I love taking care of my grandpa, who I call Gung-Gung. I really, really love it. I wouldn't trade this precious time I'm getting with him for the world. But, caregiving is HARD work & it's even HARDER work for an autistic person, like myself. Let me tell you why. My Gung-Gung has to get a blood test once a month & it's my responsibility to take him. It's an important responsibility, but it also gives me precious time with him. I love that one Thursday a month. This past Thursday was Blood Test Thursday. Going With The Flow: When I arrived at my Gung-Gung's apartment complex last week, I was surprised to find that the visitor parking had completely disappeared. Autistic people, like myself, like to be prepared & don't like surprises, like this one. Not that anyone would like a surprise like this. It's just more of a problem for autistic people. My mom had recently told me that a notice went out that they were reducing the visitor parking & there were now only going to be three visitor parking spaces. (There used to be roughly double that.) But, signs that read Resident Parking Only were posted in equal intervals, in front of the old visitor parking spaces. That included one of the spaces that was supposedly still a visitor parking space. So, I opted to park on the street. I really don't like doing that, since it takes longer to get inside the building. Plus, getting the car to bring to my Gung-Gung who's waiting for me when I need to drive him somewhere takes longer. I don't want him to yell at me for taking too long, which does happen sometimes. When I asked my mom about the parking situation later on that night, she didn't know what I was talking about & said that that sign wasn't there yesterday. 🤷🏻♀️ Also, walking into my Gung-Gung's apartment, whether I'm there for scheduled caregiving duties or I'm there for a surprise visit, gives me heightened anxiety. I never know what I'm going to be walking into. This gives my mom, an allistic, or a non-autistic person anxiety, as well. But, for me, my anxiety about this is on a whole other level. Autistic people need to know what to expect; they don't like surprises. I personally feel like I need time to prepare for whatever situation is about to happen, but not knowing what I'm walking into doesn't allow me to do that. The following questions usually run through my head:
Anyways, we took the elevator downstairs, I ran to get the car as quickly as I could, & off to the blood test we went. The medical building we go for the blood test is right next door to my Gung-Gung's apartment complex, but due to his age & his physical abilities, it is still too far for him to walk. So, I drive. Putting Someone Else's Needs & Wants Ahead Of My Own: I had this idea in my head that I wanted my Gung-Gung to sit outside with me after his blood test. It was an absolutely gorgeous day & now that we are sadly into the month of September, these perfect days are getting to be more limited. I am someone who needs a lot of sunshine in order to function, so I take a vitamin D3 prescription year round. Plus, I shine a happy light on my face for about ten minutes before getting out of bed in the morning during the late-summer through the mid-spring months. Like many people living in this part of the country, I believe I struggle with seasonal affective disorder, although it’s never been diagnosed. Anyways, once my Gung-Gung's blood test was over, I told him that it was a beautiful day & asked him if he wanted to sit with me by the gazebo across the street before going back to his apartment. It's good for him to get fresh air, something he can’t do without accompaniment. It's much easier to convince him to sit outside if he's already outside rather than if he's inside his apartment. Plus, I was giving up time that I would normally be spending out on the back deck in the sun to take care of him. Much to my disappointment, especially since I knew it would likely be much colder when it is time for his October blood test, he didn't want to go to the gazebo. He told me he just wanted to go back to his apartment afterwards. Knowing that he would make a scene if I tried to convince him otherwise, I knew I had to take a step back & let him take the wheel. This is something that's difficult for anyone in the caregiver position, but it is even more difficult for an autistic person. However, he obviously changed his mind between the time we had this conversation & the time we left the medical building. When we left the building, he started heading straight for the gazebo even though I told him I would drive him there. We sat on a park bench in the gazebo park for a short while, side by side, him tapping his hand on my leg to a beat & me with my arm around his shoulders. This right here was my old Gung-Gung. This was what we did together ever since I was a young child, way before he had his devastating stroke. Although, I only started putting my arm around him when I got big enough to do that. 😉 These glimpses of my old Gung-Gung overwhelm me with so much warmth & happiness that it is hard for me to properly convey how I feel. I've always felt so safe, secure, protected, loved, & cared about when his arms were around me. While I still feel some of those same things today, despite him being disabled & me being all grown up, I feel so blessed to now be doing the same thing to him. Giving him the safety, the security, the protection, the love, & the care that he always gave me while also doing something that is good for him. Getting him some fresh air & sunshine. On another note, I wrote more about how being an autistic caregiver affects me in blog posts entitled My Experiences Being A Caregiver With Undiagnosed Autism & Strengths & Weaknesses Of Caregiving With Autism, if you'd like to read those prior blog posts. The Grief We Deal With:
When my Gung-Gung decided that it was time for us to go inside, we went in a nearby door & up the elevator to get to the enclosed bridge that leads to the building that he lives in. This walk is a little far for my Gung-Gung & his favorite sitting spot is on this bridge. So, this is where he likes to take a walking break. You get a perfect view of the nursing home associated with his apartment complex from this bridge. This nursing home was where my grandma, who I called Haw-Bu, passed away. So, he feels a closeness to her when he sits there & looks at the nursing home. He & I sat in two chairs by a window with a view of the nursing home & almost immediately, he was gesturing & asking why did she have to die before him. Why did she have to leave him here on Earth? He then bursted into tears & was sobbing for the love of his life of over sixty years. It's probably been over a year since I've seen him cry like this for his wife. I came around behind the chair he was sitting in & wrapped my arms around him in a loving & a comforting embrace until he was able to collect himself. Once he let me know he was okay, I sat back down in my chair again & wrote in big letters on my whiteboard Kim♥ Gung-Gung. When I showed it to him, he smiled at me with love in his eyes. I mostly communicate with him through simple, written language now, along with some gesturing. Because his stroke caused him to acquire a condition known as global aphasia, he no longer has the ability to communicate using language. So, he can no longer read, write, speak, or understand language, with the exception of simple phrases written on a whiteboard. It is easier for him to understand third-person language rather than first-person language. So, this was why I chose to use my first name rather than a pronoun when talking about myself. Is There Something Wrong With Me?: In times like this, I wonder if there is something wrong with me. When my Haw-Bu passed away, I never grieved. I never even shed a single tear. In fact, all of the sadness I experienced after her passing was caused by my Gung-Gung's sadness & grief. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have experienced any sadness at all. How is it possible that she was my grandma & I don't miss her? There have even been times where I have wondered what it was about my Haw-Bu that my Gung-Gung was attracted to. What did he love about her? Don't get me wrong, I'm so glad for their absolutely incredible love story, for without their love story, I wouldn't exist. But, I could never relate to my Haw-Bu & many of the interactions I had with her were beyond frustrating, leaving me feeling flustered & misunderstood. I spoke at my Haw-Bu's celebration of life that my family held after her passing, but I had a lot of trouble writing the words I was going to say to my family & to my grandparents' friends. Much of the reason I spoke had to do with the fact that my brother & my cousins were speaking, so I felt like I needed to speak also. I was my Haw-Bu's oldest grandchild, as well as her only granddaughter, after all. But, how do you speak about someone who you were supposed to have had a relationship with, but didn't? I feel so guilty that I feel this way. In the end, though, my speech did make it sound like my Haw-Bu & I had a very close relationship. Many of her friends came up to me afterwards & made comments about how great it was that I had such a close relationship with my Haw-Bu. I felt like I had just lied to almost everyone in that room though, which was crushing. One thing that differentiated my celebration of life speech from the speeches of my Haw-Bu's daughters & grandsons was my speech didn't mention cooking or food. At all. My Haw-Bu loved cooking & the way she showed love was by feeding you. Food wasn't my love language. In fact, the amount of time she spent in the kitchen & the fact that she was always trying to feed me was quite annoying. This was particularly frustrating because most of the time she tried to feed me, I didn't feel like eating & forcing myself to eat to make her happy was terribly painful. I eat food because I need to in order to continue to be alive. I don't eat food because I enjoy eating it, especially because I almost never have a good appetite. I know that this isn't how most people think about food. I've always felt that if my Haw-Bu had spent a lot less time in the kitchen during visits, I would've been able to have a relationship with her. For one of my brother's birthdays when he was younger, he asked our Haw-Bu to cook him & some of his friends a Chinese feast. I wouldn't have ever dreamed of doing such a thing because I always wished she would spend quality time with me, outside of the kitchen. I wanted this from the time I was young child until she passed away & I never got it. I wrote more about how grief affects me & other autistic people in my prior blog post entitled Autism & Grief, if you'd like to read that prior blog post. Conclusion: All in all, this past Thursday was a good day. Everything went almost perfectly. I was impressed by the number of people who walked past my Gung-Gung & me sitting on the bridge who said hello to him using his name. That meant all of those people know his name even though his language abilities are very limited. (I usually spend most of my time inside my Gung-Gung's apartment when I visit.) One of the things that made my Haw-Bu hesitant about moving here was that no one here would've known my Gung-Gung before he had his stroke. But, in a building like this, he's getting much more social interaction than he ever got in his stand alone house in California. In fact, I even explained that Gung-Gung means maternal grandfather in Chinese to one of my Gung-Gung's friends who walked by. This particular friend saw the whiteboard that was lying in my lap that read Kim♥ Gung-Gung & asked me what a Gung-Gung was.
