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. 💙
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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. Grief is something that is certainly not fun to talk about, but it's part of life, & there were a couple difficult events involving my grandfather (he is doing okay!) that happened within the past few days that has me thinking about it more than usual. Just to give you a reference point, the five stages of grief are:
Those who are close to me know how incredibly important my maternal grandfather, who I lovingly call Gung-Gung, is to me. Ever since I was a little girl, he & I have had the most incredible, special bond. I love that man so, so, SO much. Back in January 2015, while on a cruise in Mexico, he had a major & devastating stroke. As a result, he acquired a condition known as global aphasia, which means that he no longer has the ability to communicate using language. So, he can no longer read, write, speak, or understand language of any kind. He also lost feeling on the entire right side of his body. Transition & Change:
Now, remember that grief doesn't only occur when someone dies. It also occurs when any major negative change happens in someone's life. For example, people may grieve when going through a divorce or heartbreak or if a close family member or friend moves away. I have been in the denial stage of grief for eight years & four months now (since that very day in January 2015 that the stroke occurred). Yes, as horrible as that is (it's even more terrible seeing it in writing than it has been thinking it in my head all of these years), that's the complete & honest truth. A Side-Note About Therapy: I had been seeing a therapist at the time that the stroke occurred. And I did tell my therapist how much I was struggling with my Gung-Gung's stroke, but I don't think she understood to what extent. I stopped going to therapy in the fall of that year, when I had to change to a different insurance plan that my therapist didn't accept. I haven't tried therapy again since, because my experience in therapy was that it either was extraordinarily harmful & detrimental to my mental health (the exact opposite thing that therapy is supposed to accomplish) or that it didn't make any difference at all, good OR bad. I had been through a plethora of therapists, all who, believe it or not, I wanted to strangle, before I found my last therapist who I really loved. Going through so many different therapists before finding the right one was incredibly emotionally & physically exhausting & draining & going through that multi-year process again, especially when I don't see the benefit in it is just not something I feel I have the energy or the drive for. I'll get more into my experience with therapy on another day. Now that I know I'm autistic, struggling this much with my Gung-Gung's stroke more than eight years later makes complete sense. Autistic people thrive on routine. However, transition & change are extremely difficult for us. That has to be why I'm still in the denial stage of grief this many years later. I just want my Gung-Gung to go back to being the person he was before his stroke. I mean, I know my mom wishes that too, but she has long accepted that this is her new reality, while I'm still denying that. Special Interests Particularly in autistic girls & women, special interests can be people or characters in novels or in movies. If an autistic person's special interest is a person, not only is the autistic person is going to be incredibly loyal to that person, but rejection will be particularly devastating, whether the person of interest is a friend, a romantic interest, etc. I didn't realize it until very recently, after I began learning more & more about how autism presents itself in girls & in women, but my Gung-Gung is one of my special interests. For me, this means that his presence & his mere existence in the world, & in my life takes precedence over everything else. The changes that occurred in him due to the severity of his stroke completely crushed me. And once he eventually passes away, that will shatter my entire world. The following statements are all true about my Gung-Gung:
When my grandma passed away a couple years ago, broken heart syndrome became one of my special interests. Unfortunately, I never had a relationship with my grandma, so I didn't grieve when she died. The hardest part about losing my grandma was thinking that her death would be what would kill my Gung-Gung, who I love so much. (My grandparents had an incredible love story.) I learned that the risk of a man dying of a broken heart goes down dramatically at the three-month mark, so once we hit three months, I felt an instant wave of relief. My aunt & uncle were visiting this past December & I had a heart-to-heart conversation with my aunt one night during that visit. My aunt brought up that when my Gung-Gung eventually does pass away, it really won't be that devastating because of how much he's changed since his stroke. I absolutely did not agree with her because the finality of death is so terrifying to me. Never feeling his arm around my shoulders; being able to hold his hand; or seeing my puppy, Ollie kiss him all over his face, bringing him so much joy & laughter is just not acceptable to me. It would absolutely devastate me & break my heart & wouldn't bring me any relief whatsoever. What my aunt expressed to me is how the average neurotypical person would feel, given the situation. But, what I'm expressing here is how one autistic woman feels, given that same situation. Being Literal-Minded Autistic people are literal-minded. Now, with that being said, I personally don't believe in God, in Heaven, or in any kind of afterlife. So, as morbid as that is to believe, I believe that when someone you love passes away, you'll never see that person ever again. The idea of God, Heaven, & an afterlife are just so abstract, foreign, & unbelievable in my mind that until I've actually seen proof that those things exist, I'm not going to believe in it. I know that those beliefs bring comfort to many people & I wish it did to me as well, but it just doesn't make sense in my literal mind. I know my Gung-Gung believes in Heaven & he wants to go up there to be with my grandma, the love of his life, again, but because I don't believe in it myself, I don't have the comfort he does. In fact, the idea of that actually makes me sick to my stomach. I am also someone who believes that the two things that should never be talked about are politics & religion, unless you know for sure that whoever you're talking to has the same beliefs as you. Because of the role my beliefs play in my fear of death, I thought this was important to mention, but at the same time, I want you to know that I completely understand & respect your beliefs, whatever they may be. So, I tried my very best to make this section as short & as to the point as possible. Fear Of The Unknown Autistic people like to know what to expect. In my thirty-something years of life, I have lost two grandparents & two pet bunnies. (Luckily, I have not lost any other loved ones.) I didn't grieve when either of my two late grandparents passed away. I believe that when my Gung-Gung passes, it will be the first time I would have ever grieved. And from what I know about myself & about my relationship with my Gung-Gung, I'm very worried about my ability to handle that grief. I hope that this post gave you valuable insight as to what grieving might feel like as an autistic woman. |
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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