It’s such a strange feeling, being a full-grown adult, and seeing yourself do this kind of thing not just once but several times over. It’s like you’re your own autistic child who has a tendency to just run off… and you don’t even realize they’re gone, till they’re in deep trouble, somewhere.
And if anything contributes to the danger with me, it’s the ongoing lack of awareness about this actually being a problem. I go out for a walk on a beautiful Sunday morning, and the last thing I really want to think about is Asperger’s. The last thing I want to think about is autism. The last thing I want to have to accommodate in my life is a neurological condition that blinds me to the inherent dangers that are just part and parcel of every day life. And that, I think, is one of the most debilitating things about this condition — how relentless it can be, and how sneaky… insidious.
Autistic Ultra 