It is no secret that autistic police brutality is a real problem. From beatings & violent, wrongful arrests to deadly shootings; the aggressive force police use against us, autistics, is our unfortunate reality. In fact, I DON'T FEEL LIKE POLICE OFFICERS PROTECT ME at all, but to be quite honest, it is the exact opposite— I FEEL LIKE I HAVE TO PROTECT MYSELF FROM POLICE OFFICERS. When I look at police officers, I see the grownup versions of my high school bullies. I knew for a fact that the majority of the guys who bullied me in school, the guys who made my high school, my middle school experiences a living hell were going onto college to study criminal justice to become police officers. It does make sense. The tough guys in school. The guys who bullied the quiet, meek girls like myself. They have the exact right type of personalities, the desire & the thrill deep inside of them to want to catch the bad guys. Of course they want to become cops! I have been absolutely petrified, absolutely terrified of police officers my entire life & that is the main reason why. In my mind, POLICE OFFICERS ARE BULLIES, people who misunderstand me, people who mistreat me, people who don't treat me like a human being. And no one, no situation has ever proven me wrong. Interacting with police officers causes me so much stress that my autistic traits become much more exasperated, much more visible than they are typically. But, even with how exaggerated my autistic traits become, I still don't "look autistic" in a stereotypical sense. I spent the majority of my life not knowing I was autistic, but despite that, I still knew that my interactions with police officers were dangerous. While I never act in ways that are considered "typical," that is exaggerated exponentially when I'm faced with high-stress situations, like when I'm in the presence of law enforcement personnel. And when police officers see someone not acting "typical," they often assume the worst & react in ways that put the life & the well-being of an autistic person, such as myself, at risk. I now know that the kind of stress police officers trigger inside of me causes autistic shutdowns. Before I knew I was autistic, I knew that I shut down when in the presence of police officers, but I had no explanation as to why that was. During an autistic shutdown, I more often than not become nonverbal, meaning, even if I wanted to talk, it would be impossible for me to make the words come out. And if I am able to talk during an autistic shutdown, I don't have control over what I am saying, my words often not making any sense. Acting in this way when conversing with police officers is extremely problematic because a person who acts like this is typically on drugs. I'm not on drugs; I never have been & I never will be. It's being autistic that makes me act this way. On top of that, it takes an extremely long time for me to process information & it takes exponentially longer when I'm highly-stressed. So, when spoken to by a police officer, I am often non-responsive. Not because I don't want to respond, but because I physically can't. I simply haven't had enough time to process whatever was just said to me OR that I was spoken to at all. Having an extremely long processing time is very common with autistics, but again, it is also very common with drug users. During the few interactions with police officers I've had in my lifetime, I have been told every time that there was something off about me, that they thought I was on drugs when they first interacted with me. It would have been SO helpful to know that I was autistic at the time I had those interactions rather than for those police officers to automatically assume that I was on drugs. The fact that it is automatically assumed that I am on drugs when I'm not is awfully troubling. This is why soon after I received my autism diagnosis, I designed myself an autism wallet card. This card explains that I am autistic, what autism spectrum disorder is, as well as certain behaviors that I may exhibit that others will likely perceive as unusual, but they are actually very typical behaviors of an autistic woman. I also wear a medical alert bracelet that contains my name, my diagnoses, & an emergency contact number. Plus, it states that I have a wallet card. I did this because I know that it isn't safe to reach for something without asking the police officer for permission first. But, since I often have trouble communicating verbally with police officers, I needed something that would allow me to safely communicate that I'm autistic & I have a wallet card without needing to speak. The reason why I have an autism wallet card & wear a medical alert bracelet is to protect myself from police officers, something that shouldn't be my job or my responsibility to do. Not only is a police officer's job to protect us, but I shouldn't have to disclose my disability in order to be treated with respect or to keep myself safe. My autism wallet card is pictured below (click on it to view it larger). Now, police officers aren't purposely harming autistic people. They simply aren't educated about how to recognize autism & the different behaviors autistic people exhibit. For example, when police officers see a person:
Autism Training & Education:
Police officers across the country & around the world are just not being properly educated or trained on how to treat & interact with autistic individuals. In fact, the type of & the amount of autism training that police officers receive is variable in different police departments in cities across the country. Plus, it's usually voluntary, not mandatory. Another problem is that the education police officers receive on autism tends to be tacked onto the end of the training on another topic. When this happens & only a short discussion is had about autism, how are police officers supposed to get the training, we, autistic people so desperately need them to have? On another note, it's hard to even pinpoint what constitutes as effective training. There is very limited research on how well various kinds of training programs work & ineffective training does more harm than good. There is also some research that suggests that while proper autism training makes police officers understand autism, it still doesn't make them any less likely to use force on autistic people. There really needs to be police training on autism that is standardized across all departments nationwide. However, some experts & advocates say that the best way to decrease violence is to minimize interactions between police & autistic people altogether. That just doesn't seem like a viable solution to me though, especially for autistic people like me, who drive. The Blue Envelope Program: The Blue Envelope Initiative represents a collaborative effort aimed at fostering a safer & a more understanding environment for autistic drivers during motor vehicle operator interactions & traffic stops. This program was just introduced in Massachusetts, the state in which I reside, earlier this month. It involves a Blue Envelope, which is intended to hold a driver's essential documents— a license, the car's registration, & a contact card. However, the significance of this envelope isn't that it is just a storage solution. This envelope features critical communication guidelines on its exterior, specifically tailored to assist law enforcement officers in recognizing & adapting their approach when interacting with a autistic drivers. While the thought behind this program is great & it shows that Massachusetts is trying, as an autistic driver, I don't love everything about the Blue Envelope Program. This is why I have a problem with the Blue Envelope Program:
Also, ever since the Massachusetts Police Department announced the introduction of the Blue Envelope Program, I have been reading numerous comments online from allistic people about how people who require a Blue Envelope in order to have simple conversations with police officers shouldn't be allowed to get behind the wheel. These comments are extremely hurtful & extraordinarily ableist. The people who made these types of comments clearly don’t understand autism or how it impacts people. I probably will get a Blue Envelope to keep in my car only because Massachusetts police officers recognize its purpose. But, it will either remain empty or I will put a few of my autism wallet cards inside of it. I don’t love the idea of keeping my driver's license anywhere other than my wallet. When Interacting With Police Officers, Autistic People May:
Key Facts About Autism, Disabilities, & Police Officers:
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Internalized ableism is something that most, if not all, disabled, chronically ill, & neurodivergent people have experienced. But, first of all... What IS Ableism? Ableism is the discrimination of & the social prejudice against people with disabilities based on the belief that "typical abilities" are superior. Examples Of Ableist Comments About Autism & Autistic People:
Sadly, several of the above comments are said to me on a consistent basis. A few of them many, many years before I even knew I was autistic. And I have no choice but to take it. Hearing those things hurts. It really, really hurts. Examples Of Ableist Quotes By Temple Grandin, The "Face" Of Autism:
Now that we know what ableism is...
What IS Internalized Ableism? Internalized ableism is when people with disabilities absorb & believe the negative stereotypes & prejudices society holds about them. Examples Of Internalized Ableism For Autistic People:
ALL except for three of the above statements are true for me, in my experience of growing up autistic, & BEING AUTISTIC. This is one reason why it is so important to be kind & to not use ableist language. Your words really, truly matter. A LOT. Temple Grandin, that is. When many autistic people disclose that they are autistic, a common question they receive is, "Have you heard of Temple Grandin?" If you don't know who Temple Grandin is, she is an American animal science professor, public speaker, & author who is widely thought of as the "face" of autism. So, when many people think of autism or autistic people, they think of her. This is why many autistic people are asked if they have heard of her when they first disclose that they are autistic. When I was asked this question, I had not heard of her, probably because this was towards the beginning of my autistic journey of self-discovery. All of the literature I was choosing to read were written by women in their thirties & forties. Women who were much closer in age to me & therefore, their life experiences were very relatable to mine. Temple is in her seventies, so I know her life experiences are drastically different from mine growing up. However, as time went on, I have learned more & more about her & now I can tell you that there is so much about her that just doesn't sit right with me. Many other autistic people look up to her & call her a "hero" or an "inspiration," & this may surprise you, but Temple Grandin most certainly isn't a hero of mine. Before I tell you why that is, I would like to tell you about the positive things Temple Grandin has done for the autistic community.
