#another point when someone says diagnosing adults is hard

[thelastschnitzel]

So, I thought about what to get my nephews for Christmas and opened etsy to get inspired or whatever

And I was confused why I had a new message

And then I looked at it and it was a note that my package was delivered.

I have completely forgotten I purchased 2 shirts.

It was totally gone from my memory

Thankfully it fit in my mail box

[vanessagillings]

I’m posting the ever-so-rare photo of myself alongside one of my characters based on my childhood because today is World Autism Acceptance Day, and I wanted to show my little corner of the internet who this particular autistic person is:  

I was officially diagnosed in February, at age 38 (I’m now 39). A lot of people thought I couldn’t be autistic.  Some people who know me in real life still don’t.  And until around 10 years ago, I didn’t think I could be either, because I was nothing like the stereotype media portrays. I was told that autistics lacked empathy (untrue), and never played make-believe (also often untrue) and only enjoyed STEM.  I was — and am — an empathetic artist -- and make believe?  I can spend days sketching finely bedecked bears brewing tea or carefully choosing the right words to weave tapestries of fiction — though perhaps my hyper focus was a bit of a red flag.  Even so, how could autism describe me?  I was a good student.  I got straight A's. I didn’t act out in class.  I can make eye contact…if I must.  And lots of girls hate having their hair brushed with an unholy passion, right?  Clearly I swim in sarcasm like a fish, so autism couldn't be why I was so anxious all the time, could it?

If someone had told me when I was younger what autism ACTUALLY is — instead of the nonsense I’d seen on screens — I would have seen myself in it.  I didn’t hear that autistics have sensory issues until I was in my mid-twenties, which is when I first began to really research autism symptoms, and I had almost all of them:  sensitivity to light, smells, fabrics, temperatures, textures, and certain touches, all of which make me feel anxious, I fidget (stim), I never know what the hell to do with my hands or where to look, I talk too little or too much, I have special interests, I have entire animated movies memorized shot-by-shot and can remember the first time and place I saw every movie I've ever seen but I often forget what I'm trying to say mid-sentence, I echo movies and tv shows (my husband and I have a whole repertoire of shared echolalias, making up about 20% of our conversations), I was in speech therapy as a kid, I have issues with dysnomia and verbal fluency, I toe-walk, I can't multitask to save my life, I like things just-so, I’m deeply introverted but not shy, I need to recover from all social interaction — even social interaction I enjoy — and I find stupid, every day things like grocery shopping, driving and making appointments overwhelming and intensely stressful, sometimes to the point where I struggle to speak.  It turns out, I am definitely autistic. My results weren't borderline. Not even close. And while these aren’t all of my challenges, and not everyone with these symptoms is autistic, it’s definitely something to look into if you present with all of these things at once. 

So why did it take me so long to get diagnosed? The same bias that exists in media threads through the medical community as well, and because I'm a woman who can discuss the weather while smiling on cue, few people thought I was worth looking into. Even after I was fairly certain I was autistic, receiving an official diagnosis in the US is unnecessarily difficult and expensive, and in my case, completely uncovered by my insurance.  It cost me over $4000, and I could only afford it because my husband makes more money than I do as a freelance illustrator — a job I fell into largely because it didn’t require in-person work; like many autists, I have been chronically underemployed and underpaid, in part due to physical illness in my twenties, which is a topic for another day.  But it shouldn’t be like this.  It shouldn’t be so hard for adults to receive diagnoses and it shouldn’t be so hard for people to see themselves in this condition to begin with due to misinformation and stereotypes. Like many issues in America, these barriers are even higher for marginalized groups with multiple intersectionalities. 

It’s commonly said that if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.  This is why it’s called a spectrum, not because there’s a linear progression of severity (someone who appears to have low support needs like myself might need more than it seems, and vice versa), but because every autistic person has their own strengths and weaknesses, challenges and experiences, opinions and needs.  No two people on the spectrum present in the same way.  And that’s a good thing!  No way of being autistic is inherently any better than any other, and even if someone on the spectrum struggles with things I don’t — or can do things I can’t — doesn’t make them more or less deserving of respect and human dignity.

But speaking solely for myself, the more I learn about autism, the happier I am to be autistic.  I struggle to find words and exert fine motor control, but my deep passion and fixation has made me good at art and storytelling anyway.  I find more joy watching dogs and studying leaf shapes on my walks than most people do in an entire day.  More often than not, the barriers I’ve faced weren’t due to my autism directly, but due to society being overly rigid about what it considers a valid way of existing.  My hope in writing this today is that maybe one person will realize that autism isn’t what they thought — and that being different is not the same as being less than. My hope with my fiction is to give autistic children mirrors with which to see themselves, and everyone else windows through which to see us as we actually are.

If you’re interested in learning more about autism or think you might be autistic, too, I recommend the Autism Self Advocacy Network  autisticadvocacy.org and the following books:

What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic by Annie Kotowicz

We're Not Broken by Eric Garcia

Knowing Why edited by Elizabeth Bartmess

Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD

Loud Hands edited by Julia Bascom

Neurotribes by Steve Silberman

(trigger warning: the last two contain quite a lot of upsetting material involving institutionalized child abuse, but I think it’s important for people to know how often autistic children were — and are — abused simply for being neurodivergent).

Thanks for reading 💛

[petesdirtysock]

bill dickey & the cycle of abuse theory

i think about evan dorkin's point of saying "bill wasn't always a sociopath" because i think it really explores something interesting about the cycle of abuse and the effects it has on others. so here's a really really long text post about it !

tldr, sock has a really convoluted theory about bill's mom's possible abuse towards her son and it causing a big issue for bill and his mental health and literally everyone else who crosses his path

tw for abuse , manipulation , trauma

to first begin, let's look at bill at the beginning of the series! at first, we see bill as almost the same as he was in the "welcome to eltingville" pilot. a lot of people say that the tv version of bill is really tame in comparison to comic bill & i 100% agree. one potential reason for this may be that the art styles are so vastly different when you really look like it and all of the scenes were bill goes absolutely insane would be hard to animate for adult animation shows. typically the styles are simpler for the sake of cost but this might be different since we had a lot of great shows in the 2000s that were able to accomplish both ( but that's a conversation for another day ).

but in bill's case, i feel this was almost intentional ( & kind of not ) since the scenes chosen for the show were the beginning of the comic! throughout the comic, we see bill get worse and worse and he comes to his greatest failure in the epilogue where i very strongly believe ( and i think its canon ? ) that he caused the injuries and potential death of multiple people during the comic con fiasco. like i dont know if any of you guys have been to the jacob javits center ( where the comic con in the comic takes place ) but there's like thousands of kids, elderly, and full grown adults that basically pack the entire building. THAT HAS MULTIPLE FLOORS BY THE WAY. like there have been times i've had to squeeze through people in just the artist's alley, IMAGINE THE TINY ASS FOOD AREA & THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING.

