The first inkling I had that I might be Aspergian/autistic came from perusing medical journals. I browsed through their archives, just like I had for the past three years. It had become a routine and relaxing pastime.
The Evening In March was progressing along…well, comfortably routinely, much like any other. There had been no visible difference, no yellow light to signal the plot-twist just ahead.
One journal article title does not a suspicion stimulate. But 10? 30? More? They started piling up. The evidence was cumulative, and so, thus, grew my intuition, that naggingly curious feeling that eventually catches flame and demands to be satisfied.
The online test result told me pretty much all I needed to know. (Of course, I didn’t stop there, since I have an inflexible desire to be thorough and accurate, which includes a lot of Devil’s Advocate-playing and all that.)
My very first…
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