Why Temple Grandin Isn't My Hero:
While, yes, Temple Grandin, one of the first openly autistic people, has done many great things for the autistic community, she will most certainly NOT be my hero until she changes her ableist views about autistic people. What Is Autistic Masking, Anyway? Autistic masking, otherwise known as camouflaging, is sometimes used by autistic people to disguise or minimize specific autistic traits or behaviors in social situations. Why Do Some Autistic People Mask? Some reasons autistic people might mask include, but are not limited to:
Who Masks? While any autistic person may mask, it is more likely for autistic people to mask if they:
What Are Some Examples Of Masking?
What Are The Consequences Of Masking?
Masking & Me:
Ways I Masked Growing Up:
Ways I Mask As An Adult:
One of the last things I learned about when I became aware that I am, in fact, autistic, are the problems autistic people have with self-care. Now, I can tell you that in some ways, being as germaphobic as I am is a real blessing because that is why many of these self-care tasks actually get completed. If I wasn't so finicky about cleanliness, being a hygienic person would be much more of a problem for me. All my adult life, I have had to complete self-care tasks in a certain way in order for them to get done at all, or in order for them to get done in a timely manner, depending on what the task is. I know that if you are an allistic, or a non-autistic person, you are probably wondering what exactly makes self-care so difficult. This is why.
Let's take a moment now to talk about various self-care tasks.
Showering 🚿 Steps Involved:
That is over SIXTY steps (because some of these steps are actually two or three steps) that need to be completed in order to take a shower every night. Doing that EVERY single NIGHT is EXHAUSTING. I take a shower immediately after dinner every single night in order to ensure that my shower is completed in a timely fashion. If I didn't do that autistic inertia would get in my way. I don't use a hair dryer, so I like to shower several hours before going to bed. I don't use a hair dryer because:
The other night, my mom came knocking on the door after I had already taken my clothes off because she had taken her glasses off & couldn't remember where she put them. And she couldn't see to find them. She wanted ME to find them for her of course. I told her I couldn't because I had already taken my clothes off in preparation for my shower. Putting my clothes back on after I had taken them off just wasn't possible due to my executive functioning difficulties & autistic inertia. Asking a neurotypical person to do this might annoy her or him, but for an autistic person like myself, putting my clothes back on after I had taken them off would make it so my shower take many more hours to get completed. And following the routine of getting my shower done by a certain time is EXTREMELY important to me. If I wasn't so germaphobic, my shower might not get done at all with such an interruption, but I have certain rules that I follow. They are:
If my dad hadn't been home & able to find my mom's glasses for her, I know this would've turned into an ugly fight. The entire mindset of not being able to put clothes back on after taking them off is a foreign concept for neurotypical people & is one of the many things that make living in a neurotypical world so stressful & so frustrating. Especially when those people just tell me I'm strange & they don't take the time to understand the way I live or WHY I do the things I do. By the way, my mom's glasses ended up being in her bathrobe pocket, a location I would've NEVER looked in, even if I HAD tried to find them. Childhood Difficulties: Growing up, my dad continued to wash my hair in the kitchen sink until a very old age because I just couldn't tolerate doing it on my own. My mom told the neuropsychiatrist who evaluated me for autism that washing my hair when I was a child was incredibly difficult because I would scream if even one droplet of water made it into my eye. Eventually, my parents forced me to wash my own hair in the shower & that was so, so, SO HARD. And it caused so many fights & so many meltdowns. Putting my head under the shower water felt no different than as if someone was pouring rubbing alcohol over my head. And then it seeped under my eyelashes & into my eyes despite the fact my eyes were squeezed shut. No joke. As time went on, I came up with the coping mechanism of using a face cloth to shield my face from the water & that is something I still use to this day. This is why I decided to call my blog Splashed With Water. I talk more about it in my first blog post, if you would like to go back & read it. Rather than boring you, by giving you the step-by-step breakdown of the rest of the self-care tasks, I'll just talk briefly about the following: Dressing 👚 I have to get dressed the second I wake up because with autistic inertia, it will get to be two o'clock in the afternoon & I'll STILL be in my pajamas. Brushing Teeth 🪥 Until I was in middle school or high school, I used a children's strawberry-flavored toothpaste. My mom forced me to change to a normal "adult" toothpaste at some point around the teenage years. Because it's what normal people use. Until I got more used to it, the minty flavor made it feel like my mouth was literally on fire. 🔥 And I just had to live with it. When I was talking about this during my autism evaluation, my evaluating neuropsychiatrist asked me why I couldn't use a non-mint flavored toothpaste. My response? My mom told me I had to use mint because that's what EVERYONE uses, that's what "normal" people use. I always felt like I was abnormal & needed to force myself to be "normal" in order to be accepted. And my efforts didn't work because I STILL wasn't accepted. I still can't use mouthwash, even though my dentist recommends it because the mint is too strong & it burns my mouth. Mint is a flavor that autistic people tend to be way oversensitive to. Now it all makes sense to me, but my mom still makes fun of me because I adamantly dislike mint-flavored anything, including ice cream & chocolate. How could someone dislike certain flavors of ice cream & chocolate? 🤷🏻♀️ Using The Toilet 🚽 Due to autistic inertia & executive functioning difficulties, I have great difficulty getting up to use the toilet if I'm not already in the standing position, so if I happen to be in the standing position, I literally act like it's a bathroom emergency when it isn't because I know that if I didn't do that, I'm not going to use the bathroom until I take a shower that night, many hours later. I know how ridiculous that sounds, but it's absolutely true. When I was a child, I wouldn't flush the toilet after using it because I was completely terrified of the sound it made. I also wouldn't use the bathroom if my mom happened to be doing laundry at that time. The spontaneous & LOUD sound that the washer & dryer made would scare the living daylights out of me! A good night's rest is imperative for a person's health & wellbeing & I'm sure you know what I mean when I say that you just feel better when you're well-rested. However, this is MUCH easier said than done, especially when you're autistic. Being autistic is downright exhausting, so autistic people generally need more sleep than their neurotypical counterparts do. But, at the same time, sleep problems are very common in autistic individuals. This cycle is endless & a perfect example of that is the fact that it is after 1:30 in the morning as I am typing this. Bedtime procrastination is something that is very common with us autistics & it is something that I struggle with SO much. But, that is something I'll get to on another day. So, let's take this time to talk about autism sleep statistics:
When you get an illness or a disease, you begin to not feel like yourself. You're tired, grouchy, feverish, achy, congested, maybe you've got a runny nose, etc. Then you rest, take medicine, hydrate, & do whatever else you need to do in order to feel better. The ways you aren't yourself are known as symptoms & once the symptoms are gone, you're all better. Many people think that autism works similarly, so they call our autistic characteristics symptoms. However, autism isn't an illness or a disease, but it is a neurotype, or a difference in how the brain works. No autistic person could sleep enough or take any medication that would cause her or his autism to go away. In fact, the majority of autistic people feel the most like themselves when they are exhibiting their autistic traits. So, if you were to take away their autism, they would NO LONGER be themselves. However, unlike the majority of autistic people, I personally want my autism to go away. I dislike every aspect of myself that is related to me being autistic because it is SO disabling. And it makes me unable to achieve the things in life that my allistic, or non-autistic counterparts have achieved many, MANY years ago. Being financially secure, having a close circle of people who care about me, getting married, having a family, living a happy & fulfilling life, & more. The goal for the majority of autistic people isn't to remove autism & using words like symptoms to describe us being us makes it feel like that is the goal. We refer to our autistic characteristics as traits so we don't feel like we, ourselves are an illness or a disease.
