By Bridget Allen
I am tired. Bone tired. Soul tired.
When I started this blog, I was in the best health of my life. I don’t mean that in some colloquial sense. I mean, as a person multiply disabled from birth, I was experiencing, for the first time in my life, health. Minimal pain, increased mobility, fewer seizures, and blood counts on the low end of normal, but still normal.
It was amazing. I felt like a super hero in middle of my own origin story.
I wanted to do all the things. “No” and “I can’t” left my vocabulary. The world was big and bad, and I wanted to do everything I could to make it a tiny bit better.
Of course, I am no superhero, and this is no origin story. Middle aged autistic grannies don’t have origin stories.
(And I wonder; why the hell don’t we? Really. We are an interesting and diverse bunch of bad asses.)
Please see this link to read the rest of this fabulous and important post: http://itsbridgetsword.com/2015/05/15/its-bridgets-word-acceptance-love-and-self-care-autismpositivity2015/