#it sucks that it’s hard to get a diagnosis as an adult so I’m just gonna fuck off and just vibe and try not to think about this again

[mars-ipan]

honestly i don’t really think any mental illnesses have been like “destigmatized”- not fully at least. i think the stigma has just changed from demonization to “that’s not a real problem get over it god”

[kiingbiing]

-

[weirdozjunkary]

I don’t normally like to vent about myself or my life. But everything just feels like it’s spiralling for me and I just don’t know what to do. This is probably as personal as I’ll ever get on here haha.

I might eventually delete this. But I don’t know..

CW: personal life, SH and Sui talk

Right now my country Canada is entering late stage capitalism, as well as the US. It sucks, yes. But I figured that by the time I’m out on my own and I’m able to fend for myself, that most of this would blow over and I will be fine. But now it’s getting hard to think about stuff like that.

I believe I have undiagnosed autism and currently undiagnosed ADHD (was diagnosed as a child), which makes a lot of things hard for me. I’ve been wanting to get a diagnosis to help myself for the future. But I’ve been constantly told not to, as doing so would make people think less of me. And I hate that people have that mindset, even if it is true.

Something that is worse is that I can’t pay for anything. I can’t pay off my loans because it’s too high. I don’t even have a job to pay them off, I can’t even get a job because of my autism and because the job market is fucked. I’m moving to a whole other country really soon that I know nothing about so there’s no point in me even doing my schooling here anymore, the only reason I’m still going is because my dad wants me to. And if I don’t pay off my loans, my credit will be put in the “risk” category, credit mind you that I don’t have because I don’t have a credit card.

I cant even speak the language to the place I’m moving too, so I don’t know if I would even be able to get a job there other than just a cleaning person. And even if I come back here to Canada if I do my schooling there, I don’t know if I would be able to get a house because the housing market is absolutely terrible here.

If I stay here in Canada I have basically no one to fall back on if things turn to the absolute worse for me, and it really feels like life wants that to happen to me. I wasn’t really told much about life stuff as a kid, so now it’s biting me in the ass and I’m paying for it. I know I’m still stable at the moment, I have a house and food and water. But every day I hear more and more worse things.

I used to live out of spite, but now that spite is starting to fade on me. I can’t lie and say that I have thought the worst about myself, what I want to do to myself. I’m terrified of death, but sometimes it seems like the more favourable option. People always say to stay in the present, that’s what matters. It’s hard to stay in the present when the future keeps looking bleaker and bleaker.

I try to stay positive, that I will be okay in the end. I want to believe that I’ll be okay. But it’s getting harder and harder to see that

Everything feels like its burning around me and I don’t know what to do. It feels like it’s all my fault. That I’m just gonna die homeless and alone.

I’m sorry that this is so much more negative compared to what I normally post. Everything just feels so terrible and I don’t know what to do. I shouldn’t be feeling like this, I’m a young adult and yet I’m so worried about everything that it would all crash around me. Every time I feel even remotely stable, it feels as though life just kicks the rug under my feet and fucks everything up for me.

I want to feel okay again. But I don’t know if I ever will be.

[actuallyadhd]

Hi! Do you have any resources about ADHD and OCD? I was diagnosed with ADHD many years ago and have been on meds for a while that have made a significant positive difference in my life, but recently (aka over the past year) have been wondering if there’s something else going on too. Many of the things I’m noticing and starting to put in context from much earlier in my life don’t seem to line up well with ADHD by themselves, though I do definitely have ADHD. However when I’ve tried to research the overlap between the two, I find a lot of conflicting information (everything from people saying “it’s impossible to have both” or “it’s very common to have both”). If you have anything that could point me in the right direction I’d appreciate it, I know there’s a chance this could be OCD-like symptoms as a result of ADHD, and I want to figure out the best way to approach handling them.

Sent November 7, 2023

I actually used to know someone who had both, and I was well on my way to something related when I was finally diagnosed with ADHD. I haven't looked into it recently, so this was an interesting question to look into. Thank you for that!

First stop was PubMed, which is a catalogue of journal articles in a variety of fields including medicine and psychology. There were a number of results, but the one that looked most interesting was "A prospective investigation of impacts of comorbid attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) on clinical features and long-term treatment response in adult patients with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD)". It's a really short paper, which sucks, but the takeaways are that if you have ADHD and OCD, the OCD probably started earlier than usual and is probably also more severe. Basically, ADHD makes OCD worse.

After that, I went over to ADDitude because it's a good place to get information that isn't all science-y and hard to parse. Lots of results but the first three that I thought might be most helpful for you are these:

Could I Have OCD? Unpacking Symptoms

OCD and ADHD: The Polar Opposites That Are Not

When OCD and ADHD Coexist: Symptom Presentation, Diagnosis, and Treatment

Followers, do any of you have both ADHD and OCD? Which was diagnosed first, and how do you find treatment is going?

Also, just in general, is it helpful for people when I describe how I found the information I share in these posts? Like, is it helpful for me to give you the places I looked and how I did it?

-J

[g0rechan]

741-741

That’s the number you gave me when I was posting similar things like your last post.

Use it.

I love you. Ik this sounds parasocial but idc. You’re my only friend. I have no friends irl and chatting and vibing with you online has got me through incredibly difficult times for me. I was so lonely and still am, I had strong urges to commit suicide but you got me through it.

Please, use it. You’re an incredible person who’s funny and pretty and creative.

Call me a parasocial bitch all you want but I really want you to get help.

I did, I did call that number. I cried so hard and -aside from the time my dog died- it was genuinely the first time I’ve cried in such a long time.

I’ve been in such a dark place for god knows how long. It’s been so damn stressful and insane. The only thing preventing me from killing myself is friends, my art, fashion, and the events I get to attend with people. I love hanging out with friends, it distracts me from all my worries and all the bad that I know about.

I didn’t start feeling this way until I had to start adulthood with no preparation whatsoever and worry about paying bills and break my back to put a payment on my car that shouldn’t even be that ridiculously high (seriously, fuck capitalism).

And my parents tell me that I need to get over it bc I’m an adult and that stress is a part of life and that I’m not mentally ill, I’m a spoiled brat. Like WTF?! Yeah ik life is stressful, but I’m not allowed to be stressed??

I’m sure they were just as stressful as I am when they started adulthood. Especially since my mom was a fucking teenager when she had me and had to work jobs while my father was attending night school at the time since he had to drop out to support his family.

