Autistic and Anxious

I am scared.

There’s a list of female autism traits that says that ‘Anxiety and fear are predominant emotions’. And is it really any wonder?

I’m not anxious because I’m autistic, my autism doesn’t make me have reason-less anxiety. My autism means that I am a target for bigots and bullies, manipulators and abusers. It means I’m portrayed as a mindless, worthless burden whose life is not worth living, by people who have NEVER EVEN MET ME.

It means my voice is silenced and dismissed again and again and again. It means I have to wake up every day to news stories about the abuse and murder of people like me, people who I could have so easily been but for a twist of fate. Because I was born here to this family and not there to that one.

It means I have to listen to the media, to politicians telling those who aren’t like me that I am a drain on resources, that I am a burden on society and who wouldn’t want to murder such a child, after all in a way it would be a mercy killing, because what person in their right mind would want to be like me?

It means I have to see services scrapped, services that help me, that are literally life or death to people like me, services that should exist to help us live full lives in the community around us, to live and work and laugh and engage along with everyone else…all scrapped so we’re trapped alone and penniless in our homes (or on the street) to starve and die out of sight and out of mind.

It means that at the age of 24 when I finally make the decision to apply for financial help (so I can slowly work up to more hours from a part time job to one that supports me to be fully independent) that I bottle out because filling in those forms means that on some system somewhere I’m labelled as disabled. And I’m scared that at some point that will be a dangerous list tobe on.

It means that I doubt the wisdom in pursuing the diagnosis that meant that I could say to friends, family and employers: my struggles are REAL, I can’t just ‘get on with it’ because that’s not how my brain functions. And now I wonder if my life span might be limited by my decision to ask for medical ‘proof’ that I wasn’t making it all up.

It means I worry that at some point it will swing from being words broadcast on HateTV, in the DailyHate and the HatePartyConference, from dirty looks, from abandonment and neglect into active attacks. Except that’salready happening…

It means I’m scared that at some point the hate crimes will stop being labelled as hate crimes and become government sanctioned, because apparently the problem isn’t those at the top hoarding all the wealth and leaving everyone else to fight for the scraps, it’s us, at the bottom, we’re the real drain, we’re the burden. If only we weren’t taking up space there’d be room for everyone, everyone would be better off. And after all it would be mercy killing wouldn’t it, because who in their right minds would want to live a life like mine.

Thing is, it’s not my autism that makes me anxious. It’s everything else that does that.