Here we are in 2020. (And that's another post entirely- what a year it has been so far!). It's clear I haven't been very prolific in this space, and I'm not making any promises for the future either.
But I am making some changes. Firstly, the blog name. Long overdue, I have not been solo trekking through recurrent miscarriage for a very long time (and thankful for that!) but as I wasn't really posting much either it didn't seem a priority. Keeping my head above water has been my main concern these past years, and as Louis has recently turned seven, I think I am successfully achieving that. At the start of 2020, I would have said perhaps I am even swimming, and maybe even in a sort of direction (ok let's not get ahead of ourselves there). But then Covid, and, you know.... back to head above water. Which, I concede, is still better than drowning.
Thanks to living on a remote and isolated island (Australia) and living in a state that swiftly closed its borders to the rest of the country (in addition to closing them to the rest of the world) and has kept them closed (Western Australia) my life has already regained much of that which was lost, for which I thank my luck on a daily basis. In fact, sometimes on a minute by minute basis. Yes, I am that grateful. To date, our state has had 9 deaths from Covid19 and today we have two active cases (neither of which is in hospital, both of whom are in mandatory hotel quarantine). It's hard to believe the stark contrast of this experience as opposed to that of, well - the rest of the world, really (bar New Zealand).
Maybe (and maybe not, given my history of repeatedly abandoning this space shortly after returning) I will write about the 'lockdown' times, but for now, in this post, I'm mainly addressing the topic of changes relating to this blog. So, I've come up for air, made a small amount of progress, gone back under a little bit and am coming up again now and having a look around.
And here I be.
Yesterday I completed a marathon of survey responses to a parliamentary inquiry into autism. Over three days I spent seven hours submitting answers to questions such as: What made you seek a diagnosis? What was the process like? Were there any barriers to diagnosis? Are there any benefits or downsides to diagnosis? Do you have any suggestions as to how the health care system/mental health system/education system could be improved to better support autistic people? And then I answered them all again with Louis as the voice behind the experience.
Obviously one could write a book with the words it would take to give thorough, considered responses to those questions. At the very least, a doctoral thesis. As it was, I had a short deadline, having somehow missed the earlier memos, and only six days to get the job done. I was just getting into the meaty parts when I had to pause and collect Louis from the school bus, and of course when I returned to the iPad and facebook page that had linked me to this survey, POOF, it had vanished along with the previous hour and a half of input.
Ugh. Along with my enthusiasm for beginning again. I dashed off a quick email to the folk organising the survey's data collection and collation and let them know of my misery, unhappiness and despair. They responded quickly, informing me that my partial submission had been received (hooray!) and I could continue from there, and they would match the second portion to the first.
So the next day I began again but this time I saved my responses as I went along and where better to safely put them but in a draft blog post? On the third day, I completed the task and submitted the survey. My draft blog post at that time was almost 5,000 words, and that is not counting the front half that was swallowed before I could save any of it.
And after spending so much time and effort and headspace in this realm, I realised there was still so much more thinking and writing to do on this topic. That I could revive this space, and do it here. So today I spent a few hours trying to figure out how to work the new block editing process in wordpress (and failing, going back to having to install the classic editor), updating plug ins and themes etc, replacing the front page image and updating 'about' by adding in the Part Two. [I'm not erasing the past, I'm just tacking the future on top. If it's a bit messy, so what]. And of course, changing the name. Which came to me like a bolt out of the blue almost a week ago, before I'd even thought to come back here and pick up the pen (so to speak). I did a quick google on the Blunt Optic name and only found one hit, a You Tube channel which didn't have anything to do with autism as far as I could see. So I hope I haven't stolen anyone's TM or anything, and if I have, please contact me before you file the lawsuit and I'll happily rethink the title.
Most of the blogs I read during the infertility days have closed or are dormant and have been so a long time. But there is one writer I still follow, who writes regularly, and I have noticed that she has commented on receiving a decent amount of responses to her work that are combative in some way. And she feels like she has a growing need to censor what she says, or explain it in such as way as to justify her position without causing offence or hurt feeling or a backlash of ire. This makes me feel sad on her behalf. And tired just thinking about the energy that would have to be spent on the curation and polishing up of a watertight post.
If I felt as though I had to do that here, I would either not write or I would not publish. I am of a mind that as long as I am not promulgating hate speech or the like, if you don't agree, then keep on scrolling, and let's leave it at that. I've spent my entire life having to tone down what I say and how I say it in order to be acceptable to other people. I want this to be the space of freedom of expression. Freedom to be me, and for that me to be accepted for who I am and what I am saying. Somewhere I don't have to explain or justify or defend my position or views. Where I can relate my experiences of the world as they have been lived by me, and feel safe to do so. Perhaps a place I can even feel heard. And maybe one day, understood.
But at least for now, my aim is to write what I think and feel about the experience of living life with autism (as an autistic person and an autistic parent, and as a parent of an autistic child) without being attacked for using the 'wrong' language or whatever. So please don't @ me; leave the tone police at home, etc et al.
And let's begin.
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