It’s difficult being comfortable with yourself. It’s even more difficult when you’re disabled. It means knowing your limits intimately. It means running into a brick wall for your efforts and licking your wounds in the wake of your failure.
For me, it means learning what acceptance truly means. I’ve pinpointed my struggles; I’ve explored ways around them. But the more I embrace both my talents and my limitations, the more people latch onto only one or the other. Some have an image of who I should be — this smart, talented, enthusiastic girl — and when I tell them I can’t always be that girl, they call it a waste. They call me a waste.
Others wax rhapsodic about how I prove autism is no excuse for laziness or failure. I’m an inspiration, they say; I overcame my disability. Me? I just gape. After all my years of difficulty, the last thing I want is for people to use my experiences to put down others who struggle. What’s so inspirational about accepting your limitations? When did I overcome anything?
I never overcame. I incorporated.