In 1986, twenty-two years before my autism diagnosis, I had a chance to meet one of my musical heroes, George Michael. I hadn’t met George before, and the prospect of spending hours with him in the close confines of a recording studio thrilled and terrified me in equal measures. At around 10 pm that Friday evening, I was told that George was on his way to the studio and that I should make my way over. Immediately, the panic set in. My stomach began to churn with anxiety, and the excuses began as to why I couldn’t attend the session. Read More