A change of mind

The ASD diagnosis has been a life-changing event for me. Last week there were more downs than ups, but that is to be expected. I have had a lot to think about. I now realise that I used to be very hard on myself, and I suppose that is why I have felt depressed for all of my life. In my own mind I was a complete failure and an idiot, for not managing so well in life, and for not making a success of myself. Then, of course, I didn't know I might be autistic until a couple of years ago. Earlier on it was just a case of depression. Depression, in my mind, was the same as failure, weakness and idiocy. When I suspected autism, a new set of worries superceded the old. Was I imagining everything? Was I only trying to find excuses to blame my own inadequacy on? Was I mad? Was I just completely useless?
The diagnosis has helped me to see things I hadn't previously noticed. I now understand that the things that have made my life such a struggle are to do with my neurology, and that I am not making excuses for myself. I now know that I am not a failure. Of course my life is not where I would like it to be, but I must have coped fantastically well to have made it this far. I know too that I am not weak or feeble-minded. I have really had to be very strong to stick it out in the most atrocious jobs, and coping all the time with how I felt. I feel much more comfortable with myself than I ever have done. I am finally meeting myself for the first time. Myself, rather than the self that tried so hard to fit in with what society expected. For the first time in my life I am starting to gain in confidence.

ASD diagnosis

In this country there is great inequality in the service levels provided by different hospital trusts. There are even different service provisions for England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland. I waited nearly two years for my diagnosis, and believe that I only got my appointment because I wrote to my local Member of Parliament. This is totally unacceptable.
If you have been waiting an interminable amount of time for your appointment, or if you know someone who has, I urge you to contact your MP. I wish that everyone in the same boat would flood parliament with letters. All this waiting around is cruel. It must stop.

Post diagnosis

My condition has been diagnosed as moderate to severe A.S.D. I think I may have had an inkling of that, hence the name of my blog 'Cliffasd'. It's good to know. The days of suspecting, guessing and wondering are finally over. YAY!!!!!!
I no longer feel like a complete failure. Having spoken with the psychologist who assessed me, I now think I haven't done that badly to survive as I have, despite my very real difficulties. I have finally spoken to someone who really understands what life has been like for me.

Today

At long last I've finally got the appointment I've been waiting so long for. I am full of anticipation, relief, worry, doing something unknown, and much tiredness. I shan't be having any gin after all. I don't really want any, at least not my own. I've still got some time to wait, as it's not until late afternoon. I just want to get it over and done with now. In the meanwhile I've written down a few things that I want to make sure the man is aware of, and so that the words mean what I want them to say.

Colours to the mast

I have adopted the rainbow flag on my social media thing. On the face of it, it represents the gay pride thing. I'm not gay, but am attracted to blokes. I'm no more proud than ashamed. However what I am doing is sticking my fingers up to prejudice and intolerance.
What it represents too is the autistic spectrum. I certainly do not want any more labels. What I am doing is showing my solidarity with other autistic people of my own age, who have found life such a struggle, and who have never had any support of any description. I'm also showing my solidarity with the younger ones, who have varying levels of success at getting the help that is available but isn't always so easy to access. It's all so very hit and miss. Thinking of you.

The springtime of life

Last night I dreamed that my diagnosis had been sorted out. I felt comfortable for a brief moment when I woke up, until I realized it had been a dream. There are things I am unable to talk about, so I've been writing things down so I can show the man what I really mean.
Early on I started thinking about the time I 'came out'. It was terrible. It was thrashed out of me before I was ready to say anything. The whole thing was a massive guilt trip. It was all about my mum's need for grandchildren, my mum's need for security (her husband), my mum's need for me to have a 'normal' life, my mum's need for me to fit in. As usual I thought everything was my fault. It didn't occur to her to wonder how I might be feeling, or what my needs were. Her indifference to me, which coincided with her second marriage, turned to outright hostility. In the case of her husband, his dislike of me turned to blind hatred. He abused me with the most terrible words and my mum backed him up. It has taken me over three decades to pick up the pieces, and I could never have done so if my mum were still alive. Can you blame me for not wanting to talk about it?

A moment ago

I went home via the shops and had the buns I'd intended to have for breakfast. I'm permanently deep in thought at the moment and that's making me a bit jittery. I didn't feel comfortable there so I've come back to the library to use the computers again. It won't be long before I get my own seat, I'm sure. I've been looking at what I am to expect post diagnosis. If what I read is correct, the help I can get will be a godsend. I don't believe in god, but can't think of another word. I don't want things. I don't want millions of quid. I don't want to be mollycoddled and given preferential treatment. All I want is some talking support from someone professional who knows the issues I face, and has been trained in helping people to deal with them. All I want out of it is for life to feel more comfortable.

Diagnosis

It's D-Day minus two and the thing is foremost in my mind. I'm apprehensive about it. I don't know what to expect and it's something completely different in my life. I've been going over and over how I'm going to get to the appointment. I'm going to leave about an hour before I need to, just in case there are any delays to the journey.
The thoughts were very much around all evening, but the dvds held my attention for a bit. I was tired at bed-time but didn't feel relaxed, so I put on a cd of  Boccherini's string quintets Op29. That gave me something different to think of when I dropped off.
I know I was deep in thought all night because of the fragments of dreams that I remember, and because my bed looked like it had been vandalised this morning.

Time

Diagnosis, diagnosis... It's all I can think of. I've waited two years for the appointment and now I feel so impatient. I know it's no good thinking like this, but I can't help it. I know it won't come round any faster. I think that I'm going to feel very deflated and perhaps a bit odd once it's been done, so I'm going to do something very rare for me and have a drop of gin in reserve for afterwards.

Thinking...

