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monsterfucker-lisa-swallows · 6 months ago

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so on thursday it was decided that i am in fact getting married so i can be an american autistic lesbian in a gay marriage with an english autistic lesbian (thus allowing me to move over there and actually start my life). lots of ideas have been thrown out for the ceremony itself because i will allow no churches (we might get married on a community theatre stage because that is the church i have worshiped in and hell why don't we just do this in new orleans so i have an excuse to go there) but that's not the point of this story that is a separate tangent

my friends decided to celebrate with me by taking me to the tennesee ren faire. we had to wake up early because we don't live in tennessee and would have to drive several hours. we'd bought our tickets a week in advance. we waited several hours in line only to be waved through and told there was no parking and even people who got to the front of the line were posting they weren't getting in because it was "4000 people over capacity"

so i was pissed off and disappointed and overstimulated. autism brain was not having a good time with any of the proposed solutions. it was extreme task switching. not a good.

i was feeling like i was gonna scream at some point or act bitchy or be interpreted as sulking or get frustrated which makes me cry. i knew a meltdown was coming and i did not want my friends to be stuck in an hours long car ride with me during a meltdown. i've purposely never let them see me when i get that bad.

so i took a small portion of an edible. not even half of it. a very small portion. it was a new brand that i haven't tried before and i was anticipating just a low dose of cbd to bring back my equilibrium. within a short time i was sitting in that car, increasingly becoming less and less aware of my surroundings and could not tell if i'd been there for minutes or hours on what became an impromptu trip to nashville. when we got out of the car to go into a restaurant, the name of which i cannot recall, i had to convince my body to work. i could not focus on reading the menu so i just ordered the same hot chicken sandwich my roommate did. i was given a drink cup. i did not fill it. i knew if i got up i would fall down. i ate to try to soak up some of the chemicals. ate an entire hot chicken sandwich and fries without a drink. barely was able to throw it the container away later.

we got in the car. an infinity later i forced myself out of the car and followed my roommate down a nashville street. i didn't know where we were or where we were going. but i followed. it was becoming hard to step across the street. we got to the steps of old smokey and i said i needed to sit. and i was down. not unconscious, just down. one of my roommates got the car while the other sat with me. we went to park somewhere. i threw up (my roommate luckily had barf bags she collects during hospital visits). i've never thrown up while high before but it was better than being drunk because it was only the once and i didn't remain nauseous. i had entered full autistic shutdown in the middle of nashville while trying to avoid an autistic meltdown.

i've had shutdowns before. never in public like that. meltdowns are almost preferable because i can still talk and can storm off as needed. when i shut down i'm just gone. my mind is rebooting to install updates. it normally happens with migraine, but when it doesn't it is a clear sign that i've made myself too stressed out. i was trying too hard to be flexible, so i broke.

i learned today that what happened was because i accidentally took delta 9 instead of the usual cbd i take. i've rarely taken delta 9 and never in so high a dose. i still don't fully blame the delta 9 because i think i was trying too hard to deny myself as a disabled woman and my body said fuck you and made me react anyway.

but the incredible thing is that no one was mad at me through that. if i didn't smile big enough on a trip as a kid, i would be yelled at for ruining it for everyone. but my roommates are autistic and one is also severely chronically ill. they've been there. so they just took care of me and are totally normal about it today. one of my roommates kept checking on me on the drive home, just insisting on any small sign of life. and i was happy to give it since i never lost consciousness. this signaled to my roommates that i was fine. if i'd needed a hospital i'd either say so or pass out. as chronically ill themselves, they knew better than to take me to a hospital when it is something i could just recover from.

i also learned today that everyone i was with had wanted to go home after the ren faire debacle because our autism brains were too upset about it but we were all holding on for everyone else. "well we're close to nashville, we might as well salvage the night" and no one was saying no because none of us wanted to be the unfun one. it's very clear that we're all autistic and chronically ill because we're used to minimizing our symptoms for fear of "ruining everyone's night" when all of us are fine to just go home. i was just the excuse to go back. one of my roommates had said before i went down she was wondering which one of us would break first. my money would've been on me and her tbh like we waited til the other two were out of the car before admitting to each other that we were pissed off and about to cry and rage quit. the two chronically ill girlies were always going to be the ones who fuck it up.

what's the moral of this story? that having disabled friends rocks because no one gets mad at you when you can't handle things? sure. that you should exercise caution when using delta 9 and never use it in public to avoid a meltdown because that will make the gods pull the plug in each of your mitochondria, draining you of all energy as you're climbing the steps of a distillery? yes, and you should know it literally felt as though that pit in my stomach had turned into a black hole and pulled me into it and now i cannot talk but at least my corset is keeping me upright just try not to puke on the nice skirt your roommate custom made for you using a $3 thrift store curtain. many morals to be found here

so no i did not see the aurora last night.

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clunelover · 4 months ago

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Thinking about ASD features…I’ve never had any issues with idioms or figurative language so I thought I just don’t have that particular issue with communication. But now I’m like "hm wait a minute…part of the reasons I’m hip to idioms is because when I was a kid, my mom and stepdad got me a book called Mad as a Wet Hen that was just about idioms, what they mean and where they originated. And I found that so fascinating I got OBSESSED and read that book over and over, and could be counted on to become annoyingly pedantic any time an idiom came up in conversation, and this was one of many things that set me apart and made other fourth graders consider me weird…interesting interesting"

This is on my mind because of something I saw on Reddit - I used to listen to the podcast Oh No Ross and Carrie that’s mostly about debunking strange wellness claims and cult philosophies, but I guess they did one recently on tests for traits associated with autism, and I didn’t listen to the episode but was reading the comments about it - the top one was "this a real ‘oh honey, we thought you knew!’ Situation" and then everyone in the comments is talking about how they were also surprised to score so high, so then I was taking one of the tests (for fun!) and one of the questions about language got me thinking - yesterday in water aerobics, we were jogging up and down the length of the pool, and the teacher said "the hardest part is coming back" and I was SO thrown, because (obviously in retrospect) she meant "turning around and going back against the water that’s moving in the other direction is the most difficult part of this activity" but in the moment I could NOT get my mind around it, thought she meant "the hardest part of this circuit that you’ve been repeating is going to happen again - it’s COMING BACK" and all I could think was "it’s coming back?! What’s coming back?! What is the hardest part of this circuit cause whatever it is…apparently it’s coming back…" and as I consider that, I’m like "wait I have misunderstandings of that kind ALL THE TIME! Maybe I do have difficulties with being literal and misunderstanding certain turns of phrase!"

Anyway, big picture it doesn’t matter at all…there are definitely things about my brain that are not typical, but functionally I am just me and getting along in work and social basically fine. But it continues to blow my mind how some of these things can manifest, and how much overlap there is between different conditions. Which is I guess another reasons it doesn’t matter that much to determine exactly what categories I fit into. Just things to think about.

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dimonds456-art · 1 year ago

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vent art below the cut, as well as an explanation for it. it's a mess on purpose. read the tags.

Starting off positive, here's how I draw myself now :) Style improvement! And my mustache hairs are growing in and one of them is over a centimeter long and it's my pride and joy.

okay now onto everything else. fucking help me. /ns

Gonna start with the butterfly imagery, since it's a reoccurring theme when I talk about my disabilities. The butterfly is because of my Graves Disease, which is a subgenre of hyperthyroidism. What's that? Uh basically there's a gland in your throat called the "thyroid" that's shaped like a butterfly, and it's responsible for your ENTIRE METABOLISM, and mine decided to do cocaine one day and never stopped. This results in increased heartrate, shaky hands, dizziness, and an eye disease where your eyes swell and can make you go blind if not treated.

(and no mine is not currently being treated so. :) )

I've had Graves since middle school, and I will for life. For reference of how bad it got before I got treated after 6 months of suffering, if I ran around outside for 5 minutes my heart rate could get up to 220 BPM. Which can kill you. Somehow I only ever saw stars once.

The next imagery I wanna point out is the layers on me. I show some things as brighter, and there's two layers like that- a bright one and a much dimmer one, which is why I kept this a sketch. The bright one is the surface-level disabilities, such as joint weakness, my eye disease, and my swollen thyroid. The dimmer one is my brain and skeleton. I have never actually broken my bones, but for some reason these days, joint weakness has me and they'll just fucking stop working sometimes for no goddamn reason.

The diamonds on my shirt is obviously a reference to my name, "Dimonds456." The design was actually made by my abuser, and so I actually am starting to have some second thoughts about using this particular design despite how much I love it, thus the shattered idea. Plus, diamonds don't break- they shatter. I'm about to shatter, too, so it's just like me fr.