For me personally, while I do wish I could remove the autistic part of myself, I refer to my autistic characteristics as traits. As much as I want to remove the autism, I know that no matter what I do, I won't be able to remove it. You can remove symptoms, but you can't remove traits. So, the next time you are describing autism, please use the word "traits" instead of the word "symptoms." WELCOME to the first Autism Acceptance Month blog post of 2024! Today, I wanted to take a few steps back & go over some autism terms & what they mean. I use many of these terms throughout my blog & I try to provide definitions as I write. It's always good to take the time to pause & review what some of these terms mean though. And there's no better time to do that than when we're kicking off Autism Acceptance Month! Important Autism Terms & Definitions:
I am typically reminded several times a week that I am autistic. What I mean by that is things are constantly happening in my life that I know wouldn't happen if I was allistic, or if I wasn't autistic. When these things happen to me, I tend to say in my head, "[This particular thing] happened because I'm autistic." & then I feel all sad & mopey on the inside. I really wish it wasn't this way because it's part of what makes being autistic feel so disabling. But, I blog about my life. And this is the type of thing I deal with every day. This my real life that I'm sharing with you, so here we go. This is the story of how purchasing a new winter coat reminded me that I am in fact, autistic. All winter long, the threads in my winter coat have been repeatedly breaking, leaving large gaping holes behind. Rather than continuously repairing the damage, I decided that it was time for a new coat. This coat is very old, anyway. The best time to purchase a winter coat is at the end of the season, when everything is on clearance, so now is the PERFECT time for a new one. The task of purchasing a new coat that I will wear almost daily for almost half the year is overwhelming to say the least, especially for an autistic person such as myself. These are the three main reasons why:
The Return Process:
This is where it gets really complicated. I purchased these two coats from Walmart's online marketplace. So, it wasn't actually Walmart who I bought the coats from, but I could return it there. I kept the deep purple coat in my car for about a week & a half, so that I wouldn't have to remember about it on the day I actually needed it. Walmart is a close drive for me, but one of my dog walking clients lives less than two miles from Walmart, so I wanted to return this coat on a day that I didn't have to go anywhere after walking this particular client's dog. It took twelve days before I had time to go to Walmart after walking this client's dog. My entire life is based around doing things in the most efficient manner, so that whatever I do outside of my home takes up the least amount of time possible. Because of my depleted energy levels, as well as my executive function difficulties, doing all my errands on a single day when I'm already in the area for another reason (such as visiting a client's dog or cat) is what works best for me. Anyway, after parking my car, I took the deep purple coat (still in the bag it was shipped in), into Walmart & found the customer service desk. The older woman who helped me was incredibly grouchy. Right away, she complained about the size of the coat (what winter coat isn't large?!) & to be completely honest, I was pretty intimidated & frightened by her. I showed her the barcode on my phone that was connected to the coat I wanted to return & she scanned it. But, I was really confused because she kept making comments about how the coat I was returning wasn't red. I never purchased or received any red coats, so I had no idea what she was talking about. I was scared of her though, so I just let her do her thing & I didn't speak up. She printed out a receipt with the coat's tracking number on it & the amount that I would be refunded. I looked the receipt over as I was walking away because I never trust that people are doing their jobs correctly. I was glad that I checked because the refund she issued me was for the incorrect amount. The coat I was returning was $5 more than the coat I was keeping. And the refund I received was for the coat that was at home! I went back to the customer service counter to ask her about it & she told me that the coat I gave her wasn't red. It was then that I realized why she had been talking about a red coat. 💡 The packing slip inside the shipping bag said that I purchased a red coat & a purple coat. Red wasn't even a color option for the coat I had purchased. I was SO confused by this! ⁉️ I had never even looked at the packing slip because I received exactly what I ordered. The woman returned the purple coat (which was at home) because the coat I gave her wasn't red. When I showed her the picture of the coat on my phone with the price I paid for it, she yelled at me & told me I should've shown her that from the very beginning. I thought I did though because I showed her the barcode, which she scanned & I would think that the barcode would tell the customer service person which coat I was returning & how much to refund. ⁉️⁉️ The only reason I didn't question the customer service woman originally was because I was intimidated & scared. I have lived my entire life having to endure pervasive mistreatment from everyone around me & I am quite certain that it has caused post-traumatic stress disorder, something that more than 40% of autistic individuals struggle with. The reason I didn't speak up was because I was simply autistic & afraid. In the end, a much kinder & younger woman (who was also working behind the customer service desk) called the seller I had purchased the coats from to get the remaining $5 refunded. Going to the store to return something is such a simple task, but being autistic turned it into such a big headache. And it was all because the person helping me wasn't kind. This is something that could've been avoided completely if the person helping me had exhibited kindness & had not been so intimidating. This is the type of thing that I deal with on a daily basis because I am living with autism. For those of you who are also autistic, I hope this story helps you feel less alone. And for those of you who are allistic, I hope this story helps illustrate how difficult it is to be an autistic woman living in a neurotypical world. 💙 The saying, "Everyone's Irish on Saint Patrick's Day!" is something I've never understood. 🍀 Like many American households, every year on March 17th, my family has corned beef & cabbage for dinner. A dish my mom has forced me to eat on this particular day ever since I was a little girl that I can barely manage to stomach. Corned beef is pretty terrible itself, but the cabbage is even worse because I can't eat it without feeling sick. Autistic people tend to be finicky eaters, often being overly sensitive to the textures & the flavors of the food they eat. This has been an uphill battle that I have been fighting my whole life. I had a disagreement with my mom about my feelings regarding corned beef & cabbage last year. "Why do we have to eat corned beef & cabbage on Saint Patrick's Day if we're NOT Irish?" I said to her. "But, we ARE Irish because everyone is Irish on Saint Patrick's Day!" my mom exclaimed. "If everyone is Irish on Saint Patrick's Day, then how come everyone isn't Asian on the Lunar New Year?" I asked, truly curious. I love the Lunar New Year because it means eating delicious dumplings & noodles, celebrating my Chinese heritage, & dressing my dog up in a fancy silk Chinese jacket. "Because being Asian isn't fun. If you're not Irish on Saint Patrick's Day, you're not American." my mom said to me. I knew my mom was right because most people don't think being Asian is fun. We're discriminated against, too. "Well, then I guess I'm not American," I said glumly. I was hurt by this because I've always been proud to be an American. But, how does being American require me to be Irish on Saint Patrick's Day if I'm not Irish? I'm autistic, which means I am literal & I just don't understand how someone can be Irish on one particular day of the year if (s)he isn't actually Irish. 🤷🏻♀️ When you think of Saint Patrick's Day, you probably think of glittered shamrocks 🍀, green beer 🍻, green rivers, leprechauns, &, of course, corned beef & cabbage. Well, what if I told you that if you were actually in Ireland on Saint Patrick's Day 🇮🇪, you wouldn't see ANY of those things, except for maybe the glittered shamrocks? Yes, this is absolutely true. To begin, leprechauns are not cute, jolly, friendly cereal box characters that we all imagine that they are. But, they are mischievous, nasty little fellows that Irish people do not want partaking in their Saint Patrick's Day festivities. And just as much as the Irish would not pollute their beer or their rivers with green dye, they would not eat corned beef & cabbage, especially on Saint Patrick’s Day.