Ig they just don’t remember? Or maybe because they’re both in the upper middle class quadrant that they feel like they’re so much better than people who are struggling- Yes, I still live with them but I can’t consider myself as part of their family with how fucking irritatingly unhelpful they are.

I wanna go back to who I was as a teenager. Not caring, loving everyone… not being the bitter, angry, vindictive bitch that I am now. Before I used to be so happy when others were happy, but now whenever I get a manic episode and I see, like, idk a rich person or rich and upper middle class kids who didn’t have to grow up in poverty like I did, I feel bitter. Like, physically. I can feel it building up inside me and spewing into my mouth.

And once I get out of my episode, I feel so fucking stupid. It’s so childish and terrible, the last time I felt this way was when I was like, what? 12-13?? I’m like, “cmon, Miliani. Really?”.

I tell myself I should be happy, I have many friends and everyone is always telling me I’m so pretty, and artistic, and so many boys and even girls have crushes on me and try to get me stuff for free sometimes.

And I’m upset because, what? I don’t have money?? One minor thing that won’t make more of a person if I did??

… I don’t want to be rich. I just want to be financially comfortable. That is fucking all. And if I can’t be financially stable, I’d at least want people to care. I want people to understand.

I also just wanna have a connection with my mommy again instead of her being angry at me. I want to just be happy with what I have.

It sucks bc I can feel happy sometimes, but the bad thoughts always come back. It’s like my brain doesn’t want me to be happy. I talked to the suicide hotline and they recommended that I’d see my school counselor to get free accommodations for getting a proper mental diagnosis…

Overall, I don’t hate myself or my life. It’s just mental illness and the stress of this new stage in life is taking an absolute fucking toll on me.

I’m just glad that I finally know the root cause of my problems now instead of attacking myself and others in blind rage.

I’ll help myself, like I did with you. I feel good that I was able to help you through all the sad and stressful things in your life.

As of now, the thoughts are gone. They’ve come and gone all day, everyday. I know the thoughts will come back but til then. I want to strive to be the best version of myself. I want to learn to love and again. I want to be that caring, selfless, sweet girl again. And I know I can do it, with the help of friends and therapy.

When I learn to love myself, I can learn to love others again.

Thank you.

[dianadragonfly]

My kid has been autistic for like 6 weeks now.

Actually j/k. She’s been autistic since birth but diagnosed 6 weeks ago.

It hasn’t changed how I think of her but it changes how I think of how others should think of her (and me), if that makes sense.

That teacher who was inflexible and would get into the weeds and argue with her over little things? I was pissed that she sent my kid to the office over how she took notes — arguing with a kid with a 504 for ADHD over notes is stupid, but arguing with an autistic kid over it shows how absurd the whole thing was.(treating ANY kid like that sucks, btw.) My kid has some quirks that makes it hard for me to send her on overnight trips? I look weird and overprotective. I’m worried about sending my autistic kid on an overnight trip? Perfectly understandable.

The worst part about the diagnosis is how things that I love about my daughter - her quirkiness, her exhilaration at finding new things, her complete lack of giving a shit of what others think — are made to feel like symptoms of a disorder. It sometimes hits me — “that’s not normal. That’s autistic.” But that’s a me thing. My problem, not hers.

So we went to a Girl Scout event last week and all these girls did all sorts of nature activities. And she was content to just pace and look at trees and find mushrooms and “just vibe with nature.” And I no longer felt this sort of tension between making my kid behave in the way she’s “supposed to” but was completely at peace with it. (More often than not, I try to give her space and not stuff her into a box, but I always feel like a ‘good parent’ would make her do the activities.)

She’s autistic. She’s “vibing with nature.” And I’m okay with that. And all the adults there knew her and were okay with that.

[treestomeetyou]

I have a very similar experience. I obviously get wanting to look at the positives, but I also think it's important to understand the full picture. A lot of the talk I've seen online surrounding autism has made me realize that people don't really know just how shitty it can be sometimes.

Autistic people aren't just "a little quirky". In fact, some of the most talked about symptoms were the least of my concerns growing up. My emotional maturity has always been...not great. I struggled with anger and I had outbursts so bad that I would sometimes end up getting in fights or breaking things. And I had these all the way up until I was in high school. I thankfully had therapy and it's not as bad as it used to be, but my issues will never be completely gone. I've also had sleep problems my whole life and I don't really have the ability to be in certain high stress situations. That takes a lot of things off the table that I otherwise would have loved to do. I also can sometimes shut down when I get overwhelmed which is similar to a depressive episode (something I also have and experience) and depression is often a symptom autistic people experience but for me it was a seperate diagnosis. There are also people who have it worse and may never be able to live on their own, and who have problems that are even more serious and it feels like we're just...not allowed to talk about that. I have been called ableist more times than I can count by people who didn't realize I was autistic, just for trying to talk about these things, or for saying that I wouldn't wish this on anyone else.

A lot of people seem to think it's a fun thing to have and that's just not the case. It sucks. I wish people would understand that there's a difference between hating myself for being autistic (which I don't, I'm actually very upfront about it) and wishing that I didn't have certain symptoms. I'm not "masking" because I don't want to get angry and yell at my friends and family every two seconds! I did everything I could to get past that because it was the right thing to do for the sake of the other people in my life. I was bullied in school as a kid (mostly for the anger stuff) but as an adult I have experienced more shaming from within the autistic community than I have from outside of it. I should be able to talk about both the positive and the negative side of autism. There's normalization, and then there's presenting an idealized fantasy version of autism that rarely ever actually exists. (I also wish people would do actual research instead of just...basing their views of autism on a tik tok they saw somewhere, but that's a whooooole other conversation lmao)

Sorry, I didn't mean for this to get so long. I'm just very passionate about this. I hope you have a good day. ✨️

never apologize for making it so long it’s nice to hear from other people. i feel like autism on tiktok is just some kind of new age manic pixie dream girl. like she’s quirky and she has funny little habits but it’s “breaks the fantasy” when she has issues that can make her unpleasant to be around.

i always joke that i don’t drink a lot because i’m kind of a bitch when i drink, but it’s just sensory overload that makes me a deeply unpleasant person. i don’t want to be like that, i put in a lot of work to not be like that. but that work takes a lot out of me and i resent that. i agree with you that i wouldn’t change myself, i’m autistic and that’s an unchangeable part of me. but it’s so hard to make people understand that it’s a still a disability. that there are things i can’t do. i will require certain supports my whole life. the toxic positivity around autism (and neurodivergent people in general) online gets on my nerves. i can love myself and find positives in myself while still being upset about how i struggle

[booklovingturtle]

PJO: TLT Reread Braindump

First time I read it: Middle school 2013-ish

Times I’ve read it prior to tdoday: 3 (I think)

Current reread: Fall of 2022 (I’m 23)

Method of reading: First time I borrowed it from my school library, every time after that I’ve used my personal copy and audiobooks rented from my library.