After that, the text all around me. There are three layers. Let's talk about the black ones first. Those are all my disabilities. That's it. To make it easier to read, they're:

Autism

Anxiety

PTSD

Mental regression (probably because of all the other mental shit I'm dealing with)

Depression

ADHD

Weakness in joints

Inhaler as needed

Tires easily

Abuse

Graves Disease

On meds for life (methimazole literally keeps me alive)

Eye disease

Prone to falling

Eating disorder: ARFID ?????

Asthma

Audio processing disorder

Trauma

:,)

Then, the blue layer. The blue and red layers and kinda having a conversation with each other, with blue being my inner monologue and the red ones being still that, but more intrusive and hopeless. The blue thoughts range from "I can't do this" to "I want to," to "Wait, this is too much" to "STOP" to "THIS IS TOO MUCH" and various stuff like that.

The red texts are much, much more negative. "Running out of time." Never safe. I will never feel safe." "My own body wants me DEAD." "NEVER SAFE." "WHAT IS SAFETY?!" these are my intrusive thoughts, and... yeah. My anxiety and trauma already make me feel like I can never be safe in the spaces I'm in, so when I do actually feel safe with the people or location I'm in, my body's there to remind me that no, I'm not. Because I could literally just die at any goddamn moment.

Which brings me to the scythe. The Reaper. He's close. I'm running out of time. To do what? I don't know, live? Impact people? Fucking exist?

The clock shows that, too.

Finally, the dialogue bubbles. The straw that broke the camel's back in terms of me making this art. My recent doctor visit. I'm trans. I'm a demiboy who just wants to figure out what my fucking gender is. I know I want top surgery, but the dr says I HAVE to start HRT in order to get the surgery I want, which is enbyphobic. I've talked about it with other trans people, and we all agree what the dr told me was fucked.

The other bubbles are other things people have said to me. Particularly, I wanna talk about the "are you ACTUALLY disabled?" one because so so so so so many people have fucking asked me that and I want to scream. Like gee, I dunno, maybe it's all in my head. Maybe I'm normal. Maybe my graves disease was all a FUCKING DREAM. The eating disorder I'm getting now that not even the doctors are sure what the fuck it is wasn't real, I'm just a picky eater and I am just a fucking attention-seeking masochist. SURE. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME.

Shut the fuck up.

The butterfly is actively choking me. I'm loosing weight. I've felt more anxious recently than I ever have in my fucking life. I have a goddamn eating disorder where I physically CANNOT EAT. It sounds like ARFID but it's also not quite that, I'm in a weird grey area.

i'm 20 years old.

Ever since I got diagnosed with Graves in middle school, I've felt like my existence was defying something. Like I was supposed to die. I also had intense depression at the time, so that definitely added to it, but yeah. Then more happened. I had my first fall. I got put on the wrong dosage and nearly got killed. Struggled to breathe. My eyes tear up more often due to the disease, and I have an aversion to light I didn't have before. The eating disorder. Not to mention my bad knee, weakness in joints, pain in hips, ect.

It just keeps piling up. More, and more, and more, and more disabilities appear and try to catch me by surprise. I got deathly ill last winter. I quit college this year because of the trauma of being outside while on my wrong dosage from last summer. But this time, I'm fucking freezing when I'm anywhere except in the sun, which still makes me feel viscerally uncomfortable, because of whatever the fuck is happening with my eating disorder.

I'm so fucking tired. I don't know how much farther I can go. I'm running out of time. I can't handle another disability. I just can't. If I wind up getting appendicitis or something I'm running back home to my parents and staying there because at least they make me feel SAFE.

I'm not safe. I will never be safe inside this body. I will never feel safe because of my anxiety and trauma. I'm reaching a boiling point where it's starting to spill over onto those around me and I hate it. I am aware that this post is not helping that at all. But... I just don't wanna suffer in silence anymore. I'm tired. I want to be a good memory, but I fear my time is coming and I don't have much more "memory" to make.

I want to be wrong. Please, stars, let me be wrong. Let this all be in my head. Let this all be one big misunderstanding on my part. Please. Please let me wake up and realize that this was all a fucking nightmare.

I can't look at this screen anymore. My eyes hurt and my wrists are starting to give out.

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the-official-account · 2 years ago

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Episode 1 liveblog

Mixing it up B) I want to know more things about this podcast and have friends in the earlier eps. So back to the start we go!

If you are said mutuals in the early episodes THIS IS NOT SPOILER FREE! You havd been warned. Also a lot of this is notes to self. So.

THE DOG THINGS WITH JACK WAS FORESHADOWED IN THE FIRST TEN MINUTES? Oh come on

WAIT for some reason I thought spar was the other person with 18 years in suits but no ofc it's jack!

Oh shit vellum scars right eye. I need to fix that in his art

"vellum is taller than spar and vellum's is a trans man" I may not have caught either of these details for like........15 more episodes? Maybe I don't speak English .....

HCODGSODHDKDDIDBE okay so vellum instantly thinks spars pretty but also *unreadable* (inch resting) and spar NOTICES I forgot how gay this shit starts off. I forgot about this package joke. 😂

Oh Spar is a bit of an asshole <3 "one of does imply there are other top agents as well"

AH JASPER AND JACK WERE WAR BUDDIES I keep being surprised the show is consistent, it's a mystery idk why I'm surprised

"vellum has no points In empathy so he may not be the best at reading people" hmm...hitting him with my autism beam.

"I think that vellum doesn't fully understand emotions and how they all work and conflict with eachother sometimes" HITTING HIM WITH MY AUTISM BEAM

"THE OTHER NAME IS MAXWELL BUT YOU CANT MAKE OUT THE LAST NAME" HEY WHAT THE FUCK.

I'm so curious about this flashback mission

I forgot how much spar did not want all of this to happen holy fuck dosgsksgsjdbd he's so rude <3

No wait why am I only just thinking the vellum autism thing??? Memorizing encyclopedias ass.

"it's signed with his signature handprint" JORDAN.

"I must be thinking of a different nephew. (He only has one nephew)" WELL FUCK. This one may not have been intentional but like. Whew.

In my brain there is nothing but 🥰low empathy autism vellum yayyyy 🥰

I REMEMBERED JORDAN ASKING IF VELLUM MENTIONED CLOVENHEART TO GREY AND I WASNT AT ALL SUSPICIOUS AT THE TIME

knowing what the plot cards jordan drew are and how they turned out is like !!!!

Gah sorel and spar can be so <3<3<3

jack was talking to thorne about spar going to clovenheart....HMMMMMMMMM

oh yikes I really did forget how awkward spar was about going back at first.

"are you gonna talk to anya" [looooong meaningul pause] HOUGH.

"good at what?" JHKLAJSHDKLSDFAKLSFH i love sorel i love sorel so much.

"she's blind" "Yeeeah but like she'll know" is SUCH a funny thing to hear when you don't know anya's deal.

so vellum likes apples and spar likes vintage musicals.

"I'll have a fucking normal to babysit"

"and maybe...you can use the normie to make anya jealous"

There's a lot about this situation which, knowing what I know, i hate, but I UNDERSTAND why spar would think and feel this way and on one hand i'm like YEAH THIS IS yeah this is relatable. on the other hand, i would THROW SO MANY HANDS for vellum.

JORDAN INTRODUCED DIAMOND SO FAST AFTER DRAWING THAT CARD??? WHAT??????

Man <3 early vellum and spar. I love them. I love them SO much. but holy SHIT this show is so well written what the fuck....

and ping! @threeheartscast

#edil liveblogs three of hearts #three of hearts #three of hearts pod #edil chats #edil is very tired now

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pbandjesse · 2 years ago

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I was so nervous about today and it did not matter at all. Today was great.

I slept pretty well last night. When James left for work I was aware of the time. And did the thing where I was like. If I wake up at X I will be able to sleep for Y more minutes. Which is very annoying because it makes my brain like. Loop that information and then I cannot sleep. But thankfully I was able to fall back asleep and I woke up at 930 and felt great honestly. I'm glad I slept until then. It was the best I have felt.

I got up and made the bed and got dressed. I wore my new black dress that is a very thick material and it drapes so nice. I had breakfast and listened to a podcast. I spent some time fixing my one necklace to make the chain longer so it lays nice in my necklace stack. I've really been enjoying layering my necklaces lately. Makes me feel pretty.

I was doing good and felt good. Except my eye. Which hurt so stupid bad. It was swollen and red and watering uncontrollably. It would take a long time, hours, to calm down. I am not sure why it happens and it doesn't last forever so I don't understand it. I rinses my eye and used drops and eventually it was okay but I would have to redo my makeup. Ah well.

I spent the morning just enjoying myself. Hanging out with Sweetp. I put the dishes away. I had the leftover pizza and got myself together for my class.

I did read the Wikipedia article about the artist we were talking about today. Norval Morrisseau, who went by Copper Thunderbird. I was glad I did the reading. And I'm glad that we were talking about a specific person. It made it easier for me.

