by Katie Vyn

I hold onto my view of the world and myself with tenacity. There is no one who can tell me that being autistic isn’t beautiful. It’s the most precious parts of myself, the joyful innocence, the nervous energy traveling through my body like electric sparks – as long as I know how to take care of myself, my autism is my magic. And even in those moments when I don’t, it’s still my unconfined genius, my sense of justice, my pure passion and creativity. I WILL NOT BE MOVED.

It’s not easy sometimes to separate out the survivor in me from the autistic, but why bother? I am one person and the two have informed each other. My autism saved my life, keeping me floating in the sky with an endless sense of innocence and bliss. It’s my brave voice in the face of danger. My repetitive nature, and determination to hold fast to truth-telling. Loyal I am. They could never take it away from me, no matter how hard they tried. And they really did try, night and day.

Truth be told I grew up in a home that was far from nurturing or kind. No drama to that statement. Just realness. Win they didn’t. I’m still here, despite or in spite of every harmful action, every bruise and scar and hurt, every law they broke, every lie they told. Very much still here. I turn my pain into magic, transforming it into energy to grow and thrive. A fire opening a seed that would otherwise never have a chance to spread its roots in the enriched soil, soak up raindrops, and stretch out in the air, beneath an endless sky, surrounded by a vast field.

I am autistic.