don’t know what I am doing. I am not invested in this. I am going through the motions.

It’s not that I don’t care it’s just that I can’t care.

I can’t get invested here.

There’s no achievement. It’s just one long drawn out ordeal with no end in sight. No matter what I do I feel it’s never quite right or its never enough. There’s no purpose; no fulfilment.

I am so agitated.

I had to walk out, get some air, take a breather.

I was worried I might snap.

I still might.

I need to work but every single day I am here I lose a little bit of myself. Every new job I look at is the same thing as I do now, only worse.


I feel such a disappointment. Such a failure.

I want to do so much but my mind, and my body, just let me down.

I know my partner deserves better but I feel helpless to give her what she wants.

She would be better off without me.

Financially certainly.

This is awful. I feel so terrible. So….done.

Why was such a pathetic individual put on this planet ?.

Fuck knows.

I am utterly miserable.

I am 52 next week.

I’d rather not be here at all.

Feeling dysfunctional today

I feel very dysfunctional today.

Very…… disjointed.

Detached. Removed.

I don’t think the weathers helped. It’s not that I mind snow per se but that I mind being hemmed in, being trapped and being unable, even if I don’t want to, to get out.

Being inside has led to a period of reflection and the trouble with reflection is that when I look at myself I’m not happy with what I see.

Leaving Anhedonia to one side I can’t get enthusiastic about anything. I find everything a chore and whenever I get the slightest glimpse of the light at the end of the (very long) tunnel, I find it snatched away immediately.

And that’s frustrating.

Perhaps I doubt myself too much. Perhaps I doubt my ability. But then I doubt that.

Part of me tells me I’m better than this. The bigger part tells me I’m useless. It’s a constant internalised conflict that’s time consuming and mentally draining.

It leaves me feeling very disjointed. Very fractured.

I feel all over the place.

In an ideal world (it isn’t) I would be studying Egyptology and working in the travel industry. It’s really weird, to me, having 40 books on a subject yet not looking at them. And yes there’s another coming for my birthday next week as I attempt to light the spark.

I’ve even been taking part in Ubisoft’s Hieroglyphics Initiative, to trace hieroglyphs into a computer programme, in an effort to get some sort of reaction.

But it all feels so dull.

So numb.

So detached.

I’m doing it but it isn’t me. It doesn’t feel like me, it’s removed, vague, Indistinct and fuzzy.

And that’s the trouble with my life. I don’t feel like I’m living it.

Apart from the brutality of work which is all too real, I find everything else rather a daze. I’m going through the motions and not being involved in things, immersed in things or invested in anything.

And life’s passing me by.

I feel dysfunctional today. I’ve felt like this for a long time.

And I’m so tired of feeling this way.

Ending in NONE


Fading fast.

Happiness ?. Doesn’t last.

Rarely up.

But always down.

Is a smile, an upturned frown ?.



Nothing nice.

Nothings fun.

Feeling frantic, feeling stressed.

What to do ?

For the best ?

Not for me.

Light end of tunnel.

So insecure,

No pride to funnel,

Lost in shame,

Me I hate,

Always bad stuff, lies in wait.

Just so tired,

Too small to say,

Just like exhausted,

Not me today.

Can’t describe,

No word is true,

Feeling shattered,

Feeling blue,

When I turn,

All I see,

Are regrets,

Staring at me,

I feel so useless,

Hopeless case,

I am, in truth,

Just a disgrace.


Torn in two,

Yet more than two,

I’m riddled through,

Holes in me,

No idea,

What to be.

I want it all,

To end soon,

Won’t miss,

The stars, the sun, the moon.

I am a mess,

Still yet I try,

But life’s so hard,

Perhaps to die,

No ideas,

Out of luck,

I wonder why I give,

A F**K,

Here’s to tomorrow,

Same as today,

My problems,

They won’t go away,

I guess I’ll be here,

Perhaps I’m done,

Then I’ll be gone, And I’ll be NONE.

A strange way to care


Say they care.

But when you need them.

They just aren’t there.

Excuses. Excuses. Excuses. The same.

Heard them, I’ve heard them, yes, they sound lame.

We’ll be here they say. They don’t mean it..


Other things to do.

Is the sentiment true ?

All alone, facing despair.

Searching for friends.

But you won’t find them there.

Not the all but the many. Not all but the few.

And those are the few that you’d like to come through.

They’re big on the promises. Big on you.

But when you need them.

What do they do ?

Nowhere to be seen. Opportunity squandered.

Do they really care?. I’ve often wondered.

They say that they do. They say they will be there.

But when they aren’t.

It’s a strange way to care.

Autistic minefield: Changing jobs scares me

It’s a different world these days.

Applying for jobs has become an exercise in understanding employer motivation and desires as well as the sometimes baffling job descriptions and qualities required, rather than a straightforward study of your qualifications and an interview.

Now it seems like an assault course with numerous obstacles you have to overcome to reach the interview stage. There seem to be a number of barriers of increasing complexity.

I used to be a Civil Servant.

One of the questions I was asked at my interview was how I felt about working with a man who had the power to launch a nuclear missile. My reply was “That’s his job” or something equally banal and the offer of a six-week casual role became a 23-year career.

But these days it’s all about competencies and setting what you’ve achieved against certain artificial standards. I must admit that I no longer recognise roles that are advertised and they are couched in such bizarre terminology that I wouldn’t know what to apply for or how. I have absolutely no idea how I measure up against the requirements.

I’m completely baffled.

Someone I know went for an interview. Of the seven questions asked they had to ask the interviewer, four times, what exactly they were asking. They admitted that the language used was totally alien to them and that the interviewer was deliberately obtuse and wordy in an effort to intimidate the interviewee. How terrifying.

Being Autistic I cope best with clarity. I cannot commit to something I do not understand. I cannot answer a question if I do not understand the motivation behind asking it; its purpose and what I am expected to demonstrate in my response.

So applying for jobs terrifies me. My CV terrifies me because there’s such a lack of achievement both academically and employment wise so I have zero confidence from the outset. I have been, at best, a solid, dependable worker whose civil service reports now sound fraudulent and false. I don’t recognise the person described in them. The praise seems forced and over emphasised and the errors amplified and highlighted.

I have no idea what I am good at. I have no idea what I am suited for. My dream jobs are just that, dreams which will never come true.

I find myself out of touch with the job market and suffer from such a chronic lack of self-esteem and self-belief that I don’t know why anyone would employ me in the first place.

I have to leave. If we move, then I leave anyway but being here is destroying me. It’s not the people per se, it’s the job, the mind numbing constant drone of the telephone, the noise of the open office, the lack of communication; that’s destroying me.

And I think, slowly, its killing me.

I’m Autistic. I am Autistic and terrified and I have nobody I can talk to so I can only express that terror through this blog.

It’s a different world out there.

And I am scared.