#and lots of adhd and autistic kids

[yatiso]

i think the problem with switching from being a preschool teacher to working retail/being a receptionist is that kids often time are easier to handle and help than grown ass adults

[uncanny-tranny]

I jokingly thought before that reading Junie B. Jones as a kid turned me into a feminist, but unironically, it kind of did.

I honestly think it comes down to the fact that Junie B. was not only allowed to be "weird," but her character arc never concluded like other girl characters would. In other media featuring "weird girls," the girl always ended her arc tamed - by force or convince, she would be prettied up, she would smile and be polite, and she would never speak out of turn. She would be perfect then, and would shed her veneer of individuality with the freedom that is conformity. As a kid, I noticed that girls weren't permitted to be "weird" like boys were. So when I read Junie B. Jones, I loved that she was frankly just fucking weird. She said things out of turn, she was rambunctious and imaginative and she was a realistic portrayal of a little girl. I loved reading those books because the narrative taught her lessons without punishing her for being weird, if that makes sense. So often, narratives punished weird girls for the crime of being a socially unacceptable girl, not for any true wrongdoing like lying.

Anyway, I just think it's interesting, because I watched and read a ton of books and shows and movies featuring girls and women, but none of them truly empathized with (or even tried to empathize with) weird girls on their own merits and capabilities and terms, or embraced the idea of a "socially inept/unacceptable" girl without punishing her in some way for her supposed ineptitude.

[dollyboned]

i should relate more to my giftedness but it's so damn hard when the only part of it that really applies is "i got good grades without studying don't fucking ask me how"

[ghosttotheparty]

also on ao3

(cw: tics, bullying)

Eddie started shivering in seventh grade.

Even when it was hot, even when he was sweating and desperately wanted a non-rattly fan or a better air conditioner. They weren't normal shivers. He wasn't cold. But his shoulders would jerk or shake, or he would tremble for a second, and he didn't know what else it could have been. Others didn't question it for a while, because it started in October. Everyone was shivering. But by March, it hadn't stopped, and he had to explain himself when people gave him questioning looks or asked if he was okay. (Back when people cared.)

'S just a shiver, I'm fine.

He wasn't fine. It got worse over time. He got used to it, to the weird feeling that took over his body for a few seconds, got used to telling people he was cold, joking that he must be low on vitamins or iron, joking that in the future, someone is walking over his grave. But other people didn't get used to it. They thought he was weird. That was fine with him. Wayne realised something was wrong before Eddie started the tenth grade, because he wasn't just shivering anymore. His whole body was jerking sharply, suddenly, his shoulders drawing up, fists clenching. Eddie didn't question it. Wayne did.

It wasn't normal. But nothing about Eddie was normal. Wayne took him to see a doctor. The doctor make him do things, walk in a line, hold his arms out and push the doctor's hands away as hard as he could, follow a flashlight with his eyes without moving his head. It was all weird. It kind of scared Eddie. The doctor kept writing things in a notebook, and Eddie couldn't tell if he was doing well or not. But Wayne was there, watching and listening intently.

The doctor said he had tics. It sounded funny to Eddie, but then it wasn't funny, because the doctor didn't give him anything for it. He just said there wasn't anything really wrong with him. His brain just worked a little differently. (Which Eddie was already used to hearing.) That his tics could get better or go away as he got older, or they could get worse.

They got worse.

By the end of that summer, his arms were moving, flying over his head suddenly, randomly, and his head was jerking back so sharply it hurt. Wayne was worried about him getting whiplash. Eddie was worried about going to school.

That year, he became the freak.

At first, he tried to explain it to people. The movements were involuntary, he couldn't control them. Wayne contacted all his teachers, who mostly got it, but still preferred to make him sit in the hallway so he didn't distract the class. But the other students thought he was possessed, faking it for attention, and everything in between. They'd throw things at him, and complain to the teachers that he was distracting even when he wasn't moving, just to get him out of the room. They would mimic him, make fun of him, and by September, he learned that the tics get worse when he's upset. He could hear them all snickering and giggling as he shoved his hands under his legs and tucked his chin to his chest or held his shirt over his face, as he held his limbs tense so they wouldn't move, so tense he was exhausted and sore all the time, and then he'd go home and cry because he couldn't control his own body.