Thoughts while rereading CHP 1 - 3

This is the first time I’ve done something like this. Why am I doing this? IDK. I just decided I wanted to reread PJO before season 1 drops in 2023 so here I am. If you are curious about what my jumbled thoughts are here ya go!

Chapter 1

Mrs. Dodds had Percy being punished until MIDNIGHT?? Nah uh no way that's so illegal I can't believe she made it long enough as a fake teacher to try to kill him later with that attitude

Yes, Chiron Mr.Brunner! Love real-life application of “useless” curriculum material!!!!

Where did you get that Roman armor Chiron Mr.Brunner??? Did it come with a purple t-shirt???

Yes, Mr. Brunner! Push your students!! Percy feels like he’s being hard on him but that’s bc Chiron Mr. Brunner won’t let Percy’s talent go to waste just bc of his diagnosis (also cuz he’s a Demigod yeah but Rick wrote this from the perspective of an educator so that’s what I’m sticking with)

Global warming = Pan is dead

Chiron Mr.Brunner WOULD BRING A REAL SWORD IN ON TOURNAMENT DAY?

Chapter 2

Love the way they’re gaslighting Percy (except my boy Grover who adorable and a horrible liar)

As an elementary school teacher, hearing about Percy’s behavior and honesty makes me so sad. I know that this is just a fictional story but I can’t help but picture my own students in his shoes. The ones who also engage in disruptive, impulsive behavior because they can’t regulate themselves and because the adults in their lives failed them. It honestly breaks my heart. Percy is a fictional character but again, Rick based him on the real-life children I teach every day in an American public school who time and time again are not given the support, love, and care that they need

Percy is studying SO FREAKING HARD all because Chiron Mr.Brunner believes in him. He doesn’t want to fail the only teacher that has ever given him high expectations while also positively affirming him. In CHP1, Percy mentioned how Chiron Mr.Brunner will punish him AND Nancy. it’s not that Chiron Mr.Brunner is making things easier for Percy or letting him coast by because he’s a kid with an IEP. It’s that Chiron Mr.Brunner believes that Percy can succeed and will do his best to support him academically. This gives Percy the motivation to strive for that standard. (No i’m not saying his method is perfect. I’m saying its a step in the right direction)

annnnnnndddd.... few paragraphs later Chiron Mr.Brunner ruins it. All by making the mistake of discussing a private matter in front of other students. i can’t even judge him because been there done that. Teachers are humans too. Sometimes we say the wrong thing or at the wrong time or in the wrong way. It SUCKS because it’s so hard to back peddle. I feel bad for Percy in this scene but I feel just as bad for Chiron

Love that even the yarn for his sock is blue blue blue blue blue

I wanna hear the snip shake the screen in the show

Chapter 3

JEEZ...I don’t remember Sally’s life being so sad my goodness

PLS LOOK AT CHILDREN WITH KINDNESS! I MEAN THIS SO SRSLY!!! Kids can be annoying and hard to deal with sometimes yes but all of us were kids at one point. All of us are hard to deal with even as adults. Be like Sally. Look at the children in your life (family, students, neighbors, etc) with kindness

DADDY ISSUES

Love that Percy has an entire list of terrifying events that prove he’s not safe where he is and in the same breath goes “What do you mean I’m not safe?”

Am I dumb? Yes. Do I know what the horse (P-Daddy) and eagle (Zaddy) represent? I think.

o zeu kai alloi theoi = Zeus and other gods (my guess is Zeus = zeu and theoi = gods)

[philsmeatylegss]

original anon here :)

thanks for your reply it was so sweet and respectful and i think we have similar experiences so it’s nice to hear from someone who gets it.

i’ll do what you did and put the tldr at the beginning: i agree autism is sanitised on social media but every (or at least most) higher functioning autistic people are guilty of it not just the self diagnosed

i agree with everything that’s been said about autism being sanitised on social media. i’ve seen very rare videos of meltdowns be so attacked that they’ve had to be taken down. everyone who tries to speak out is immediately called ableist from teachers who work with lower functioning kids (because they’re not autistic so apparently they don’t get an opinion) or parents with lower functioning kids who are just trying to prove that lower functioning autistic people exist. they get told that they shouldn’t film them as they cannot consent (but a lot of the time these are grown adults). and the comments are often disgusting and infantilising. some autistic people on tiktok seem to work hard to make sure the image of autism stays exactly like them so overall i agree with you.

however i don’t think it’s self diagnosed people. i think even diagnosed higher-functioning autistics are guilty of this because you don’t get a diagnosis and then suddenly you know every single intricacy of autism. if you aren’t lower functioning and you don’t know anyone who is then you turn to social media for your examples of autism and you get sucked into the cycle of constant sugarcoating and sanitation. the only way people are currently able to see examples of “real-autism” as you put it (which honestly is quite a good way of describing what i mean) is real life and you cannot share those experiences on social media without getting my attacked

You overall make a really good point and I really don’t see anything I overly disagree with. I’m overall just really happy this has finally become a discussion topic and I’m glad y’all chime in