and you may be asking "sock, what in the hell would possibly cause this impulsivity and disregard for human life in someone who is pretty much normal other than being a creep???". so it turns out the answer to that question is divorce and abuse.

i'm definitely not qualified to diagnose anyone, especially not in the realms of personality disorders ( im just a depressed and anxious autist lol ) but since we have confirmation that bill is a sociopath by evan dorkin, i can back this up with COLD HARD FACTS!!!

first to begin, sociopathy is a mental personality disorder that can be caused by genetics AND by societal / environmental factors. so it is 100% possible that bill was either born with sociopathy and the events brought them on strongly OR he wasn't born with sociopathy and his trauma brought it on. in my opinion, i believe the first option is more possible since we have 0 info on bill's parents other than his mom being abusive ( WHICH DOES NOT MEAN THAT SOCIOPATHS ARE MORE INCLINED TO ABUSE ). so that's up to you guys!

sociopathy is characterized by someone who frequently does impulsive and erratic behaviors. this person has the ability to have strong connections with others but not many. they can be kind of mean but have the ability to be empathetic in some circumstances. they may be hotheaded and tend to rationalize their actions despite them obviously being wrong. this describes bill perfectly, sadly enough.

now, im gonna list off some of the points where bill's sociopathy comes out. if you disagree with any or think i missed one, please let me know! the first time we see bill show off sociopathic behavior is him threatening his little brother, tommy, for his dad's money so he can buy the dreaded boba fett figure. from this we also learn that, in this divorce, it's very probable that bill's parents live in two seperate houses. if his mom were home during this scene, like she is in the first club meeting scene, she probably would've told bill to be quiet. we also know this because after the comic shop fire, she tells him that her sister invited them to live with her ( hopefully that paused the abuse for some time or maybe not, ill get to that later ). the idea that bill could threaten his little brother as a angry angsty teenager isn't that hard to believe but knowing what we know now, this is a little worse. another scene later on shows this getting worse. during the intervention scene, we can see how he's willing to excuse away most of the "nerd behavior" he does, despite him being able to easily just say "okay, i'll give it up". but because he tends to make himself seem better to others by excusing it away, he is willing to put it to 100%, even puking on the guys. and from there, i don't think i have to explain the sociopathic tendencies behind the comic book fire scene and the comic con epilogue.

now what does this have to do with bill's mom? like i said earlier, evan dorkin has come out and said that along with pete, bill also experiences abuse from one of his parents. in this case, it's bill's mom. we don't see much of her but we know that she's usually angry and bill doesn't like her. he never says anything to her face though, which is fair in the case of abuse. sociopathy can be brought out in someone due to trauma and abuse is a traumatic thing to experience.

perhaps, bill's familial abuse makes him believe subconsciously that hurting others is okay. this is NOT true for all abuse victims ( i would know ) but in some cases ( especially in pop culture ), this is true. my opinion on the situation between the divorce and the abuse is this:

bill's mother was abusive towards bill and maybe bill's dad and brother

the parents got divorced and bill was sent to live with his mom while tommy was sent to live with his dad, splitting custody

due to bill being the older one, he is able to move between the homes but maybe bill's dad doesn't allow tommy to live in bill's mom's house

due to us not seeing any "clear signs" of abuse, there is a chance that bill's mom stopped physically abusing him for the time being due to court order

bill might possibly hate his mom because of their close proximity or fhe fact that she "scared" his dad away, ruining their family

the main reason for why i believe abuse is involved is the fact that he was pretty normal when the club first started ( which i assume was freshman year because of how small they look ). and yes, divorce can cause kids to act out but to such an extent implies that something possibly really bad happened.

thank you for reading and please let me know what you think ! be kind and have a great day (*´∀｀*)

[freakingweirdo]

oh rika I reread (and caught up with) total trauma today here's what I still remember

pros-

there's like, one panel of gwen and heather that's drawn really nicely. I also like aleheather qpr but I think I'm just biased because I like aleheather and I'm aromantic . whatever . as the series progressed I grew fond of duncney, like this version of them actually was not boring and I liked it

cons-

jesus christ where to start. I'll focus on what bothered me most. the excessive, grating use of therapy-speak was like nails on a chalkboard. it made sense for characters like, say, heather to go on long monologues of pop psychology buzzwords because she's a psych student and that's what psych students sound like. that part where vito was talking to zoey, that made sense too, because he's probably been in therapy. everyone else was like. Normal People Don't Talk Like This. so many times characters just went on weird tangents where they basically stated all of their struggles, motivations, and traumas right there. Normal People Don't Talk Like That. I guess they don't call itt total traumda fojnithgin!!!

another thing I didn't really understand was the age gap between cecily (was that her name) and courtney. for some reason going in I assumed that the main cast was like, mid to late twenties, so heather and gwen's reactions made sense! and then they were like "but you're TWENTY THREE (pr whatever it was)" and I was like uh? what. I'm only twenty I know this. but a 4-5 year age gap with someone you met at university as an adult isn't like. grooming. I understand the point was that courtney dates people she can control and that was the problem, I guess it just would have been more profound if cecily was like, just over 18 or something really egregious, maybe I'm just too young to get it yet. whatever this tangent was pointless sorry. besides the fact that tt was selling merch of courtney x cecily before denouncing them as a super toxic couple LOL

I also lol'd a bit at the redone panels

what was the purpose of putting cody in an ahegao hoodie during his character climax. the point of it being that sierra was infantilizing him and how toxic and unhealthy their relationship had been because of that . and he's wearing an ahegao hoodie. middle school boy core. was it supposed to be meaningful? funny? I don't know

the npd representation. um. okay. who let that get published . I hope that's going somewhere

there's more I'm forgetting. okay love and light and peace

-@direscrowley

totaltrauma is something of a guilty pleasure for me in that i dont like, interact w/ the comics to support them but i do keep up with it and i have read the whole thing. like, you can say a lot of bad things about it. but i havent ever heard it called boring.!

you can tell theres a ton of effort put into the art as well.. replicating the td style is hard to do! i think cecily’s character design is rly good. most ppl fail to make convincing characters in the td style that arent clearly using a base, since every design has a unique build.

but the cons. yeahgh. the npd thing is craaazy even if amy’s going for a redemption arc is it good representation to have one single character with npd. and the first thing she does when diagnosed is celebrate that she has an excuse for abusing her sister now.

and you look in the replies and responses to the comic are multiple people going omg my ex was a narcissist just like her ughh so self absorbed and abusive etc like. i cant possibly see how pri thought the npd amy plot was a good idea..!

the courtney/cecily thing was so funny to me too like fuuuck a 19 year old and 24 year old dating thats crazy someone call the cops.. i love total trauma sometimes it’s camp remember when courtney said i was gay first!

