I saw the mental health person at our local surgery today because all the messing around over my blood pressure and the ensuing consequences have had a fairly disastrous effect on my mental health. As a result of various things I’d said about my mental state she took me through a quick screening test to decide whether I should consider being properly assessed for autism. The test gives a score out of ten, and anything over six means it’s worth thinking further investigation.
I got full marks. I’ve always liked to score well in tests 😀
It’s a bit of a weird thing to get slapped with when you’re the ripe old age of fifty-nine, but I guess it wasn’t really considered a big issue when I was a child. If you were at all out of the ordinary back then you’d just get bullied until you worked out how to fake it enough to get by.
So now I have to decide where to go from here. Apparently the NHS waiting list for assessment in Somerset is about four years, though there’s an alternative that may only take eighteen months.
Given that it appears impossible to discount a genetic component to autism I feel that I owe it to my children to go ahead. And in fairness a positive diagnosis may make me feel less negative about some things I’ve done with my life and perhaps explain others.
Or maybe I’ll end up with a negative diagnosis and just have to accept the fact that I’m an absolute cockwomble
I still think that wanting “just one more shed” is perfectly normal, mind. 😀