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

Hi there! It’s been so long, which I think is a good thing. On the 10th it’ll be exactly two years since I was sexually assaulted. My mind is frazzled and focused on other things, but my body remembers. My body remembers so well that I have been shoved into a depressive state. I’m still functioning, I’m just struggling. I’m also on my period, so my hormones are wack and all I want to do is eat popcorn and watch the Planet of the Apes trilogy. To make matters worse, my Mom, who works for a non profit, went on a podcast and talked about me and a false diagnosis that I was given at 13. To put that into perspective, I’ll be 22 in a month. I know “crazy” is not a great term, but y’all my mother is coo-coo bananas for doing that shit. The nonprofit is for that illness, so of course she had to relate it to her personal life. I just wish she would have clarified, like saying that her daughter no longer meets the  criteria for the illness. I’m also upset that she said that DBT was essentially my saving grace. DBT is a form of therapy. DBT was not my saving grace, I fully rejected DBT after being traumatized at a DBT hospital. DBT skills themselves are great, but as a 13 year old, I associated them with that place and refused them. Now as an adult, I can dig, but that wasn’t until recently. What saved my life was changing therapists at 16, getting my licenses, and changing schools so that I could nanny. But that’s not the brand of the non profit unfortunately. You gotta fit the narrative. So yeah, I’m a little stressy and depressy. I don’t think my mom will apologize, which sucks. She can however make a donation to my classroom for being the way she is. I would love to treat myself tomorrow and just really spend the day loving on myself. I think I might buy a expensive coffee, create some lesson plans (I’m an teacher :)!!) and maybe go on a walk in nature. I’m don’t want to fight this depression so hard that it exhausts me. She might be here for a while. I’m not my worst days and I’m not the story that I tell myself on these days. I teach babies and shit. Not many people have the patience to teach babies!! This week has just been weird and tiresome. I think I might need RuPaul’s Drag Race, a Coke Zero, and a hug.

Love you long time,

A.L.

[spencers-renaissance]

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

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

hey momdad, so i have a question and i might be being totally dramatic but i just want a second opinion since everyone in my life makes fun of me for it.

so i have a very weird thing about food texture, like i can’t eat things that are soft. a couple weeks ago i had a soft grilled pepper and almost threw up from the texture. so it makes “eating health” kinda hard cuz once you cook down vegetables they get soft, or if i left fruit sit for a day like apples, they’ll get soft.

so i’m just wondering is this normal? i know lots of people are picky but is it normal to almost throw up because food is too soft? everyone always gives me crap for being a “picky” eater and they don’t get that i will very likely throw up from it, so i’m just wondering if this is a totally normal thing or if it could play a part in being something bigger.

my curiosity mostly comes from seeing a lot of tiktoks about “signs of adhd” and “signs of autism that people don’t talk about” but a lot of those videos are bullshit so i just wanted to talk to someone who actually knows what that are talking about.

sorry if this is really dramatic!

it's not dramatic at all, hon! it's not like you're making up almost vomiting because of a food texture, right? and almost vomiting because of a common texture is a thing that like, significantly impacts your life.

in short, yes, issues with food texture is absolutely A Thing with autism. i don't know that it's also an adhd thing, but autism and adhd are neurological cousins, so i suppose it's possible.

there are a lot of autistics who are called "picky eaters", but it's about something much more serious than just not 'wanting' to try new food, it's about having your sensory input dialed up to a higher level than allistics. i'm not "being dramatic" if i flinch or yell after getting exposed to a loud noise or bright light, i'm reacting in pain because i'm more sensitive to that that sensory input than an allistic.

you're more sensitive to food textures than allistics, and the texture you can't stand is mushy. it's not just a preference, because your body has an actual physical reaction of disgust upon encountering that texture. you can't help it, that's just the settings that your brain was born with.

of course, i can't diagnose your whole person based of this one thing, but i can certainly tell you that this is 100% An Autism Thing, and i think you should look further into autism traits to see what resonates with you. if you want to pursue an adult diagnosis, you can definitely do that, but for some of us it's just not worth it so we choose to self-diagnose because just knowing who we are and finding community is what we need.

this is my autism tag, autism resources tag, and autism traits tag, the latter of which will give you lots of lists of "autism things" to read.

before pressing post, i'm gonna commiserate with a food thing i cannot fucking stand: runny egg yolks. which sucks, because i watch a lot of cooking videos, and ALL the chefs just looove to hold up their eggs and split open the yolk to go oozing everywhere. i have to look away from the screen because just watching it has made me gag in the past. i love eggs, but i have to eat them scrambled.

[actuallyadhd]

So, I recently got diagnosed, but absolutely nothing has changed-like my parents now gaslight me even more, get annoyed when I have sensory overload, get mad if I can't sit still, and tell me I shouldn't need "special things" like basic accommodations(fidgets, extra time, etc). I've also tried meds and they didn't work. Any tips?

Sent April 22, 2022

This is a tough one. Parents are supposed to support us, not make everything harder!

I can’t give you any really good tips without more information on what specifically you’re struggling with, but I’m going to try and at least offer some suggestions for the issues you mentioned here. If you can let me know what in particular is causing you problems and how you’ve tried to deal so far, I am happy to offer what help I can.

Diagnosis

Congratulations on getting diagnosed! It can be a difficult fight, but you persevered and here you are. Welcome to the community; I hope we are all able to support you well.

Parents

Sometimes people think that a diagnosis gives us the problems, but sometimes they think naming the disorder eliminates them. It’s so weird; like, no, having the right label just tells me where to look for solutions that will *actually* help! I don’t know if that’s what’s going on with your parents, obviously, but it is a possibility.

I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with your parents, but it sounds like they aren’t really very safe for you. That really sucks. I don’t know how old you are, but I’m going to assume you are a minor. Do you have any adults in your life who are safe, who you can trust to support you?

Assuming that you have to continue living with your parents, I’ll offer a few suggestions for how to talk to them about the particular things you mentioned when I get to those things. For now, I just want to suggest that you approach them about the possibility of getting talk therapy/counselling. A good counsellor will be able to help you work out some of the things that are causing you difficulty in your relationship with your parents, and they aren’t allowed to discuss your sessions with your parents (or they shouldn’t be; do check their policies and the laws in your area to be sure).

Sensory Overload

Sensory processing stuff can be hard to manage because it’s all about how your brain handles things, so it’s invisible. If you can, I highly recommend taking note of what sends you into overload so that you can find ways to mitigate it. I have a sheet to help you figure this out up on the Actually ADHD web site (http://actuallyadhd.org), in the Resources section under Printables. I am working on turning all of my InfoSheets into fillable PDFs so that people don’t have to print them in order to use them.

Sitting Still

Sitting still can be really hard for us! It took me a while to realize that I am actually always moving some part of my body, and that is how I express hyperactivity. It’s not as blatant as my son’s hyperactivity; he is 7 years old and uses full-body movement to express it!

