#not just my autism

[kenapiece-main]

Can you believe I'm having to make this meme even after successfully finishing up taxes and applying to job

[specks-of-time]

[crochet-girl6]

Here's a weird hot take: disability doesn't work the same way as queerness. I mainly mean this when ppl treat disorders like queer labels, and when ppl say they are “in the closet” abt their disability. the ppl that say that shit the most are ppl who have the privilege of “not looking disabled”. idk who needs to hear this but YOU CANT CLOSET YOUR DISABILITY. ppl r still gonna be able to tell that someone is “wrong with you” when if they cant tell your disabled.

-sincerely a person with medium support needs who is seeing this shit yall low support needs ppl are saying and going “?” everytime i see it.

[burntblueberrywaffles]

[I.D. an edited version of the "is this a pigeon" meme. A man with glasses, captioned "my overstimulated ass" points at a butterfly, captioned "someone making an annoying noise". At the bottom of the image, a dialogue caption reads "is this a crime deserving the death sentence?" end I.D.]

[aroacedavestrider]

people will hear you talk about struggling with mental illness and say “you can do anything if you just put your mind to it”. brother what part of the body does the mental illness happen in. what do you think is the problem

[xx-k1tsun3-k1d-xx]

the mobile phone museum is a online museum featuring over 2000 types of old and funky phones that’s amazing for seeing old phones and getting info about them for stuff like writing/art or just because they’re so cool and i love them look at them

behold! some of my favourite silly creatures :3

[hell-is-a-teenage-girll]

I'm gonna add since people misread.

No the point is not empathy in this post.

There is nothing wrong with different types of empathy levels, all are valid 🩷

What is the point tho, is that people decide what autism is, that we are all the same, what empathy is and automatically assume we either don't have it or must be a bad person if our empathy level is not the same or what they think it should be.

So please, don't speak badly of people with low empathy or whatever level. Cause I say it again.

I don't allow it, I don't condone it, and you are just as valid 🖤

[melxhunter]

I feel like there are a lot of people out there who needs to hear this:

If you dropped out of school because of diagnosed (or undiagnosed) ADHD, Autism, ADD, OCD, Dyslexia, Anxiety, Depression, Bipolar disorder, psychotic disorders, schizophrenia etc… You did not fail. The education system failed you.

[sillystringpony]

THE AUTISM SISTERS!!!!!!!!

no text ver below :3

interactions hugely appreciated <333333

MY KO-FI <3

[aphel1on]

AuDHD is so funny sometimes like what do you mean my hyperfixations/special interests will last for years on end or possibly forever but they will cycle out every month or two with absolutely no transitional period or warning. like i will think about the same topic every day obsessively for 46 days in a row and on the 47th day with no visible cause adhd brain goes "ok! bored of that now" and autism brain goes "dw i got something queued up for ya" and i blast into full blown obsession on some other topic whose mental file folders haven't opened in 9 months. brain's out here treating hyperfixations like a crop rotation. once the dopamine runs out it cycles in another one but once something's in the rotation it never ever leaves. last summer we brought in one from when i was 11. it's so funny to me but frustrating too bc like. i cannot stress enough my inability to predict or control this. or how completely abrupt and random it can be

[maxgicalgirl]

Being a “Fun Fact !” kind of autistic is all fun and games until you get halfway through sharing an interesting tidbit and realize that it probably wasn’t appropriate to share in polite company and now you have to deal with the consequences :(

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in in, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[oilith]

Don't laugh at people or mock people who are "childish". People are allowed to like things that are considered "childish". Toys, kids cartoons, anything like that can be a valuable source of comfort for the people who like them. It's important to have things in life that make you happy, and without them it gets miserable. Wether that thing is stuffed animals or cooking or writing lyrics, what's important is that others don't ridicule and belittle them for it. There shouldn't be such judgement for the things that make people happy.

[grasslandgirl]

i'll never get over how fascinating eliot's characterization as a hitter. obviously he's trained- military, hand to hand, weaponry, martial arts- that's to be expected. but so often I think in media about like. the Best Hitters in this genre and etc they're characterized by like? not getting hit. they're sooo good that the avoid every punch and catch every kick in mid air and dodge bullets and etc and that's not Eliot at all. he lets himself get punched in the face. he gets kicked and bowled over and uses that shift in momentum to his advantage. he gets knocked to the ground and the guys he's fighting think he's down for the count for only one moment before Eliot Spencer gets back up. because he always gets back up- but that character trait is Only compelling IF he gets knocked down enough for it to MATTER. and he DOES! and his fighting skills- they're not innate, they're not a natural inclination to fighting, its training and knowledge- he can talk about details and styles at length, he can (and does!) teach the others how to take and throw a punch, which speaks even more to his skill and knowledge and ability. he's the hitter because he's been doing it so long. because he fights to survive and he isn't afraid to get hit and lose the fight to win the battle. god. Eliot Spencer. character of all time

[queerdraws]

Fanart for a snippet of my most favorite heartbreaking moment from swordsmans's fic bone-breaker ospreys mate for life (rated E)

[boiledprawn99]

when he gets to the old hunters dlc he’s gonna wish he was back at Urbanshade LOLLLL