Thursday 23 March 2017

My city, my heart

We all knew it would happen one day, deep in our hearts we'd begun to consider it an inevitable part of modern life, 'when' not 'if' and a cold dread of waiting to see just how bad the final toll will be.

My heart aches for my city. I may not have lived there since 1995 but London will always and forever be my city; I learnt to count by stops on the Tube, to appreciate nature by time spent in the royal parks, to love history by regular trips to the museums, palace, tower. I lived and breathed the richness of our culture through my neighbours, classmates and family friends.

I've spent a fair amount of time in the Westminster corner of London. Long before my involvement in the Westminster Autism Commission I was familiar with the area, having spent many hours wandering the circuit of The Mall, Whitehall and Birdcage Walk. Its a part of London that gives me a deep sense of connection like no other, where I feel really at home amongst our wonderful history.

I don't need to 'hope' that London will heal and recover from this tragedy, I know it will. I know London and I know Londoners, this will hurt and it will resonate but it will not defeat, it will not divide. London does not cower, London does not flee, we put the kettle on and get on with life, we always have. The Blitz didn't defeat us, the IRA attacks of the 80s and 90s didn't defeat us, the 7/7 attacks in 2005 didn't defeat us. A single man with a car and a knife will not defeat us.

Yesterday I cried for my city, today I miss my city, tomorrow I will travel to my city. And for the rest of my life I will love and be proud of my city.


#LondonForever

Tuesday 7 March 2017

RCGP Autism Clinical Priority celebration event speech

I was asked to do a short speech at a celebratory event for the Royal College of GPs in light of the Autism clinical priority coming to an end soon after 3 years. Dr Carole Buckley (RCGP Clinical Champion for Autism) and her colleagues from the RCGP spoke before me about some of the work the College has done and how the priority status has worked.

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I've spent a lot of time over the past few years talking about being autistic, and feeling like I'm either preaching to the already converted or that I'm just running into a brick wall of ignorance and misunderstanding.


Over the past few years the support that has been visible for this priority and the Westminster Autism Commissions report into 'Access to Health Care' has been both heart-warming and reaffirming that it is all worth it, no matter what the cost.

And there will be a cost, everything costs!



But for me it's not money, it's energy, the reserves I have to draw upon to cope in the here and now.


The term 'Autism Fatigue' is still fairly unheard of, but it is real, and potentially damaging if not managed appropriately.


There are times I simply am so overwhelmed, so drained of energy from just keeping going, so bombarded by the sensory nature of the environment that I am in, that formulating thoughts into speech becomes near impossible.


As a result I can come out of a meeting with no knowledge of what was said, only a headache from the overly busy walls. Or leave a doctor's appointment that was for an earache with a prescription for antidepressants - again.


The trouble is that people look at me and other autistic adults who appear to be coping and don't see someone who needs help; don't see the struggles inside.


I show you what I want you to see; a confident, independent person who lives alone, works two part-time jobs, is a postgraduate student and a freelance autistic speaker, as well as following Saracens rugby club around the country each weekend!


I can't speak for all autistic people, and I would never try to claim to, we are all individuals with individual struggles. But I can say that the majority of us struggle to ask for help when we need it, and struggle even more to cope when we don't get it.


This priority is so important to us because it proves that we are not a 'forgotten' group, that there is recognition in the world of healthcare that we exist, that we need support and that we come in more shapes and sizes than just the little white boy seen on TV.


We need to feel safe going in to surgeries and hospitals; we need to know we're not going to be belittled by receptionists who don't understand our difficulties; that we're not going to be dismissed by GPs who aren't able to hear what we're trying to communicate.


We need to feel confidant that we're not going to get trapped on the mental health roundabout, being passed pillar to post until we reach crisis point.


The work being done through this priority is fantastic, and I can only hope that the continuing efforts of those involve bear fruit, not only for autistic people, but for all people. When you make the world more autistic friendly you are generally making it less confusing, less overwhelming, less complicated for everyone!


We're not asking for UN-reasonable adjustments or a complete restructure of the NHS, we're not even asking for all GPs to become autism specialists overnight! But we are asking for you to continue the good work you are already doing and to keep striving to improve where gaps in practise still exist.


None of us want to be a drain on public funds, none of us want to be unproductive members of society or have poor mental health and terrible wellbeing. We want to be respected and treated in ways appropriate to our needs and sensitivities.


This priority has done so much already in raising awareness of autism; in making sure that the doctors and physicians we have appointments with are trained to understand autism, that the non-clinical staff involved in our care have a better comprehension of our needs, that the environments we have to go in to access healthcare aren't going to make our health worse.


