I was reading this and it reminded me of something my mum told me once – that I asked to be taught to read when I was two.
I asked her for more information and I think I was probably borderline hyperlexic…. Enough to comment on, not enough to warrant investigation. It seems it was noticeable that I picked up reading and writing extremely quickly and often had to be physically pride away from books 😛
This is intended to be the first in a series of posts in which I look back onto my childhood and youth with the possibility in mind that I might have been on the spectrum all along. Of course, for the longest time that never occurred to me. But now I might see things in a different light, interpret events differently and take a different perspective. This is an important path on my journey, I think, as my past has been one of the arguments that my own head puts forward for my not being autistic. Simply put, the little devil on my shoulder tells me that my childhood was too happy, I’ve had it too easy, and that the descriptions of autistic children in the literature do not fit me at all. But the little angel on my other shoulder says that see from the right perspective, the signs…
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