I was late to the conference today, my system went haywire this morning and there was much arguing about clothes and adornments. When it gets like this, everything feels wrong to someone and there’s no peace for any of us.

Yesterday at the conference we were watching some of the presenters pause mid speech to listen to a voice, or sometimes pass on a comment or correction their voice had made. It was beautiful to have it so normal in this space. I remember what that was like, hosting the hearing voices group Sound Minds. I remember them sitting in my backyard around the little bathtub with the campfire in it, laughing about how anyone else would say they were crazy, but in this space they were normal.

I have been learning a lot about autism over the past 10 years and one thing that comes up is the idea of unmasking, which is often vaguely defined or badly defined but which I see as being aware of how you actually feel and function and to make choices about that instead of being so buried beneath the mask of being “normal” you can’t even tell. In here with ear buds for when the microphones are too loud, and a little stone to rub when I need something to do with my hands, and a hard mint to suck on it need something grounding because I know I’m going to be raw and heightened and tired and my senses will be intensified or dulled. I’ve come prepared because I know this about myself. Unmasking can be messy but it’s also liberating and moves you away from the bewildering crashes you don’t even see coming.

We live as if we’re not multiple. We live as if Sarah is one person. We are constantly masked. My staff and clients don’t understand this about me. My children don’t. Nightingale took me shopping before we came here, to make sure everyone who wanted to attend would have something to wear they felt comfortable with. It was complicated. She’s well aware of this because shopping for wedding outfits was similar, full of internal comflict and hope and joy and shame and embarrassment and vulnerability. Both invisibility and exposure are unbearable.

So we listened to people bringing their voices with them, and this morning our pantheon turned up and wanted to be present, not just the confident and joyful presenters, the messy and vulnerable and anxious collection of all of us, wanting to be here and be seen and steal a taste of the sense of safety and acceptance we had witnessed.

So we’re doing what we used to do at these conferences, sitting at the back in tears.

I carry burdens of doubt and guilt and isolation. There are scars and vulnerabilities and insecurities that are painfully present. So I am here with both hats – someone who can offer help, and someone who needs help.  It’s not comfortable but it’s who I am and how we are human.

The sense of being allowed to be the way you are is unspeakably precious and difficult to explain to those who create the hideously dehumanising mainstream services. The sense of acceptance and willingness to see value in devalued experiences is a profound shift. It’s healing to hear people passionate about consent and self determination, people creating different, easier ways to communicate and hold safety and equalise power.

I find myself wondering if I could take these notes and links and resources back home and share them. There’s only a handful of Australians here, and there’s so much knowledge being shared that’s so needed. I’m not sure. Waiting for me at home are so many responsibilities, and such a fragmented community. It’s mostly people like me, working hard and doing their best in their own little corner, with their family or clients. It’s definitely heavier carrying that torch of diversity and self determination by ourselves.