Over the last few days I've noticed that a few 'friends' have been dropping off my facebook numbers. I don't mind that in the least, because none of those people are my real friends. They are just people I know socially. I'm really quite indifferent to it, but tending towards the happy side of indifference. The only people I really want to know are the people who really want to know me.
Of course since yesterday afternoon I've been thinking all the time about my forthcoming ASD diagnosis. It doesn't matter whether or not I am autistic. The outcome will not alter the person I am one way or the other. What I do expect though is an answer that will enable me to make some sort of sense of my life. I don't like interviews and am dreading this one, but looking forward to it at the same time.
At this present moment I believe myself to be autistic, but don't actually know whether I am autistic. Belief and knowledge. I'd much rather know something than not know it. If one knows something then that knowledge is based upon facts. Belief may be based on facts, as in my particular case, but isn't necessarily based on facts. Belief is nothing more than an assumption, something one feels to be right for whatever reason. Belief can even fly in the face of facts, for example the belief that the Earth is flat, or that it is only some few thousand years old. I don't want to believe anything. I want to know.

My journey

I bit the bullet, took the fifteen-mile bus trip, and hiked up to the offices of the people who are to conduct my ASD diagnosis. I'm glad I did. They gave me a cup of coffee, asked me the preliminary questions they would have asked on the phone (I explained that I find phones difficult), and have booked me in for an appointment in a fortnight. That is the best possible result, and such a relief. I have written to my MP to let him know, and pointed out that because of the timing, I don't think this is mere coincidence. My long, agonising wait is nearly over.

Moods

I'm still up and down, although there is still some up which is a good sign. Thinking and thinking all the time. I don't want to be on tenterhooks all over the weekend, when I'll be busy playing. I think I might well pop down to see the diagnosis people today. The weather isn't very nice, and it's a fifteen-mile bus trip followed by a lengthy walk. I might come away none the wiser, but I think I'll give it a go. The best outcome is that I'll get a date for my appointment, or that I'll be told that a date will be forthcoming. Let's see.

Communication

The phone call I am waiting for, to sort out an appointment for ASD diagnosis, still hasn't come. It's really bugging me now. Waiting and waiting around, always waiting. Everything seems to be going in slow motion with the process. I've decided that if I haven't heard from the people by Monday, then I'm going to turn up at their offices on Tuesday to try and get it sorted out. I'm getting really fed up with it all.
Yesterday afternoon, by the way, I was copied in on an email from my MP to someone or other, asking them to investigate the time I've had to wait. Of course I will thank the MP once I'm nearer to resolution, but the issue of waiting times remains so still needs to be looked at.

Great expectations

I'm expecting to hear from the people who will undertake my diagnosis for ASD. I'm a bit jumpy, as the phone call could come at any time. On the other hand they may just write, given the information I sent them the other day. I fear the third possibility, that I won't hear from them at all.
The diagnosis has been weighing heavily on my mind for nearly two years. The feeling has been even more acute since I received the letter a couple of days ago. I just want it sorted out.

Stunned

I left the library with the hump and went to the supermarket. They had sold out of one of the items I'd gone to buy, so I had a nice uphill walk in the howling wind to the next nearest supermarket. When I got home I realized that, stewing in my own juices, I'd forgotten to pick up my tablets from the chemist.
A letter was waiting for me, from the people who are going to assess me for ASD. The letter was written by the consultant psychologist. I was shell-shocked. They wanted me to phone them, and for me to be accompanied by my parents or someone who knew me when I was a child. I wrote back with my phone number asking them to contact me, explaining my age, that I have no parent of either gender, that I am estranged from my family, and that I have nothing pertaining to my childhood. They also wanted some developmental history, which I can only assume they mean in an academic sense. I told them about the bullying, in case that's what they meant.
Now I wrote to my MP last week. Is the speedy receipt of this letter mere coincidence, or has the MP done something to expedite matters?
I'm thrilled to bits that I've heard from the people, but now I've started worrying too. On balance this is for me a marvellous occurrence, and a major event in my life.

A surprise

I went home, wondering when or if the workman would turn up. Luckily he arrived about half an hour after I got back, and was finished in under five minutes. YAY!!!! He's gawn!!!
When I got in there was a letter from my MP, acknowledging the email I sent him last month re autism diagnosis waiting times. I have just emailed him with the full particulars of my own experience.
I do not like my MP's political party or views, but he has an excellent reputation as a conscientious and hard working MP. I have every confidence that he will try and do something about it.

The melodrama

I've heard from one lot of people. I'm no longer on that waiting list and my treatment will start in a fortnight. Meanwhile I've heard nothing further from the autism diagnosis people. I, therefore, remain on their waiting list. Yawn. I hope I hear from them before I get too old and frail to attend the appointment.

News

One of the autism charities has just taken up the cause of waiting times for diagnosis. Of course I've signed the petition and so has one of my cousins. It was a nice change to see something inclusive of all autists, rather than just about women or just about children. We are all served very badly in this country.

Inappropriate contact

Would you believe the ASD centre phoned me this morning? They fucking phoned me. You'd think that of all people, they would understand how difficult phone calls are. All it was about was the letter they'd sent me, and to confirm that they'd be transferring me to another company. Well at least I've heard from them now. It's only taken twenty months for them to get round to it.

The melodrama

I am being diagnosed up to the eyeballs lately. Yesterday I had another letter by email, which was a copy of the one from the mental health people to my doctor. It represented exactly what I do feel. While I felt pleased that the woman had really understood me, at the same time I was taken aback to see it all on paper. I know she both listened to me and heard me because she will maintain contact by email, which is what I am most comfortable with. Gone are the days of 'Oh you are miserable. Take a tablet', and good riddance to them too.