I frequently wrote in mirror images. I didn’t do it to be defiant. In fact, I have no memory of it being a conscious act at all. It’s simply the way my brain works. I set the words down on paper as instructed, but when my dad checked my homework at night it often made him apoplectic.

The publishing world is not kind or accommodating to people like me, people on the spectrum who struggle to navigate the neurotypical world and form meaningful connections with others.

I am part of a lost generation of autistic women, girls who never really fit in socially but functioned well enough in school to be overlooked. Girls who could perform academically, even if they struggled to make friends. Girls who were labeled as being shy because making eye contact and conversations were difficult.

Why am I bold and brazen when it comes to embracing one identity, but sheepish and borderline embarrassed when it comes to the other?

I hate that this question has even entered my thought process, but is it possible that I’ve asked too much of them?

I didn’t want to be seen. I didn’t want to be noticed. If I could have made myself invisible I would have—I still would—because it’s the act of being seen that made me self conscious. A byproduct of being noticed was that I couldn’t just be. Others observed my awkwardness, my mistakes, my differences, and they commented on them.

Why did my commentary about the Committee Chair (amended to read ‘troop representative’) piss you off so badly, but you are unbothered by her false accusations toward G3 and her attempt to have him ousted as Senior Patrol Leader? Why are my words so egregious, but her actions are acceptable?

Now, I think G3 still likes going into the city because it reminds him of you. Saturday morning, before we left, G3 looked through the bin of hats and gloves that were once yours, looking for something to wear, a piece of you to bring with him.

That’s when my friend leaned in, set her elbows on the table, and very gently asked, “Have you considered that you might be autistic.”

Although, there is a tiny voice in my head questioning if it is wise. Has my dream of being a writer brought more pleasure or pain?

But now that my book is out, now that the anticipation and initial celebrations are over, what comes next? Where do I go from here?

What can I say, he’s my kid. The lure to swim was simply too great.

My fear was that no one would show up. Kati promised me that wouldn’t happen. That people would want to be there to support me, and she was absolutely right.

Luria's writing is witty and engaging. She brings the Japanese culture alive for the reader.

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