ALSO CODY WASNT WEARING AN AHEGAO HOODIE it was just random anime girls not in the throes of orgasm that looks extremely similar to an ahegao hoodie lol. still a bad design choice imo but yeah..

i think the series is also bad at tone shifts like when duncan is at the hospital and his status is unknown and heather and leshawna start arguing about homestuck discourse. it’s so out of place it becomes funny bc it’s like damn duncan might be dead guys..?

yeah. total trauma is a comic

remember chris being revealed as a pedo and the next comic was him discoursing steven universe in a bubble bath. thats the epitome of total trauma to me. and it got retconned which makes it even more total trauma

[roguesnezblog]

Trigger warning - Vent stuff (Suicide, bullying etc.) I am not feeling great. And I'm going to censor everything below if you don't want to read. But this post I wanted to make, one, for my own benefit. mentally, but I also feel like people who are in the same position as me could use an understanding ear. So...

Feeling real horrible. Like I shouldn't exist. To put it bluntly. Making the rounds of depression again. I want to type this out here and will most likely delete this later because being vunerable on the internet is not exactly, sometimes, met with anything good.

I won't go into detail on as to why either, since opening up about things you've done is usually weaponized online too. But lets say this: I have been made to feel, in some online spaces, that, My existance and presense should be eradicated.

I have been treated this way by these people for years. Over 5 years now. I had been bullied, and called horrible things, been witch hunted all the works that online crap can bring. And most people are in agreement, I should get over it by now. Who scares if a few people don't like you, don't want you around them? They have a right to believe that, and it's not like I didn't deserve it.

And I suppose in truth a part of me agrees. I dont expect approval, nor do I expect to be liked, a part of me rationally knows this. Not everyone online is going to be on a sympathetic understanding side of things.

But another part of me creeps back. You see, during this time, when people turned on me violently, for mistakes I've made and regret, I got low. Real low. Suicide low. I figured I was diplorable. Unforgivable. Disgusting. I felt like I should be punished. I did. Yanno. Self harm. A lot.

I figured the world would be better. Easier, if I wasn't in it. They made me believe this.

But I was always in conflict with reality. You see online isn't really half of my life. I have good parents, not perfect, but good. And a family who cares about me, and deep down, I knew if I was gone, if anyone, they would suffer for it.

So ...Suicide wasn't really an option. Not properly.

I had no choice but to endure lots of inflammatory comments, being excluded, distanced, the community (not this one) I wanted to feel a part of, and enjoy a love of drawing was...cruel.

I could rant more about what they did. How much they alienated and hurted me, broke down my character and warped me into this...percieved monster. But theres no point. And yanno I don't want to get into details like I said.

But a part of me still thinks that Im not a victim here. That I deserve it.

It's the rest that feels inconsolable. I don't want to die. I don't want to feel like thats the only option for me. To be erased. And think how much easier it would be for everyone else that I didn't exist.

But I want to be a kind person. I don't want to make people uncomfortable with my presense, or existance.

I shouldn't spare mercy to people who don't care. I know...But it's hard not to think when for your entire life you've been messed up.

Im pretty sure being some kinda autistic or at least neurodivergant doesn't help...(I haven't got diagnosed yet. Being a part of british NHS sucks. It would take me 5 years to get someone to see me. So they told me, and I'm considering private, but that costs 2,000 pounds and...Im scared honestly)

Anyway.

This feeling is often met with apathy, or "just don't think about it" by friends and family, who know somewhat about all this.

But it's hard.

It's heavy.

I just wish forgiveness could be an option. The mistakes I made, I learned from, and have never done again. But it's not enough.

It feels like this unending maw, gaping and cavernous. Swallowing me whole until it leaves nothing but that mistake left. They make it me. It's all I am. My identity. I am a literal monster to them. Something to fear like a boogeyman.

Not a dumb young adult who had no idea what they were doing.

I am nearly 30 now. I regret being stupid. Not knowing things, being ignorant and not just....being more calm at the time, but when people jump on you, you panic.

I have dug this hole. I know that... but it feels like I was forced to.

And the prolonged suffering, it's just....

I was happy for a time. You know? The fear and guilt lifted about a year ago for a while. When I found people who appriecate me, who care and want me around in that community, My confidence for a while was up. And I felt like I COULD exist. Live again, and be in spaces without feeling like I was a leech. I was happy and even talked to people in calls. I didn't have nightmares and I didn't feel like I needed to quit my freelance work.

There was...a couple of incidents, where I let my confidence blind me, approached people who haven't forgiven me, and told me to fuck off.

Which I did, to be fair...like I say: I don't have to be friends with everyone.

But...recently, the community pool has gotten thin. Drama happened (not to do with me, thank fuck, I couldn't deal with that stress I feel terrible for the people who have to endure it.) and spaces that were safe have been deleted. And the people who scorn me are now making a new space for them to pool into.

I've been excluded from that space.

That doesn't bother me, I have friends who will remain by my side. And this kinda happens everyone 6 months or so that people move spaces. But-

It's gut wrenching, to feel safe and forgiven. And then to be reminded that no, infact; You can't escape.

My friends will stay in spaces I feel safe in. And I know really- I'm not gonna loose much. But to be reminded that your existance would rather be purged? It's...not a fun feeling. Not to feel especially due to the struggles I've been facing and facing hard these past few months.

I suppose by writing all this, and saying all this, I just can't help but wonder in this mind space...Is it me? My fault? My brain is the one doing this...I am jumping from: Oh people I don't even like don't want me around? Better go die.

I made the mistake in the end....And this is my punishment. My torment for making a mistake.

It's ridiculous really...I shouldn't be feeling this way. But yet I am....I feel hopeless, empty. Sullen. Like theres no point, like all I feel and have been doing to grow, and move on....it doesn't matter. Because nothing changes.

I'm not sure exactly why Im writing this, or why Im even sharing these feelings, perhaps I just want people to talk to. Much as I love my friends, they get uncomfy talking like this... They can be dismissive and they don't really want to find a solution or confront it. I am just told to "forget it" and such. As I said before. But it doesn't help you know?

Putting this out there, it may make it worse...Which honestly; I fear. People online can look at something like this and use it to try make you worse, or kill yourself. Like....some people really just...get a kick out of making you feel like crap.

Im sure this is a sentiment that a lot of people, a lot of you, understand. It's cruel. Bullying and....I wish it would go away, not just for me, but for all of us....But I also hope a part of this can....maybe help someone?

