I have a vivid memory. I was thirty-four.

My family and I were out having dinner with friends at a casual family restaurant chain.

The waiter brought my order, but it was distributed across three different plates. I assessed the table space in front of me and quickly determined that the surface area of the plates significantly exceeded the surface area of table vacancy in front of me.

Old brain processes immediately appeared on the scene. I felt a perceived threat that someone had the audacity to expect me to fit so much in so little space. An impossibility. Wasn't that obvious?! I immediately began to panic. 

But then, I stopped.

Having just recently received my first diagnosis of autism, I was in a new season of better understanding myself and my entire life up to that point: including unique strengths and also disabilities.

Finally, I knew that I had an autistic brain. In that moment, it could be the reason why I was so intensely fixated on this situation, that lacked obvious-to-me logic and reasoning. So, I did what I normally wouldn't do: I looked around me to find support and caught eye contact with my husband.

Instead of saying, "What am I supposed to do with all this?!",

I said to my husband, "I need help. I don't know what to do".

My husband immediately assumed Mr. Fix-it mode and I was able to avoid a dysregulated emotional reaction, or worse: unintentionally making another person feel mistreated.

That was over six years ago. 

As a neurodiversity advocate now, I encourage others daily, to also look around for support.

This is one of the many ways that we can thrive. 

If we are being honest with ourselves, we have to acknowledge sooner or later that there are many things in this life that we will NEVER figure out on our own. 

This is what community and fellowship are for. It’s not a hierarchy like our pride wants it to be. It’s a network, a body.

We cannot do this all on our own.

We need the Lord. We need His Word. We need each other. We need teachable and thankful hearts. ©