He'd have to sit on the sofa so when his head threw itself back, it would hit the back of the sofa instead of the wall, and Wayne would just wait, watching with that fucking sadness in his eyes that made Eddie ache even more. When it finally stopped, sometimes after a few minutes, sometimes after an hour or two, he was so exhausted he'd fall asleep right there on the sofa. He couldn't do his homework. His grades dropped even more, but he managed to keep himself afloat. He did the best he could, doing his homework early in the morning before school or in detention. (Some of his teachers thought he was faking. Mr Peterson was in charge of detention, and he was nice. Considerate. Eddie counted him as one of his few blessings.)

His tics got worse.

In December of his junior year, he started making noises. Short screams, grunts, quiet vocalizations. It scared him. He didn't want to go back to school, but he did. The laughter around him got louder, and he was sent out to the hallways more. He started skipping classes. He knew he'd be forced to leave anyway. So he'd sit in the boys' room, on top of a lidded toiler, his feet up on the stall door, and he'd leave cigarette burns on the walls.

Not everyone was awful. Some kids were just curious about him, asked why he acted the way he did, and he did his best to calmly explain it all. I can't help it, actually. It's just my brain works different. That turned into Eddie's brain's fucked. It's broken. He's a fucking--

So he used it. Eddie the Freak. Attention-seeking, desperate for people to notice him. So he started making devil horns, yelling from tabletops, making himself The Freak so no one could use it against him.

No one, not even Wayne, saw him cry at night, because the attention he got was never the attention he wanted. Because he was tired. So fucking tired. His limbs were sore and his voice was rough, and his neck hurt, and he was sick of being laughed at. But that was all he got.

He kept counting his blessings. Mr Peterson, who never minded Eddie's noises or the way his fists would bang against the table loudly in the silent room, who scolded the other detention-goers when they tried to tease. The Hellfire guys, who got used to his tics fairly quickly, and knew when to pause whatever they were doing if Eddie couldn't hear them over a scream or was distracted by his own body. That nice girl, Chrissy Cunningham, who would slip notes from the classes he missed or skipped into his locker or backpack with sweet smiles. (If Eddie wasn't gay, he would have fallen in love with her.) The other few students that ignored him when his tics acted up, just glancing and moving on. Wayne, bless his soul, who would come to the school to confront Eddie's teachers and complain to the principal about Eddie being mistreated by the staff.

And, oddly enough, Steve Harrington.

Eddie never saw it coming. It was a particularly bad day. He was at his locker, trying to line his books up, but a tic threw his hands up, and some books fell from his locker to the floor. He watched helplessly as papers scattered across the floor, as most students stepped around them, ignoring them, as some jocks trampled over them, over Chrissy's neat handwriting, his fists clenched at his sides. When they passed, he kneeled, picking up the books, and when he looked up, Steve Harrington was kneeling too, gathering the crumpled papers and carefully straightening them out.

He gave them to Eddie with a smile, and Eddie thought he might be dying, in some weird, upside-down dimension where Steve Harrington smiles at Eddie Munson. Eddie took them hesitantly, said thank you, and then he hit him.

He was mortified, almost dropping the papers again, jumping back as his whole body flushed with heat, staring at Steve's shoulder where his hand had just landed heavily, and he burst with a Fuck, I'm so sorry, oh my god--

But Steve had just laughed. Amazingly, it was a kind laugh, with sparkling eyes, and soft cheeks, and he said It's okay.

And then he was gone. Down the hall, after his friends, and Eddie realised his hands were trembling.

Steve kept smiling at him. Even when his friends were making fun of Eddie's Satanic cult, and of the way he couldn't keep still, and of his sad, broken brain. Even when Eddie's brain made him flip Steve off across the cafeteria, Steve saw how Eddie pulled his hand down sharply, and Steve just... laughed. Eddie fell in love with his laugh. It was kind, and it made Eddie feel better, even when he wanted to cry.

Steve graduated the next year. But he didn't leave Eddie alone. Eddie couldn't stop thinking about him, and his kind laugh, and his pretty eyes, and then the sheep Eddie adopted told him all about how cool and brave Steve was, and Eddie fell harder without even seeing him.

The world went to shit. But Eddie got to see Steve again.

Steve was still kind, even though the world was ending, and even during serious discussions, plan-making, how-to-save-the-world conversations, Eddie's tics kept going. His body jerked and shivered, and his head threw back, and his fists hit his own chest and shoulders, and he had to sit down. And Eddie found out that there are more kind people than he thought. When his tics slowed, Nancy wordlessly got him an ice pack to hold to his chest, and when he flung it across the room, Robin caught it with a casual oops, and brought it back to him. No one questioned him, or stared, or laughed, even though he knew how annoying he was.

