Many years ago, in a world where Neuro-Inclusion was a barely visible beacon of hope glowing in the distant future, I embarked on a quest (via plane and sometimes by bus) to spread understanding and appreciation for NeuroDivergent People across the United States.
My frustration with inaccessible workplaces led me to this place, filled with buses, ride shares, airports, planes, and hotel rooms—all billed to and paid for by the clients (employers, conference organizers, universities, and public entities) who would fly me in to speak.
On the one hand, traveling was fun and exciting. Growing up, I only left Texas three times (I can remember) because it’s a big state.
The out-of-state trips I remember growing up were:
- Mexico – when I was very young.
- My mom took my sibling and me on a one-week road trip to visit our aunt in North Carolina.
- A choir road trip to New Orleans to sing at Jazz Land and then on to Florida to sing at Disney (I had to sell candy to attend)
These trips I took in childhood were always rushed, with little to no downtime, which was exhausting.
Unfortunately, my adult travels would not be much different.
As an adult Autistic traveler, I navigated labyrinthine airports, braving the chaos of security lines, crowded terminals, and loud announcements, fighting off sensory overloads and meltdowns just long enough for me to get where I needed to be safe.
Most of the time, I managed not to fall apart until I was alone in a bathroom (or my hotel room, if lucky). However, I also ran frantically crying through the airport, confused, lost, and panicked on multiple occasions.
Just recently, I was speaking to one of my colleagues about how, less than 5 years ago (before COVID), almost every presentation I gave or workshop I hosted would be in person.
If I were teaching in Texas, I would hop on a bus or take a ride out (because Texas is HUGE and public transportation doesn’t cover the entire state).
If the presentation was in another state, I would fly out.
Though the travel would take a lot out of me, it was “my normal back then.”
While many people assume that “in-person speaking” would be “more stressful” than speaking to a screen, speaking in a room wasn’t more difficult for me (as long as I was well-prepared and had my note cards with the bullet points of my presentation on them to keep me on track).
Whether I speak to people behind a screen or face to face in a room, I know they are hearing my message and watching me—no matter how they participate (even if I can’t see them).
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