That...something like this, isn't unusual....(unfortunately) and that some of you out there have been through the same thing...or are currently going through the same thing. And if thats the case...As someone who is feeling it at the current moment I want to say this to you:

You matter. You deserve to exist. You CAN live. And ...so long as you learn from your mistakes...That doesn't make you an evil, or even just a bad, person. You're a good person. You're a good person if you want to be better.

And....for you. I will keep this in mind for myself too. I fucked up. Maybe you did too...But we can be fuck ups together.

--------------------------------------------------------

I am not ok, but I think I will be. Admittedly, I could just not post this, but I think theres some value somewhere in this rant. I think it should be heard by some.

[castlebyersafterdark]

bylerinbed, you rock! also hey! we've never interacted and also I'm just an anon but I see you in the castle a lot.

But I am harddd seconding your point about nonverbal cues and spectrum stuff. As someone who's always felt kinship with autistic people, and while undiagnosed I do feel that maybe I might be (not self diagnosing, but adult diagnosis is a whole thing, anyway!)--I have usually relied on physical cues and related vibes to understand people and glean how they really feel about me. Not gonna dump too hard, but this way of going through the world has its good and bad, because you can sometimes tell how someone really feels about you when they're saying one thing but they're body tells another story.

And that story may be a good one in regard to Foah, and most of all byler (subtexttt woooo!). We get a lot of what the actors/characters say and what's said about them, but then we see how they act around each other, the Show of it all vs the Tell, and--I dunno, seems pretty gay to me

-🐍

Doesn’t bear repeating when I also agree with so very much here, all well put and explained. I feel so similar 🫶😊 Discussions! Solidarity! Communication! Neat 🌻🌻

[languageshead]

Special interests are not always good

My goal on this website is not to say that autism is all bad or the worst thing in the world. My goal is to: 

1. Share my experiences and listen to people with higher support needs because we are mostly left out and unheard;

2. Spread awareness. A lot of autism traits are human traits, but in order to be diagnosed with autism your traits must cause you impairment. If they don’t, it’s not autism. 

Now, I have already made a post about one of my special interests (Katy Perry) and how it affects me:

https://www.tumblr.com/languageshead/713712598521118720/about-my-last-post-and-the-severity-of-my-autism?source=share

But I want to get a little bit more into that subject. 

A special interest for me is the only way I can connect with the world. I feel like I live on another planet and the only thing that connects me with the rest of the world are special interests. 

But a special interest isn’t always good. I can only and will only speak about my special interest in conversations. I cannot have a conversation with someone who does not understand Linguistics or Katy Perry. I simply don’t know what to say, don’t know how to contribute to the conversation and will not be interested enough to pay attention to it. Often times I am not interested in learning about any other things that is not related to Linguistics and Katy Perry and some other subjects I enjoy. 

Often times, I am unable to have relationships with people that don’t want to hear about my special interest or with people who know nothing about it. Because 90% of my conversations are about my SIs, if you cannot teach me anything about it, I will often lose interest in having any kind of relationship with you. I am genuinely not interested in you if you cannot give me any more information about my SI. That is one of the reasons why I can have better relationships with adults/professors/teachers than with people my age. I like it when people tell me more about my SI. 

When I engage in talking about my SI, I get so excited that I will spend my whole energy talking about it. It comes to a point where I am so excited that my heart is racing and my palms are sweating and I can barely breathe because I am so excited. It drives me to absolute exhaustion and if someone doesn’t stop me, it’s likely that I go into shutdown because of it. This also happens when I am researching or watching videos, I get so excited that I need to stop whatever I am doing to regulate myself from all the emotions I am feelings. Autistics can get overwhelmed by good and bad emotions, which means that even happy feelings can drive me into a meltdown because I feel things so strongly that I can’t control or properly regulate my emotions. 

As some of you might know, I am in Uni in a special program for people with disabilities and sometimes I really need to focus about something I am learning but I can’t. This has gotten me taken out of class because I get so excited I start stimming, breathing hard so I bother other students. A lot of times I need to stop studying for my classes because I get so excited that I simply cannot stay still and continue learning. This really affects my performance as I need to regulate my emotions before going back to my projects and assignments. 

Besides that, specially when special interests occur in people or fictional characters this can cause a lot of suffering to the person. When I was on my early teens, I was obsessed with Lexa from the tv show The 100 and as most of you know she dies. When she died, I had a full blown meltdown in the middle of the night because the show in my country streamed at around 1AM. I mourned the death of a character as if she were a member of my family and I’ve had members of my family die that I definitely did not mourn anywhere near as I mourned for that character. 

As I have already mentioned before, Katy Perry has been my strongest and longest special interest along with Linguistics. And if you read my other post you might understand this better, but I absolutely cannot comprehend Katy Perry is a famous person that simply can’t text me back. My therapist believes this inability has to do with both my autism and language impairment. I am 21 years old now, I understand this better, but not really. When I was on my teens my mom would have to explain to me multiple times a week that Katy wasn’t ignoring me or our letters. She was just famous. This causes suffering to me. This is hard. It’s like trying to make your brain understand a foreign language.

I know there are many other bad experiences about special interest, specially because some people might engage in stalking, difficulties with boundaries and unhealthy behaviors. But I can’t talk about this because this is not my experience. 

I also know there are many good sides to special interests. The joy we feel is really important to me. Small things can make me really happy, like being able to make a small correct sentence in Hebrew. But I am tired of hearing about this because this is always talked about. There is another side to having a SI that people don’t talk about. This is the side I want to show. 

EDIT: forgot to add that not every interest is a special interest. Special interest is usually something that lasts for a long time that helps you cope and understand the world. Autistics can have interests that are not special interests.

[pearlriverbaby]

Reflecting on my journals from adolescence as a late-diagnosed adhd/undiagnosed autistic adult

I just read through 6 of my journals/sketchbooks ranging from the end of 8th grade to my first year in college. Here are a couple things I found from the lens of late diagnosed adhd/undiagnosed autism:

Many parts were extremely painful and very heavy to read (I knew this would be the case so I’ve avoided reading them for weeks). To read those words a child should never know and to feel the pressure marks of my pen in the paper… I forgot how much I truly suffered every second of every day when I was so little and just trying so hard to exist and be left alone in a traumatic environment. In this specific journal, the one with the most turmoil, there were many pages ripped out which I wish I hadn’t but I believe I did that at some point to keep myself safe because maybe they were too much to bear. That’s okay.

There were also parts that were so witty and random/cryptic where I wanted more context but it also made perfect sense to me without because I wrote it!! I laughed and cried so much. I remembered things I’d completely forgotten and was really shocked at some things.