I left here around noon. Said goodbye to Oleksander who was sitting in the hall. He told me it was cold outside! And I told him I almost didn't wear a coat but I was glad I did.

Its a quick drive over to awah. I was really nervous about unlocking the door and disarming the building but it was totally fine.

I got in and very soon Naomi was ringing the bell. She was very sweet. About 40, very kind. She told me to shush her if she's talking to much but I'm like. I will not be doing that!!

Soon our contact for the autism society came and she was lovely. She said we would have teens first and then adults. And we were expecting up to 20 people! Woah! But I was excited.

And I was right to be so. It would end up being about 11 per group, with half being the parents or carers of the students. And they were all so fun. For the first group I would just explain the project to each of them individually so no one was waiting around.

We had a good mix of abilities. My favorite person was Ireland. Omg was she great. She was really really excited once I started listening to her about her self insert sailor moon character. She was bouncing out of her seat. Her mom kept saying how excited she was. But I was just thrilled to be talking to her. The boys that all came were also excellent. I had some great moments with everyone. One of them really loved to clean and organize so he cleaned all the pallets. I'm just glad he was having fun.

Soon they were cleaning up and the adult class was coming in. They were also great. But we did the class a little different. Instead of talking to each about the project I talked to everyone at once. Got to talk more about the artist and the style and it was nice. There was one guy who shook everyone's hands and he was very kind. He seemed excited when I was like. Yes this is the project but when you are done please use the materials and paper and make what brings you joy. And he was like. Thank you. And it felt so nice. I really felt like I was at my best today in so many ways. I also felt super authenticity myself today. Like I felt lighter inside.

As the hour wound down I started organizing the bags for materials. Naomi would collect and clean and I would sort and put away. Periodically check on everyone. And it was fun. I think next time I will play music. Just to bring some more joy into the room.

I let everyone know I wouldn't be there next week but that the program would still be on. And they said they hope I have fun learning glass blowing and that I better bring pictures back. I promised I will!!

We were pretty well cleaned up. And soon I was arming the building and heading out. I hope I did it right. I think I did. There wasnt really a way to check so I really hope it was correct.

It was a little warmer out then. I would quickly drive home. I went upstairs and dropped off a few things. And then went out again. I walked to the Walgreen to get some hair stuff and chips. It was a nice little walk. And then I came home.

Soon James was home too. While I was drawing a ring leader bear. And James would heat up pasta for me and eventually make me a quesadilla. I ate weird combinations of food tonight. Which upset my belly. But it was nice just hanging with James on the couch while I drew.

Eventually I took a bath. And me and James watched a little documentary. The skin on mu right hand hurts really bad right now so knitting wasn't super fun but I got a few rows done. And now we are in bed.

It is a good day. I feel happy. I am a little nervous about tomorrow because the groups are huge. But it will be a good day. I have decided.

I hope you all sleep well tonight. Take care of each other!! Goodnight!!

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thatonebirdwrites · 2 months ago

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Wait a second, NaNoWriMo is allowing AI Writing? What the flying feck. And to give that as the excuse for it?

I very much agree with the content creator who talked about their traumatic brain injury and how they write their stuff without AI. Good on her to share her journey, and I thank her for sharing it and how she doesn't use AI.

P.S. Edited in to add, assuming that disabled people and poor people need LLM/Generative AI to write is abliest and classicist. What we need is support systems, human support systems.

My Story:

Hi, I'm another person whose brain struggles a lot. I deal with LongCovid, an autoimmune illness (GI focused), PTSD, DID, ADHD, and possible autism. There are quite a few days where my brain just refuses to work. The brain fog eats up thoughts, I lay there in physical pain, get trapped in the haze of dissociation, the migraines, the nausea, the endless bathroom shits, the not being present at all and thus unable to write because of it.

Guess what?

I STILL MANAGE TO WRITE AND I REFUSE TO USE AI. I am able to do this because i have a community of PEOPLE helping me by providing me with beta reading or i'll share a snippet to see if it makes sense, and they'll let me know if it does. or if i need someone to do a grammar check. communities of people is what disabled folks like me need, and it's super abliest to assume I cannot write without use of LLMs/generative AIs simply because my brain doesn't work like mos people's.

So how dare they try to use people like me as an excuse.

I write so I can share my thoughts, life experiences, imagination, and hope with others. I write to do it with my own words the best I can, in hopes its coherent for others.

I write because I want the piece to be in my voice and to fit my personal vision.

I write so that others can find hope in my writings, and courage to share their own stories.

Generative AI steals that from people. It's not okay.

I have been writing since first grade. I have a tub of journals by my bed full of stuff dating back to first grade. I love to craft words and splice them together to form a coherent story.

However, due to being undiagnosed for so long, I struggled with homelessness, pain, abuse, and other shitty stuff, so my dream of being a published author of science fiction novels has yet to happen. I don't know if it ever will because I'm too ill to market myself or promote or find an agent.

Despite all that, I still wrote my words by myself without the aid of any generative AI nonsense. Sometimes I wrote by hand, and sometimes I typed it up on my laptop.

Since I got LongCovid and some of my other diagnoses, I write Korrasami and Supercorp fanfiction as a way to cope with being ill all the time. With being unable to leave the house. With being isolated by a society intent on throwing people like me away.

I write those words by doing them in thirty minute splits, where I write for thirty minutes then rest for an hour, and write for thirty minutes, and rest, etc...

I can't really leave my bed due to LongCovid and the other autoimmune illness, and I often have bouts of dissociation. In those bouts, I'll be lying in a haze, often barely able to function or do anything at all. (Side note: you can read about this in the Shattered fic in fact, because the way I describe Lena and her struggle to function before her diagnosis, is how I was at times, and how on bad-brain-days, I end up unable to function and do basic tasks. Unlike Lena, I'm poor as fuck so rely on county/state/federal programs who fail a lot of the time, so I can't pay for services. I struggle to even afford my housing and utilities and food. There's times I can't afford those either, so I sometimes go hungry.)

It's not easy to write when ill, but I do it because it's my coping mechanism. It's how I avoid falling into despair. It's how I keep myself alive, keep myself going. It's how I fight to keep hope burning bright.

I write and labor over each word. I'll sit there and think, and yes my thoughts will take a bit longer than the average person. Yes, I'll struggle to make it through a whole thirty minute writing session before I must rest. Yes, there's times where my brain won't supply a word at all and I just have to put a filler word with an asterisk so I can come back to it later.

Disrupting the writing flow messes with my brain, so I often will write the rough draft of the scene/chapter to get it all out as soon as possible. If I can't do it in thirty minutes, I leave a note and the song I was listening to so I can get back into that same mood/thought to finish it after I rest.

Then I go back and edit and rewrite to refine it into its end result. I write in chapter chunks, where I outline the project using Scrivener's binder feature. Where each scene gets it's own text, and I arrange those in chapter folders and label them all. Sometimes as I progress in the story I have to cut scenes, rearrange them, or write in new ones, but the skeleton is there already. A skeleton I built myself.

That's not easy to do. It takes time and energy.

The million words I wrote the past two or so years? I overdid it. I almost burnt myself out, and I made one illness worse. I learned my lesson.

Now I balance my writing, rest, health, and basic tasks better. It means I am building a healthier life in the long run.

And again, I did all this with my own sweat, tears, blood (sometimes literally thanks to my illnesses). It's worth writing with my own fingers, with my own battered mind, to share the story as I envision it.

This next piece is to those who are tempted to use Generative AI or currently use i:

So folks coming in with this whole "AI" writing it for them? What the hell are you doing? Why are you letting a machine take away your creativity and your voice?

AI steals from people. The tech bros making "AI" rip off entire stories/novels/etc. from all of us and feeds it (without our consent) into the generative AI. You are using stolen words to write a story that isn't in your own voice. Why do this?

Why not share your own words? Words you chose yourself in your own voice?

This is your story.

Generative AI will never give you the story you imagine; it'll never give you a factual essay. It can't. It fabricates things because it is semi-randomly shoving words onto a reductionist skeleton that relies on the cultural biases of those that built it.

Be brave and write your own stories. Be courageous and choose your own words. Don't let generative AI steal your voice and your vision.

More of my take on the NaNoWriMo AI bs. This author was reading more in-depth on NaNoWriMo’s excuses for this, and my type of disability was brought up.