I don’t know what kind of options you have available to you, but you might look at getting a cushion that will let you sit mostly still while wiggling just a little bit. I’ll try to get an Amazon storefront set up this weekend and make sure to include this sort of thing in it.

If you’re finding that you’re mostly having trouble after a specific length of time—like, you can sit still for a while but then you get fidgety—try taking a bathroom break when you can’t sit still anymore. You don’t need to actually use the facilities, just go in and close the door, and then take some time to get a bunch of that energy out. (Tip: bring your phone and earphones in with you and dance to an awesome high-energy song.)

Another great thing that’s more proactive is to try and get regular exercise, especially cardio. Not only does this help your brain function better (not immediately; it’s more of a long-term investment thing), it helps get some of that energy out and gives you proprioceptive input (physical body sensations). Both of these can be contributing factors in physical hyperactivity.

Accommodations

As we all know, accommodations are most definitely not “special things”; they are necessary modifications to our environment and/or expectations that are based on the specific difficulties we have due to our disability. If you live in the US, appropriate accommodations are required to be provided at work and at school. (I’m pretty sure this is accurate; if anyone out there knows more than I do about the ADA, please feel free to chime in!)

I don’t think the ADA applies to your home life when you’re a minor (could be wrong!), but if you are in school and you do not have an IEP or a 504 plan, please talk to your school—either the counsellor or a trusted teacher—and ask for one. I have heard that a 504 plan is better for ADHDers; we do have some posts with that information here, too. Basically, if you need accommodations at school, you should have a plan in place and your teachers are legally required to follow that plan… and while your parents have to agree to the plan, they really need to be educated by your teachers on this since they obviously don’t care to learn on their own.

Medication

I’m so sorry that medication didn’t help. I want to check in about this briefly because there are a lot of misconceptions about medication and ADHD. So I’m going to address the most common ones here, just in case the information is helpful for you or for someone else reading this post.

Medication isn't going to make you not-ADHD. It just makes your ADHD easier to manage.

Medication usually has side effects; the main question is whether you're willing to put up with them.

There are a lot of different types of medication out there, so don't let anyone stop at just one. The odds are actually really good that there's something out there that will help.

I'm sorry this took so long to post; I started answering it AGES AGO and since it was nearly finished I figured I'd post it now.

-J

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Whumptober Day 21: Infection

CW: sick whumpee, abdominal pain, medical whump, emeto mention, nausea mention, pet whump references, recovering whumpee, fever, sickfic

TIMELINE: Chris’s first year after rescue

Nat makes the call, her jaw set in a grim line as she puts her phone up to her ear, and Jake has never seen the laugh-lines and crow's-feet wrinkles as clearly as he does in the dim yellowed light from the single lamp in the corner. 

"We can't do this," Jake says, softly, but he's outvoted by sheer necessity and he knows it, he knows before the protest ever leaves his mouth. It doesn’t stop his heart from racing, dread pooling deep inside him. "Nat, we can't, he isn't-... they’ll turn him in, Nat, god damn it-"

"Hey," Nat says into the phone, ignoring Jake entirely. "It's me. Yeah. I'm calling you for help." 

Next to Jake, lying on the couch while the big man balances himself seated precariously on the coffee table, Chris whines weakly in pain, pressing the back of Jake's hand to his clammy, sweat-soaked forehead. Coppery hair sticks to him, soaked the color of old pennies. 

Jake half-expects to see the blue-green tarnish growing and taking over.

"Hurts," Chris whispers, and Jake's heart breaks open. They didn't know - Chris had collapsed this morning, thrown up his breakfast and then blacked out in the bathroom, it was the first they'd seen of his illness.

Only when he'd been bundled down here to the couch, temp taken - 102 degrees Fahrenheit, holy fuck, he’d been fine yesterday, right? - had Chris admitted he'd been hurting for two days, a pulsing pain around his navel that felt like it was taking over his whole right side now. He told them he’d been so scared they would make him take medicine again that he hadn't told anyone. 

When Chris pointed to the right side of his stomach and said that it hurt there, and it kept getting worse... that was when Nat had given that serious, firm nod, said Dr. Masood couldn't help them this time, and picked up the phone. 

"Nat, he still has his barcode, they'll fucking turn him in-"

"My money’s on appendicitis," Nat says flatly into the phone. Her eyes move to Chris, lips thinning at his pale skin, freckles and two bright red splotches standing out on his cheeks, the way his green eyes are glassy, hazy, lost until the pain spikes and they briefly clear, just enough for him to start crying again. "Guarantee it. I can't use our guy." A pause. "Listen, he's eighteen - I think - and was routinely subjected to dehydration, starvation, and sleep deprivation. His medical care inside isn’t exactly nothing, but... this is appendi-fucking-citis and that motherfucker is going to burst if we don't get someone to cut it out of him ASAP. I don't have the time to waste going back and forth on this with you. Take one fucking look at him and you’ll know it!"

Nat never swears like this, with such intense hostility and insistence. Chris tightens his grip on Jake, and moans, frightened, turning to look up at him with wide green eyes far too big for his pinched expression. “S-sorry, I’m, I’m sorry… ‘ll... ‘ll b’good...” 

The plaintive haunted fear and hurt in him makes Jake wish there were an enemy, someone he could fight. Sitting here watching Chris get sicker by the hour, able to do absolutely nothing about it, is so much worse than anything else ever has been. 

“It’s okay,” Jake murmurs, stroking over his hair, carding his fingers gently through the damp, sweaty strands. “She’s not mad at you, little man, I swear. You’re sick and she’s trying to get help, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fuck those motherfuckers who made you too scared of pills to tell us you were hurting.

"Jake-" Chris starts, and then stops, swallows as his face goes a little green around the edges and he tenses, whimpering, torn between nausea and the way muscles tensing makes him hurt even worse. Jake watches his internal battle written openly across his expression. Tears slip from his eyes, running down his cheeks, as he chokes back a sob. "It, it, it hurts so much... Jake, I, I need… I could take, take, could… could could could take something now."

Jake nods and starts to move but Nat puts up a hand. "No drugs," She says, quietly. "They'll give him something there to put him under. We don’t want anything to interact badly.”

“Nat-”

“I’m sorry,” She says, her voice firm and calm. “But nothing until my contact has him.”

“Who is your fucking contact, anyway?”

Nat gives Jake a small, tired smile. “Not yet, Jake. Have to keep these things under wraps.”