There were many drawings depicting me being isolated from everyone else. In one I was in fetal position, trapped in a bubble while everyone in the background provokes me and name-calls me from the outside. There’s also another me standing right outside the bubble, empathetic, trying desperately to connect with that suppressed version of me. I did 2 drawings using circles. One with a big circle filling the page with a tiny black dot outside of that circle with an arrow pointing to it saying “this is me.” The second one was similar but the black dot was at the center of the circle, labeled “black hole.” There was also a drawing of a blank-faced person standing behind a crying angel captioned “stop being someone else for the sake of others.”

I also saw my handwriting change very drastically from entry to entry and over time, sometimes writing in a cursive-print combination (how I write now) only print, only cursive and then different styles within those. Sometimes the writing reflecting how tired or distressed I was feeling so it was nearly illegible.

I was so surprised to see some of the same exact words and language I use to explain my reality now in these journals. It was actually a little scary to see how consistent I’ve been in my efforts to explain myself and my suffering to others because I’ve always had the language despite what others would say. It’s just that no one was willing to listen. Throughout my entries I used the words burnout, trapped, overwhelm, exhaustion, I spoke of wanting to be understood and believed, I pondered so much about who I really am/who I’m meant to be, that I am surviving rather than living, and that I’m wasting my life. The parallels are beyond obvious.

The most visceral thing, though, was turning to a page in pink ink. This was the only entry in colored ink in all the journals and it was pink. A color I didn’t care for much back then, but is my favorite color now and the way I see my aura. I also have pink hair. I turn to the page, and I see pink words that say “Sometimes I feel like an imposter mimicking the activities and routines meant for normal people. I do not think I’m supposed to do the things I’m expected to do…. I don’t feel in control and I desperately need to be. I guess I’m just not meant for this earth; I belong to another star…another dimension.” Right there on the page. I am late diagnosed adhd (~8 months ago), and after unmasking it, I discovered my undiagnosed autism. There is no clearer picture to me.

I have raw data. Patterns, context, history! I gave myself the gift of history. The greatest gift I’ve ever received. This is so helpful to me in my journey towards unmasking and understanding who I really am. And should I consider assessment & diagnosis in the future, I now have this resource.

The picture of me is becoming clearer. I am so grateful to have written and kept these for myself. Shoutout to my mom for housing them in my childhood bedroom all these years.

If you’ve considered reading old writings from your younger self, make sure you’re in a safe environment and headspace to take in the information. I wish I had written a little more but I’m grateful for what I have. All I can do now is keep writing and keep record of my words. I plan on scanning everything in digitally and adding it to my personal archive.

Thank you for reading.

[unwelcome-ozian]

Hi, hope you’re doing well. This is hard to talk about for me, so apologies if this doesn’t make a lot of sense.

I have diagnosed DID, specifically polyfragmented, with a very large inner world that we have very little access to from the surface, and when we have, it’s been clear that there are a lot more layers to our DID and trauma than we’re aware of now, or that parts of our brain will let us be aware of, despite being aware of around 90 different alters now. From what we do remember about our childhood trauma it doesn’t make sense for our DID to be this complex. But even before we were aware of the DID we’ve felt like there was something outright sinister that happened to us when we were a baby/toddler, every time the thought resurfaces we try to dismiss it as paranoia but it always comes back. I know we’ve spent hours reading about RAMCOA and TBMC, but the actual information we read always gets blocked out almost entirely. Reading about it makes me feel like I’m going to have a panic attack and I don’t understand why- reading about it just now I started shaking uncontrollably and having heart palpitations, then tearing up- obviously it’s an upsetting topic and should be to most people, but it feels triggering in a way that is personal, and I don’t know why. I vaguely remember that almost every time we’ve read about it, after initially panicking, we intensely age regress and/or it brings out a shell alter, both of which usually only happen after we are either extremely badly triggered or have just experienced something actively traumatic. I forgot about this for years, but typing this just now made me remember that the breaking point of my mental health that caused me to spiral so bad I dropped out of high school wasn’t getting diagnosed with DID in itself, although that was a factor- i think the biggest factor that made me spiral so bad that it brought out highly unstable alters and alters so heavily age regressed that we were unable to function for months and started failing school, was reading about RAMCOA and TBMC for the first time. I don’t know why I keep coming back to reading about it, panicking and then forgetting later. I feel like I’m being irrational for being afraid that something like this happened to me, because it’s not like there���s any evidence. I don’t remember spending a lot of time away from my parents as a very young kid outside of preschool and church, but my memories of both of those things are very hazy, and I feel like there’s probably a lot I don’t remember. When I try to think about any of this now, in the background of my mind I hear sobbing, screaming, thoughts of SH. And the feeling that someone else (idk who) will hurt me. If I try to access memories of my early childhood that feel like they could be related to this, I get someone in my brain saying “stop” repeatedly and then I can’t even remember what I was thinking about (or trying to) at all, just that it was there. It makes me feel like I’m crazy because I want to believe that it’s highly unlikely that anything like this could have happened to me, I don’t have enough reason to believe that it did. But if nothing like that happened to me, why the hell am I so badly triggered by reading about it? I’ve experienced a lot of SA as an older kid, teen, adult that I do at least somewhat remember, but not even hearing someone graphically recount an experience of SA with details similar to my own experiences has this much of an immensely triggering and destabilizing effect on me. Iirc whenever this comes back up I try to convince myself it’s just psychosis, I’m just delusional and I want my trauma to be worse than it is. But that doesn’t make sense- if I just wanted my trauma to be worse than it actually was, I probably wouldn’t be so desperate to come up with another explanation for why I’m so triggered by these topics? I think in saying all this I’m really hoping that you might have other potential explanations, but I’m open to whatever your thoughts are.

Sorry that this kind of just turned into a long rant, I don’t remember where I was originally going with this or what the point of all this was. I’m not really sure what I’m asking for, I guess I just haven’t felt like I’ve been able to talk about this to anyone who would actually take my concerns remotely seriously.

Only you can sort out what occurred. 

Being triggered is a symptom of trauma. Responses to trauma are very individualised. Reading things about trauma/abuse can lead to the responses you described. 

Here's a link to a document that may help when you're triggered.

