It is difficult going through life realizing that much of what you wish most to understand might well be forever beyond your understanding. It is harder yet realizing that, though you are in fact quite intelligent, that the intelligence you have seems to be of little particular benefit in finding that understanding you most seek.
As an autistic person, I have always known my social skills to be impaired – in particular the understanding of the complex set of rules that society seems to impose upon us, as well as the abilities necessary in recognizing the nuances of the behavior of those around me that reflect the clues to help follow those rules. Nonetheless, people delight me.
One of the qualities – a positive quality, in my eyes – of being autistic, for me at least, is that I maintain a childlike sense of wonder and innocence. It strikes me as funny that I see memes that suggest that maintaining those qualities is a goal to be sought – yet I seem to find them often more regarded as faults. Yet, if they be that, they are faults I intend to keep – and moreover to build my life around.
As I find my goal in life more and more clear, I realize it to be only the importance of a loving heart. I recognize that many of my ways are unconventional (to say the least). I am perhaps not “normal”, certainly not typical, but yet I am me. And what part of that I increasingly realize to be important is a steadfastly loving heart.
My goal – as recognized – is to build only upon the steadfastness of that love. To put my loving heart ahead of everything else about me that might be “different” or “unusual”. People can call me what they wish, odd, eccentric, weird, or worse – as long as the sentence ends with, but she has a very loving heart.