"Mom, please," Chris pleads, and Jake and Nat both turn to look at him, shocked, eyes wide. "Mom, it, it, it… It hurts!"

Neither of them says anything at first, and Chris stares at them, eyes pleading but far away. It isn’t them he sees at all.

“Nat-”

“Just go with it,” She says, and goes back to the phone.

“Please, Mom-” Chris whimpers.

"Sorry, we can't," Jake whispers, fighting back the burn of hot tears himself as he goes back to stroking through Chris’s hair. Guilt twists inside him, sharp as any knife. Being helpless is tearing him apart.

Chris’s eyes move, lock on Nat, struggle to maintain their focus, go hazy again. His flush is layered over a gray-green paleness that makes him look like a corpse with makeup, pouring sweat that doesn’t cool him down at all. “Mom, please, please help me, please… don’t, don’t, don’t let them take you out, out of my head, Mom, please!”

Nat listens to the voice on the other end of the phone. Her eyes glimmer and her jaw is starting to tremble where she has it locked, visible in the low warm light coming from the lamps, but her voice stays steady. "No. Yes. Yes, that’s him you’re hearing. Yes… 102.3- yes, I'm sure. Fifteen minutes ago, more or less. Abdominal pain - he even said he thought it was a stomachache at first. Fever. Nausea, vomiting, yes. Getting worse and moving down and to the right. Yeah, I know. So how do we keep my rescue safe without the solution being to sit here and watch him die from infection?"

Jake ignores the cold fear that squeezes bony fingers around his heart and wipes Chris's forehead with a cool wet cloth. 

"Mom, m'sick," Chris whispers. "No, no school. Please, please…" His eyes track blearily over Jake's face. "Dad, tell her. Tell, tell, tell-... tell her m’sick…”

"I know," Jake says quietly, his voice shaking and thin. Nat is speaking softer now, lightning-fast whispers with her contact, somebody she's worked with for years with the hospital. "I know, Chris. We’re going to take you to see a doctor, okay?”

Chris blinks at him once, twice, and then his eyes are gone, shifting away. His lower lip starts to tremble, jerking fast, shallow breaths, nearly panting. “I’ll be, be, be-be, be good, don’t… don’t hurt me, sir, I’ll… I’ll be good.”

“I know, buddy, I know.” Jake can’t listen to this much longer. “I know you will.” Chris’s voice is small, losing all his sense of himself. Timid, scared, sweet.

“Be good… can, um, can, can be good f-for… you…” Chris whispers, eyes closing, new tears run out the corners as he whimpers and curls up against the pain. “Just, just stop… hurting me… b-be good, handler, good for, for, for you...”

Jake’s stomach flips and he has to fight the bile trying to rise in his throat. “Nat-”

“Hush, Jake.” Nat’s voice is still calm, and her attention is on the phone. "Mmhmmm. Christopher, um... say Yoder-”

“Stanton,” Jake says from the couch. 

Nat might smile. The expression is too tight, too pinched with worry, to really be called that. “Strike that. Christopher Stanton." Nat listens for a long time, then says quietly, "Eighteen…. We think. No known health problems or pre-existing illness. Autistic."

Jake looks up, blinking, and Nat calmly looks back at him, giving a firm nod while speaking into the phone. "Yes. Yes, I'm confident. He is sensitive to fluorescent lights, scared of needles, and terrified of sedation. Yeah, I realize that I just described the exact environment of a hospital.” Her voice starts to shift, then, and Jake watches her free hand close into a fist. She speaks with increasingly open anger, badly masking her worry and fear. “For the love of Christ, just put on the fucking papers that Christopher Stanton is fucking autistic, because that's what my goddamn rescue is and he still needs care - I'll sell someone else's firstborn to fucking Satan if he isn't autistic, god damn it, mark my fucking words - and we're wasting time goddamn dithering over whether you believe a diagnosis while he gets worse!"

Nat's voice rises, nearly shouting, and Chris whines and curls up closer to Jake, then winces and cries out in pain, straightening back out again. 

"Sssshhhhh, it's okay," Jake murmurs, but his heart is racing, too, his nerves are jagged with memories of swearing, shouting adults. Some part of him that has never stopped being a child braces for the sound of impact. "It's okay."

Nat is quiet for a long time, then snaps, "Yep, nope, I know, I know you needed to confirm," fast and angry. “See you then.” She hangs up, turning to look at Jake and Chris. "My contact is on their way. If the surgery works, two days and he's home. If his appendix bursts... Could be two weeks in the hospital, Jake."

"No," Jake says, lips barely moving. "No, Nat. Two weeks… he can't fake being someone else for so long."

"He better give it his best shot," Nat says, pushing herself to her feet. "I know this sucks, Jake, but sometimes what we do is make the hard choices they can’t make. And… and even if they turn him in, being turned in is better than dying."

Is it? Do you know that?

"What do we do, then?" Jake says, resting his hand on Chris's sweat-damp hair. Chris doesn't seem aware anymore, staring off into space, weeping silent tears and hitching soft sobs, promising in whispers to be good and obey his handler if only he’ll make the pain stop. “What’s the next step? Give me a fucking order, Nat, because I’m lost, and-” Jake gives a nervous, humorless laugh. “-I’m pretty fucking scared for him.”

"Yeah… yeah, I get that. Just pack some clothes and toiletries," Nat says flatly. "And prepare to swear on the fucking Bible to doctors and surgeons and fucking cops if we have to that his name is Chris Stanton and he's your little brother. We’re about to put on a show, Jake."

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not leaving him. You are going to be the most concerned and caring big brother the world has ever seen. When he gets out of surgery, you’re going to meet him in recovery, you’re going to stay with him in his room day and night. You’re there from day one until he walks back out the door.” Nat’s jaw is set again. “And he will be walking back out that door with us.”

“Visiting hours-”

“He can’t make his own medical decisions,” Nat says, leaning over a little, staring Jake right in the eyes. “So someone has to be there all the time. Do you understand me? He can’t.”

“He’s not-... he could, if he was a little further along-”

Chris whines, and his hand grabs weakly at Jake’s and squeezes. Jake can hardly feel it. 

“He’s not. Okay? He’s not that far into recovery yet. We’re going to pretend he’s a lot less capable than he is, to get him through this. We are going to pretend he can’t do it himself, because right now it’s not pretending, he wouldn’t remember what to do yet. And I feel like shit treating him like a toddler, Jake, I really do, but… but he can’t do this alone, and I can’t exactly tell them it’s because he was a pet and they’re trained to be dependent, now can I? We’re going to have to lie about his condition.”