Managing Your Triggers Tool Kit

Take Care,

Oz

[lifeafterpsychiatry]

im sorry if this won't make sense, but eng is not my 1st lang and i really need to vent to someone

well, i have a brother that's 2 years older than me, but im a minor and he is already a young adult, i guess. not an adult, but not a teenager either.

anyways, our relationship was never bad, but it was never good either. like, we used to have good terms, yk? but since our dad passed away, we got more distant from each other and i totally get it, i really do, we never share too much about our lives in the past, and we share even less now. nevertheless, it still hurts for some reason.

he is always angry, he has angry rooted in his body since he started to know the world by himself and i truly believe that the main reason is me. i believe that he hates me since i was born, everyone talks about how he got jealous when he was little bc the attention was all over me and i really understand him, really, i understand that.

when we grew up, he was diagnosed with ADHD and dyslexia, and people got worried about him. i didn't have the age to realize what that meant, but i knew that he had a condition that was not very gentle with the way he sees the world bc people would not understand him, so i started to take care of myself alone, being more independent, while he had attention for him. i was okay with that, alone, but okay, i have always been a introvert and shy person, it doesn't bother me so much... not at that time, at least.

he failed two years of school, while i didn't, and a "bad" part of my family used to joke around with that bc he is not the only one in my family that failed.

with that, the expectations for me started to begin, even if i had a very young age. they just don't care at all, just threw his frustrations on me and that's it, i need to be what they want me to be.

since then, i've been a submissive person. i do what they tell me to do and shut up every time i need to speak.

since the expectations for me are higher than it's for him, he just started hating me openly. idk, it's a teenager thing? since our dad passed away he just became another person, he likes attention and always makes me cry over the simple things bc he victimizes himself so much that people believe in him, he is a compulsive liar and a manipulative person. i hate being with him outside our house, he always screams at me, even on school. i just get so ashamed, i really don't understand why he do all that.

it gets to the point where i just can't focus on anything. my grades got worse and I don't know how to take care of this, not anymore.

i really tried, for a long time, but now nothing works anymore. we live together, just us two (it's a long history btw), and i do everything alone. i clean alone, i do the dishes, i do everything, just everything and it's tiring, very tiring, very hard, i just wanna cry all day and don't get out of my room, but if i do this, the house will be a mess and i really get anxious with mess, but the fact that he doesn't help with simple things kills me slowly

i really can't take it anymore, he is the main reason for all the problems that i have, and it's not even a joke. he makes me hate myself saying horrible things about my body, about how i look, about how i talk, about myself in general and i feel so disgusted being me that i don't like to get out of the house, even the school is a place that i don't like bc he's there and he always lie on school, about me, about our family, about our life, about everything

i'm really exhausted, idk what to do anymore. i just can't do the things that i love without being ashamed bc he can and WILL talk about how strange (sometimes) or how someone is better than me at it

Your brothers personal issues aren't a personal attack on you BUT that doesn't mean they justify him mistreating you. He isn't abusive because he has ADHD and you don't, but neither does his diagnoses justify abuse of any kind. And you can't and shouldn't continue to sacrifice your own needs and boundaries to "be there" for a person who doesn't treat you right

[squarejaww]

Chronic Pain Is Such A Trip

A little background - I was diagnosed with scoliosis in the 5th grade, but was not treated for it until I was a sophomore in high school. This saw me going to the nearest Shriner's hospital, where I was fitted for a wretched plaster-cast back brace that was fitted from under the armpits to over my hips at sweet 16. It was horrible. And, from pressing insistently on my right hip, so fully killed the nerves there that I can't feel it to this day.

I moved through my teen years and into my adult life trying to manage this condition as best as I could on my own. According to the Shriner's doctor when I was a teen, any attempt at corrective surgery would be considered not medically necessary and purely cosmetic. So I should be able to live a fully happy life, yeah? No issues.

Except that the curvature progressed into the severe category, until I eventually got updated xrays in my late 20s that revealed the full extent of my situation, which was an S curve with a twist, a result of degenerative disc disease, spina bifida, and scoliosis. As someone who had been managing on my own with a strict pain medication management plan with my doctor, it was recommended that I pursue surgery. It took years, but eventually, I was able to have the surgery and Harrington Rods were installed in my back.

The surgery was traumatic. The healing process was traumatic. But, eventually, I recovered. That was four years ago.

The pain has returned in a whole new way. I've been going to the gym, eating better, managing with ibuprofen, and trying to do everything that my physical therapist has instructed me to do over the years. But some days, it's so bad that I physically cannot get myself out of bed. I tried urgent care and went to see a doctor, who referred me to a pain clinic. Guess what they did?

They photocopied some book covers, told me I was basically imagining the pain, and said I should get on antidepressants before shoving me, sobbing hysterically, out of the door. It was traumatizing and I refused to go to another doctor again.

That was two years ago. When it was bad enough again that I had to go home from work a coupla weeks ago, I finally scheduled an appointment with a new doctor. With updated xrays. Guess what they informed me?

There's degenerative tearing in my neck.

Holy shit, I'm not crazy. I was over the moon. Even if there was nothing to be done about the pain, at least it was good to know that I wasn't imagining the whole ordeal. I had them forward the report to my physical therapist, so that he could go over the documents with me.

He reported to me that nothing was wrong. According to the report, I was perfectly fine. In fact, his degenerative tearing was probably worse than mine, according to him.

To say that hearing this was devastating is... an understatement. He looked at me like I was imagining the whole thing. And so now I'm more confused and angry than ever. I don't know what to do with this information, especially considering I'm in between doctor's appointments while we try and figure out what is wrong with me, which I hurt constantly, and how we can fix it. (Cherry on top was phys therapist pointing out all my shitty posture and the like as I walked away. It was really hard not to cry)

I'm so tired of being in pain all the time.

[tashrex]

I am disabled. I have chronic pain caused by a genetic mutation. I wasn’t diagnosed until I was pregnant and that only happened because the healthcare system (specifically the obstetrics variety) was playing hot potato with who had to have miss “probably a bad outcome” on their service.

Being shunted from specialty to specialty is nothing new to me. My whole life doctors would play a fun game of “not it” with my file. One doctor I was asking for help with arthritis between my vertebrae that made it painful every time I took a breath for 2 years told me it would hurt less if I journaled and patted me on the head.

But I digress. I give all this background to say I have been vomiting for months and my body has finally given up and elected to nap my way out of this bile filled river I have been rafting down. So my darling husband has been picking up more and more slack as I burp like a lightweight sailor trying to drink their way through stormy seas. The way this tired man keeps stepping up for our child makes me very attracted to him.

This is a problem as 2 days ago I threw up from sneezing too hard. I seduced my husband with the promise of the least exciting ride of his life after which I forbade him from touching me with his too warm hands. It was too late and my sweet furnace of a man had to listen to me fumble for my trusty bucket in the dark. Between heaves I muttered “worth it” to myself and he giggled. He offered to take care of me but I sent his exothermic behind as far from me as possible so I could revert to an unmoving lump in a cold dark cave until this too passes. He sweetly whispers that he loves me as he leaves so of course I reply in kind, gagging after the L of love. He made a sort of wheeze on the other side of the door.

I’m really happy I have the husband I have. Before we got married I was undiagnosed and as we left another doctor who refused to help me I sobbed and told him he didn’t have to marry me. I told him I couldn’t promise I would get better. And today I just made him laugh so hard he made a new sound. I don’t suppose there is a point to this story other than I’m happier than I ever could have hoped but I would also like to stop vomiting.