When he woke up in the hospital, he hurt so badly he couldn't move. He just cried. Steve sat by his bed and held onto his hand. He was crying too. When Eddie stopped crying, Steve carefully slid his rings, clean of blood, onto his fingers.

This one goes here, right?

Yeah.

On the second day, his brain didn't care that he hurt. As Steve was telling him about what was going on with the others (Max was staying with the Sinclairs, Dustin's leg was almost healed), Eddie's hand smacked him across the face sharply, the sting of his rings bringing tears to his eyes before he even processed what happened. Steve wordlessly crawled onto the bed, carefully pulled Eddie against himself, and set a pillow over Eddie's lap for when his fists started hitting his legs. He'd just murmured those words, the first words he'd said to Eddie years ago.

It's okay. It's okay.

And he waited until Eddie's body fell lax against him before he carefully found Eddie's hand, laced their fingers, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Eddie was released from the hospital a few weeks later. He stayed in the Wheelers' basement for a few days until Steve's parents left town, for good this time, and then he moved into the Harrington house.

He likes it there. Steve is still kind. Always. He lets Eddie lay his head in his lap when his body hurts or won't stop moving, and he drags his fingers through his hair or holds a joint to his lips for him, and he smiles. (Eddie would go through the end of the world all over again for that smile.) When Eddie's head hits the wall while they're in the waiting room of the hospital for a checkup, Steve just shifts to face him and holds a hand up to the back of his head so his hand hits the wall instead, saying quietly that Eddie isn't allowed to beat his record number of concussions. He drives Eddie to Wayne's even though Eddie doesn't tic when he drives except for a few facial or vocal ones.

When Eddie whistles one night, Steve just smiles at him and says Was that a tic or are you hitting on me? and Eddie freezes, his face burning. Which would you prefer, pretty boy?

Steve kisses him.

And then Steve starts holding his hand even when he isn't having tics, even when they're with the Party. Eddie moves into Steve's room. (They always slept better when they accidentally fell asleep on the sofa together anyway.) Steve holds him when his tics are bad, and Eddie holds him during his migraines, pressing kisses as softly as he can to his forehead and his temples. Steve takes his hand when it moves to hit Eddie's face or chest. Eddie stands steady and holds Steve's hand to himself when he gets dizzy. Steve keeps ready-made ice packs in the freezer to hold to Eddie's chest and legs when they bruise from his fists. Eddie keeps his handwriting as neat as possible when he writes notes in case Steve forgets anything. When they wake up at night, breathless and sweaty and crying, the other is there, arms open, lips waiting.

One night Eddie says very softly, You know, they used to say my brain was broken.

Steve just says, Mine too.

[rexscanonwife]

Genuinely how it feels having ur s/i next to ur f/o sometimes

[sillyslayer6]

genshin fandom are HEAVILY sleeping on audhd ajax childe tartaglia

(headcanons in the read more!)

i meaaaan;

stimming - he likes making stuff out of water and fidgeting with them, especially if he's bored; spinning water weapons (like he does in one of his idle animations), making little water creatures (he probably makes them fight), mimicking things around him/in his mind out of water - he messes with his cape as a stim (like in that other idle animation) - him just repeating something just because he likes saying it, like 'coco goat' or some word zhongli taught him impulsivity - THE most impulsive guy ever - impulsive to the point where he'll just throw himself into danger because he has free will - will see some big horrifying monster, think 'i wonder if i could take that' (in a fight), then will attack unless someone stops him - constantly gets himself into trouble because he reacts before he thinks - i headcanon that him using foul legacy against the traveler was him genuinely losing his shit and wasn't planned