“That wasn’t actually a lie, though, right? We do think he is actually-”

“Yeah. We do. But he’s not incapable - or he won’t be, once he’s older. That’s what we have to lie about. And I don’t-... right now I don’t give a shit about a damn thing except buying him more time to fucking grow up.”

"What about his barcode?"

Nat takes a deep breath. "My contact is going to bandage it over, say it was part of when he passed out and they’ve taken care of it and we're going to hope to Christ no one who they don't trust checks under it. We're out of options, Jake, unless you know how to do an appendectomy and you’ve just been holding out on me. I’m not prepared to do kitchen table surgery. Are you?"

There’s a pause while they stare at each other, and then Jake takes in a deep, steady breath.

You can do this. Chris needs you to do this.

"His name is Chris Stanton," Jake says, meeting her eyes, "and he's my little brother, and he's autistic. I’m his medical power of attorney, I make medical decisions when he’s incapcitated. He’s scared of hospitals because of bad childhood experiences and needs someone nearby at all times or he’ll lose it.”

Nat gives a terse nod. "Good. Pack your shit, and hope his fucking appendix hasn't burst while my contact dicked around." 

Nat went up the stairs like a lightning bolt, and Jake let out a shuddering breath. 

By the time they hear the ambulance pull up a few minutes later, sirens and lights carefully off, they're packed and ready to follow in Nat’s old truck.

Chris's fever is still rising. 

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

[teaboot]

Hey I just wanted to ask you something I don't know if its personal so maybe I'll start with me, my psychiatrist told me that I have asperger's syndrome and like my mom keeps asking me like what does that means because I think she sees people with autism as stupid and I'm at the top of my class so she feels like it's a mistake, I personally go mute for months sometimes except for like oral tests, and idk I forget about having a body and so I hit onto walls when I'm focused on something but *

"...*is not so exaggerated like I'm pretty functional I just forget that there are walls and doors and that I can't just transport me to the other room or so,I mean I feel like I'm just trying to find what my "weird or autistic" traits are to justify the diagnosis,I didn't asked my psychiatrist to elaborate on that and so I was wondering, what would you say that your autistic traits are?Also just in case,I know that autistic people can be hella smart and I think that you are really wise I admire you"

Thank you so much, that's very sweet of you to say!

Honestly, I'm sort of in a similar situation- My parents' reaction was to say, "you're too smart to be autistic" or, "Everyone of ~your intelligence~ is a little weird in the head, anyways", and then. Expect me to live up to all the positive stereotypes without ever getting bogged down by the negative realities?

This might not be very helpful at all of me to say, but as an adult who grew up in a rather unpleasant environment, there really isn't much help for a number of things except getting old and independant enough to move out, and then just accepting that their perception of reality isn't open to negotiation. You can try debating it, or meeting them on common ground with scientific basis, but in my case....

....well. There's just some things I now know not to talk about at family gatherings.

I'm sorry, I know that's probably not very helpful or heartening to hear. 

As for my personal grab bag of symptoms? I tend to hyperfocus on personal projects. When I'm really invested in an art piece, I often forget to eat or sleep or drink, and the only way I've learned to snap out of that is that if my hands are shaking or I'm falling over a lot, I probably need to eat something and lay down for a while, because otherwise- and yeah, not the healthiest motivator- otherwise I might start fucking up my hard work.

I also get overwhelmed by overlapping noises- if two people are talking at once, even if one is on a radio or TV show, I can't hear either of them and it stresses the shit out of me. White noise, like in malls or assemblies, also tends to burn my energy pretty fast.

Things like leaf blowers, people whistling indoors, and emergency sirens are physically painful. Repetitive noises like a bouncing rubber ball, sniffling, dogs licking things, and low-frequency vibrations from massage chairs, earthquakes, distant bass music, and some fluorescent lighting systems are impossible to ignore, which ranges from irritating to distressing, depending on my headspace du jour.

I hate bland food with a passion. It tends to make me nauseaus. I like lots of spice, lots of sugar, lots of sour and hot and acidic. I love strong flavours, and if I'm cooking for friends and family I often have to remind myself to tone down the seasonings for them.

Some textures make me genuinely ill, too- most types of meat, fat, and other animal bits result in.... Bad times for all. Polyester towels suck ass. Microfiber cloth. Thick cotton knit material. Any fabric covering my forearms. Thin, elastic denim. Vinyl. Polar fleece.

On the flip side, I looooove woven cotton blankets. Cotton sheets, cotton bedding- cold, heavy duvets are good, too. Acrylic, so long as it doesn't get damp. I have.... Perhaps a little bit of a problem here, as I do... Maybe, possibly, get a little impulsive with buying rugs, throws, and blankets when I come across one that feels right.

All my cups and bowls are handmade out of clay. I'm OK with smooth ceramics, but stoneware feels happy in my hands. I think of it as a treat, like packing a bit of chocolate with my lunch, or eating a whole bag of popcorn by myself. Again, I.... May go a little overboard when I come across A nice-feeling piece of dishware.

Basically, from what I understand, a lot of folks on the spectrum are under and over stimulated by various sensory inputs.

Me, I gravitate towards taste, inertia, tactile sensation, temperature, and dark lighting, while I find myself avoiding, limiting, or minimizing sound, light, color, oral texture, and smell.

As for more stereotyped behaviors, I find organizing things such as legal documents, filing cabinets, paint swatches, hardware, coins, stones, or colors to be very soothing and almost meditative. I go through special interests fairly often, and have been 'into' things like animals, insects, natural history, and art since before I could walk. I can't explain why they're such alluring subjects, they just make me happy.

I didn't realize until recently that I do stim, as well- I rock, sway, growl, swish water around, hang upside-down, rotate my thumbs, rub fabric, twirl coins, and flex my hands. I also (rarely) seem compelled to jump up and down in circles very fast when I'm particularly excited, or flap my arms against my sides like a penguin.

When I'm overstimulated, I go.... I'm not sure if you could call it 'nonverbal'. I get the feeling I COULD speak, it's just.... Overwhelmingly difficult. Usually I find a dark space or a corner away from people, put a coat or something over my head, cover my ears, close my eyes... Sometimes deliberate eye contact is hard, or I can't say more than one or two words at a time, or I find myself relying more on a hum or a grunt to communicate that I'm listening.

