She said I was “delightfully quirky.”
I grew up just being a big ol’ weirdo. One day long ago, while driving with my mom–I can’t even remember what wacky and surely self-deprecating story I was telling her about some big ol’ weirdo thing I did–she said I was delightfully quirky.
Now I’m 48 and learning something pretty huge about myself. After about a year working on self-assessment, I have finally gotten through the professional diagnosis process and am autistic. Turns out that’s a very narrow diagnosis, not really explaining most of the coexisting conditions that so many other autistic people have. So the next step is to do more research and find a therapist who can help me figure out the rest of it.
I’m female at birth and female presenting (although not super into it–more on that later). Child-free and have been with the same partner for 24 years–he’s super supportive and has his own set of undiagnosed quirks. We live in Chicago again (we were born here) after bouncing all over the country for 20 years.
As a habitual writer, of course I’m documenting it all. And since awareness of this condition in women is still relatively new, might as well do it publicly.
Feel free to reach out via email at firstname.lastname@example.org or on Instagram @delightfully_quirky.