(and he probably just laid on the roof of the golden house like 'owww ouagh owww' until the battle with osial was done... also zhongli was watching liyue defend itself on a nearby mountain, like how a worried mother might watch her kids cook for the first time, and just happened to see the orange cat on the roof) hyperactivity - has a brain that never stops - ultra instincts adhd, like rick riordan says - if he ever stops moving, he'll die - complains if he has to stay still - probably fidgets non-stop - the tsaritsa is an ally and has plenty of random crap to fiddle with on harbinger coats socializing - canonically the odd one out among his peers (granted, his peers are all scheming goth people) - i swear he (canonically) constantly misses social cues and takes things literally... - he misses social cues more than he misses crits - blunt and straightforward, and prefers that way of communicating - headcanon that zhongli lying to him actually hurt his feelings and his reaction was genuine... (and that reaction is a little too relatable, as someone who's neurodivergent... 😔🤨) - this is probably an english-only thing, but his little 'haha' in stressful circumstances is him masking/coping with the situation and doing a brain reset, or just his default 'how the fuck am i meant to react to that' response (citation: I DO THAT!!) - somehow masks and unmasks at the same time, like how he's wearing his literal mask on his head - will just come out with the most profound and deep truths, this jumpscares people (especially ones who think he's a total dumbass) - childe unmasking is just him with no expression, doing things in almost complete silence, even before the abyss he brought the vibe to the function that neurotypicals hate - ^ he'll never unmask around his fellow harbingers because he doesn't like them but also he likes annoying them hyperfixations/special interests - easy 'he's obsessed with battle' connection, c'mannn - and easy 'he's got an interest in weaponry', duhhhh - but imagine him just being able to identify any fish, too. - hyperfixated on liyue history, cuisine and culture during his stay there, probably kept getting zhongli to talk about whatever he was hyperfixating on that week (btw zhongli's autistic too, it's because he's hot, sorry i don't make the rules) - picks up 1 million hobbies and hyperfixates on them either for a week or until he's mastered them (the one week ones get shelved until he masters them) nerfed by celestia, AKA idk what to title this section - i just can't see childe being able to sit there and finish paperwork like a regular guy - northland bank managers fear him (he hands in paperwork one minute before the deadline) - pulcinella probably handles his important harbinger documents because childe lost too many of them - exchanged his quick moving and dodging in battle for a weekly sacrifice (he trips over something or breaks things through clumsiness; him and lynette are comrades in arms for breaking machines) - his sleep schedule is that he doesn't have one - he turns into some hunter-gatherer eater, unless someone with a normal routine is around, then he follows them and has regular meals at regular times (as opposed to him cooking borscht at 11AM

[manichewitz]

i wish less of the conversation around being a gifted kid/former gifted kid is about the pressure of academic achievement and success and more about the complete lack of resources for learning to manage every day life. because tbh after i left high school, the pressure to succeed in school pretty much went away because it didn't matter nearly as much what grades i was getting in college. what did matter was that i had absolutely no way to take care of myself or manage my life, because i had a disability that had been completely ignored for 18 years. i have autism and adhd--the problems i had once i graduated high school weren't feeling inadequate when i got a B on a paper. the problem was that i wasn't eating, showering, sleeping, brushing my teeth, showing up to classes on time, or talking to people for days and weeks on end, because my executive dysfunction, sensory processing issues, and social anxiety were getting in the way of my life.

personally, i think that's the real price of being a "gifted kid" (i'm talking about myself here--lots of neurodivergent ppl experience this even if they weren't gifted). it isn't just that i was expected to excel at everything and then shamed when i acted like a flawed human, it was that those expectations distracted everyone from actually trying to help me function in society. and now as an adult i have to contend with the fact that i suffered my whole life from a disability because people were just too ableist to accept that, despite having good grades, i still needed help. i needed to learn how to take care of myself and function in the world for fucks sake

[bwbawa]

i always see info on autistic kids vs autistic adults and stuff, but what's it with autistic teens? how r they different from the other mentioned?

/genq

[puppyeared]

who up seeing their disorder in a fictional character but feel like its not their place to put a name on it

[lunathewafflelord]

I think I might have ADHD. I’ll have to bring it up next time I’m at my therapist.

To anyone who has taken a test for ADHD, what was it like? It’s been a LOOOOOOONG time since my autism diagnosis (like. over a decade) so I don’t remember much about what it was like, and I’m sure the tests are different now than they were then.

Is ADHD testing similar to autism testing? Or is it very different? I’d like to know about what to expect!

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Interesting. Don’t necessarily think I’m autistic but I have more going on than just ADHD and I’m not sure what that is.

[fennthetalkingdog]

You know, when I was first researching neurodivergence (and autism and ADHD in particular) and wondering if I was, in fact, neurodivergent, I brought my conclusions to my mom and she said:

"I mean, you're gifted, right? So you already are neurodivergent???"

