Whew. But it’s true that if we return to being fat we will be tired all the time. That’s just the facts of the case. My body knows it quite well. We really, none of us, want that.
And it’s also the case that nobody really cares. The world has whirled beyond that, the atomization proceeds apace. You just don’t even need to think about it, or defend it, or even mention it. I mean, it’s becoming self-care of the simplest kind, like wearing shoes in the snow. My dear boy, you are old. And certain privileges attend that state. One of them is being allowed to be prissy and abstemious in your diet. You don’t need to play the cerdo semental.
So let the wind blow.
This parachute snags on what being autistic means. It doesn’t mean being superior or being inferior. It just means being different. The noisy sociability of neurotypicals is fine. So is the fact that it rapidly becomes oppressive to you. And you don’t need to create or even imagine a society that would accommodate you both: you just need to navigate these waters with your own craft: meet the next bend and the next shoal. There doesn’t need to be a global solution. You’re the creature that you are. Even among autistic people you don’t particularly fit in. And it’s not necessary that you should. What have you trained for all your life, but coping with the simple fact that you’re a queer duck, and that what works for others does not work for you?
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