The History Of Corned Beef & Cabbage: In Ireland 🇮🇪, cows 🐮 have always been a symbol of wealth & were considered a sacred animal. In fact, from early on in Irish history, cattle were not used for their meat, but they were used for milk & dairy production & farming. Because they were so sacred & expensive, cows were only killed for their meat if they were too old to work or to produce milk. So, beef is not part of the diet for the majority of the Irish population & is typically only enjoyed by the very wealthy during a celebration or festival. In both historic & in modern Ireland, pigs are the most prevalent animal bred only to be eaten, so pork is the most eaten meat in Ireland. When the Irish immigrated to the United States, they often faced discrimination & lived in slums with the Jews & the Italians. In contrast to in Ireland, beef was inexpensive in the United States. When the Irish immigrants first tasted corned beef at Jewish delis, they noticed its similarity to Irish bacon. They paired it with cabbage for its cost efficiency. So, eating corned beef & cabbage is NOT an Irish tradition. It is an Irish immigrant tradition that was created right here, in America when Irish immigrants substituted beef for pork & cabbage for potatoes because of its affordability. Some Fun Saint Patrick's Day Facts:
Side Note: Until I sat down to write this blog post, I didn't know any of the above facts with the exception of the corned beef & cabbage one. For YEARS, I have tried to convince my mom to forgo the dreadful corned beef & cabbage meal because it isn't actually an Irish tradition, but sadly, it has never worked. 🤷🏻♀️ So, whether you're Irish on Saint Patrick's Day or you're Irish the whole year through, Happy Saint Patrick's Day! And if you're NOT Irish on Saint Patrick's Day or on any other day of the year, I feel your pain. 💚 The words above were the words my grandfather, who I call Gung-Gung, was screaming as he was sitting in the phlebotomy chair earlier this week. Let's back up for a moment, so I can fill you in on what happened. I take my Gung-Gung to his blood test appointment every month. When I brought him in last month & his phlebotomist, Lindsey, told me that she was leaving, my heart sank. Yes, autistic people have difficulty dealing with change & transitions, but this was absolutely NOT why this was so upsetting to me. Lindsey is the main person who has taken my Gung-Gung's blood ever since he moved to Shrewsbury in 2021. But, not only that, she seems to be the only person who is capable of taking his blood. No joke. His veins aren't great, plus his skin is super crepey & wrinkly. She is really, REALLY good at her job, but not only that, she is really, REALLY good to him, too. Without her, what would I do?! Since I'm the one who takes my Gung-Gung for his blood test every month, this was MY problem. The last time Lindsey wasn't there (this past December), my Gung-Gung's blood test was a complete nightmare. This is what happened:
This is what happened when I took my Gung-Gung to his blood test earlier this week:
That day was so incredibly stressful. Caregiving is HARD WORK. Caregiving while you have a significant disability such as autism is even HARDER WORK. Autism impairs our communication abilities, our processing speed, our ability to multitask, & more. All of those skills are needed when you care for someone, especially someone who isn't able to care for him/herself. Later on, when I told my mom what had happened at the blood test, she told me that I was really lucky that I was able to convince the phlebotomist to draw his blood. And she was right. He was screaming, "No!" & I don't have medical say over him. But, we're there every month for the same thing, I know the phlebotomist, I know what he needs, & I know the best way to advocate for him. (In fact, there are times where I feel like I'm better able to advocate for my Gung-Gung than I'm able to advocate for myself.) Those weren't things that were easy for me to learn when my grandparents first moved to Shrewsbury, but I did it. And I'm so glad I did because it's giving me precious moments with my Gung-Gung that I'll have forever. 💙 Since Valentine's Day was earlier this week, I wanted to write about love, experiencing it, expressing it, & how it looks differently for autistic people than it looks for allistic, or non-autistic people. But, before we begin... What IS Love? Love is a complex mix of emotions that is everyone in the world experiences, whether they are neurodivergent or neurotypical, autistic or allistic, disabled or non-disabled, etc. It is associated with certain behaviors & strong feelings of affection, protectiveness, warmth, & respect for other people (e.g. family, friends, romantic partners, etc.), animals, principles, interests, hobbies, &/or religious beliefs. How Autistic People Experience Love: Widespread stereotypes suggest that autistic people are incapable of feeling love, romantic or otherwise. However, the reality is that autistic people experience love quite intensely (often much more intensely than allistic people). Interestingly, brain scans of autistic people show that when we express feeling love & affection for someone, different areas of the brain are activated than for allistic people. The empathy circuitry of the brain is also working differently. We, autistic people, are typically extremely attached to our close relationships, often more so than allistic people are. This is because we usually have significantly less people that we are close to than allistic people do. Like allistic people, we have a deep desire for those types of relationships, making the close relationships we do have so much more important to us. With this being said, it is important to remember that autism is a spectrum. So, autistic people experience & express love in unique ways that can vary quite drastically from each other. Our experiences & expressions of love are greatly influenced by our individual strengths, challenges, & sensory sensitivities. How Autistic People Express Love: While autistic people feel love & empathy very intensely, often much more intensely than you do, it may be very difficult or impossible for us to express our love & empathy for you in ways that make you feel loved & cared about. Some ways that we express our love include:
Many autistic people experience what is called "limerence." This is when the person we are romantically interested in becomes a special interest. We fixate on every aspect of their being, want to learn about all of their favorite things, or start to picture the rest of our lives with them after just a few (maybe even one) interaction(s). This can sometimes lead to a devastating end when the effort isn't reciprocated or worse, we can't see that it isn't being reciprocated. Tips For Loving An Autistic Person:
Benefits Of Loving An Autistic Person:
A Few Other Things To Remember:
With today being the Lunar New Year (the year of the dragon!), I just wanted spend this blog post telling you about Asian culture & autism. My mom's side of the family is of Chinese descent & while I definitely have had an American upbringing, Asian culture has had great influence over the way I was raised. In the Asian culture, you are taught from a very young age that all of your personal difficulties are to remain inside of the home. In fact, if you were to be open about your challenges in public, you would likely be thought of as a disgrace. Unfortunately, the majority of Asian Americans still have this mindset to this day. One of the times my mom taught me about this was when she talked to me about hiding the bottles of antidepressants that I was taking before my grandparents arrived for a visit (particularly because of my grandpa's background in pharmacology) in order to prevent questioning & criticism. Moments like these are probably why I have always been more comfortable confiding in my dad than my mom, both as a child & as an adult. I have always felt like the fact that I have had lifelong mental health difficulties, & now autism, is something to be ashamed of because in the Asian culture it is. Another example of this occurred many, many years ago when my grandparents took my mom & my aunt on a tour of China. I remember my mom telling me that everyone wanted to take pictures with a person in their tour group who was using crutches. The reason why? If you're using crutches or a wheelchair in China, you generally don't leave your home. So, that's not something you ever see out on public streets. Asian Americans love to pride themselves in (& even brag about) which colleges & universities they got into & their SAT scores & then later on, how successful their careers are. I remember my grandma telling me about a time in school when she cried (something I have never seen her do EVER) because she got a 98 on a test. I can't picture myself ever crying over a 98. In Asia, when students don't do well on a test, even if it was the entire class that didn't do well, it is never the teacher's fault. It is never because the teacher didn't teach the material well enough or the test was written poorly, for example. It is always because the student didn't study hard enough. When a child has a disability that makes achieving the types of academic & professional successes that Asian people strive for much more difficult, such as autism, it poses a very significant problem for the child & her or his family. Asian Americans don't have any issues asking for help when it comes to furthering their child's academics or career, but when it comes to autism, they tend to refuse help & then the child is left to suffer alone, in silence. When children are diagnosed with autism in China, they are often sent to costly private treatment centers for ABA therapy. However, while this type of therapy is the most common type of therapy for autistic children, it is an extremely traumatic type of conversion "therapy" that essentially teaches autistic children to act in ways that make allistic, or non-autistic people more comfortable. Children who have received this type of therapy often develop post traumatic stress disorder by the time they reach adulthood.