So here's to her (kinda) and her words. Giftedness is a neurodivergence, in my opinion. From what I've seen, a lot of the traits overlap with common autistic and/or ADHD traits too, especially regarding overexcitabilities, and a lot of researchers talking about the topic describe giftedness with the same kind of "your brain is just made differently" and "you're just wired differently" language as they use for other neurodivergent conditions. But I also say this because I've seen some gifted people who, while struggling with some "autistic/ADHD traits," don't have all the traits necessary for an autism or ADHD diagnosis. Giftedness is a label for them that encompasses the struggles they have without saying that they don't struggle enough or forcing them to try to fit into a mold that isn't them. And I get that; when I was first questioning, I didn't think I had enough autistic traits to count for a diagnosis either, so I took comfort in a "gifted" label. (Not to say that all gifted people are just autistic people and/or people with ADHD that don't realize, or that all gifted people are just people who don't have enough traits for a diagnosis! That was just the case for me and the folks I've been around, but I've also heard the case of it not being that.)

But if I am gifted, then I also have autism. A lot of my struggles are, honestly, just better described by autism than just by a byproduct of giftedness. My struggles with people and with "being too much," my sensory differences (and yes, sometimes issues), my stimming, and some of my executive dysfunction all sound like autistic traits to me more than a mix of psychomotor and sensual overexcitabilities and a whole bunch of coincidental byproducts of my being gifted and hanging out with nongifted peers. Don't get me wrong; based on my family history, background, and traits, I honestly probably am gifted lol. But it's not just that.

So this is me saying that if the people around you are saying that you're just gifted, you're free to look for other, perhaps better explanations for your feelings and experiences. But if you are just gifted, you're still free to call yourself neurodivergent! My gifted traits lead to me feeling just as ostracized sometimes as my autistic ones, so who am I to police that label?

[maverickcalf]

There are a lot of experiences on this website on undiagnosised disability/those who knew something was different but didn't know what.

But not a lot of those who were aware they disabled and had a name for it early in life/offical diagnosis.

And nothing is wrong with either. I just wish one got a bit more attention.

[wanderingmind867]

I'm probably just a very old soul. I mean my interests are sometimes modern, but I also have the internal monologue of someone who's like 65. I don't get slang, I always feel out of the loop on things, I'm always angry or complaining or stressed, and I occasionally have the internal voice of an old british actor (I'm not even British! But my generic narration voice seems to be me imitating actors like Ian McKellen or Patrick Stewart. And I guess that voice slips though in my internal monologue sometimes). Anyways, I don't get modern culture sometimes. Online slang and jokes do almost nothing for me (with exceptions, of course. I can still find vulgar or dirty things funny, for example). But I really just don't get slang or in-jokes or any of that. Also, I'm easily scared. Don't know if that's got anything to do with the rest of this, but let's just put all my cards on the table here.

A perfect example of this is comparing me to other kids, even on my bus. Those kids are all loud and obnoxious. And I know most of them are a few years younger than me, but so what!? They're obnoxious brats who swear almost every second word on that bus! Their idea of joking around is just saying a curse word or saying dirty things like joking about gay sex or genitals or other nonsense. And while I can enjoy the occasional dirty joke, theirs aren't even funny. They're just dumb and kind of prejudicial to me. I do respect that none of them are rude to me, though. I doubt that'd stay true if they knew I internally judge them like this, though.

Now, let's wrap this little rant/essay up! I'm super quiet at school and on the bus. I'm kind to the teachers and bus drivers (I usually consider most adults at school better friends than any other students). I often want to yell at the kids and tell them to shut up, because I can't stand their dumb jokes. In comparison to them, I'd like to think I come off much better. I would hope, at least. Sure I'm super shy and barely say anything because of my shyness, but at least I'm working on that! And at least I'm polite! Not like these brats. I swear, sometimes I don't know how I put up with them.

[neck-thats-made-for-bruising]

This school is like a fucking hive mind or something everyone makes the same stupid jokes

[chronicsymptomsyndrome]

This might be an unpopular opinion but idc. It really kill me that I’m expected to insist to children that everyone is good. The world is good. A nice place to be. Peace and love. There are no corrupt values. Everyone’s moral compass points to sunshine and rainbows. Because actually…..

I’m not saying we should be telling kids The Full Truth of course, but I don’t think its okay to lie to them either. Especially since we’re supposed to be teaching kids “lying is mean, its never ever okay to lie, it’s wrong no matter what.”

Is this not basically teaching by example that authority figures are exempt from morals and ethics? (A really horrifying thing to teach anyone at any age)

I’m not claiming to have the right answer (or any answer) it’s just something I think about daily. something I wish was talked about more.