All that I learned seemingly hit or miss is part of the story, as is everything I really will think to express as I sadly leave the comfort and security of dependence. Axing old ways of taking life expectantly and how work happens in my schedule changes as I assume responsibility for my own typing production; easy opportunities for taking autism’s awful burden and teaching inspiring independence takes on new meaning in this task and responsibility.
As I write this, real terror comes upon me when I think of the alternative. I am possibly lost whichever way I go. The old stories must die. The question is whether I will accept the drift and consequences of my impending permanent reliance on others or discover secretly new experiences in the possibilities of independence. Even the understanding that I am author of power in my world doesn’t will away the essentially deep tie autism now has on me. To spend a future waiting for that to go is to waste my life, however.