12 there is no such thing as “too late” for a correct diagnosis

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Robin
page twelve of etiolated. a photograph of a sunset seen through a chainlink fence and across a parking lot. over the photo is written: long answer- no, but i missed some opportunities and grew slowly as a result. i would have approached college with a different philosophy. when i lived with my parents, we could have had time and support in high school. middle and elementary school were appropriate for my needs to the best of their ability - small, responsive. there are pains and changes my family might or might not have experienced. i mourn these un-realities, lost chances of timespace and perspective. and my current state of crisis is largely consequence of growing up without knowing i have autism. being on the spectrum yet trying to live as though i were neurotypical did me irreversible damage evident now as severe chronic fatigue, a few decades of confusion to reprocess, deep-seated anger, and no medical records to back up my requests for help. speech bubbles along the sides say: application denied; have you started your project? it's due soon; most likely to write a book by age 25; chilldish; quitter; lazy; what, are you tired? stand up; days away from a wellness check; you look like you haven't slept; highest rate of widgets per day; basketcase; old soul. in the lower right corner is a painterly illustration of a human skull in shades of teal

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