Chronic illness is such an isolating and exhausting experience so when I have little rays of magic in my days I feel like I need to catch it in a jar to light my darker nights. Perhaps shouting into this void will help me jar today.

I just need to stop avoiding journaling out of spite for that head patting doctor. May the seams of her socks never line up where she wants so they are always a teeny bit uncomfortable. And if she complains I hope someone pats her head like she isn’t a grown ass adult with a legitimate complaint.

[imhellaboss]

God, just saw a tiktok of people applauding Brandon Rogers for not saying the R slur in that one scene but stretching it out to ‘Really.’ Like oh thank god he didn’t say a slur!

Some of my ‘favorite’ comments are:

“character development.”

“That line is hilarious”

“another way around it just start speaking French and call someone slow can't do much when its another language”

“THAT WAS HILARIOUS I LAUGHED SO HARD”

“ngl was disapointed they censored slurs like it's the whole point of the show”

“This is the best line in the whole show cuz it used to be socially acceptable now it’s not 😭😭”

“context: it used to be a diagnoses before people stared taking offence”

“Feels weird to make a joke about considering Blitz is in hell.” (Cont. “Ok and? I’m just saying it feels out of character for blitz to care what he can and can’t say to people he’s insulting. But it doesn’t matter ig”)

“It’s cause he keeps getting cancelled ong. I love Blitzø so much”

“I get it bc of YouTube but it's hell I don't think anyone would care if he said it 💀”

“chronically online” (To someone saying “ I was really about to comment a paragraph and unsub but he didn’t say it😌👍”)

“okay snowflake i'm sure they would listen to one sad little sensitive person. i like the r slur jokes” (Reply to the same person from above)

“Brother they live in hell” (My personal favorite)

“People on the internet when an adult show has offensive content: 🤯”

“Snowflake”

“the r word gets you canceled :3”

“I don't get why he had to do that. I don't the word is that bad unless is has some bigger, worse meaning like the N word”

“He was going to say (r slur) right?”

“bruh it's just a word”

“As a autistic person I'm sad he doesn't say it no more. Since ya know. Demon and all lol 😂”

If Character Development equals not saying the R slur to you then you need to look in and find out what’s wrong with you.

[fionacle]

someone please help me shorten my college essay oh my god

it needs to be 650 words, max, but it’s 897 right now, and that’s after editing.

i don’t want to take anything out, but I have to.

a teacher told me to take out every “I’m not normal” but i will absolutely fucking not

Pasting it below the cut, CW for ableism (my topic is how people will refer to people with autism and stuff as “special”)

Also if I wrote anything offensive lmk because the only people I’ve shown it to are neurotypical adults

At some point, almost every child is told that they are special. It’s a great feeling. Human nature is to strive for the top, and children especially enjoy having their inflated self-importance validated. But I quickly learned the downside to that word.

I couldn’t tell you the first time it happened, most things before high school are a blur, but I’ve often heard others called special. The meaning of this is nothing like the way special is supposed to mean. Special things are supposed to be important and unique, they matter a lot for one reason or another, it’s a very high compliment if you say it genuinely. But here it’s condescending. Like this is the core of the person being spoken about, and that core is a taboo. Like it’s pity for an illness, or warning of danger. They say the word as though they’re describing a creature, some animal of lesser mind. I still hear this often.

To speak with one of ‘them’ is seen as a great act rather than basic human decency toward a human.

“I’m proud of you for being friends with him.” “Why?” “Oh, you know, he’s special.”

I love being praised. More than anything else in the world. I need to know I matter. I need to feel skilled and important, the good kind of special. But when I’m praised for something like this I feel dirty. I can’t help but try to be the white knight when a friend is upset, I love being a hero even when it’s unneeded or undeserved, but not here. If I accept this praise it means I agree that I had to do something significant and difficult. It means that my friend is just a challenge that I beat. So, not only would I be lying, I’d also be insulting my friend, even if he wouldn’t be in earshot.

I want nothing more in life than to be special. The good kind.

I want to finish writing a good book and become famous for it. I want adoring fans, and to make a difference in their lives. I want to be talked about by people as someone cool and worthy of awe and respect, maybe even envy. I want to know that my friends consider me significant and wonderful. I want everyone I meet to be so earnest about their care for me that it forces out any thought that tells me I’m not worth their time. I want to carry around the good special for everyone.

But honestly, the word isn’t really that important to me. I don’t hold any affection for it. I’m upset that it dehumanizes others, but mostly I’m upset that it dehumanizes me.

I’m not clinically diagnosed with autism. I’m clinically diagnosed with ADHD, and that’s it. But I am sure I do not exclusively have ADHD.

When I go into testing rooms, I’ve been to quite a few since childhood, they present games to test my brain functions. This is an awful way for me to show my symptoms. I do the best I can on the tests because they’re fun and I want to show off. I tend not to have “off” days when I visit them, especially because I’m rarely around triggers. They don’t see me cry because the lunch man took my apple juice cap. They don’t see me flail around because I hear someone chewing gum. They don’t hear my autistic friends explain to me how my experiences match theirs to an alarming degree. I’m horribly emotional and sensitive and find it incredibly hard to not hate every kid outside my friend group. I need them to see my tears in action. I need them to see. I need to take my memories out of my brain and show them. They need to know everything I’ve done and they need to put a word to it and let me tell people.

Then, maybe, they won’t tell me to stop. To stop being too weird. To stop being too emotional. To stop being afraid of things no one else cares about. To stop “misidentifying” emotions. To stop all of it. To just be normal. Because no matter how much they want it to be true it’s not. It’s not. It never will be. I cannot be. I’m not normal.

There’s something both cathartic and terrifying in saying that.

I’m not normal.

“Stop doing that or they’ll think you’re special.”

I am. I am special. You’ve known me your whole life. People I’ve known for a year can see it. Why can’t you? Why can’t you see that a fundamental part of me is that my brain is not normal. Why can’t you stop making that face when I bring this stuff up. Don’t tell me I’m copying my friends. Don’t tell me my friends are weak. They are not weak. I am not weak when I act like them. When I am true to myself I am strong. Don’t tell me that strength isn’t the real me. You need to re-learn who I am before you get to tell me who that is.

I am not some normal girl, what makes me different is a bigger part of me than my loved ones would like to admit. I think they ought to know me as “bad” special, as much as I hate the word.

[serenova]

Hi I read your rant about ADHD being a disability and I’m like, I need to follow this person! I’m 36 and just got diagnosed about 18ish months ago. I just lost my job partly due to my ADHD and it’s slapping me in the face that I’m different. I’ve always known that but this recent job loss dropped the bricks on me all over again. It’s hard to accept that I have limits and that’s not a bad thing because society wants someone who can do everything.