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The above was a statement my dad shared with me a couple nights ago. 🥰 All my life, my dad has been the one I could count on to say things like that to me, things that I need to hear. Let me tell you more about the background of this statement. My mom had recently made an appointment for my grandpa & herself to get the new COVID vaccine. Finally having convinced my dad to get the vaccine earlier than he had originally wanted to get it, she was trying to add him to the vaccine appointment group she had made for my grandpa & herself. That's when a thought came over me: should he really be getting the new vaccine then? My dad had been experiencing some kind of allergic reaction the past several days, so his doctor prescribed a steroid to help with the itchiness he had been experiencing. Now, this steroid helps with allergies & all kinds of autoimmune disorders. I know much more about this medication & how it works than I wish I did because one of my dogs took it many years ago, when he was very sick with a blood clotting problem. Knowing that this medication works so well by suppressing the immune system, I asked my parents about this drug before my mom added my dad to her appointment group. When you get a vaccine, you want the best immune response possible, so taking a medication that makes your immune system not work as well while you're getting a vaccine— that's probably not a good idea. My dad agreed with me, so he is holding off getting the vaccine until after the ten days on the steroid has passed & his immunity is back to normal. Out of curiosity, later on that night, I asked my dad if he would've thought of the impact of the steroid he's taking on his immune response to the new COVID vaccine on his own. He told me he definitely wouldn't have & he would've just gotten the vaccine on an earlier date, like my mom & I wanted him to. Feeling happy with myself for speaking up while trying to be humorous at the same time, I said something along the lines of, "See, sometimes having an immune- & germ-obsessed daughter can be beneficial!" If you'd like to read more about my experiences being a germaphobe, please feel free to go back & read my blog posts about how the coronavirus pandemic turned me into a "normal" person & how vestibular sensitivities effect my daily life. I then talked more about how he can thank my obsession with germs & the immune system, as well as my dog, Teddy for my knowledge about this steroid. If it wasn't for Teddy's illness, I wouldn't know so much about how this drug affects your body. That's when my dad said to me, "Everything about you is a blessing to me." No one's ever said that to me before, so my immediate reaction was that my dad was just being sarcastic again. I was sitting there talking about the immune system & my germaphobic tendencies, so hearing that that was a blessing really caught me off guard. I mean, I don't consider that a blessing to ME (it's so hard to live that way), so how could it be a blessing to someone else? Germaphobia is a BIG part of who I am. It turned out that my dad was being 100% truthful in that moment & wasn't being sarcastic at all. "Everything about you is a blessing to me." That was something I needed to hear. If you love me, tell me. If you're proud of me, tell me. If I look pretty, tell me. If I'm doing things right, tell me. If you love that design I just created, tell me. If everything about me is a blessing to you, tell me. I need to hear all those things & more. I've gone my whole life with terrible self-esteem & being super dependent on validation from others. Every positive thing you think about me: I need to know about it, I need to know how you feel. That's what keeps me going & I know that that's also why words of affirmation is my love language. What Are The Love Languages?:
The term love language refers to the way that a person prefers to express & receive love. While the term was first introduced to us by best-selling author, speaker, & marriage counselor Dr. Gary Chapman, the term is used more loosely today, referring to love that is expressed between romantic partners, family members, friends, & more. In Dr. Gary Chapman's best-selling book, The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love that Lasts, he proposed five specific love languages, which are:
