A life of misunderstandings is a fatiguingly common theme among the Asperger’s/autism spectrum community. I’m sure that a whole gaggle of us (broken into tiny tight-knit groups, of course) could get together and swap our gruesome, embarrassing, and at times, painful stories about having been misunderstood, misinterpreted, misjudgment, and, well, missed (in terms of the points we were trying to make). Or maybe we wouldn’t be able to swap stories at all, because it may be such a frequent theme that it can’t be isolated into separate, specific events that we can easily identify and recall.
But upon further pondering, I do have a story. And maybe we all do!
Mine is a tale of anger and irritability.
It looked like anger, anyway.
And often, it even felt like anger.
After all, when you’re swearing, throwing things around, ranting, or even breaking things, it’s hard to call it anything but
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