Hey there!

Glad you appreciated the rant 😅

I am "lucky" in that I was diagnosed while still in elementary school. But it still took me many many years to come to terms with it, and even now I have bad days, where I blame myself and think I'm not good enough. my husband has been witness to a few of my "I'm not good enough" spirals (he's a fucking SAINT)

the best thing you can get is a support network. it doesn't even need to be IRL, it can definitely be virtual if that's what you can manage

there's also some good discord servers out there for neurodivergent people, and a lot of them offer body double hang out voice channels.

if you aren't familiar with body doubling that's definitely something that's helped me! it's where you just.... have someone else on the computer (it has to be a real person, fake doesn't trick the brain), and you just.... each do your own thing, but KNOWING there's another person there, even if you're not communicating, somehow really helps

You have the advantage of being an adult and there's a whole lot more resources out there than there was 25 years ago!

Something that's helped me at least figure out when I'm struggling is something called "metacognition" which is basically thinking about how you think.

it's paying attention to your own thoughts... not in a stopping thoughts way but in a "I had this thought, where did it come from" kind of way if that makes any sense

it's helped me recognize when I was having a bad day, or starting a spiral... it's not a cure all but it can definitely help identify behavior patterns

also.... I embraced the "good enough" mentality... which took me YEARS to do, but basically if you can half-ass something then that's better than not doing it at all. I think being a fiber crafter really drilled it home, because no sewing or knitting or weaving or crochet project is ever perfect and sometimes you just gotta keep going. (a functional zipper still works, even if it's a little wonky, or who cares if you missed a stitch in the lace, no one's gonna notice, just keep going - but it can apply to other things in life too)

All of this to say.... You're not lesser for having it, but it IS a disability. And there are plenty of resources available these days that can help if you know where to look. I can point you to specific resources or discord servers if you want!

Also..... fuck planners 🤣

PS: if you wanna chat you can DM me!

[selfindulgenttiger]

Childhood Clues

I was discussing with someone today the fact that, to be diagnosed with autism as an adult, you have to have shown signs in early childhood. Depending who you ask, that's before age 6, age 8, age 11, or age 18. With so many people (women most often) being diagnosed as adults, some people are questioning the frequency of diagnosis. (Untreated C-PTSD and PTSD symptoms can manifest very similarly to autism.) That started me reflecting on my own childhood behavior and what clues were missed or dismissed. I wanted to catalogue them (because I'm autistic and that's what we do with information). This is stuff from early childhood to pre-teen years. Category A: Deficits in social communication and social interaction

This area of the diagnostic criteria is the hardest for me to judge, because you don't really see your own deficits in this area. If you don't understand what the social rules are, you don't see how you are breaking them. What I can say is that I never made friends easily, and I wasn't particularly bothered by that until I was old enough to realize I was perceived as weird because of it. From second through fourth grade, I don't remember having a friend. I typically spent recess walking in a circle around my favorite tree, which I enjoyed. I was the outsider everywhere. I didn't make friends in Brownies, I didn't make friends in my performing arts classes, I was even "the weird kid" among the gifted kids. Another part of this is your nonverbal communication. There are literally dozens of photos of me with a flat affect from early childhood. Smiling never came naturally to my face. And I assume there was something off about my eye contact and general manners, because I remember my dad explicitly teaching me to make eye contact, smile, use people's names, and express warmth. (He had read it in a book, so obviously this was novel information to Dad, too, that he felt compelled to share.)

Category B: Repetitive behaviors and restricted interests.

This? Not so hard to spot. I knew I was different in this way. I just didn't understand that it meant something. The first point is basically stimming. Where to begin? Lifelong constant knuckle-cracking. Nail, cuticle, and lip biting till I'd bleed. Knee-bouncing. Echolalia in the form of this high-pitched screech sound I enjoyed making, and singing the same songs again and again and again and again. (I still sing them when I'm really stressed.) My interests were definitely what they mean by "restricted interests" which is basically what we'd call "obsessed" in the lay vernacular. Like I became obsessed with mice from around 7-12. I accumulated 41 mouse stuffed toys that I did not play with but arranged in a tableau. I wanted pet mice, even though they're very short-lived compared to other pets and I'd have total meltdowns when one died. I would talk my parents into getting me another and tell them I'd be able to handle it this time, but I never could. (I also collected Weebles, Barbies, Smurfs, and Cabbage Patch Kids, but no other stuffed animals. Most kids have a mixture of different stuffed animals, but I only wanted mice. I didn't actually really play with the other toys either. I just liked having collections and creating tableaux.) Star Trek was such a fixation from elementary school on. Every year they'd have a 3-day Labor Day weekend marathon on one of our local stations. I would try to stay up for all three days. One year, on day three, I yanked the phone out of the wall for having the temerity to keep ringing during a favorite episode. I had all 79 episode titles and descriptions memorized. I sneakily studied my uncle's copy of the technical manual for the Enterprise, even though he didn't want me touching it because it was collectible. One of the greatest disappointments of my young life was not convincing my parents to take me to the convention. I never played soccer or particularly liked soccer, but I went to all the Strikers games with my dad. He would buy me a program and I would memorize the roster of every team. Then when he'd say "great play by number 12" I would tell him all that person's stats. I didn't love the game, but boy, did I love the stats.

Another thing that falls under this category is sensory sensitivities. I had the stereotypical autistic girl hypersensitivity issues (which for the record are screaming when your hair gets brushed, rejecting blue jeans and socks because of the seams, and complaining about the sound of electricity in the walls or bugs walking). But I also have my own oddball ones, like rejecting shoes. I had to have the tips of three toes reattached before age 10 because I wouldn't even wear shoes when riding a bike or walking outdoors. My poor parents had to take me to the ER so many times. (I still cannot bring myself to keep my shoes on any more than is strictly necessary.)

I also rejected any clothing that was textured (so no corduroy in the 70s) or had heavy seams (no jeans even at the height of the Gloria Vanderbilt trend). I would steal my dad's work shirts because they were smooth. For several years, I went to school in scrubs I got at a yard sale. (Scrubs. In middle school. You can guess how that went.) And finally, of course, the overstimulation issue. I had a meltdown and ended up fighting with my mom or crying at every holiday gathering ever. I ran away from my own 10th birthday party and hid for half an hour because my grandmother was going to give me a kiss. My mother loathed taking me on vacation because I invariably got super excited and then overstimulated and then had a meltdown. By the time I was a teenager, she swore she'd never take me again.

When I look back, yeah, it was very clearly there but no one knew what it was. I just seemed like an unruly, melodramatic, weird kid. (And maybe not all the weird in my family.)