It’s necessary to talk about how you feel. To say what’s on your mind. It’s important to be heard. For as long as I can remember, I have always felt separate. Not completely outside it, not invisible – just removed enough to notice everything from a distance.
While other children embraced friendships and noise, I stood on the edge, watching. I learned early how to observe life instead of fully participating in it, while growing up with something I didn't know I had.
At the time, I didn’t understand why I was always anxious. I also didn't understand why I couldn't let go of issues, or why I couldn't switch thought patterns. I didn't understand why I couldn't play like other children, laugh or be silly about things.
Long before I had the language, I adapted by turning inwards. I learned to function quietly and to cope alone. While others explored the world around them, I explored the one inside my mind.
Decades later I learned that my separateness was about how my mind works. I process situations differently. Social situations feel unfamiliar even after I learn how to navigate them.
Where my twin immersed herself in school life, I continually observed it. Without realising, she was my bridge to a social world. I wanted to fit in – but couldn’t work out how to access friends on my own. School felt like a daily test of courage. And I watched myself fail, day after day.
Exploring my mind has not only brought quiet contemplation about life, but it's also brought isolation. Yet within that isolation, something began to grow – emotional strength, resilience, and introspection. Over the years, my inner world became my refuge and my strength, supporting my mental health and personal growth.
It took five decades to realise I wasn't “normal.” With autism – I have taught myself how to be social. But through all of this I have learned I don't need to reshape myself to be accepted. I need to be myself. The right people will want to stay. Self-acceptance has taught me that my worth is not for negotiation and as a result I have stopped looking for acceptance.
Four decades in and my disability finally had a name. Writing was “the” way forward and The CP Diary was born. Through learning about myself, I found belonging, and healing. Through sharing my lived experiences of living with something I didn't know I had, I found my voice.
Growing up, ignoring my emotional and mental health around something I didn't know I had, wasn't for me to own – and it still isn't. Sitting with myself, for as long as I have, has quietly shaped my understanding of a difficult and lonely life. What once felt like limitations has become my quiet strength.
Autism and separateness isn't something I need to fix.
Belonging doesn't come from fitting in. It comes from being comfortable with who you are, from being real, and truthful about your experiences. I am comfortable in my own skin.
Through The CP Diary I have found my voice
Not by making it louder
Not by becoming someone else
But by holding onto what once kept me silent
And so, I continue to embrace my story and my voice, one article at a time.