It... Probably all sounds weird to a neurotypical who may be reading, but I'm perfectly happy with myself as I am. I wouldn't change it if I could, except perhaps to minimize some of the more irritating things.

Mostly, my biggest peeve is being treated like a cool new pet or accessory. "Oh, this is my person with Autism- they're great at cleaning, you should get one!"- yeah, that can fuck right off. I'm right here, I can hear you, I'm a person. A little respect goes a long way.

But, whoops, here I've gone on a ramble- you want the best advice I have, though? Become comfortable with the person you are. Accept and seek out what things bring you happiness. Don't get hung up on the negatives. Love your experience, if you can, and don't worry about validating anything- you are who you are, and the words we use to explain ourselves fall so, so short when faced with the complexity of our individual existence.

The way I see it, the day before your diagnosis is the same as today, you just have one more tool to understand yourself with. The decision of how and if you choose to explain this to those around you is entirely yours to decide! 

I know this kind of went off the rail of your question. My answers are a little limited. I hope I could help anyways! Good luck!!

[tookishcombeferre]

Fandom Discourse

I have many special interests, and so my blog is very eclectic. But, I wanted to stand in support of a couple of folks who are having a hard time in the fandom belonging to one of my special interests. 

I don’t usually like to pile on, but ableism in this fandom is rampant, and it’s time I said something instead of just feeling sorry for myself. 

More on this under the cut.

Firstly, I want to elevate the voice of @phandombigotryarchive and @your-angle-of-music who have pointed out a lot of really really important things that I am, as a white person who loves the music in Phantom of the Opera and Erik, still learning, educating myself on, and researching. 

I know, for certain, that I have probably intentionally reblogged things from folks in the fandom and/or inadvertently supported folks on AO3 who are actively making this an unsafe space for POC and trans fans. For that, I am deeply sorry and want to do my homework better before supporting artists/writers who are not showing human decency. 

Thank you both for the work that you, and others, are putting into the fandom to make it safer for everyone to interact with. 

Additionally, I want to speak to my own relationship with this fandom as an autistic person. I knew, as I read through what was being said recently, that it was time to make my own post about something that has been bothering me about this fandom since I entered into it at the age of 13 long before my official autism diagnosis. 

To me, as an autistic person, Erik’s story always resonated with me as someone who is neuroatypical. Erik was living and observing neurotypical people while not knowing how to or having the ability to enter into their community. However, he LONGED for it. 

As an autistic person, this made a lot of sense to me. I, too, felt isolated from most other people, even if I was in close physical proximity. It was like a mirror where I could see out into the world, but the world couldn’t find me. So, I found the ALW imagery very applicable to the way I saw the world as early as 6. 

However, as I entered into the fandom and read fics from other writers, Erik remained trapped behind an inability to communicate EVEN when he and Christine were in a long standing relationship. He was flighty, obsessive, and just down right weird. I began to wonder if that’s how my romantic relationships would be, and if I would ever be able to be “a normal person” in a relationship with someone else. 

Erik in most fanfics, even in one’s I’ve mostly liked, does not get to develop beyond the way he is written in ALW or Leroux’s work. We’ve spent so much time making him “in character” without ever exploring the possibility that Erik might be able to engage in his special interests and develop into a fully functional autistic adult. However, I think, that is in part because we like to demonize and/or infantilize and/or fetishize him.  

Erik is not a baby. He’s not a sweet innocent child. He has killed people. He’s done wrong. He is capable of feeling emotions very deeply, including anger. He has a lot of depth that can be explored in fic. But, we don’t. We often reduce him to the weirdly-attractive, strange speaking, Angel-man behind the mirror. 

I find this most apparent in the way people write Erik’s dialogue.

The way Erik speaks, in the third person I mean, has always been an issue for me when I read fan fiction as well as the original Leroux text. As someone who talks to themselves quite frequently to help process sensory overstimulation/remember tasks, though not necessarily in the third person, I find it really uncomfortable how people use this in fic. I’m uncomfortable because Erik usually does this either when he’s super angry and beating up on Christine OR when he’s super sad and acting like a child. There’s never any mention of Erik talking to himself in the third person (or at all) when he’s pretending people are interviewing him about his latest composition or when he’s just trying to remember something important. 

For me, it’s the context that’s important. 

This is just one example of what the demonization and/or infantilization I’ve seen in fic in this fandom. 

Others include but are not limited to: 

1) Erik’s (often violent) meltdowns:  

Why are they problematic in fan fiction in this fandom: meltdowns are not just glorified rage fits. They’re scary and overwhelming. I usually fall asleep on the floor shortly after having one. I don’t just yell, throw something, scare people, and then sulk. If I’m violent at all, it’s towards myself. 

2) Erik’s obsession with Christine

Why is it problematic in fan fiction in this fandom: a lot of people sort of poke fun at Erik’s social ineptness when it comes to dealing with his romantic feelings for Christine (for example the life size mannequin of her). Yes, Erik loves her. However, do we really have to perpetually treat him like a high school boy? Do we have to make his crush really predatory just for character development? Is this really the only thing he loves? The answer to all of these questions is no - in case you were wondering. 

You know what I’d like to see Erik love more? His music and his organ. Can we give Erik’s organ and his music the love and rightful place in his life that they also deserve? For once, can we acknowledge that Erik’s special interests are as important to him as Christine? No. We can’t. We won’t. 

3) Putting Erik in socially uncomfortable positions for character development

Why is it problematic in fan fiction in this fandom: Neuroatypical people’s pain is not for you to profit off of in your fics. Period. It’s not character development. It hinders our character development. I am not a more “well developed character” for the number of socially awkward/ bullying situations that I’ve been forced into. Putting Erik in crowded spaces and giving him panic attacks sucks ass. No. Stop doing it. Find a better way, or just stop writing it all together. 

This is not an exhaustive list, but it is something that I’ve wanted to bring up for years. It feels nice to get this off my chest. 

TL;DR: Erik’s passions, lack of social skills, and other “quirks” of his character always made him a character I empathized with because he was like me. I don’t understand why people use these same quirks to infantilize, fetishize, and/or demonize him. I, an autistic adult, am not a child, not a fetish, and not evil.