I'm incredibly grateful to the Royal College for making Autism a clinical priority these past three years; I hope that this is not the end, I hope that the work done so far has managed to reach people and had a positive impact on the lives of autistic people and those who care about them.


I know its had a positive impact on mine already.


Thank you.

Sunday 5 March 2017

To cut your losses or to keep hoping?

I've been thinking a lot lately about the conundrum of when to continue trying for something unlikely and when to cut your loses and give up.

It's been playing in my mind because of work issues but I've been inspired in my decision making by recent comments by Alex Goode and Chris Ashton.

Goode's interview about being dropped by England was heart wrenching in the fact that it's obvious how much he wants to get back in the shirt, how much he's prepared to sacrifice to be the best he can be and by how much it hurts when it doesn't happen. He's not getting much hope from Camp England right now but he's not ready to walk away from the dream and chase the money instead.

Because, of course, this is what many say Ashton has done.

He hasn't though.

What Chris Ashton has done has been pragmatic and put sense over heart. I was fortunate enough to speak to him last week and you could see in every part of his body language when people mention the Toulon move how much he is struggling with the choice he has made. He didn't want to leave Saracens but he had to make a decision. His situation is not like Goode's. It's not a case of trying and proving that he deserves another shot at the white shirt. Ashton has been through too much with the RFU, the media and the fickle nature of public opinion. His career in this country is forever linked to the disciplinary panels and their outcomes.

I truly believe that the 'biting' incident that occurred during the Northampton game was a cynical play by Saints players to get Ashton in trouble. If you put your arm forcefully up to someone's mouth it's always likely to end certain ways: when a person, any person, feels in danger (like when their airway is being impeded) they react in manners not nessecarily in keeping with their character. Opening the mouth to increase the ability to breathe is a natural reaction to it being covered, and one the Saints player used to his full advantage.

I understand why Ashton has decided that his time playing in this country is over. Would he ever get a fair hearing again should anything else happen? No, I don't think he would, I don't think he did back in the autumn quite frankly.

So I get why he's made the choice he has and as a supporter of the team and the individuals that make up that team I will support his choice and wish him all the best in the world in Toulon.

I hope he, his wife and their child have the best of times living out in France for as long as he is there.

I hope, when all is said and done and Ashton retires, that he comes home to Saracens and can act as a mentor to the academy youngsters who may not realise just how easily the public, media and RFU can turn on a player.

I hope he can pass on to the future the wisdom that his past has taught him.

I hope he can come back with a smile on his face for fond memories and a full and happy career to look back on.

I hope there is still hope for both Chris Ashton and Alex Goode. They both deserve it.


I hope I find some hope soon.

Game over

This weekend has been a difficult one for me. A disappointing one because yet again I let my expectations get too high.

It's hard to explain, particularly when people have this curious view of autistic folks like me not having empathy or emotions, but I feel very deeply and can get majorly affected by others actions or inactions. I also can't stand getting caught in silly hostile 'politics' and nasty cliques.

I try so hard in my life to not let things affect me and yet time and time again I'm finding myself in these situations. The kind where I end up in tears and in meltdown mode because I don't know how to handle things.

My gut reaction to this weekend is to walk away from everything. From both SOT and the SSA, from my 30 games challenge, from the Saracens in general.

I hate myself for reacting in such a way, I know I need to take a step back and think pragmatically about everything but it's hard to do that when your memories are tied so intrinsically to your emotions.

I understand in my brain that the team don't have to come round and interact with the fans, I know that they know nothing of this stupid pettiness between the two groups and I know that I shouldn't expect more than just a game of rugby when I go to a match. But it still hurts to see the team go to the other corner of the pitch to say hi to the fans there, to see them look at the flag we were holding high and merely applaude and walk away. It shouldn't hurt, I should be more mature than this, but right now I feel like the kid who didn't get invited to the party again, the kid who can't find anyone to sit with at lunchtime, the kid who doesn't want to go to school anymore because it's so miserable.

I've worked too damn hard to get away from being that kid. I did my time as that child when I was in school and I refuse to do it again as an adult.

I need to stop setting my expectations too high, learn to want to be happy with "okay" and stop thinking that two "greats" in a row will mean anything changes. And to stop believing things people say just because they're saying something I want to hear/read. It's time to face the reality of life again after being in a bubble for a while. Show up, watch the game, go home.

I will make 30 games for this challenge. And then I will walk away with my head held high, leaving on my terms. It's about self-protection you see?