Sadly, autism is still a relatively new condition in the Asian community, with China first recognizing it as a neurological disability as recently as 2006. In fact, many Asians have heard about autistic non-Asians, but they've never encountered an autistic Asian before. This is because less than one percent of autistic Asians have been evaluated for autism, let alone are receiving support for it. The thought that ninety-nine percent of autistic Asians are undiagnosed is quite staggering. Asians are likely not diagnosed with autism because they are afraid of being a disappointment, something I felt that I was until shortly before my thirty-second birthday, when I learned that I was autistic. I'm going to start this blog post off by saying this: this is the most vulnerable blog post I have written thus far. Some things that are in it are things that I've mentioned before & some things aren't. But, everything in this post is as real & as raw as it gets, is one-thousand percent true, & is something that I felt needed to be said. Growing up, & even now, my life was & is a struggle. I was autistic & I didn't know it for almost thirty-two years because I grew up at a time when girls like me were just not diagnosed with autism. I was living in a world that I didn't fit into, but I had no understanding as to why that was until about a year & a half ago. I was so lucky because my parents did everything they could to give me the BEST childhood ever. And I'm so thankful for that. However, there were certain things that no matter how loving & how supportive my parents were, they just couldn't protect me from. Every autistic person you talk to will have something to tell you about how society treats her or him; about the trauma that (s)he endures on a daily basis. The way neurotypical people treat us does real, long-lasting harm. I never understood why people treated me so poorly because I didn't think I did anything wrong. Were they treating me that way because I simply exist? Probably. The bullying I experienced in elementary school through college was INTENSE, & it only worsened the older I got. From being made fun of for being too quiet to having my feet walked on top of on a daily basis to being barked at & growled at like an angry dog to boys trying to trip me in the hall & slapping my butt when I was at my locker. Freshman year in college, they put me into a quad with another Shrewsbury alum who inserted nasty things about me into the brain of another one of my roommates. They ganged up against me & made my life a living hell for the entire year. A couple years later, a different roommate suddenly gave me the silent treatment & I had no idea why, until one of her friends told me. It was because I was uncomfortable with boys sleeping over in our room, something that I thought was perfectly reasonable, especially for a quiet & a timid girl like myself. I was never given the chance to make any sort of compromise because she never told me why she was so mad. Many years later, I found out that this particular roommate now has an autistic child. What a coincidence! Being treated with such cruelty on a daily basis for so many years is extremely traumatic for us. And it often has the same types of consequences on our brains as going to war, witnessing someone get murdered, or having an abusive spouse would. It just takes a much longer amount of time to do the same amount of damage. More than 40% of autistic individuals struggle with post-traumatic stress disorder & although I have never been diagnosed, I do think I am one of them. I think that the effects of having to endure the type of treatment I described above for so many years is why it takes me such a long time to trust someone, even now, as an adult. I also never really voiced the significant amount of pain I was experiencing to my parents because I didn't want to worry them. So, I didn't get as much support as I probably needed while I was going through that. I knew I have caused them A LOT of worry ever since the day I was born & I didn't want to add to it even more. From a very young age, I wanted to do everything I could to be the best daughter I could be, even if it meant unintentionally harming myself. When I first learned from my physician that the cause of all of my lifelong struggles was due to living with undiagnosed autism, I took a couple of months to process it & to learn more about how autism affects girls & women. But, after I did that, I wanted to do more digging into my past to learn more about how autism affected me as a young child & as an adolescent. I knew that when I was in school, my mom kept a very thick manilla envelope full of documents & letters from various medical professionals & educators. Knowing how organized my mom always was, I asked her if she still had that envelope & she did. This envelope ended up being a treasure box into my past, containing a lot of information, some that I never knew about myself, from when I was less than a year old until I was eighteen years old. One of the things that really stuck out to me was meeting notes from my seventh grade language arts teacher, Peggy. Better expression in written vs. verbal. More sophisticated style of writing. Not good with being caught off guard. Interacts better with adults. Gets frustrated in groups since they are fooling around and she is so concerned with her grades. Kids aren't patient waiting for her to respond. Struggles with reading comprehension. Getting a bit better advocating for herself. ALL autistic traits. Thinking back to seventh grade, I had always thought very highly of Peggy. I wondered if she remembered anything else about me that would be helpful for me to know, going into an autism evaluation. I knew that she no longer worked in the Shrewsbury schools, but teachers' contact information is usually readily available online. I looked Peggy up & I wrote her an email explaining my lifelong difficulties & how they led to an impending autism diagnosis. I attached a scanned copy of the meeting notes to the email, as well. However, since at this time, I had been a student in her classroom just over eighteen years ago & I hadn't seen or spoken to her in at least fifteen years, I had this underlying fear that she wouldn't remember who I was. I felt like I was a fly on the wall in school, barely saying a word & blending in with the background. I knew she'd had a lot of students since then & I thought I was easy to forget. Spilling my guts out to her only for her to not remember me would've been SO utterly embarrassing. This was in early August of 2022, by the way. It was only a couple of days before I heard back from Peggy & I was beyond relieved to know that she absolutely did remember me. Peggy sounded so delighted to hear from me, too. She described me as a very kind, shy, reserved student (with black-framed glasses if I recall correctly), but she admitted that she didn't think she had much more detail to give me. However, she did offer to chat by phone. And I eagerly took her up on that. If we chatted on the phone, I might be able to foster another connection with a caring & a supportive person & I really felt like that was exactly what I needed because like many autistic people, my life was extremely isolating. This blog post is about my interactions with Peggy & how her kindness & her compassion have changed my life. Peggy didn't know this going in, but I had a lot going on in my life at the time I reached out to her, most of it not even having to do with autism. Back in 2015, my maternal grandpa had a debilitating stroke that left one side of his body without feeling & completely took away his ability to process language (this is known as global aphasia). I unfortunately did not grieve the stroke properly & still to this day, I am in denial that it ever happened in the first place. Now that I know I'm autistic, this makes total sense as we do not grieve in the same way that neurotypicals do. My grandma was his devoted caregiver ever since. The year prior to when I connected with Peggy, my grandparents relocated to Shrewsbury from California because my grandma was dying from tongue cancer. She lived here in Shrewsbury for just two & a half months before succumbing to the disease (six months earlier than expected). While I never had much of a relationship with my grandma, watching my grandpa grieve the love of his life for over sixty years & worrying everyday that he would die of a broken heart was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. At the time I had reached out to Peggy, we had recently passed the one-year mark of my grandma's passing. I was also still getting into the groove of being a secondary caregiver to my grandpa. Due to the brain damage caused by his stroke, my grandpa would often say & do things that hurt me tremendously. No matter how much I tried to remind myself that my able-minded grandpa would never say or do such things, I just couldn't get the hurt to go away. This was particularly difficult for me to deal with because my grandpa & I have always been incredibly close. His hurtful actions were a complete one-eighty from how he'd treated me for the first twenty-five years of my life. All of these things would be difficult for anyone to cope with, but when you're autistic, you're handed a plethora of challenges in life that allistic, or non-autistic people have the privilege of never having to experience. And it's those challenges that make dealing with things like this significantly more difficult. Keep in mind that I didn't know that I was autistic when all of the above events actually happened, so I didn't understand why I reacted like this, why I reacted completely differently from the rest of my family. Ever since I was a young child; I have yearned for my grandparents to live close by & I was so, SO happy to finally have that; but now that I did, my life had become a complete circus. It's something you can't understand without living it.
