Facing My Autistic Fears

If my therapist could see me right now, she would be so proud of me. I picture her beaming at me, as I sit at this table, facing my fears.

The fear started last week, when I was sitting at a different table.

I was at my weekly writer’s group, which meets at a Panera. I arrived early so I could sit at my favorite spot — the chair at the end up of the long table. It’s not just that it’s at the end — it’s next to the fireplace. Panera is always freezing, so cold that it is hard to think sometimes. So when I arrived and no one was there, I happily nestled in.

As the evening progressed, more and more group members showed up.

One eventually showed up who wanted to sit at the head of the table. She asked the two of us sitting at the end if she could sit there.

I looked up at her and said, “I’m sorry but I need my space.” There was simply not enough room for her to sit with her laptop, and it not hit the items I had in front of me (laptop, journal, etc.).

She then declared, “But I want to sit by the fire.”

I stammered back, “I’m sorry, there’s just not enough space.”

To which she boldly declared back, “Well maybe you can scoot down.”

There was someone seated next to me. I didn’t want to crowd into her, and I didn’t want to move away from the fire.

I got to the group early so that I could comfortably select my spot without bothering anyone. I am…