#stop using AI #fuck AI #nanowrimo #writing #disability #chronic illness #brain stuff #mental health

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bleep-bloop-boo · 3 months ago

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hi honey...sorry to bother you...but i saw that some other ppl are asking for advice so i hope you don't mind me dropping this here...(feel free to ignore if u don't want to respond)

but uh i feel like i have audhd, or at least some flavor of executive dysfunction, but my parents don't really seem to understand that. like even the noise of someone chewing makes me angry, or that i have to do this a certain way, or that my brain and my body just doesn't work like my parents' do. i know fidget and stim a lot, and i am reaaally bad at procrastination. er not procrastinating. even simple tasks like getting ready for bed or showering (there's so many steps why are there so many things) or even other things that would literally take 5 minutes. like making a mountain out of a molehill or however it goes. i just relate to a lot a lot of the symptoms and experiences that other audhders have, but i don't know for sure if i have audhd.

idk i just don't know how to tell my parents that i think I have audhd and that i want to get it tested or smth i don't rly know what the process is...

anyway sorry for long ask T.T

hi!! okay, first of all, hfjkddifuhghjdkd thank you for asking me <33 (sorry i responded so late, i havent been online a lot 😭) and you're never a bother and i love the long ask <33

and i totally get where you're coming from! of course this wont work for every parent butttt, you can try this 1. don't mention any specific names, words like disability or autism or even adhd make parents nervous and dont mention internet research yet 2. slowly start describing different symptoms to them just like, work it into the conversation and pretend its relatable like for executive dysfunction "ugghhhh, i wish i could stop being lazy" "i also wish you'd stop being lazy" "its just harddd, like i want to get up but i cant. you know the feeling? like i know i have so much work to do and a lot i need to get done and i really want to start it but like my brain isn't letting me...." *wait a sec* "OH! like you know how when you want to do something dangerous? like when trying to bite your finger off like a carrot cuz you read it in a childrens book and wanted to try it but you couldn't because your brain stops you from hurting yourself? (or use the example of touching something hot) THATS THE FEELING IM TALKING ABOUT!" 3. then after you introduce a lot of the symptoms as 'quirks' you have to the point where they start calling you out on it and recognizing that you are struggling you can move on 4. start talking off-handedly about adhd/autism just casually "oh! you know how i always forget things no matter how much i try to remember them and then end up feeling really guilty i forget?? my friend with adhd does the same thing! dude, literally none of my other friends understood what i meant when i was talking about how frustrating it is to forget everything and like yk like how you start to distrust yourselff, its so cool MAKEUPANAMEFORADHDFRIEND gets itt" from this, you can gauge how supportive your parents are of the idea and start warming them up to it 5. now, some parents might start to search up adhd or autism and begin to realize that the traits you showed in step 2 are actually symptoms if nottt, start showing em videos of people describing adhd/autism and say your friends sent it to you (my friends actually do this. all the time- )

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/7_9VWxnRns8 this persons videos are some of my favorties <33 and show them saying smth like "omg, look, this person is just like meee" 6. after a while of showing them videos like that, start mentioning things like "lolol, my friends keep teasing me saying i have autism/adhd" mention this a couple times when youre using your phone so it seems like they're just texting you about it (i would mention adhd sometimes and autism others like "yk how NAME says i have adhd? well theyre fighting with NAME2 cuz NAME2 thinks i have autism lolol")

7. if they still dont connect the dots, then mention it to them casually and worst comes to worst, blame it on your friends "huh, yk whats funny? all these videos my friends said me are like surprisingly relatable... maybe im adhd lolol" or "broski, my friends are so certain that i have autism, they keep bugging me to get a diagnosis to prove theyre right! can we get one just so they stop??" of course, the best way would be to talk to them and be vulnerable and just be straight about how hard it is for you (and crying will prolly help lol) and ask them if you can please get a diagnosis because you just want to know if theres something to help you if thats not possible, try my list (tho it does take a while... like quite a few months) and let me know how it goes!! and the most important part, remember that you are doing a great job :)) autism and adhd and nuerodivergency can be so hard to deal with and the fact you're trying to get help is good <33 your struggles are so valid, and its not your fault in the slightest. i am so, so, so proud of you for everything you did :)) remember than hon GOOD LUCK BESTIEEE <33333

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blueempty · 9 months ago

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Due to several sleeping errors, I forgor

My day was alright outside of my stomach waking me up after 3 hours of comfy sleep, and then me falling asleep for a little too long on the couch at work, which is why I don't think i'm gonna have a new kanji for today. I'll probably just practice some other vocabulary and keep hammering in the first half of my katakana

Like I'm always saying, I dont want to vent here but like, its part of my day ya know. And I'm not upset as I write this its just thoughts in my brain. Btw did you know that overexplaining yourself is an autistic trait? Anyway, I've been thinking about my brain and its problems because my partner has a new work friend who is also autistic, but her and I followed different paths. She seems to be on the Naruto Uzumaki grind of saying exactly what she means and is thinking at all times. The barrier between her and other people made her more forward and blunt, which is probably good. I however went the conflict avoidance route, where I got tired of trying to be understood so I've just spoken less and less over the years. I used to be very social but lately I'm going whole days saying almost nothing to anyone

Its largely because of the specific people I'm around every day, cuz my mom doesnt care about whatever the fuck I'm doing in Onimusha or Splatoon. I've learned what stuff people outside my fixations would be equipped to find interesting. My mom listens, but I dont want to waste her time or bug her while shes working with stuff that isn't relevant to her. And my brother is the most equipped to have conversations with but he's also on a different autism wavelength that seems to be becoming incompatible with mine. Like earlier today I said I was getting really tired of him and our friend being so fuckin negative about everything all the time and then like 2 minutes later he said I was a bitch for paying attention to what skills I have on in Monster Hunter. Something just ain't lining up in our conversations

BUT, thats all to say, my response to that comment wasnt to push the point further, instead I just stopped talking. Because I've learned that he in particular seems to have lost the ability to argue or discuss in good faith when it comes to specific topics. And because of that I sit there and filter everything I think about saying. I have a thought about something in the Splatoon DLC and before i say something I think "my brother doesnt like Splatoon anymore so at best he'll ignore me and at worst I'll get into an argument about whether or not skills are stupid"

So you the reader at this moment may be thinking "this sounds like a problem with you and the 3 people you talk to every day" and you'd be right. But this learned silence has got my ass unsure how to speak in general, so idk how to make new friends or how to interact with old ones. Its quite the pickle oh yes

Again this is literal hashtag thought posting, I'm not trying to complain but this is just stuff thats been on my mind since like January. And now this new friend that my partner has made me think damn I couldve just pivoted into an assertive style autist but I assumed a defensive posture. The human mind truly is fucked and full of terrors

But all that shit aside Dungeon Meshi is amazing, the whole crew is great. I am concerned that I'm getting incorrect localizations on their names cuz i'm reading it on manga dex. So I've just been calling the hobbit Chalk. I'm on chapter 15 now I think. Kensuke is my MVP right now I love that little guy

And finally the moment youve been waiting for yes its true I only have 4 weapons left to go in Side Order. I was spoiled on the name of Eights pallette weapon and it didnt tell me anything but it made me want to get it as soon as possible to see what the fuck it is

My partner also brought me a big sammich at work and it was good. I lob her

Peace and Long Life

#thoughtposting #ramblings

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storytellersjheller · 1 year ago

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High-Functioning Dragon. . .

Dragons are mythical creatures that have been around since the beginning; even the Egyptians had dragons. Just think of it, a world separated by distance, and yet, dragons are everywhere and span all types of mythologies and vary in size, color and build.

I consider myself a dragon in some ways. Women, such as myself, have autism much like men, however, ours show in different ways then men. I'm not the only one in my family that is on the spectrum either; I won't go into details, though we all get it from my Dad who had Asperger's.

Aspergers; what kind of name is that? I mean, seriously?

I was taught to sound things out as a kid from my speech therapists to help with my lisp. Could you imagine, a 10 year-old me, or any kid for that matter, trying to sound out and write Aspergers?

Likely come out as @$$burger and the teacher would take the paper away and we would have no idea what we did wrong.

In fact, something similar happened to me in grade school; as soon as the teaching aid saw that I tried to rhyme duck, she grabbed my eraser and erased the word, saying, "we don't use that word here."

I thought it was strange at the time that she erased my work, but now as an adult, I try not to laugh at the thought.

My first step in my life as a dragon was when I was eventually diagnosed with astigmatism, as well as near and far sighted; not sure how that can happen, but apparently I get it from my Dad. My Dad also had blue eyes like me, so I literally have my Dad's eyes. So, yeah, I was in middle school sporting bifocals, though I didn't care since for the first time, I could actually see. I read more and did better on tests.

Over the years, such things as writing, reading and math were still hard for me; and they remain that way to this day. I'd get my numbers and letters mixed up, wondering if perhaps I was stupid or wasn't paying attention. My Mom theorized that I had dyslexia; and she was right, however, the path to getting the help that I needed didn't come easy.

in the state that I'm originally from, all we'd have to do is walk into my doctor's office and get tested for dyslexia, get a note and bring it to the school for an IEP. But after we moved to Arizona where we are now live, things weren't so easy; and being be in college made it that much harder.

