“Since my autism diagnosis I’ve learned to pace myself better” I am 40 years old, and I spent most of my life so far believing that I knew myself.
Not in any grand, philosophical sense – I make no claims to enlightenment. But until a couple of years ago, I would have confidently claimed that I was a sociable, capable and very ordinary woman, who perhaps fell prey to depression and exhaustion every so often. But then, doesn’t everybody? Most of all, I would have been utterly certain I wasn’t autistic. After the birth of my son, though, I was forced to confront the truth that I might have got it very wrong.
For a start, I wasn’t coping with motherhood at all – the noise, the chaos, and all…