If you'd like to learn more about the five love languages, you can visit Dr. Gary Chapman's love language website to take quizzes to learn more about yourself, as well as to take a look at other resources & videos he has available, all of which provide valuable insight. I applied for disability this past December, shortly after I received my autism diagnosis. Now, the disability process is a very lengthy one. It typically takes just under a year for a decision to be made. Ever since I first applied, I have periodically been checking the status of my application via the Social Security Administration website. And I can now see that we're getting closer & closer to my application being fully processed, which brings me to what this post is about. My neighbor's son is just a few years younger than me & is also autistic. Knowing that my neighbor likely has a much greater understanding of my struggles than most people, I have gone to her for advice a few times. My mom & I had a very interesting conversation with her a couple evenings ago. Something I've never thought of until now was brought up, which I'd like to tell you about. My neighbor's advice to my mom & me was that when we're talking to people or filling out paperwork related to autism services or benefits (like disability or supplemental income), we have to remember to put the emphasis on what I CAN'T do rather than what I CAN do. She told us that she has a difficult time talking about what her autistic son CAN'T do & instinctively puts the emphasis on what he CAN do. Both my mom & I were very confused by this statement. My mom even asked my neighbor to clarify what she meant. When my neighbor kept going on & on about this, I realized that she probably had no idea that this wasn't a problem at all for me, so I interrupted her. I told her that I have the exact opposite problem. I have a difficult time talking about what I CAN do & always put the emphasis on what I CAN'T do. "Oh, so you have the opposite problem," my neighbor said in agreement. When I took a moment to pause & reflect on this conversation, I came to a realization. The difference in perspective between me & my neighbor is simply when the autism diagnosis was received. Her son was diagnosed with autism as a young child, while I was diagnosed with autism well into adulthood.
While I'm not a mother myself, I can imagine that as a mother, my neighbor wants to think positively for her son. Her positivity will then positively impact her son by making him feel loved & capable of doing whatever he wants to do with his life. For me, my autism diagnosis came from such a negative place. In fact, I believe that I wouldn't have received a diagnosis at all at this point in my life if I was someone who put the emphasis on what I CAN do. After I received my autism diagnosis, I've found myself constantly telling autism resource people about everything I CAN'T do. But, I can't remember telling anyone about what I CAN do. Sometimes, it has even led to heated, ugly arguments that have left me feeling more misunderstood, invalidated, & defeated than ever before. For example, I:
While yes, this is an extremely negative way of thinking, it is important to remember that if I didn't have such a long list of things I CAN'T do, I wouldn't be autistic. And I wouldn't have spent my entire life struggling & wondering why I am unable to get to where I want to be in life. It may not look like it from the outside, but autism is an invisible disability that really hinders what things I am capable of doing & how much of it can be done in a day. Ever since I was a child, I've had very specific limits, which include interacting with people, physical activity, & more. I've always known that surpassing those limits would cause trouble, but identifying those limits & advocating for myself wasn’t something I learned to do until I was in my upper teens. Living life in a constant spoon deficit is no easy feat, but I'm taking it day by day & trying my very best. I'd like to end this post by reiterating that while many people impacted by autism focus on what they or their loved one CAN do, it’s the CAN'Ts that are important to me. Every person is different, autistic or allistic, & we all have different perspectives on our abilities & on the life we're living. And that is perfectly normal & okay. We're all doing our very best & we're doing what works for us & that’s what matters most of all. 💙 And This Is The Story: The Week Of August 28th: One morning, my mom was coming home from walking one of our dogs when she heard scuttling coming from underneath the hood of my car. Thinking there must be an animal in there, she asked my dad to investigate. When my dad opened the hood of my car, there was a chipmunk inside. He yelled at it & scared it away. 🐿️ Sunday, September 3rd: My brother, who was home last weekend for my birthday, was waiting to take a walk with my mom & one of our dogs when he heard scuttling coming from underneath the hood of my car. Knowing that there was a chipmunk in there just a few days prior, he told our mom about it. She gave him my car keys & asked him to get rid of it. When he opened up the hood, there were at least four chipmunks in there. This time, the chipmunks were staring at him, seemingly unafraid & unwilling to move. My brother, afraid of the chipmunks, grabbed a broomstick from the garage to try to get them to leave. They scurried out. My dad also put some mothballs inside a little KFC takeout container which he put inside there to deter chipmunks from making the hood of my car their home in the future. 