Your article touches on why I do not often, as an officially diagnosed autistic person, center my autism in my writing. I was diagnosed late in life, and I found the diagnosis rather surprising, although many of my friends did not.

Whether or not I'm disabled is ... kind of moot? I lived, loved, and made a life for myself for over 50 years without knowing anything about the spectrum. (Beyond whatever I read in newspapers and magazines.)

In retrospect, it's pretty obvious to me that I struggled sometimes because of my autism. But, I don't spend a lot of time announcing those realizations to the world.

Should I, just because medical science has found good labels for me that help me understand myself?

Maybe I should leave more space for people who are more profoundly challenged by autism than I am?

I'm thinking of people like Elle Beau, the Medium writer whose nonverbal, disabled autistic son faces challenges that make mine look trivial. Hell, Elle and her husband face challenges.

They deserve all the best support society can rally to provide them.

I feel like if I were taking up much of the air in conversations about autism, I'd be taking focus off of people who need help a lot more than I do.

I don't want people to focus on me and forget Elle's son.