"I am unique in this universe." (Cheetara)

I'm autistic.

And you know another word that's often used to describe autistic people?

"Slow."

And you know what?

I often hate it.

I often hate being thought of as "slow."

And I hate how I'm treated when people think I'm slow.

Because, even when people are trying to be "nice" to a "slow" person ...

... they're not often very "nice."

Because when someone is trying to be "nice" to a "slow" person, it can come across like they think they're dealing with a lost child ... or, worse, a lost puppy.

But I'm not a lost child.  And I'm not a lost puppy.

I'm an adult human being.

And here's another secret for you about autistic people.

We're not "slow."

Not by a longshot.

See, we're fast.

We're really fast.

Because our minds are almost always ON.

And I know it's hard for "neurotypical" people to understand.

But when your mind is going so fast ...

... it can get overwhelming.

Because, in less time than it would take to look at the picture just above this sentence, my brain will easily sift through many times as many topics as in that image.

And then some.

And then a lot, actually.  Because our brains are powered by an incredible amount of material:  facts and figures and dates and sensory input and on and on and on.  It's enough to write, you know, a book or something.

So I tell people to think of it this way: most autistic people have got plenty of power and speed going for us.

What we need, though, is to learn to have control to go along with that power speed.

And that's why I find so much inspiration in a character named Cheetara.

Because Cheetara is all about speed and control.

Because her power comes from the precision with which she uses that speed.

And when she combines the two, the results are spectacular.

Now, the character of Cheetara has been around for a while.  The television show on which she first appeared, Thundercats, first aired in 1985.  

That was an important year in my life for a lot of reasons, some of which I've discussed and some of which I'll get into as time goes by on this blog.  

But you can safely assume that Cheetara arrived into my life at just the right time.

Because I needed a Cheetara at that point in my life.

I needed an inspirational character who reveled in her speed instead of being ashamed of it.

Because I'd always thought of the speed of my mind as a curse before then, refusing to believe that the idea of such constant velocity could empower me the way it does Cheetara.

Now, by that point in my life I'd seen characters like The Flash by that point in my life, of course.

But I couldn't really identify with The Flash.

Because I felt no connection with The Flash like i did with Cheetara when I watched Thundercats.

But it wasn't just because Cheetara was a woman and The Flash was a man, though there was certainly a gendered element to it.

Rather, the key difference had to do with how Cheetara used her speed.

That's what got to me.

It was the way Cheeta used her speed as a means to exalt her every movement.

To turn everything she did into dance ...

... and into beauty.

I needed to believe, for my own life, that such beauty was possible for me.

And that I could be graceful and beautiful and strong if I could learn to harness the power and speed inside of myself.

And that, if I could only learn to do that, I could protect myself from the many threats in the world.

And there was more, even, to my love of Cheetara than all that.

Because I also loved Cheetara for what she was -

- because she was a combination of human and animal.

And that resonated with me on a deep, fundamental level.

Because, for many autistics, feeling human doesn't come easy.

And we often feel like we have more in common with animals than with people.

Because humans, who seem to like to think of themselves as deep, or quick-witted, or clever ... well, they often do things that make absolutely no sense.

And it can be baffling.  And it can hurt.

And understanding why humans do what they do can sometimes feel like a tremendous hurdle to overcome. 

But when I would watch Cheetara - she seemed unaffected by hurdles.  Or barriers.  Or obstances of any kind.

She could go right through the crowds.

And I felt like I was right there, going right along with her, as if her physical movements weren't so much fast but on par with my own processes of thought.

Cheetara became more than a character on a cartoon, to me.  She became representative of something.

She became representative of what I could achieve in myself if I balanced all those elements I've just discussed together.

She became representative of the hope of what I could achieve if I disciplined myself with the efforts of a true warrior, though in a more metaphorical sense than Cheetara had accomplished as a character.

And it's as simple as that.

And as beautiful as that.

And, sadly, sometimes, as fragile and fleeting as that.

Because I know I'm not really perfect.

And I know I can sometimes seem slow.

And when I think about those aspects of my life, I do sometimes give in to despair.

But I try to keep running even when I stumble like that.

And I try to recover more quickly each time.

And I try to find that balance of power, speed and strength again so that I can once more face the world with courage and determination.

And so, instead of trying to force my thoughts through narrow passages erected by people who understand only one human way of being ...

... I try to let my thoughts flow freely, within the walls of discipline that I have crafted ... rather than letting other people make those maps for me.

And then I really start to run.

And when my mind is racing, and I'm unhindered by what it means to be slow or fast or human or animal or anything in-between ... that's when I get to be myself.  Because that's when I realize I'm one of a kind, and not the product of anyone else's wishes or designs.  And that I'm unique in all the universe.  And that I'm most unique when I'm letting myself go, when I'm running in freedom and beauty and precision and power and strength and limitless joy.

That's how I feel, when I'm running in my own mind.

Do try to keep up.