On the autism forefront, just a couple months ago, I had learned that the reason why I have struggled so much throughout my life was because I was living with undiagnosed autism. It was the reason why:
That first phone conversation I had with Peggy was a breath of fresh air. Back when I was her student, I remember her being really easy to talk to & that was still the case. I filled her in on a lot of things, many of those things being things that hardly anyone knows about me, things that I'm ashamed of. The fact that I even felt comfortable enough to fill her in on those things, after all this time, speaks volumes about Peggy's character, the person she is; especially since I've always felt like I need to protect myself from people; I've always been afraid to show the real me. The way Peggy reacted to the things I told her was really, really comforting. She really took the time to stop & to listen to what I had to say & she didn't make me feel judged, guilty, or like I had done anything wrong. Every time I mentioned how something made me feel, whether it was a positive or a negative emotion, she validated it. And if she suggested something that I didn't think would work, I would explain why, & that was totally okay with her, too. She also told me how much she admired my courage in reaching out to her & that she was here for me. Having that conversation with Peggy gave me the courage to reach out to many of my other former teachers, as well. And while some of those other teachers gave me much more detailed insight than what Peggy could offer me; a few even telling me that an autism diagnosis would absolutely not surprise them; it was Peggy's kindness, support, time, & most of all, her compassion that made the biggest difference to me. That was what I needed more than anything else in the world. As I had other conversations with Peggy later on, she felt that she could no longer offer me the kind of support I needed. Her experience was with adolescents & I was an adult with adult problems looking into adult resources (which I now know are scarce). However, I can tell you that this is absolutely NOT the case at all. I have gone my entire life feeling like when I talk, NO ONE hears me & my feelings don't matter. Sadly, these are commonalities among autistic people. Peggy was the first person I talked to in many, many, many YEARS who really made me feel like she heard what I had to say & she valued my opinion. Plus, she was so, so, SO kind. And she was so incredibly compassionate, too. I have lived a lifetime of people being unkind to me; being critical of everything I do or say, everything I don't do or say, every facial expression I make or don't make. So, it's extra noticeable when someone IS kind; when someone accepts me as I am; when someone ISN'T judgmental; when someone really, truly CARES. When I looked Peggy up to make that first contact & I discovered that she was no longer a language arts teacher, but she was a special education teacher, I wasn't surprised. The notes that she made about me were much more insightful & helpful than the notes I came across from every single one of my other former teachers. Every single one of Peggy's notes was so SPOT ON, about me, AND about an autistic middle school girl. However, after having the interactions with Peggy that I had, I really, truly feel that special education was what she was meant to do with her life; it was her calling. The kids in her classroom are SO lucky to have her. I know she's changing their lives because she's changed mine & it's been twenty years now since I've been her student. (Typing that out makes me feel so old!) More recently, a couple weeks ago, Peggy's mom passed away. When I found out about her family's loss, I knew I needed to go to the visitation. While I've tried to thank Peggy for what she's done for me numerous times before, I didn't think I got my message across effectively enough. There was no better way to thank her, to tell her how much I appreciate her than by going to the visitation to support her & her family during their time of grief. While I was still waiting in line, Peggy caught my eye & gave me a reassuring smile, totally calming my nerves. I knew that the only reason she recognized me was because I had sent her a recent photo of myself back when I originally connected with her. (I look A LOT different now than I did when she knew me in middle school.) That day, during what had to have been one of the most difficult times in Peggy's life, between small actions she was taking & things she said, Peggy was still blowing me away with her kindness & her compassion. When I spoke with her in the receiving line, Peggy asked me about how things were progressing. The fact that she continued to show me so much care & concern while she was grieving the loss of her mom, once again spoke volumes about the absolutely wonderful person Peggy is. As much as I wanted to express the great frustration I was feeling due to things moving slower than molasses, as well as some of the resource people I was working with not only not seeming to know how to help a late-diagnosed autistic woman like myself, but actually making things worse; I didn't. There was a line of people a mile long behind me, all waiting to talk to Peggy & her siblings. Plus, I wasn't there to talk about my personal difficulties. I was there to give her my condolences, my love, my compassion, & my support; things that she had given me a couple years earlier that meant so, SO much to me. I really, REALLY hope that I'll have the chance to fill her in on those things & more one day, at a much quieter time, when I'm not feeling like I need to give her MY support. A few days earlier, when I mentioned to my mom that I was going to go to this visitation, she told me I was very brave for going alone. (This was the first time I had ever been to, or even thought about going to visiting hours by myself-- the couple other times I had been to visiting hours, my family was with me.) In my mind though, I had no choice other than to go to this. I knew that Peggy would never expect me to be there, but Peggy made such a big impact on me recently that I really felt like I needed to go. I am SO quiet; I have a lot of anxiety when it comes to social situations, especially with people I don't know; & I'm someone who really struggles with coming out of my comfort zone. But, when I feel this strongly about something, I do it. And I was SO glad I did. When I talked to Peggy about why I wanted to be there to support her & her family & what an impact she'd made on me, I knew she was really touched by my presence. And that really warmed my heart. So, as I wrap up this very long blog post, why am I telling you all of this? Well, it's because I think you can learn a lot from what Peggy did. What she did is a very good illustration of how doing something so simple can really turn someone's whole life around. When I reached out to Peggy, I was hoping for a little bit of insight, but I got something so much more meaningful instead. She was so unbelievably kind & compassionate, giving me her time & a listening ear. Things that I so desperately needed. And that made such an enormous difference to me in the lonely world that I was living in. 💙 Last night, my college bestie & I went to a comedy show at a Worcester brewery. I didn't know it beforehand, but two out three of the standup comedians were autistic. The first comedian told us that she is autistic by sharing that both her & her fiancé (who performed right after her) have a touch of the 'tism. Now, this is a phrase that many autistic people use that I just cannot stand. Since this phrase came up during the comedy show that I just attended, I thought that now would be a good time to talk about what this phrase means & why it bothers me so much. What Exactly Does "A Touch Of The 'Tism" Mean?: "A touch of the 'tism" is a slang phrase used to characterize individuals displaying autistic traits. Many autistic people use this phrase when:
While this phrase may also be used by allistic, or non-autistic people to describe others who are displaying autistic traits, this is generally less common. People may say that someone has "a touch of the 'tism" regardless of whether or not (s)he is actually autistic. Why "A Touch Of The 'Tism" Bothers Me:
This is why I am so bothered by the phrase:
While a couple things that were said last night did bother me, nights out with my bestie (last night included) are seriously THE BEST. She's one of the very few people that I can say knows about all of me & loves me for it. 💙 During a recent family birthday dinner, my mom's cousin's husband made a comment about the fact that I probably didn't cry much as a baby or as a young child. The truth is, though, that that couldn't be further from the truth. In fact, as my dad told him, I was a very colicky baby with quite a loud cry for the first three months of my life. I remember family friends, neighbors, & some family making similar comments to both my parents & me ever since I was a little girl. We could always see their point because on the outside, I was a quiet, well-behaved, polite little girl who was comfortable interacting with adults. No, I didn't know how to start or keep a conversation going, but as long as I was talking to someone who could do that for me, that wasn't a problem. This is also often the reason why autistic girls who are now in their twenties & older are often not diagnosed until adulthood, if they are diagnosed at all. Little autistic girls often acted just like how I did growing up. They tended to be quiet, not cause trouble, did as they were told, & interacted well with adults. They were what my parents' friends would call a dream child. On the other hand, little autistic boys tended to be loud, troublemakers, disruptive, & had difficulty listening. Because of this, the parents & the teachers of these boys saw their behavior as problematic, which pushed them to get them evaluated for & diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder. The Girl Wearing The Mask: I have been told countless times by my parents' friends, particularly by the ones who have sons & no daughters, that they wished that they had a daughter just like me. I mean, I was the perfect child after all. A quiet girl who never caused any trouble. What else could a parent want? Growing up in a neighborhood full of boys, I remember sitting on my next-door neighbor's front steps, helping her pull dead flowers out of her large flowerpot while she braided my hair. I had the hair she so badly wanted to play with before her daughter was born. 😜 Given that picture I just painted for you, from the outside, I looked like I was any parent's dream child, so it was abundantly clear to me why my family's family & friends would think that raising a girl like me was easy. When comments like that were made to me, I just smiled & nodded my head, thinking to myself that they don't know what my home & school life was really like. The struggles I went through day in & day out. The worry I caused my parents. The struggles & worry that now make so much sense with an autism diagnosis. The Girl Behind The Mask:
Home Life: I experienced very intense dizzy spells when I was an infant & again from when I was six until I was seventeen. A big part of my & my family's life when I was growing up was revolved around preventing me from experiencing dizziness, or at least preventing dizzy spells from coming on when I was outside of our home. I remember the traumatic details of it so vividly that it's as if it is happening right now. I would be lying in bed & I would feel like the entire world was going round & round. The world felt like it was spinning so fast all around me, frightening me more than I've ever been frightened before. I remember screaming & crying at the top of my lungs & gripping my dad's hands for dear life. Nothing my parents could do or say would help. Nothing helped other than a full night's sleep. I was always told to try to go to sleep when this happened, but I never could unless it was actually bedtime. Yes, it was just as bad as I'm making it seem. If you would like to read more about my experiences with dizzy spells & my very intense fear of being dizzy, I go into even more detail about this in my previous blog posts about the coronavirus pandemic, about vestibular processing, & about vestibular overload. While I'm still very prone to dizziness to this day, it is such a relief that it no longer affects me like it once did. Due to this trauma I faced when I was growing up, feeling dizzy continues to be one of my top fears. So, I still live my life in a way where I do everything I can to prevent feeling even slightly dizzy. I know what my triggers are, I am very aware of my body & how certain things make me feel, & I have coping mechanisms to help the feeling of dizziness be more manageable. This is one of the reasons why when I drink alcoholic beverages, as soon as I start feeling like there is alcohol inside of my body, I stop drinking. The happy & relaxed feeling that you get when you drink is quite frightening for me & is something I want to do everything in my power to avoid. School Life: Academically: I couldn't learn like other students my age could & my very observant fourth grade teacher picked up on it, suggesting to my parents that they get me evaluated for learning disabilities. When I was ten, I was diagnosed with a nonverbal learning disability & processing speed difficulties. I now know that this was a misdiagnosis because many of the symptoms of nonverbal learning disabilities are the same as the traits an autistic child might have. Girls of my ability level were just not being diagnosed with autism back then. When I was in fifth grade, my parents took me into Boston to have further learning disability testing done. The results showed pretty severe deficits, which ended up being caused by a medication my neurologist prescribed me for my dizzy spells (discussed above ↑), which doctors believed was either a migraine or a seizure variant. My parents were super upset because this testing was very expensive & was not at all helpful. Unfortunately, this particular medication had no impact on the frequency or on the severity of my dizzy spells either. Socially: Because I wasn't well-liked by my peers, I was bullied pretty severely from the time I was in first grade until I was a college senior. This is a commonality among us autistics. Every autistic child & every autistic adult you talk to will likely have something to say about bullying. Knowing that I have always caused my parents extra worry, I tried to minimize the pain that I was experiencing in front of them. I think this is a lot of the reason why the effects of the bullying still have a profound effect on me to this day. Even at that young age, I was trying to be the best daughter I could be. 💙 Since Thanksgiving was just last week, I thought I'd spend this blog post telling you about what I'm thankful for. And no, autism didn't make the list. As I have said many times in this blog before, while many autistic people see autism as a superpower, something unique & wonderful about themselves, I see it as a hardship & a burden. Something that has very much gotten in the way of me achieving the white picket fence lifestyle I have dreamt of ever since I was a little girl. I had an interesting conversation with my mom last night, so before we move onto what this blog post is really about, I'd like to talk for a moment about Autism Acceptance. My mom made a comment about how I have accepted my autism, but I was quick to correct her. "I haven't accepted my autism. That's one of the things that I hate the most about myself & I wish it would just go away!" I said to her. "But you write all about it in your blog. You're very open about it there," my mom said. "I haven't accepted it though & I probably never will. I can write about it without accepting it. I'm open about it because I want people to have a better understanding of me. I hate my autism!" I exclaimed. "Okay, acknowledge then. You acknowledge that you have autism," my mom said, correcting the verbiage that she had been using. Yes, I acknowledge that I'm autistic. And I'm open about it, too. I'm trying to use my diagnosis to help others have a better understanding of me & to be more accepting of people who are a little bit different from them. But, accepting my autism? I'm far, far, FAR away from that. And to be completely honest with you, I can't see myself ever accepting it. I mean, autism has made my life so much more difficult than it would've been if I was neurotypical. Autism is something I want to stomp on, throw into a fire, & never see again. You get the picture. Feeling that way about my autism isn't acceptance. I wish I could get to the place of autism acceptance, but I haven't gotten there. And I don't think I ever will. What I'm Thankful For:
However, there are certain life experiences, things I have learned, & perspectives that I have that I only have because I am autistic. And that is what I'm thankful for. While I am definitely NOT thankful for autism itself, I do have a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving, that is related to autism in one way or another. Those things include, but are not limited to...
We fell back to Standard Time at 2:00am on Sunday & while most adults love getting an extra hour of sleep, I sure don't because losing Daylight Savings Time causes me so much misery. In fact, it's a day that I dread every single year. That may sound extreme, but it's true. The reason why I dread it? The time the sun sets. Where I live, Saturday night’s sunset was at 5:36pm & Sunday night, it was at 4:35pm. The earliest sunset of the entire year is 4:14pm. That's just plain depressing. While I've lived in Massachusetts my whole life, interestingly, my happiness has always been dependent on how late it stays light out. So, the long, cold winter nights are understandably detrimental to my mental health. Difficulty adjusting to change can make both springing forward to Daylight Savings Time & falling back to Standard Time incredibly stressful for autistic people, but for me, it's only falling back that I struggle with. This is because I just LOVE springing forward to Daylight Savings Time. That extra hour of daylight at the end of the day brings me so much happiness & when I view a change as positive, I'm all for it! It's the negative changes that I struggle with. In fact, I don’t start accepting the fact that we're in Standard Time until the end of February because that's when the sun sets at a much more reasonable hour. The end of February is almost three months away. Plus, once I fully adjust to & accept Standard Time, springing forward is just a few short weeks away (one of my favorite days of the year). It taking that long to adjust to an hour time difference is not okay. When the sunset slowly gets earlier & earlier by a minute or two at a time each day, that's okay because the change is so small. The sun setting an hour earlier is a huge shock to my system because that is a big jump & that is why that is a struggle for me. And yes, I am all for making Daylight Savings Time a year round thing, like they keep talking about. Now, is it March yet? ☀️
Happy Halloween! Well, maybe it's a Happy Halloween to you, but it's not for me. I've never liked this haunting holiday. So, there. I've come out & said it. I don't like Halloween! Now, having said that, if you're a Halloween-loving person, that's no biggie. In fact, one of my closest friends has a Halloween birthday & I just love her excitement around this frightful day. But, for me, Halloween just isn't my day. And that's okay, too. This Is Why:
I don't dislike everything about Halloween, so this is what I do like about the holiday:
Halloween Challenges For Autistic People:
How You Can Help:
Today is a big day for me because it marks my one year anniversary of my autism evaluation & me getting the validation I waited precisely four months & four days for (I can't believe it!), so in celebration of that, here are some things I've learned about myself over the past year, four months, & four days:
Looking Back On Six Months Of Blog Posts!
April's Blog Topics:
I had a very interesting conversation with my dad about why I've never been successful in the workplace that I'd like to tell you about. I had been sitting at the coffee table, filling out paperwork about my disabilities all afternoon & the last question stumped me: Use this space to write any additional information about why you cannot work. I had put SO much information on all of the other pages of that form explaining why I cannot work that I simply felt like I didn't have anything else to add unless I repeated myself. So, I asked my dad, "Why do you think I cannot work? I want to see if you have any other ideas that I haven't thought of already." My dad has a better understanding of me than most people do because we're so similar to each other. He took a moment to think & then said, "My impression of it is that it's because you can't handle criticism. And because of that, you work ineffectively, which then causes you to get fired." I had never thought of it that way before, but what my dad said was absolutely true. I can't handle criticism. Before we go any further though, I'd like to clarify something. It isn't that I CAN'T work because truthfully, depending on the specifics of the particular job, I CAN work. What I can't do is work for someone else, in the traditional sense. If it's a job where someone is supervising me, that's the problem. Interactions with supervisors are the biggest issue for me in the workplace. While I had never thought of it like how my dad summed it up before, supervisors criticize, whether they're doing it now or they're going to do it in the future. That's what makes me shutdown around them. Interacting with someone who is either actively criticizing me or will criticize me at some point in time causes my brain to completely shutdown. This makes it impossible for me to function, as terrible as that sounds. Total comfort & feeling like I'm not going to be criticized or judged is key in order for me to not shut down. Shutting down at work just doesn't work, supervisors don't know how to interact with me in a way that doesn't cause me to shutdown, & that's why I can't work. This blog post is about what you need to know before criticizing an autistic person, although chances are, if you're reading this, you have already done it at some point in your life. I'm gonna throw in some info about how it feels to be criticized as an autistic woman, too. Why We're So Sensitive To Criticism: Bad Experiences With Criticism: Bullying & being left out are forms of criticism. Every autistic person you talk to will have something to tell you about experiences with those two things. The teasing, the mocking, the name-calling, the fact that no one wanted to be our friend, & MORE. Both bullying & leaving us out does real harm that affects us, autistic adults, many