Yep, you read that right; it took until I was in my 3rd year of college to find a dyslexia therapist who wouldn't charge me an arm and a leg, and maybe a kidney, for a three hour test.

I had gone to my community college's DRS department, but all the numbers they had listed were either too expensive (not one of them took any kind of insurance) or weren't taking on new clients. I ended up getting my therapist through a third party suggestion that still took another couple months before I could actually meet with the therapist.

I was super nervous the day of my appointment even with my Mom coming with me.

Yes, I was a 20-something year old who came with their Mom. I was freaked out and she waited in the parking lot in the car for moral support.

The therapist was nice. She was surprised to see that I'd answered all the questions on her intake form; something I didn't pay much mind to at the time. And we begun the tests. We paused for a bit after 45 minutes so I could use the bathroom. It was on my way back from the restroom, that I'd noticed the carpet of the office; and oh my gosh, my eyes started spinning.

"You have a really trippy carpet." I told the therapist.

She was rightfully confused by the statement, and I explained what I meant and told her that this wasn't the first time that my eyes had been triggered like that.

We continued the tests, and she looked over the results.

Yep, I was dyslexic. My brain interpreted words and sounds differently then normal people would, and also added or replaced words while I read without me even realizing it, too. Yeah, that was trippy to learn about.

"I believe you're high-functioning autistic." The therapist told me.

I swear the world froze around me for a moment.

Me? Autistic? Really?

"I've been doing this a long time, and you have a lot of the signs that are known for women with high-functioning autism." She continued.

I was still in a stake of shock.

Sad thing is, my therapist, though she could help me with my Dyslexia and possible high-functioning autism, couldn't test me officially for HFA (high-functioning autism). I couldn't afford the extra therapy either and haven't been back since.

I went home and started to research, and the more I did, the more I connected with others like me; I felt myself piecing together and started to better understand myself, too, and my Dad and family.

Though keep in mind that HFA for women is different then men, and autism is a wide range, too. New things are being learned about how women at affected by autism; I'm no means a doctor, but merely giving my side of how I see things and how I'm effected by autism.

I know this post is running on the long side, so I'll tell a quick story to better explain my point.

I've been in training as a barista for little near four weeks now.

To help with my Dyslexia, I carry a notebook with me to take notes and help recall things (I also likely have ADHD and OCD, too, so thoughts don't always travel in the directions that they should); but on this shift, I was working the cash register.

My sweet manager was aware of my neurodivergence; I told her a week after I got the job; and she was helping me learn the machine and it's many, many buttons and combinations.

A customer comes up and states their order, checking it come up on the screen while I punch in the order on the register. They finish their order, pay for their drink and the receipt prints.

I hold the receipt out to the customer, asking, "would you like your receipt?"

"How much is it?" The customer replied.

"It's a receipt, it's free."

The customer and my manager started giggling.

I'm left confused and embarrassed not sure why either of them are laughing, but knowing it's me that their giggling at.

"I'm not laughing at you, but with you," The customer giggled.

I wasn't laughing. Not even on the inside.

I know the customer and my manager weren't trying to be mean, and they thought my honest response was sincere and funny.

The customer really wanted to know how much their drink was; something I mentally knew that they could see on the screen and so thought they were asking if the receipt needed to be paid for.

I can be sarcastic, witty, and funny when I mean to be, but there are times, like this one, where I took what they said as face value; this is common in people with HFA. It can feel like a mine field trying to figure out what people mean and how to respond; and this often results in what's called masking.

Think of masking as putting on a mirror; a person who's HFA and in a group will watch how others in the group act and copy those actions or tones to better fit in with the group. I do this countless times, including with my family or out at work; and I can say from experience that trying to put on a mask that I believe will make others happy is draining mentally, emotionally and physically to the point that my anxiety comes in and then I find myself depressed, and it takes training and realizing the signs to know when masking is happening.

It's terrifying to try and be ones true self when all your brain can think about is what people might say and how you might respond, known as scripting, or trying to act like everyone else, such as masking.

And even after all those tests, my community college could only offer a cheep, old recorder that couldn't catch my own voice from an arms length away, a lousy text-to-speech reader that read so poorly that it triggered my auditory senses, and extra time on tests. I asked why that was all the college could do and was told that there wasn't enough funding going to the DRS; it really ticked me off to think that even after bending over backwards to get the testing that I needed, that the most that could be done was some shotty, old equipment and more time on tests. I ended up returning the recorder, getting Speechify and going for the extra time.

Calling myself a dragon started as a joke between me and my little cuz because my eyes look in different directions due to my astigmatism and double prism (also known as Lazy Eye, because one eye compensates for the other; only I have that in BOTH eyes; dang overachievers. I also am a bit colorblind as well.) Though the more I learned about myself, the more odd, or mythical that I kind of felt.

Women with HFA are also known to collect things, and well, I'm no different so like a dragon, I have a collection of various 'artifacts'. And my family tends to call my spots in the house as 'nests' because I like to be surrounded by things that make me happy; another thing common to women with HFA. So, yeah, in many ways, I'm a dragon.

I'm pretty sure my ADHD makes me like a fox; jumping from one place to another at the thought of something shiny only to quickly forget what I was even looking at before.

Not even sure what to go for with my OCD.

So maybe I'm like a fox dragon? Dragon kitsune? I've surely feel I've lived more then one life with everything I've been through, learned about myself and experienced.

If you've made it this far, tell me what kind of creature, mythical or otherwise, that you relate to and why; I'd be interested to know.

A group of dragons is called a thunder (que Imagine Dragon's song) and I'd like to get to know who's apart of mine, dragon or anything else. Dragon's are own as protectors and guardians, and so am I; so welcome to my Thunder.

#writer #writing #high functioning autism #neruodivergent #Thunder #author #paranormal #fantasy #podcast #writing community #Speechify #dyslexia

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aelfwyn · 1 year ago

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Agreed with this last addition. I get no sense from the actual article that he misrepresented his symptoms or lied; instead the severity (and cause) of his ADHD-like symptoms was misjudged, leading to misdiagnosis.

And if private clinics are indeed, due to negligence or incompetence, misdiagnosing people, that is BAD and should be investigated – but posing as a patient was very much not the way to do that, and the resulting attention-grabbing headline will only serve to further discourage people that genuinely need help with their ADHD and reinforce the stigma of ADHD being overdiagnosed. Reporting like this is a big reason why it took me 10+ years to finally work up the courage (and the necessary executive function) to make a GP appointment and ask for a referral.

So if NHS waiting times are stupidly long and private clinics can maybe not all be trusted, what is one to do? if you’re based in England (does not apply to all of the UK, sadly), check out Right to Choose. It’s a system that allows you to ask for a referral to any NHS-associated mental health provider anywhere in England, such as when your local wait times are too long. ADHD-UK has a list of eligible ADHD/Autism assessment providers at the above link. Several of them are unavailable due to massive demand, and the ones that are available still have varying wait times, but they are not as desperately long as your local NHS service is likely to be. I asked for a referral to Psychiatry-UK and just over 6 months later had a video-call assessment. Now it’s another 6 months wait for the titration team to get medication. Still long, but not 29 months and counting.

As for the assessment itself, I had to fill in pre-assessment forms with examples of both current and childhood symptoms, and they also required essentially the same forms to be filled by a witness. The questions basically covered the standard diagnostic criteria, but the phrasing leaned heavily towards the more cliché ADHD symptoms, such that as an adult inattentive ADHD type with years of practice masking/working around my symptoms, I felt I kinda had to shoehorn my actual difficulties into questions that were asking for different outward symptoms (as my friend put it, the diagnostic criteria really seems written “from the outside in”). I also struggled with the childhood symptoms aspect because I was a gifted kid and didn’t really show any typical symptoms, did well in school etc. The assessment itself took 50 minutes and involved cross-checking against other possible explanations for the symptoms (such as medication or other health conditions) and also autism, and the psychiatrist finally concluded I had high-functioning inattentive-type ADHD (no surprises there) and offered to refer me to the titration team. He also offered a reading recommendation (Hallowell’s ADHD classic Driven to Distraction) and general advice (most of which boils down to “do not try to fight against your brain” and “give yourself some slack”, which, yes).

ANYWAY, I really gotta, like, work (getting distracted from work by ranting about ADHD? couldn’t be me), but tldr; Yes, the path to diagnosis for ADHD and autism in the UK is tricky, to say the least, and there’s still a lot of stigma around it, and reporting like this article really is NOT helpful in both regards. BUT if anyone reads this and checks out Right to Choose and gets help faster that way, that’ll be a positive at least. Sending much love to everyone struggling!

This is fucking embarrassing ‘journalism’ from the BBC.

