Since last night

I slept soundly and woke up with a start around five o'clock. I felt tired and really didn't want to wake up that early. However it was straight into the front room for fags and coffee. I pondered my two morning appointments, bucked my ideas up and left at twenty past eight for the first one with the counsellor.
That was hard work, as I'd been bottling everything up since I last saw her. While I was there I realised that all I really need is someone to talk to. That someone must be a person to whom I have no personal attachment, so I can say exactly what I want. I can't talk like that to people I care about, and won't usually discuss any such feelings until after the event.
Then the lady from social services came so see me, but later than expected. She did turn up though, and I'm glad she did. I have asked my doctor to refer me to the mental health team, but he refused. The social services are going to contact him to get him to do that. The lady is also going to contact the psychologist who diagnosed me, to make sure the written diagnosis is sent to both my doctor and to myself. Without that piece of paper I am unable to access the support offered by autism charities.
It has become evident to me that some doctors do not understand autism and the issues it presents to adults. It's the same thing with the population at large, but we can't reasonably expect most people to have that sort of understanding. I have been told on occasion that there is nothing wrong with me. There is nothing wrong with me to my own way of thinking, but I am definitely disadvantaged when it comes to coping with people in general and with life. People would not make such unthinking statements if they really understood what I have had to do to myself just to survive. I am disappointed that even my own doctor just doesn't seem to get it.