It just happened.
Sophia, a team lead, picked up the sign-up sheet, looked it over, smirked, and said “Thanks, H2.”
That was how I initialed things, purely for the novelty of it (because I kinda-sorta cribbed it from this album)
And then the hair — I’m too frugal for frequent haircuts, and I didn’t know it’d get curly and wild when I grew it out. I left it that way and it became a thing.
When I’d visit work sites or show up places, people noticed the hair.
Lately, I’ve bought into the Memoji craze, which generated the very accurate image seen above — and I can’t log into a virtual meeting nowadays without someone making comment about it.
Even on my worst day, for all of my other differences, I can at least be memorable.
Some of those memorable differences aren’t always great, like using big words at inopportune times, deploying obtuse analogies, or otherwise slinking away as the most awkward in a group.
But while The Life Autistic is a different and not-so-normal life, it sticks out in terms of memorability.
For all my follies and failures, I can at least take solace in barely being forgotten.
I’m sure many of us can relate, whether from a speech pattern, stim, or otherwise different way of wading the waters around us — people can tell, and people remember difference. It is ingrained within us to make note of notable change.
Some of the differences are cool, and I like that. I am defined by feeling and acting unique, and it stands out in many good ways.
For those of you who struggle with your neurological difference and diversity, I’m going to step outside myself to say it’s ok.
Fitting in isn’t always the goal, even if it’d be the easy way.
Difference stands out. It’s memorable.
It’s literally outstanding.
The Life Autistic 