The reason I'm celebrating my late-life dx at 60 is that it helps me
stop beating myself up for failing to mesh with people, for being
out of step with family and friends and co-workers for so long.

Now I understand why I march to a different beat, to the squeals
of a bagpiper with a tin ear who fingers a melody that speaks to
me in a way that the rhythmic thump of the herd's heartbeat does
not. I get stomped by herds, by people who find my thinking is
not like theirs and who find me suspect for that reason. Even in a
so-called high I.Q. society my approach to life is threatening so
that I am called disingenuous by people who cannot follow my
thinking, who will not introspect and share the results with others
online -- and who distrust my intent in doing so.

Ah, but now I know that I am Aspie. I'm not just a broken thing, a
lost soul, a foundling left behind by visitors from another planet.
I'm Aspie. Oh, happy day. O frabjous day; callou, callay! Yay!

If you too are a late-life dx, feel free to join me in celebrating. -Zer
(happily Aspie, after three-score years of wandering alone!)