Page 110 of Serpentine
THIRTY-FOUR
BRAXTON
“So, are there any further questions, or would you like to proceed with the testing?” Doctor Sprague asks me.
Aella turns toward me on the couch.
The doctor spent the entire appointment discussing my past and things I struggle with, only to tell me what he suspects I have. Everything has been overwhelming, and now he wants me to answer him.
It feels like I have to work under pressure, which I’m not great at.
The doctor narrows his eyes at me. “You don’t have to know, you know? Some people come here, and I tell them what I think, and that’s enough for them. If you want this to end right here, it can. You do not have to go any further.”
“Autism,” I say out loud, breathing life into the term.
Aella smiles at me. “Autism.”
I heave a breath into my lungs and hold it, hoping it’ll help the racing heart in my chest calm the fuck down.
“And the tests…” I trail off, giving the doctor enough space to interject.
He takes the bait, nodding. “Will be a lot, I’ll admit. Some are for me and you to do together, others I’ll have you take home. You must do them in your space, on your terms, wherever you feel the most comfortable.”
Aella tries to reach for my hand. I know she can tell I’m on edge, and I am. The lights overhead are overloading as fuck. The buzz they’re giving off alone drives me to the limits of my sanity. Not to mention how bright they are. My brain can’t process her touch on top of everything else. Not right now. So I pull away from her.
She doesn’t mean to look hurt, but I catch the flicker before she stows it.
“And when I get it all done, I’ll have a formal diagnosis?” I ask him.
He nods. “Yes, you will. You’ll then begin a journey of understanding yourself. This could be good for you. To learn why and how you function. It’ll only help you make accommodations for yourself in ways you didn’t know you needed to.”
I nod, swallowing. “Like, what?”
“Like…” He looks around, then up at the incessant lights. “Like how I know these lights have to be bothering you, so you’ll know that about yourself once you learn yourself and learn your autism and how you tick. So, you could come in and see them immediately and ask me to shut them off. You’ll learn your limits and learn not to get near them. Then, you’ll also learn how to better cope on the flip side if you can’t control the situation. Knowing yourself and being in touch with each facet of yourself is the key to making accommodations and letting those around you know how to accommodate you.”
I look down at the floor, lean forward, put my head in my hands, and focus on my breathing.
How it feels.
How it sounds.
“This is a lot,” the doctor says, sighing.
“It is.” I look up at him. “For my entire life, I thought I was odd. That I was fucked up. A freak. I begged God to make me normal—to make the littlest things, like too many noises in the classroom, not make me want to rock back and forth and scream. But God never listened. I thought I was just born wrong, ya’ know? Like I was just the product of some fucked up cosmic joke. Now, I know that…”
“You’re not a freak,” the doctor says knowingly, nodding. There’s a look on his face like I’m not the first one to feel this way. I realize that I’m just a different normal.
“Exactly.”
He shakes his head. “No. You’re not a freak. You’re going to find—if you choose to go forward with this process—that you’re going to learn where you’ve been masking to be more ‘normal.’”
My brows raise. “What?”
He nods. “It’s typical. Neurodivergent individuals—like yourself—will mask who they are and how they feel to fit in. To be more normal. Masking is very detrimental to the psyche, however. You will be much happier once you realize that normal is just a social construct and that you, at your core, are beautiful. Your individualism and the factors about you that make you stand out draw people into you. Not how normal you are.”
Aella clutches the edge of the couch cushion, fighting the urge to reach for me as she agrees with the doctor.
I eye her knuckles, reaching over and covering her tiny hand with mine. Her eyes lift.