years later. It still affects me today more than I would like to admit. The bullying I endured when I was seven all the way through my early twenties did real harm & it still haunts me to this day. As a fresh college graduate & as an adult, I was constantly criticized by my parents, as well as by other caring family members. I personally believe that Asian & Jewish families expect more from their children than all other ethnicities do. Think about the number of Asian & Jewish doctors & scientists that are out there! Because I have a Chinese mother & a Jewish father, my parents unknowingly set unrealistic expectations for me from a very young age. Once my college graduation was upon me, I quickly discovered that I couldn't live up to those expectations, but I didn't understand why. Being constantly asked if I was happy with my life (I wasn't & I'm still not) & if I worry about what will happen to me when my parents die (I did & I still do) hurt immensely. Not only that, I had no explanation & no understanding of why I couldn't get to the place I needed to be in order to meet their expectations. Living almost thirty-two years of my life feeling like I was a disappointment to my family was extraordinarily difficult. It was even more difficult that I wasn't only disappointing my family, but I was also disappointing myself because I had the same expectations of myself that my parents had of me. I certainly don't blame my parents for any of this because I know that if they had known that I was autistic all this time, those expectations wouldn't have been put on me like they were. However, feeling like I was always falling short & I was never good enough put such a damaging amount of pressure on me for so long that it still affects me to this day to the point where sometimes I forget that their expectations of me have changed since my autism diagnosis. The Criticism Is Constant: I remember being constantly criticized for my behavior ever since I was a young child. Many other autistics have had the same experiences as I have had with this. "Look at me while I'm talking!" "Why do you have that grimace on your face?" "Why are you smiling? That's not funny!" "You shouldn't have said that. You should've said this." "Your face looks funny. Are you okay?" All of the above things have been said to me numerous times throughout my life. Unfortunately, an autism diagnosis hasn't stopped these types of criticisms from happening. My behavior & every move I make have been criticized so much that I simply can't handle any more of it. We're Stressed:
Us autistic people live very high-stress lives. Things that seem so minuscule to you really stress us out. We're sensitive to a lot of things like light, noise, our physical environment, & emotions. For example, I remember a time where my mom insisted that I attend a neighborhood Christmas party. I really didn't want to go because I was expecting to watch Christmas movies in my pajamas that night & now I had to be dressed & socialize with other people. I wouldn't have had such a problem with this party if it wasn't for the fact that it came on suddenly & I had no time to mentally prepare for the fact that I had to attend this party that night. I was in college at the time, so I was definitely old enough to stay home. It just wasn't okay with my mom. The sudden change in plans caused me stress & displeasure & when I expressed that to my parents, I was criticized for how antisocial I was being. This resulted in a complete meltdown. I felt like no one cared about me that night because no one stopped to listen to my thoughts or feelings. When I eventually made it to the party, I ended up standing like a statue against a wall for the few hours we were there because the criticism I received just prior to arriving at the party made it so that I didn't have the emotional capacity to socialize with anyone. We Have Low Self-Esteem: Many autistic people, myself included, suffer from low self-esteem. This is often the result of external factors, like bullying & being left out when we were younger (discussed in more detail above↑). When we have low perceptions of ourselves, it makes us more sensitive to criticism. Low self-esteem also makes us unable to understand or interpret criticism. Even when criticism is communicated with the best of intentions, ALL criticism can make us extremely anxious, which has long-lasting effects on us, crushing our self-esteem even more. Every single time I'm criticized, I feel like I can't do anything right. In fact, I feel like that regardless of whether or not I'm criticized. I know that this is because of how much I have been criticized during the course of my life. Many other autistic people feel this way, too. Our Feelings Are Often Dismissed: I have gone through my entire life feeling like my feelings don't matter. I have always felt like when I speak up, my thoughts & feelings are brushed to the side. I've been talked over & ignored more times than I can count. This not only makes us extra sensitive to criticism, but it makes us think we're being criticized when we're not being criticized at all. What Is Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria?: Although not a clinical diagnosis, rejection sensitive dysphoria, or RSD, is when perceived rejection or failure causes so much intense emotional pain that it becomes very difficult for a person to cope with his or her feelings. Autism & RSD: Many autistic people struggle with RSD & I certainly believe I am one of them. However, this isn't an issue for every autistic person. Increased rejection & punishment for not meeting neurotypical standards puts autistic people at higher risk for experiencing RSD. Also, since autistic people often have different sensory & perceptual experiences than allistic, or non-autistic people, they often experience more intense emotions. Autistic people with strong emotional sensitivity tend to experience social & interpersonal rejection stronger than allistic people, which can increase rejection sensitivity. Complications Of RSD For Autistic People: While most people do not enjoy being rejected or criticized (I mean, who would?), RSD goes beyond simply disliking rejection. RSD is so intensely emotional & can even be physically painful. The desire to avoid this unbearable pain & discomfort often leads to increased masking behaviors, which puts the autistic person at higher risk for burnout. Additionally, RSD can trigger mental health issues in autistic people including anxiety, depression, & eating disorders. So, before you criticize an autistic person, remember that while no one likes to be criticized, criticism is often much, MUCH harder for us to take than it is for the allistic population to take. And if your criticism causes us to shut down or to act unconventionally, please treat us with love, care, & understanding. It's what we need most of all. 💙 A couple days ago, my case worker called me regarding my disability application. This is the first time I ever heard from him since applying for disability benefits back in early December. In fact, before this week, I didn't even know I had a case worker! Unfortunately, the call ended with me feeling incredibly flustered. Despite the fact that my case worker & I were both speaking English & we are both native English speakers, I felt as though we were speaking two entirely different languages. This is quite a common occurrence for me, & for other autistic people, as well. Communication is so, so difficult when you're autistic. In fact, all my adult life, I've had my dad sit with me when I make phone calls about my personal needs. And it's not just because of the severe phone anxiety I experience. It's because I literally cannot communicate with people about the numerous issues I deal with everyday unless they are part of my very, very tiny inner circle. Especially when I'm on the phone. When I first received my autism diagnosis, I expected to have a much, MUCH easier time conveying my needs to & working with various resource people. I mean, now I have a name for my struggles, plus these people are used to working with people with disabilities, right? I was SO wrong here! I have found that it has been almost impossible to get my points across to anyone unless their background is specifically in autism AND they have a certain personality type. Without that exact combination, people are almost impossible to work with.
For instance, back in December, I had an extremely heated argument with the resource person at the autism center where I went for my autism spectrum disorder evaluation & diagnosis. I expected that this conversation would give me hope, but instead, it left me feeling more defeated & alone than ever before. I could go on & on about my conversation with her. I would think that not only working in an autism center, but having an autistic adult child at home would make her be able to speak to an autistic woman with respect & dignity. Much of what she said was completely uncalled for & inappropriate. Despite the fact that I consider myself a very patient person & easy to get along with, I can tell you that the only reason I didn't completely lose my cool with her is because I was walking my dog, Teddy at the time she called me back & I wasn't alone in my bedroom. I needed to control my emotions in order to not make a complete fool out of myself in public. That's how bad it was. The same exact thing happened during a phone call with my vocational rehabilitation counselor this past June, but I can give him more benefit of the doubt because he certainly knows a lot less about autism than the autism resource woman. Lastly, during my phone conversation with my case worker a couple days ago, he put so much more weight on my autistic comorbidities than on autism itself. I can tell you that while I likely would still struggle with mental health challenges without being autistic, being autistic is what makes my mental health challenges so disabling that it affects my ability to work. Autism is what's important here, not the plethora of other difficulties I have. Yes, I put down other diagnoses too because you can't forget that they do exist. But, that's not what's important here. People focus on the mental health aspect of things because that's what they know more about. They also think that if you take medication & go to therapy, you can be fixed. And if your issues can be fixed, then there's no need for disability benefits, right? That would save Social Security a lot of money. My case worker was very surprised that I don't see a therapist right now & it has been a very long time since I've seen one. I don't see a therapist is because I feel like it was a total waste of time & money. I'll get more into the details of therapy on another day. My experience in therapy is more than a blog post worth of info. Anyway, the conversation I had with my case worker scared me because how is he supposed to help me if we keep talking in circles & I can't get him to understand any of my points? This is not okay. I am posting about this to show you just how frustrating being autistic can be. I am SO beyond exhausted that no matter how hard I try, I can't get anyone to understand me or to respect my thoughts & feelings. 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. 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. 💙 |
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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May 2024
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