I started to write this months ago and then blocked because I couldn’t capture enough moments to fill a blog post even though I knew there are many instances of Autistic Joy in my days. This morning I had coffee-moment and so I decided to post this regardless and just add to it as the Autistic Joy happens.

I stole the idea for this blog from a Tweep. Erin Ekins suggested that alongside the difficulties of being autistic in a neurotypical world, that we also consider autistic joy – our ability to find huge joy in the smallest of things. I love it. I decided to extend the idea and include the things I love about being autistic.

Huge joy in the smallest of things.
I remember the moment, as a child, when I discovered the answer to ‘what’s inside cuckoo spit?’. I used a strand of grass to push aside the bubbles in the little glob of ‘spit’ suspended on another blade of grass. I was in my secret den, AKA a little patch of hay meadow, that I’d rolled flat with my body, creating a secluded space away from people, and up-close-and-personal with nature. I loved (and still do) the small things, the hidden things that no-one else notices. So inside the spit was a tiny insect; a froghopper nymph. It was joy and revelation to know what was in there.

Joy in the clasp of my husband’s hand when we go to sleep holding each other’s hands. It’s not every night I remember to appreciate it. More often than not it’s habit.

The beautiful and perfectly formed stream of coffee from the new cafetiere my husband bought me for Christmas. No splashes or splutterings or non-existent pourings of my old faithful supermarket-standard glass-and-plastic coffee press. Now a beautifully crafted thermal jug with a perfect spout.

And the positives of being autistic. Here’s a starter – infographic included with permission from Harriet Cannon.