Laila
It is half way through the summer holidays, and I’m wishing I was back at school. I’m not a soppy nerd (well… not really) – I’m autistic, and I can’t deal with long amounts of uncharted time.
Holidays have always been very stressful for my family. I begin to feel the acute overwhelm in April, when my we start planning out our holiday schedule. It is genuinely terrifying to me. There’s nothing more stressful than my parents starting a sentence with: “So, we should really start talking about summer…” I usually block my ears, indignant and precocious.
The way my brain visualises time, as I’ve come to understand it while growing up, is not normal. I cannot understand how near or far things are in the future; I have no mental depth perception. This can really make me feel lost and blind in the world, like a mole in the summer sun. I can’t plan, and the idea of committing to the few plans I make is so scary.
Last year, in the May half term, I was boarding a long flight to Cape Verde with my family. Suddenly, just metres from the plane, I flipped. I probably argued with my parents about something small — so small I can’t recollect it. I ran away, dragging my wheelie suitcase, screaming at other holidaymakers around me.