Guy goes to an NHS doctor, flat-out states the nature of his investigation and gets behind the scenes information on assessments.

Then he hits up three private clinics actively looking for an ADHD diagnosis, has his friends fill out witness forms, and is shocked when he receives a diagnosis.

An utter disgrace.

#adhd things #nhs #ramblings

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adhdeancas · 4 years ago

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wait so fellow adhder I'm I think that actually all of the TFW are actually ND. Cas has autism, dean has adhd, and hear me out, Sam has ocd. the intrusive thoughts? obsessive behavior? eating and acting clean literally to a point where it is inconvenient for everyone involved? I think he is obsessing over being clean and fresh (compared to demon blood and souless Sam, sleazy and nasty Sam) also I have a few reasons for thinking dean us adhd but y do u think so sorry I'm rambling

let’i’ve been waiting all my life for you to come into my inbox and talk to me about this

of COURSE TFW are ND!!! of course!! and yes, yes, we all know Cas has autism I love my autistic angel and i love the hc that Sam has ocd because it does fit really well!

(sectioned all of this out because it’s better for adhders to read, you get it)

his ocd directly bleeds into his poor self-esteem like you said with the demon blood! he feels the need to be pure and even though he canonically knows that these things (like eating clean, running, etc) can’t help his problem, he still tries because he kind of... has to.

also OCD is often connected to a need for control, and the physical state of sam’s body is the one thing he has control over (which is also where we get into eating disorder territory). Sam has had so little control over his life, especially growing up, and for most his childhood, he didn’t even control what he ate (with Dean making/buying his meals). SO once he gets out of that environment, he hyperfixates on this new freedom!

we can also go to the hand pressing with this. a literal compulsion that even after the effect of the pain wears off once the hand heals, he still does it as a grounding method. nonsensical compulsion to calm anxiety? yes OCD

can also be linked to childhood trauma but what ND can’t be amirite

emotional regulation once again - remember Angry Boy King Sammy? So angry he doesn’t know what to do and can’t control it and feels like he’s gonna explode with the rage?

intrusive (sometimes violent) thoughts are a huge marker for OCD and Sam’s obviously sometimes come from Unnatural means but they are also a part of him and kind of always have been

religious themes are also huge in OCD which Fits and makes me EMOTIONAL Sam I’m so sorry he spent his whole childhood feeling unclean and unholy and Fixated on that to the point of praying to a God his family didn’t believe in just so he could be Clean fuck

also i think it’s really interesting and cool that of the two brothers, Sam shows the most obvious signs of OCD even though he is canonically the messier brother and the brother not worried about IRL germs (i know the writers didn’t try to do this but i don’t care they didn’t play into the OCD means i must germex! trope)

AND ADHD DEAN!!!

let’s first look at the obvious: Dean is highly skilled in combat, even though he hates physical exercise. Why? ADHD brain tied up with anxiety is hardwired into flight or fight, not sit and focus on one thing. it’s constantly picking up on threats and peripheral vision and all that shit

he also has a spotty history with books! like i’ve said before, not shit writing, this is Dean’s ADHD. Dean as a kid read some high-brow books and he still does occasionally but he doesn’t nearly as much as an adult because it became much harder!! and because he just couldn’t devote that much attention, even as a kid, to things that he wasn’t really interested in! This is why he hates research

he’s known far and wide for his impulsiveness, his knee jerk decisions. it’s part of what makes him a good hunter and part of what makes him human disorder incarnate - It’s ADHD

Low frustration tolerance and rejection-sensitive dysphoria! Dean has a really hard time regulating his emotions and especially anger - especially especially especially when he feels like he’s being rejected or abandoned. it’s literally his worst fear

^^^^ rejection-sensitive dysphoria also plays into his low self-esteem (god poor kid to have RSD in an environment growing up where Everyone Was Constantly Busting Each Other’s Balls and couldn’t be emotionally available to also tell you they actually love you), high self standards, and social anxiety (he’s a bullshitter, his chameleon charm is also a symptom of his social anxiety and RSD)

also Dean has lots of sleep problems both ways and complicated relationships with motivation and inner restlessness versus a yearning for stability

comfort items / food!! now i can’t find the research on this so forgive me because i know i’ve read it somewhere that ADHDers tend to gravitate toward familiar things or foods! (like Dean’s burgers and his car / motels that are all basically the same) it is a very ND thing in general as well

along that line, ADHDers tend to have sensory processing issues - it’s why Dean has an Outfit Recipe of the same types of clothes that he sticks to - also why he delights so much in sensory stuff like magic fingers and the Dead Guy Robe

(((jfc i thought of this point while writing out the last one and then forgot it and had to stare at the screen for a minute, now I’ve forgotten it again while writing this thank you adhd))) AH YES! auditory processing! Remember how we make fun of Dean for his lame comebacks? Remember how we make fun of him for his buffer speed in The Scene? baby that’s because it takes him five extra seconds to translate those words let alone RESPOND

not to mention people with ADHD often have much higher rates of anxiety/depression (duh) and substance abuse (yes)

lmao in researching this the article I was looking at says that lead exposure as a child can lead to ADHD and jfc you KNOW those shitty motels had Exclusively Lead Paint smh

BUT ONE OF MY FAVORITES of course has to be that Dean gets along so well with autistic Cas!! as an adhd dude with an autistic best friend, WE DIG! adhd and autism go so well together because we can get each other in ways that others just Can’t. adhd and autism have a lot of overlap/similarities in brain function and shit.

tend to eschew social conventions and be much more straightforward/want that in others

they can both have the tendency to fidget and depending on upbringing mask that for some people - which also leads to being social chameleons

they both have comfort items / foods that NT find really strange or childish in my experience

sensory disorders!!! cas with his ONE OUTFIT and Dean with his different colored ONE OUTFIT

Anyway i’m in love with this and i have so many thoughts but here are a few of them thank you very much for this ask i love that you came to me

#ask #willowwisk #adhd dean #dean has adhd #autistic cas #cas has autism #ocd sam #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #neurodiversity #tw: abuse #tw: eating disorders

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

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I found my way home

Summary: After Spencer tells Hotch about his recent autism diagnosis, he expects that to be the end of it. Somehow, though, it keeps coming up, and Hotch keeps proving himself to be the best father figure he could have asked for.

Tags: autistic spencer, protective hotch, hurt/comfort, fluff, paternal hotch, team as family

TW: mentions of ableism, one small instance of ableism & homophobia

Pairing: Gen

Word Count: 4.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

This was borne from my conversations with @criminalmindsvibez about the lack of autistic spencer fics and her amazing headcanons. While I'm not autistic, Emily is, and helped me to portray Spencer's autism as accurately as possible. That said, please feel free to correct me on anything I got wrong :)

Spencer had made an effort to get into work even earlier than usual today. He’d ridden the metro through the city, dipping his hand into his messenger bag every few minutes to compulsively check that the slim letter he’d received in the post the other day is still in the front pocket where he’d safely placed it that morning. He brushes his fingers over the paper once more as he enters the near-empty bullpen, the letter cool from the winter air.

It’s still so surreal to him that this is where he works. After years of dreaming of working for the FBI he’s finally here, and even though it’s been his place of work for almost two months now, he’s still not used to it. The warm offices are a nice reprieve from the wintry December wind, and he can feel himself relaxing as he heads to his desk. Leaving his coat and messenger bag on his chair, he pulls the letter out of the front pocket and runs his index finger along the edge. He finds himself biting his bottom lip as he tries to work up the courage to go and see Hotch.

Sucking in a deep breath, he marches determinedly up to Hotch’s office, entering as soon as his knocks are answered.

“Reid,” Hotch says pleasantly as he takes a seat opposite his desk, realising belatedly that he probably should have waited until he was invited. “You’re in early. What can I do for you?”

Nervously, Spencer hands him the letter he’d couriered across the city so carefully. He’d taken care to open it neatly with his letter opener but the return address on the back has been stamped at a crooked angle, and it bothers him every time he notices it. He can’t stop looking at it now as he taps his fingers anxiously against his leg in the pattern of the Fibonacci sequence, a safe and familiar reassurance played out by his nervous fingers. He watches apprehensively as Hotch pulls the letter out of the envelope, unfolding it and skimming his eyes down the page, taking in the news Spencer’s been so anxious to share with him.

Diagnosis: Asperger’s Syndrome

God, it had been a long process. He’d had to seek out a doctor in DC who diagnosed adults, paid for all the consultations and diagnostics himself — his insurance certainly wouldn’t cover it, not that he’d feel comfortable using his cushy FBI insurance for something so personal anyway — and the whole process had taken far longer than he’d expected. Finally, though, the envelope had arrived in the mail, and he officially had a diagnosis.

