(written on the 27. November, published on the 3. December 2019)

Prefix

So, for years I wasn’t ready to share the following personal detail with you.
First I couldn’t quite believe it myself. It’s a diagnose that doesn’t come easy and surely can’t be taken so. I consulted three different professionals/ experts to be sure, and then it took me years to come to terms with it.
With time I realised that being ‘non-neurotypical’ can be a cliché or a stigma, and that is something I wouldn’t want at all. But during the last weeks and months I felt, the time has come to just be open about it. Not prominently open, I won’t be talking about it all the time, but every now and then I will share some thoughts and stories and observations from my, slightly different, point of view.

I am still myself, please bear that in mind, if we are already friends or acquainted! This is important to point out, because I am actually a little scared to share this …

But here is, what made me write all this down.

27. November 2019: Actually I am not a big complainer (I hope), but today has been particularly shitty, so I am starting to load off by writing it down – I’ll decide at the end of it whether I’ll hit the ‘publish’ button or not.

I should explain in advance that I do have a, yet invisible, but not negligible ‘disability’, I won’t elaborate on that for now, those who know, will catch my drift. Just read on.

So today I was flying via London to Belfast, to visit this characterful city and to see Snow Patrol playing live at the Waterfront. I had carefully booked my seats, arranged my journey to the airport, and, just as it happens, life got in the way.

On the flight to London everything was fine, good seat, enough space … I managed to write my diary and listen to an audio book.

At Heathrow I had to pass security check again. Something on me was causing the alarm to get off, and a quite rude security lady told me to take off my shoes. I was hesitant because she was so unfriendly, so she yelled at me to take the boat next time. I was so baffled that I managed to mumble about my limitation, but the rude woman didn’t seem to hear. Another female security officer came along and calmed me down, “I know”, she said and explained to me, next time to look for officers with yellow sunflowers on their lanyard (she had one, too), those would recognise people like me and be more careful. She was really helpful and got me out of a looming meltdown. In the end it was the buttons on my skirt, that had caused the uproar. Note to myself: “Don’t wear this skirt again when passing security checks.”

While waiting for my connection flight I sat in the quiet zone at Terminal 5 until boarding the plane. I always pick my seats on a plane beforehand. I need a window seat to see what’s happening outside, I can do aisle as well, but I prefer window.

This seat now was window side, but without window. It was the last row and instead of a window there was just the plane’s wall. All other seats seemed to be taken, and I was so put out by the previous incident, that I just sat down to wait it out. The flight was supposed to last an hour, so I thought to just endure it. But that didn’t work at all. As soon as the plane started to speed up on the runway I got really … confused? I couldn’t see what was happening, I just felt the acceleration, but there were no images to go with. I felt blind and trapped and scared. After a while I noticed that I was clinging to my jacket’s hemline, and I was crying, tears were running down my face. I couldn’t help it. I tried to think of good things to distract myself, but none came to mind. I just felt the plane’s movement and couldn’t see. I just saw the seat in front of me. No view to the outside, no tiny houses or clouds. Just the seat. How to explain this feeling … I guess you can compare it to bungee jumping, blindfolded, falling into nothingness. This had never ever happened before.

While sitting there, I noticed, after a while, that other people were looking at me, but no one said a word or offered help. I wasn’t blatant or obtrusive, I just sat in my seat and had a quiet meltdown. No one did help. No one said a word. Just quiet staring. Disapproving, apparently.

That was terrible.

After landing I went for fresh air and tried to call one of my favourite mollifyers (who turned out to be none), to no avail though. So I went to my hotel, just to find out that both concerts I had been looking forward to had been cancelled. One and a half meltdowns plus two cancelled concerts is a lot to take for one day, along with travelling and all that stuff that goes with it.

I am proper beat for now.

You lovely people and everyone else who is reading this with raised eyebrows, wondering what I am on about – for starters just accept there’s people out there who don’t fit the average neurotypical pattern. To some people the world is mostly too loud, too intense, too fast, too cryptic. Not in the sense of ‘a little bit’ or, like some say “I know it, too, it’s normal” – well, it isn’t. I do carry a severely handicapped pass with me and a little document about my limitation, which I rarely, if ever, use. I suppose after today (and things like this happen a lot) I should start owning up to my non-neurotypical-ness and just call it by it’s name. I am scared to do so, though. Autism Spectrum Disorder or High Functioning Autism is a bit of a stigma, it sure is. Most of the time I can deal with it and fly under the radar and feel ‘normal’. But on days like today, where there is an overload of incidents, I feel, I can’t cope as good as I wish I could.

So maybe it is time to approach my differentness and my limitations from a new OPEN angle.

Starting today.

Maybe (if I can work up the courage).

Edited to add on the 29. November: For the return flight I have now asked for assistance. My flights are operated by British Airways, who were extremely helpful and organised me a good seat, and by Aer Lingus, who checked me in, couldn’t grant me a seat though. So tomorrow might get a bit stressful yet again. I hope to sort this out at Belfast City Airport.

Wish me luck.

And yes, I do feel bad about flying! I know it’s a climate killer. I cannot rectify it, even by saying I wanted to hear my favourite band playing live. I guess, with my limitations added, I shall stop flying at all. My next journey to London is via train and just back by plane as there was no other option. But after that I guess I’ll have to quit flying altogether.

Edited to add on the 3. December: I got a lovely lady, named Della at Heathrow Airport for assistance, she was so sweet and understanding. She got me a special lanyard, that, in a non-obvious way identifies me as disabled. Big step for me, but very helpful too, for sure.

I am now travelling again, this time on a train, to London. I had reserved a seat in the quiet area and had planned to read a book about Autism (“Wer ist hier eigentlich autistisch?” / Brit Wilczek). The seat next to mine was already taken, and when the woman saw the book title she quietly asked whether I am affected. “Yes”, I said, to her and myself as well. So she just smiled at me and took another seat, to give me space and freedom. How lovely is that?

This little incident however will make me finally hit the PUBLISH-button.

I would love to hear/ read your thoughts on this. Remember, I am still myself! You just now have some more insight on both my weirdness and ‘Claudi-ness’ in general. ☺️

Thanks for reading!