….before my diagnosis, I struggled - after my diagnosis, I struggle.

I was diagnosed as being ASD level 1, which is the ‘highest functioning’ diagnostic measure of Autism. People such as myself were previously labelled as ‘having’ Asperger Syndrome. In truth, before my diagnosis, I struggled - after my diagnosis, I struggle.

Creativity has always been part of my life. As a child I would draw in the margins of my parents’ newspapers, mostly copying images I saw there. I sang too - it was difficult for me to do so, but I felt compelled to sing. I hated being observed or listened to but discovered that singing freed part of me that felt imprissoned. I sang as an adult too, never for others, although I did sing in front of audiences, but for that feeling that only singing gave me, an almost spiritual feeling of being. Those times of my singing were amongst the rare times in my life that I have freed myself from the cage of my own being.

Then, a number of years ago, I lost my ability to sing.

Photography happened almost by accident, a friend who had died left me her camera. In place of the walks I had taken with my friend, I took her camera and discovered a joy in the camera’s ability to capture light, form and colour. It was the beginning of a new journey of self-expression.

I work slowly, observing first, then immersing myself in my chosen subject, using the camera almost instinctively and following where my inner voice leads. Much of my process is not conscious but feels like simply being. I think this is why I find photography, especially in the natural world a life affirming experience. it is totally contrary to my experience of existing in the everyday world, where I don’t fit, where I feel awkward and somehow not right at all, where I feel pain and confusion, where I am overwhelmed by sensory dissonance or trapped inside my own being.

in answer to the question I posed myself at the beginning of this blog post - can self-expression ease the pain? Then the answer, for me, is yes it can, because it allows me to give voice to a part of me that is otherwise mute.

The photograph heading this blog entry depicts a broken memorial statue which I came upon as it lay as though sleeping amongst a tangle of grasses in St. Mary’s Cemetery near Fishguard.