Of course, he’d had his suspicions for years, especially after one of his professors during his second PhD had casually asked whether he’d ever been tested, planting a seed in his brain that led to many late nights in the library, reading all the literature available to him. It’s why he’d found it strange that it had felt so validating to finally receive that letter in the post. But it had.

The label made sense, and now that he had a diagnosis from a medical professional he felt comfortable to share it with others; he’d been far too paranoid about being questioned, not being believed or lectured about the evils of self-diagnosis no matter how he was confident in himself. He didn’t tend to be an insecure or self-conscious person, but after years of bullying and trauma surrounding what he now knew for sure to be his autistic traits, he couldn’t help but feel almost protective of his affirming label.

Now though, it’s an irrefutable statement. Dr Spencer Reid has autism, and the first person he wants to tell is Hotch.

“I had no idea you were getting tested, Reid,” Hotch says, a hint of surprise bleeding into his voice. “Is there any specific reason you wanted to share this with me?”

“Well… I felt like someone on the team should know,” Spencer starts carefully, afraid to give too much of himself away, “and I thought that someone in a leadership position was the best option. Gideon has never been very… supportive of my autistic traits or behaviour, so I thought that you— that you would be the best option.” He feels awkward, fidgeting in his chair as he watches Hotch’s serious face and kind eyes absorb the information.

“That trust in me means a lot, Reid,” he says, a rare smile making its way onto his face. In that moment, Spencer knows he made the right decision. “How can I make things easier for you? Is there anything you need me to be doing differently?”

“Uh—” He hadn’t really been anticipating that question and it catches him off guard: he’d predicted a quick nod of acknowledgement, a request to photocopy the letter so it can be put on file followed by a swift dismissal, but the letter is now sitting on his side of the desk: clearly, Hotch intends on keeping this between them. This is far from what he expected.

“Why don’t you start by telling me about autism and how it might affect your work?” Hotch corrects himself, recognising quickly Spencer’s need for specifics. “I’ll admit I don’t know much beyond some probably rather unhelpful stereotypes.”

Spencer nods. He can answer that question. “As everyone knows I often go off on tangents,” he begins, “and that’s because my special interests — or hyperfixations — often coincide with our work, so I know a lot about the topics we’re investigating. If I do that, just redirect me to the case and I’ll be fine. It’s also really hard for me to have to present myself in a certain way all the time. Vocal stims and gestures are the most satisfying to me but I often have to mask them, which I’ve never been very good at anyway, and it’s fairly exhausting. That’s why I often excuse myself; I go to the bathroom or a secluded hallway and stim on my own. My doctor also told me I tend to overcompensate in social situations and over-perform emotion. Those are the basics, I guess, but it’s a very complex disorder and since it makes up me as a human being, I can’t exactly explain all of it in one conversation.”

“No, that’s fine, Reid, you’ve given me a good picture of what to expect, thank you.” Hotch smiles at him, fondness in the crinkles around his eyes and the softness invading his usually stern expression. “First of all, you never have to feel like you need to excuse yourself to stim. Do you think it would be helpful if we told the rest of the team so they know what to expect? I’m assuming vocal stims are saying certain words or making sounds…?”

Spencer nods.

“Okay, so if you needed to do that we could just continue the conversation while you get it out of your system. Gestures certainly wouldn’t be a problem. How do you feel about that?”

He hadn’t really considered telling the rest of the team but it seemed sort of intimidating, like he’d be opening a vulnerable side of himself to people he didn’t even know that well. On the other hand, they’d all been so understanding of his quirks and odd behaviour so far without even knowing the reason behind it. He’d never once been made to feel the way he used to at school, forced to either pretend to be someone else completely or be isolated and ostracised.

He settles for, “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s fine. There’s no pressure,” Hotch assures him. “I’m very happy you told me, Reid. I hope you know you can come and talk to me about anything, whether it’s about this or something completely different.”

Spencer leaves his office with the letter back in his hands, no notes or copies having been made, feeling almost elated. Never in a million years would he have expected that to go so well.

⭐️

He doesn’t really expect it to come up again. He’d told Hotch so that he could understand him a bit better, and also because Hotch had quickly assumed a protective, almost paternal role in his life and he wanted to share the piece of news with him whether he was leading his department or not. That was supposed to be it, though, he didn't think anything would materially change, especially since he decided not to tell the team about the diagnosis just yet.

But almost immediately after he’d told Hotch his diagnosis, his rambles began to be gently redirected back to the case, sometimes without him even noticing. He wasn’t rudely cut off by anyone anymore, Hotch always steering him back on course before anyone else can jump in and hurt Spencer’s feelings. It’s so… kind that it almost feels foreign, and he finds himself gravitating towards the older man more and more, sitting next to him on every jet journey and staying glued to his side during cases.

His newfound protectiveness over Spencer is only demonstrated more clearly a few months after their conversation in Hotch’s office when they’re on their way to New Mexico for a case. The second he spots that the murder victims had all been found with different Fitzgerald quotes scrawled on sheets of paper found in their own personal notebooks, ripped out and left for investigating officers to find, he launches into an info-dump to rival info-dumps.

He can’t help that literature is a special interest of his, made all the more intense by the fond childhood memories of reading to his mother in her bed. Fitzgerald had been her favourite author of the Modern Era, and he’d spent hours analysing significant passages in his novels as a child, so he starts explaining the literary merit of each of the quotes left at the crime scenes.

Apparently, he doesn’t hear the first two times Hotch tries to direct him back on topic, but he hears it when Gideon shouts, “Spencer! Long and unnecessary tangents are not conducive to actually solving these cases. Get back on topic. Now.” He’s loud enough to briefly knock him back several decades to memories of his father screaming at his mother’s schizophrenic babbling, when she’d become convinced that the villains of her favourite novels were trying to break into the house.

Spencer stops mid-sentence and stares at Gideon, who is staring right back. Everyone’s watching the two awkwardly, but the short moment of silence is quickly broken by Hotch. “There is absolutely no need to be that rude, Jason,” he says disapprovingly, while he lays a hand on Spencer’s arm in a light, absent-minded sort of touch. “Reid may have been off-topic but he deserves respect just like everyone else on this team. Nobody needs to be shouted at like that.” He directs his attention back to Spencer. “Why don’t you tell us how those Fitzgerald quotes could help us solve the case, Reid?”

He gives him an encouraging look, and when he looks around the jet, everyone else is, too. Carefully, he starts speaking again, a little afraid of being cut off again, but after a few sentences of relevant explanation he regains his momentum. It’s more than a little vindicating when it’s his ‘unnecessary tangent’ that ends up being the key to cracking the case.

⭐️

Soon after Hotch’s split from Haley, he approaches Spencer one evening when they’re the only two left at the office with a dinner invitation. Within the hour, they walk into a nice, low-key Italian place in the city and take a seat in the far corner of the restaurant.

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asks a little uncertainly, confused as to why his boss is suddenly taking him for dinner.

“I had this idea almost as soon as you told me about your autism,” Hotch explains, knowing by now that preambles and niceties only frustrate Spencer instead of setting him at ease. “I wanted to take you out for dinner every week to try and give you a space to ramble about all your special interests and not feel like you have to mask around everyone. But when I was with Haley, all my personal time was obviously spent with her and Jack. Now, I have the time to dedicate to you and all the incredible knowledge you’re hoarding in that brain of yours.”

“Really?” Spencer asks excitedly. The idea of uninhibited space to talk about the recent knowledge he’s acquired and not have to feel insecure or worry about performing social skills he doesn’t see the point of is everything he’s ever wished for, and something so wonderful being provided by Hotch only makes it better.

“Really.”

Spencer wastes no time. He dives right in. “I was just watching a documentary the other day about volcanoes and their ability to trigger lightning storms with their voltage,” he begins. “Basically, magma rises toward the volcano’s surface, its water rapidly turns to vapor, which shatters the molten rock into tiny particles and creates charged particles. When the ash plume erupts into the atmosphere, the densely packed particles collide, driven by momentum. Friction then affects their electrons, becoming electrically charged. Positively and negatively charged electrons separate in the ash plume which creates a charge imbalance that builds an electric charge strong enough to trigger a lightning storm.”

“That’s incredible.”

“I know,” Spencer says excitedly. “If the ash plume rises high enough in the atmosphere ice forms, and when ice, hail, and supercooled liquid droplets collide, the rates of lightning explode, it’s crazy.”

They’re briefly interrupted by a waitress taking their orders, but as soon as she leaves, Hotch gets him to jump back in. “What about that lecture you attended last week… the literature of 18th Century England or something?”

“19th Century English Lit, yeah!” He’s so eager to finally share this with somebody who will genuinely listen to him, and he can’t help it when his arms start to flap excitedly. Remembering where he is, he doesn’t try to mask it, pin his arms to his sides and simply deal with and suppress the innate urge to stim, he lets his body do what it wants to. Instead of eliciting a strange, sideways look, Hotch just smiles fondly.