🐿️ 🐿️ 🐿️ 🐿️ Tuesday, September 5th: A couple days later, I was driving to & from my dog walking clients' houses & thought to myself, "There is a really strange smell in the car." Not confident enough in my ability to recognize the unpleasant smell of mothballs, that night, I asked my dad if the smell of the mothballs he put in the hood of the car could possibly effect the smell of the interior of the car. He replied that that is certainly a possibility & one that he thought of, too. Wednesday, September 6th: The next day, my dad told me that he investigated the smell inside my car & it's definitely not mothballs. He smelt the hood of the car & it doesn't smell. The interior of the car did smell though, so he asked me if I spilt anything inside the car, even if it was water. I told him that I definitely didn't spill anything in the car. The only thing I ever regularly consume in the car is water & it's always in a very tightly sealed water bottle that I'm sure didn't spill. I said to him, "I wonder if Mom drove the car & spilt something in it without telling us." That was the only thing I could think of because I know my mom has a tendency to spill things in cars. Then, I went on to say that it was a very strange coincidence that a couple of days after we found chipmunks in the hood of my car, the interior of the car smells. My dad agreed. I was pretty certain that the smell had to do with chipmunks & not with a spill. Friday, September 8th:
It was a super hot & humid day & I was driving to & from my dog clients' houses again. Between walking my own dog & walking my clients' dogs, I was super hot & sweaty. So, I put the car's air conditioner on maximum strength. I then started to notice the unpleasant smell in my car getting significantly worse. A thought went through my head: What if that smell isn't mothballs & there's actually a dead chipmunk lying next to the vents in the hood of my car?! NO, NO, NO! That better not be the case! That better not be! Well, I totally forgot to mention this to my dad by the time I got home. The reason why? The largest rainstorm I've ever driven in happened that afternoon on my drive home. Super stressful drive. It came on so suddenly & without any warning. One moment it was cloudy & the next, it was like I was driving through the middle of a hurricane. There was so much rain that I thought the water was gonna swallow up my car with me inside of it. I could barely see & I didn't think it was safe to pull over either because I didn't think anyone would see me if I did. Saturday, September 9th: The next morning, when I was about to take my dog for his walk, I noticed that the hood of my car was open. So, I asked my dad if he was still investigating the smell. Not surprisingly, he pointed to the backside of my vents & said, "There's a dead chipmunk in there, but I can't see it. I tried looking with the flashlight on my phone & can't see it, but I know it's in there." I KNEW IT. I asked him what we're gonna do about it. Do I have to drive around with a dead chipmunk inside the hood of my car for the rest of the time I drive that car? And most importantly, how are we gonna get the smell to go away? His response? We're not gonna do anything about it because if we can't see it, we can't get rid of it. It will stop smelling. Eventually. The most surprising thing he said though? The chipmunk was probably sick & dying & went in there because it was a nice, quiet place for it to die alone. Yeah, right. 🤦🏻♀️ When I told my mom about my chipmunk situation, she Googled what to do about a dead chipmunk inside the hood of your car. I mean, what else should the queen of Google do? An article she came across said that it can take many months for the smell to go away on its own & it suggested purchasing something called a dead mouse deodorizer. We purchased that from Amazon. 🐿️ Sunday, September 10th: The next afternoon, I had to drive to the next town over to meet my new cat sitting client. I had just barely left home when the world's most horrible smell came over me. I had walked my dog just before this, so yes, the A/C was on. And due to the humidity, it was on maximum. I quickly opened both back windows & put them as far down as possible. I seriously thought I was gonna vomit. The smell was a gazillion times worse than it had ever been before. I was so glad it hadn't started raining yet or I don't know what I would've done. I probably would've died. Or come close to it. By the way, my dad's story changed. Now, he told me that my brother only saw three out of the four chipmunks scurry away last weekend. One of them disappeared. That makes a lot more sense. A chipmunk did not in fact choose its dying place to be behind the vents inside the hood of my car. So, that means one of two things likely happened:
