I finished this book several days ago but have been mulling over what to say about it. Difficult to write about a book that strikes such a somber note. To my surprise, it was easy to comprehend- probably because of the very straightforward, matter-of-fact writing style. I found myself reading several chapters in a row and not wanting to stop, an experience I’d been missing lately. It’s written by a woman on the autism spectrum, who received a diagnosis later in life and suddenly had a new understanding of all her experiences. She looks back on her life introspective, examines everything with this new paradigm. I found it hard to put down.
From the beginning, when she felt different from other kids, struggled to understand social norms, and how growing up in an abusive and neglectful household affected her. Through her years in university, studying environmental sciences, and her many different occupations- the actual work was never a challenge for her, but getting along with co-workers and being micromanaged by superiors was, so she frequently lost jobs and had to look again. Over and over again though, she points out her strengths, attributes and skills she excelled in. And how they were sometimes overlooked by others for petty reasons. Half her life was spent living in Israel, so for a long time she assumed that her social difficulties in the US were due to growing up in a different culture. She loved cats and other animals, said she could write a whole book about her cats, but nobody would read it. That’s wrong! I would read that book. I’d read one about her work with horses, too- she owned several at one point, did training, and was a judge for jumping competitions. All this plus other varied occupations including harvesting prickly pears, doing lawn treatments for a landscaping company, research assistant in universities, safety inspections for the county, and even military service (when she lived in Israel).
It was all intriguing to read about, such an interesting life, but such heartbreak too. Abusive relationships, many which she said little about- there are holes here and there in the narrative but I understand some things are just too painful to write about- feeling betrayed by employers, ignored or gaslighted by doctors when she was sick or in pain, the list goes on. And it’s dismaying that the book doesn’t end on a hopeful note- when she finished writing it she had given up attempting to find work again (in spite of having earned her degree and proven she could do some of the best work in her field) and gone on disability. But the author notes that she wrote her memoir to help make others aware what it is like to live neurodivergent in a society that expects everyone to follow the same norms, not even being able to communicate effectively a lot of the time. And to help others see it in themselves, if they might be autistic. Adults and especially women, often fail to get diagnosed because it is not recognized, or there are no services available, or it is too expensive. The final pages of her book summarize current needs of autistic adults, accommodations and supports that currently are not provided (or not adequately enough) and advocating for help- to allow them to be themselves and recognize their contributions. Not forcing everyone into the same mold.
I appreciated reading this book and it’s one I will probably go through again. I apologize if my thoughts here are disjointed- while I found it an easier read, it was harder to put my thoughts down on the page about it. A valuable, eye-opening and sobering book.
I received a copy of this book from a publicist who worked with the author, in exchange for an honest review.
Artist: Marjolein Bastin
