When my parents told me I had autism spectrum disorder, it was just a formality. All of my brothers had already been diagnosed, and given that I spent more time at school in my own head than I did interacting with the people around me, it was pretty damn obvious.
I remember shrugging, even laughing, at the news, then tucking back into whichever Jacqueline Wilson book I was hyperfixated on at the time.
Words like ‘autism’ and ‘Asperger’s’ were thrown around as frequently in my house as phrases like ‘good morning’ or ‘Where is the remote control?’.
