Drage blant sauer

  Everywhere I look or read, I get embroiled in linguistic discourse on acceptable terms used to refer to autistic people.   I have written many times on this blog that a change in wordage when referring to autistic people is needed. It is a core issue for me, as language shape thoughts and attitudes towards those deemed Other within society. Otherment is due to linguistic difference and already marginalized people are more marginalized by the words that are applied.  Autist , to my mind, carries too much historical weight to be used in polite conversation. The term itself was coined in 1911 by Swiss psychologist Eugen Bleuler, who derived it from Greek autos ‘self’, referring to schizophrenia in the vernacular of the time. In nearly the century since Ukranian pediatrician Grunya Sukhareva wrote of autism (1925), much has been attempted to better the lives of the autistic population. At least in theory. Seldom are autistic people herded into mental institutions; th...

  Naming autistic difference is treated as threat, as it is not to be respected, merely managed. It all started with a phone call. A relative had found a group for autistic people which actually had heard of autistic burnout – success! About as rare a feat in Norway as it is to realize you're surrounded by bears in a dark forest. I was intrigued, but wary. Too many seemingly neurodivergent-friendly spaces turn out to be run with neurotypical sensibilities and measures in mind, even if they say they're not on the tin. Having burned myself too many times on such ventures, amazing I said yes to this one. To have an invisible dynamic disability or a neurological condition is sometimes a struggle. It fluctuates day by day and what seemed effortless on Monday can spell a breakdown on Thursday. I've recently come across (and in the progress of relistening to) the podcast Autistic After Hours (more specifically episodes 23, 30, 42, 74 and 75) and it has put into words some of ...

  Too often I feel the Cassandra. What I perceive as truth and lived experience fall on deaf ears. Professional deaf ears. It's not a new senario. The sterile walls of the doctor's office, filled with diplomas or an overview of the human body, either in musclewrapped or bare bones. Perhaps a skeleton in the corner. An office chair for the doctor, a chair for the patient. Some hierarchies never truly change. One doctor's office I was at, had a couch. I clutch my little list of points I wish to bring to her attention. Things I perhaps struggle with, perhaps feel overwhelm me, perhaps are silly little things. I trace a pebble soothingly. My mask stays in place. “I'm having some trouble with melancholy.” I say at last. One of several conditions on my list, the most common, I think. One comorbidity seldom arrives unchaperoned, and the melancholy has been a consistent for years. My own dreary dark dog, to borrow a phrase. Such a thing that is a constant day in and da...