In 2019 I carried out a study to explore how late-diagnosed autistic women (like me) managed their health and wellbeing. This is the third of four blog posts describing the themes I identified when analysing the interviews
In 2019 I carried out a study to explore how late-diagnosed autistic women (like me) managed their health and wellbeing. This is the second of four blog posts describing the themes I identified when analysing the interviews
There’s a well-kept secret that no one tells you about being creative; you don’t have to be good at it, to get the benefit.
These days the physical pain, fatigue and overwhelm I used to live with has virtually gone. The forest has released me from constant fight or flight mode and I no longer feel nervous around people.
I took to the sky like an eagle and flew above land and sea. I dove into the sea and went deep under water just to hang out with whales.
My favourite thing to do on a long run is to head for country roads or woods, and listen to stories; to lose myself in the scenery and in the words, crafting images in my head.
This year I’m adding a new tonic to the mix. My advent calendar won’t be alcohol, nor sugar, nor treats, I am going to give myself the gift of time.
Life is often a series of compromises, but let me tell you a story of the day I decided to completely revolutionise my world.
Despite my late discovery of being autistic, I am learning to flick on the switch of possibility and reinvention, instead of obsessing over lost time.
I have sought this feeling so often in my life in both country and city; to still my mind I simply walk, walk on the earth, and connect with my surroundings.