Sensory Sensitivities: Now, let me take a moment to tell you about the open windows in my car, as I mentioned above ↑. I can't tolerate open windows in a car, in a bus, in a ferry, in anything that is moving pretty much. Blowing air, breezes, wind, etc. They all bother me SO much. Convertibles, open air jeeps, etc.? Forget it! That's why I opened my back windows & not my front windows. You know when kids are little & they sit in front of a fan, going, "Ahhhhhhhhhh..." because they love how the fan changes the sound of their voices? I never did that because that would require me to sit in front of a fan. Sitting in front of a fan meant air blowing in my face. Nope, nope, & nooooope! I even had trouble in college with fans. The dorms when I was an underclassman were not air conditioned, so we depended on fans to keep the room cool in the warmer months. That was a problem for someone like me who is intolerant of fans. Also, I have all the vents in my car turned away from the driver's seat so that no air will blow on me while I'm driving. During times where I'm really hot, I have turned them back towards me briefly, just until I cool down before turning them away again. In fact, one time when my dad drove my car, he wondered why he was so hot & then he realized that the reason why was because all of the vents were turned away from the driver's seat! 💨 Monday, September 11th: Last night, a very close friend of mine took me out to dinner for my birthday. Just what I needed. I texted her the evening before to ask her if she could pick me up. I had no clients yesterday, so if I didn't have to drive to dinner, I wouldn't have to drive at all that day. Breathing in that horrible, vomit-inducing stench right before sitting down to dinner? I'd rather not. I mean, there's no good time for that, but right before a meal is an especially bad time for that. Tuesday, September 12th: I had three clients I needed to drive to today & I could barely smell the stench in my car. Could the stench have not been there at all & I'm just imagining it? Quite possibly. I'm still not convinced that this is the end though. There were days that the smell wasn't as bad & then it got bad again. I guess we'll just have to wait & see. Many autistic people have sensitivities to smell. Luckily, I am not one of them. But, being that I am so sensitive to blowing air, my sensory sensitivities did play a factor into how I am surviving this chipmunk situation. And that, everyone, is my story about autism & chipmunks. 🐿️ As my eighth grade school year neared its end, there was so much excitement & chatter among my classmates about high school. High school. Now those were two words I never wanted to hear. If you had asked me about anything having to do with high school that year, one of two things would have happened:
Throughout my life, each transition that I've experienced was harder than the one before. Now, I know why. Autism. We're known for having a tough time with change. Middle school wasn't a time that I would ever want to relive (I mean, who would?), but high school? Now that was terrifying. Eighth grade was the first time I ever had a male main subject teacher. My science & homeroom teacher, Gil, really took a liking to me. He gave me special treatment & gave me privileges that no one else in the class was allowed to have. He even intervened in situations where I didn't think it was necessary. He simply wanted to be there to take care of me. Being someone who didn't (& still doesn't) trust men, I considered myself pretty lucky to have had Gil be my first experience with a male teacher. He's retired now, but I've been able to reach out to him a few times since my college graduation to thank him for being so good to me. Anyway, Gil knew that I was nervous about going to high school, so he met my parents, my grandparents, & me one day over spring break to give us a personal tour. He used to work at the high school, so he knew it pretty well. My town was growing so fast, that the eighth grade needed to be moved to the high school for several years because there was no longer room for it in the middle school. By the time I entered eighth grade though, the grade had moved back to where it was supposed to be. I'm not sure how much that tour helped my transition to high school because just the idea of going to high school was SO upsetting. I knew I had no other choice because staying in eighth grade forever & skipping high school weren't viable options either. Having that love, care, & extra time from a teacher who could've been spending his spring break doing so many other things meant so much to my family & me. My First Day Of High School: Now, this is something I hate to admit, but on the first day of high school, as I was walking to the bus stop, there were big, ugly, fat tears that wouldn't stop forming. Like many parents, ever since I started school, my mom has always taken a picture of me on the first day. I couldn't pull myself together enough to take a picture that morning, so my mom took a picture of me after school instead. To this day, when I look at that picture, all I see is a sad, scared girl hidden behind the smile on her face. See below↓. On that particular morning, my next-door neighbor was looking out her front door at me walking to the bus stop, full of excitement for me. My neighbor was someone I have been very close to ever since I was a toddler, but I couldn't manage to turn to look at her for even a brief second because my face was so streaked with tears. Luckily, my mom could be my voice that morning, providing an explanation for my strange behavior which was completely embarrassing. What Exactly Was SO Terrifying?: There were three main things that were upsetting about going to high school.