“The lecturer had this fascinating theory on Dickens. I’ve always seen him as a pretty straight forward author of picaresque fiction, obviously combined with facets of melodrama. And it’s common knowledge that he was inspired by the novel of sensibility, of course. But I’d never thought about the stylistic and lexical choices in his works beyond standard analysis, and this lecturer went on a deep dive into his use of collocation and it opened my eyes…”

He spends the whole evening stimming to his heart’s content while detailing every current interest of his to Hotch, who simply listened intently while eating his meal slowly, dragging out the meal for as long as Spencer needed. “Let me give you a lift home,” Hotch insists after footing the bill, leading him out into the warm evening air.

“Oh, I don’t mind taking the metro,” he replies truthfully.

“I know. But it would make me feel better to drop you home safely. It’s late and seeing you into your apartment building would give me peace of mind.”

“Sure,” Spencer agrees happily, he’s still buzzing from such a nice evening and the least he can do for Hotch is let him rest easy tonight, so he climbs into the passenger side of his car. A few minutes into the car ride home, he realises he should probably actually verbalise just how much he enjoyed dinner. “Thank you, Hotch. I don’t think anybody’s ever done something so nice for me before.”

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” Hotch replies, smiling even though he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. Spencer very much likes it when Hotch uses his first name, and he’d been doing it all evening. He doesn’t really understand why it feels so nice, just that it makes him feel… special, maybe.

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he repeats, before freezing as he realises what he’s said. He’s got so used to not masking all evening, he’s not in the right rhythm and mindset to suppress the urge to repeat Hotch’s words. He’s been so nice the whole evening, the last thing Spencer wants is for Hotch to think he’s mocking him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hotch reassures him, tapping his arm lightly as he smiles encouragingly.

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he says again, repeating it a few times in relief before the itch is satisfied. He really does have the best boss/friend in the whole world. There’s no doubt about that.

⭐️

Rossi’s initial reaction to Spencer had admittedly been a bit rocky, and having Hotch undeniably on his side was the only thing that made those first few months bearable. He never let them go off on their own; never put Spencer in a position where he’d have to be alone with him. Gradually, though, Rossi adjusted to his quirks and he became almost as protective of Spencer as Hotch.

That doesn’t bode well for the local sheriff when they’re on a case in North Carolina. He’s been prickly since they arrived, being as stubborn and uncooperative as possible, slowing down their progress on actually solving the case, and Spencer’s noticed him being a little extra rude to him in particular. It doesn’t massively bother him — it’s not exactly like someone’s aversion to him is a novel concept — but he can feel some sort of tension coming from the others. It happens a lot more now that they know about his autism and are more aware of themselves and others.

He tries to ignore it the best he can; he puts his head down and focuses on the geographical profile, going wherever he’s sent. Besides, the sooner they solve this case the sooner they can get out of North Carolina and back to DC. On their third day on the case, he’s working quietly in their designated corner of the police department alongside Hotch and Rossi while the others are out investigating in various different places. It’s a nice environment, and even though both men are his superiors, he feels more relaxed in their company than in anybody else’s.

It’s a relatively pleasant morning — considering the whole trying to catch a brutal serial killer thing — until they need to ask the sheriff a question. He saunters over, a tense and angry expression on his face, and Spencer can’t help but feel a little off, the confusing tension in the air that Spencer can’t quite identify making him anxious in his inability to properly decipher it. “Gentlemen,” he says, already frustrated. Spencer suspects it’s a pride thing; not many police departments like being shown up enough to have the FBI called in.

Eager to know the answer to their question, Spencer’s the one to jump in and ask. “Sheriff, we were just wondering whether the town gets much traffic from the local university or—”

He’s cut off by the sneering, towering man. “I’m not taking any questions from your kind,” he says aggressively.

“I’m sorry?” Spencer squeaks as Rossi and Hotch both prepare to say something in response.

The sheriff cuts them off before they can get their likely diplomatic and calming words out. “Homo retards aren’t welcome around here.”

“Hey!” Rossi shouts as he leaps out of the chair, grabbing him by the collar as he’s helped by the element of surprise. “You don’t fucking talk to Spencer like that, you hear me? Weak, cowardly men like you—”

“Dave,” Hotch says placatingly, putting a hand on his shoulder and diffusing the situation. “Listen, Sheriff, we are only here to help you. But if you can’t respect my agents then we’re going to have a problem. Either you’re civil to Dr Reid, or I’m reporting you to the NC Sheriff’s Association. You hear me?”

The sheriff’s pride is clearly wounded, but he at least nods before giving them all a scornful look and walking away.

“We didn’t even get to ask the question,” Spencer says anxiously, suddenly feeling out of his depth, like he can’t quite get enough air.

“Dave, try and get an answer,” Hotch directs, taking charge of the situation. “Spencer, come with me.” He takes him into a secluded hallway for a little privacy, sitting him down on the cool linoleum before sinking down next to him. “You’re okay.”

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Spencer whispers over and over to himself as he rocks backwards and forwards, trying desperately to self-soothe.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Hotch asks. He’s been in enough of these situations with Spencer to know he’s usually in two very different headspaces: he either longingly craves the grounding touch of a hug or a hand on his back, or he needs complete space. He’s also learned that asking outright is the only way to get an direct answer.

“Yes,” Spencer replies, before repeating it over and over again as he’s wrapped up in Hotch’s arms, head pressed against his chest, his hand pressing gently against the back of Spencer’s head. He starts to calm down as he manages to breathe to the heat of Hotch’s calm, steady heartbeat, the comforting touch of someone he trusts with his life also helping to bring him back down to earth. A good ten minutes after the altercation with the sheriff, he’s feeling much better and brings his head out of it’s safe cocoon between Hotch’s chest and hand.

“Come on,” Hotch says kindly. “Let’s get back to the case, yeah? You can just sit and work quietly until you’re ready to hold a proper conversation again. How does that sound?”

Spencer nods tiredly, knowing that work will perk him back up again, and being surrounded by his team will make him feel safe, asshole sheriff or not.

⭐️

Over the years Hotch helps him through any hurdles that come his way, learning the exact nuances of Spencer’s characteristics and requirements, making sure to accommodate him in every way possible.

He brings an extra, super-soft sweater in his go-bag in case Spencer ever forgets his and needs something gentle on his skin but tight enough to make him feel secure. He buys him stimming toys, dropping them on Spencer’s desk before he even arrives at work and lets him use his office whenever the lights and noise of the bullpen get too much, drawing the blinds and giving him the space he needs. Rossi doesn’t even question it anymore when Hotch shows up with a stack of paperwork and moves into his office for the morning.

It wasn’t until Hotch made a concerted effort to make his life easier that Spencer realised how hard it had been fighting through life on his own. So when he realises Hotch’s birthday is coming up, he decides he wants to show his gratitude. It’s never been easy for him to express emotions, especially since he’s never really found it rude when people don’t thank him, but he knows that for most neurotypical people, appreciation is important.

So he talks it over with Derek and on Hotch’s birthday, he comes into work to see Spencer waiting in his office with balloons, a cake, a card, and a present. He’d spent hours trying to find the right words to explain how he feels, to find the right words to show Hotch just how much everything he’s done for him means, but eventually he’d settled on something simple:

Caroline B Cooney wrote: “I found my family. I found the right thing to do. I found my way home.”

I found all of these things when I joined the BAU, but more specifically when I walked into your office, hands shaking, clasping a letter I’d been waiting for all my life. Thank you.

Hotch reads it with tears in his eyes before taking in the cake, a classic birthday cake Spencer had bought at the store, the words “Happy Birthday Dad” written in blue icing. He didn’t really understand why the cake had stood out to him, or why he associated the word ‘dad’ with someone who wasn’t related to him at all, but he’d trusted his gut and with Derek’s cheerleading, he’d bought it.

“Oh, Spencer,” Hotch says tearfully. “Can I hug you?”

Feeling only mildly uncomfortable at the visible display of emotion Spencer doesn’t know what to do with, he nods and steps into Hotch’s comforting embrace. “This means the world to me,” Hotch murmurs quietly as he stands, hugging Spencer for as long as the younger man can stand it.

Spencer’s still not completely sure why he’s managed to make him so emotional, but at least he can trust that it’s a good thing, that Hotch is happy and pleased and reassured. And if he can make him feel even a smidgen as happy as Hotch has made Spencer over the years, well. He’ll consider his long and boring trip into the city to buy the cake, present and card worth it.

Quick Note: Spencer is diagnosed with Asperger’s because that part of the fic is set in 2005. These days he would be diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD)

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii

#criminal minds #criminal minds writing #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotch & spencer #spencer #hotch #my writing #autistic spencer reid #autistic spencer #dad hotch

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