I know that this is a very vulnerable & heartbreaking post, especially for those who know me personally. Please know that everything written in this post was written with my heart & soul & is absolutely true. School is very, very difficult for us autistics & my experiences are illustrations of why this may be. September 2nd, as well as the several days following it have been hard days for me ever since I can remember. The reason why? My birthday is over. It feels weird & inappropriate typing that out because what thirty-something-year-old still loves her birthday as much as she loved it when she was a child? 🙋🏻♀️ That would be me. This Is The Main Reason Why: My life is so isolating. Most of the time, I feel like I'm a fly on the wall. The whole world is going by & I'm just sitting there watching from a distance. I blame autism for my isolation. I have vivid memories of my maternal grandfather, my Gung-Gung, saying to me when I was a preteen & a teenager, "You're so pretty. If you would just talk more, you would have so many friends," & then giving me a squeeze. I don't remember what my response to him was, but I knew that while I completely agreed with him, doing that wasn't possible. I couldn't talk more. In fact, whenever I did talk, it caused panic & anxiety because I felt like I couldn't say the right things & I had a tendency to stumble over my words. Also, if I was ever wrong about something, I felt like my whole world came crashing down & I wanted to hide under a rock & never come out. This is probably also why my dad has told me multiple times that I'm always right. I only speak when I'm 1,000% certain that I'm right. This is why I never, ever, ever, ever raised my hand in class when I was in school. And those are also the reasons why I had such a hard time making friends as a child. When I had friends over when I was growing up, I got a sense of relief when they went home because I could finally relax & I would no longer have to be so tense over keeping a conversation going. Now I know that the reason for these struggles was that I was unknowingly autistic. Throughout my entire life, I have always either had just one friend or no friends at all. Sometimes, there was a group of friends that I was a part of, but whenever that was the case, I was always on the outside, never really fitting in & only truly being friends with one girl in the group. If they were gonna leave someone out, it would always be me. My ability to make friends hasn't changed since. My birthday is the one day out of the whole entire year where everything is about me. It's the one day a year where I feel like people remember that I exist. I hear from people I haven't heard from in 365 days, since my last birthday. Once my birthday is over, once September 2nd arrives, all of that stops & I go back to being a fly on the wall & feeling like no one remembers I exist. I wish I could feel like people loved & cared about me on days other than September 1st. My birthday celebration with my family is tomorrow, so luckily, the celebrating isn't over just yet. The Birthday Blues:
Believe it or not, the birthday blues or birthday depression is a pretty common experience. It is not a diagnosable mental health condition, but many people experience sadness in the days leading up to their birthdays. People experience it for many reasons, including but not limited to fears about aging & dying, not having people to celebrate with, having expectations that are not met, having experienced a traumatic birthday in the past, & not being in the place in life where they think they should be. For me, I don't experience these feelings in the days leading up to my birthday, which is the definition of the birthday blues. It is the days following my birthday that are the issue. Besides the issue that I described above, every year, there is at least one person who forgets my birthday who should have remembered. I also have experienced sadness the past several years around the issue of not being in the place in life I think I should be. I now know that this due to unknowingly being autistic, so now that I know this about myself, I can take the steps that are necessary to move forward in my life. Autistic Birthday Experiences: Autistic people experience birthdays a lot differently than allistic, or non-autistic people do, so before ending this blog post, let's talk about how I experience my birthdays now & how I experienced them as a child. Being The Center Of Attention: I've never liked this. This is why I was always glad that my birthday was at the very beginning of the school year, before they started announcing birthdays over the intercom. I need to get to a certain level of comfort with someone before I'm comfortable being wished a happy birthday by that person, so I'm not someone who likes everyone knowing when my birthday is. This is also why I stopped having birthday parties at such a young age & wanted to have weekends away with my family instead. I never liked the amount of attention I got at birthday parties, especially because I was never confident that my reaction or facial expression were gonna be appropriate in every situation (& to be honest, they probably weren't). Singing Happy Birthday: I never knew what my face should be doing at this part of a birthday party. Does my face look okay? Is now an okay time to smile, should I have a straight face, or a totally different expression I haven't thought of? And who should I make eye contact with? I never knew & everyone was looking at me, the birthday girl, so now wasn't the time to screw this up! Opening Gifts: I never liked surprises because I never knew if I was reacting to them appropriately. In fact, I remember saying to my mom once, "Don't you ever throw me a surprise party!" And she never has. When I said that to her, I didn't think she ever would, but I just wanted to make sure. With gifts, if I knew what it was ahead of time, I could try to prepare myself. I've always had this fear of not being able to hide when I didn't like the gift I just opened, but I also had a fear of looking like I didn't like something when I really loved it. I've often had a hard time matching my facial expressions to the way I really feel. I thought it would be good to start September off by looking back on everything that was covered during the month of August. Also, if you are new here, WELCOME! I am so glad to have you here! 💕 August's Blog Topics:
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AuthorHello! My name is Kim, I didn't know I was autistic until I was in my thirties, & this is my story. Categories
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