Things I Am Not...Things I Am

Things I Am Not

I am not going through a phase.

I am not a “late bloomer”.

I am not anti-social.

I am not unfriendly.

I am not a snob.

I am not unfeeling.

Things I Am

I am on the Autism Spectrum.

I am exactly who I was meant to be.

I am a fiercely loyal friend.

I am funny as hell when you get to know me.

I am dangerously empathetic.

I am more like you than you think.

Was The Grinch An Aspie?

Sit down this Christmas season and watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas (the 1966 cartoon…not the live action travesty) and look at the Grinch versus the Whos as an Aspie versus a town of NTs. It might give you some insight about people like me.


What was it the Grinch hated so much about the way the Whos down in Whoville celebrated Christmas? “All the noise, noise, noise, noise!” I feel you, Grinch. I do. Like so many Aspies, the Grinch prefers to be alone, living atop Mount Crumpet with only his dog for company. His need for quiet is overwhelming and the endless disruption of it drives him to a state of bitterness and hatred.

The narrator doesn’t get it. He tells us that the Grinch’s heart is two sizes too small…or that his head isn’t screwed on right. Naturally it’s all Mr. Grinch’s fault that he can’t conform to what the rest of Whovillian society expects.

I’m not saying it’s okay to try to destroy a holiday enjoyed by many, or that I agree in any way with how the Grinch deals with the situation. I’m just saying it doesn’t seem fair that things had to get so bad that he felt he had no other recourse. Why didn’t anyone see that he needed help?

Unlike the Grinch, I don’t hate Christmas. I don’t have a problem with the size of my heart. A Christmas morning Who song will not magically make me able to tolerate “All the noise, noise, noise, noise!”. The Grinch is not a perfect analogy. If he were truly an Aspie, no amount of heart growth would make him want to be smack in the middle of the Whoville Christmas festivities.

My point is simply this, before you judge someone who wants to be left alone or try to tell them that their intolerance of noise is just an overreaction, remember that it goes both ways. You enjoy your flu-flubas and tartinkas and I’ll take my plate of Who Pudding and Roast Beast over to this quiet corner and we’ll each enjoy Christmas our own way.

The Great Puzzle

I was stuck in traffic behind a car with an Autism ribbon the other day and it got me to thinking about the use of multi-colored puzzle pieces as the symbol for Autism. I get that Autism is puzzling in terms of what causes it and why Autism is so different in each Autistic person, but I resent feeling like there are people who think that I am a puzzle that needs to be solved, as if I’m somehow broken or incomplete.


The more I stared at the ribbon, the more I thought about it. With everything that has been going on with work, the idea of there being something “wrong” with me is all it takes to set me off on a rant about how good I am at my job. I have rocked my AR job for years, not in spite of being an Aspie, but because of it. Hyperfocus, repetition, and the ability to look at things differently…those are my strengths and I have them because I am Autistic.

I’ve not had to give a great deal of thought to my needs at work in relation to having Asperger’s Syndrome. Having my own office, where I can wear earplugs and not answer the phone has provided all the “special accommodation” I need. Unfortunately, my new boss is trying to take all that away from me, despite my attempts at explaining the importance of staying put.

So now I come back to the puzzle symbol. And it hits me.

I am not a puzzle, but how I live my life is. Imagine if every human response to social situations and various stimuli were color coded. A love of loud, busy settings is “Red”. Preferring to stay in and have a quiet evening is “Blue.” Taking charge and/or being aggressive are “Green”. Nurturing others is “Pink”, and so on. Everyone gets to pick and choose which colors with which to piece together their own worlds.

Most neurotypical people would choose only one or two colors. Many Autistic people would do the same. For me, it’s not so simple. In one instance, “Green” may be the way to go. In another, I’ll choose “Blue” or “Pink”. Because I cope with different situations and stimuli in so many ways, my life is a beautiful mosaic, alive with color.

Autism “Spectrum”, indeed.

Glee and Asperger's Syndrome

Below is a copy of a letter I wrote to Fox and posted on Glee's official Facebook page:

For two seasons, I have watched and loved every episode of Glee.  I love that a show can embrace every difference and disability with kindness and humor.  It makes me nostalgic for my own show choir days and the only time in my life that I ever felt I belonged somewhere.  You see, I have Asperger’s Syndrome and fitting in is next to impossible.

Imagine my joy when a character who represents my place on the Autism spectrum was introduced and presented with the same kindness and humor as all the other characters…or rather then joy I might have felt if that had actually happened.  Instead, enter Sugar Motta, the “bitch with a twist.”  Maybe you thought throwing in “self-diagnosed” would make it all right.  It didn’t.

I am a 35 year old woman with Asperger’s Syndrome.  I was only diagnosed last December.  You see, it’s much harder to diagnose Aspie females because we learn social coping methods more readily than our male counterparts.  For those of us who grew up in a time when Asperger’s was not widely known, we stumbled through our childhoods and wondered why we never grew out of our “awkward phases”.  As adults, finding an autism literate therapist is harder than you might think.  Asperger’s is largely misunderstood, even by the so-called experts.

Because of all this, many Aspies are self-diagnosed.  They seek answers to why they feel so different from everyone else and eventually realize the truth – that they, like me, are Autistic.  They are not looking for an excuse to be “bitches”.  They are looking for acceptance.  We recognize our own and do not discriminate simply because someone does not have an “official” diagnosis.  Are there people who claim the Aspie label so they can get away with bad behavior?  Yes.  But not nearly as many as you might think.

Unfortunately, because of characters like Sugar, myself and Autistic people like me are accused of making it all up.  We battle discrimination and misunderstanding on all fronts…even within our own community.  There is a lot of bad information around, leading to misconceptions about why we are the way we are.  Good writers research the characters they create and it’s clear that someone did not do their homework.

You can make this right.  Learn the truth about us and portray us correctly.  Start here:

http://autismandempathy.com/

http://www.journeyswithautism.com/

http://defeatingthedoginthedaytime.blogspot.com/

http://mybrainyourbrain.wordpress.com/

http://thoughtyautie.wordpress.com/

http://aspergirlmaybe.wordpress.com/

http://jerobison.blogspot.com/

http://nostereotypeshere.blogspot.com/

http://femmeburger.blogspot.com/

http://autism-fallingintoplace.blogspot.com/

We are Autistic.  We are Aspies.  We deserve to be heard.

Looking Through a New Lens

When I look at things that I have always tried to shove down because they weren’t normal through this new Aspie lens, I realize more and more how much of myself I have suppressed in an effort to fit in. I’m a list maker. I’m terribly disorganized, so I make lists to try and organize my brain. Naturally, I’m making lists to sort through what I can do to make my life easier now that I know what it is that’s causing the endless freak outs. This first list I’ll call, “Shit I Thought Was Wrong With Me.”

• “Can you see where I’m coming from?” No, I can’t. If you are reacting to an issue in a way that makes no sense to me, I can’t force myself to see it your way. You can try and try to explain how you feel, but I just don’t get it. No amount of explaining is going to make me understand why you want to take the action you’ve chosen to take. I don't want to talk it out, either.  Say what you need to say, I'll say what I need to say and then let's move on.  I've never understood the need to talk a topic to death.  For most of my life I have thought this meant I was insensitive.

• “You don’t call, you don’t write…” Sorry, I just don’t notice if long stretches of time go by when I don’t talk to you. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I don’t need the constant contact that so many people need. I’m good on my own. I used to think this meant I was selfish and I forced myself to put on my neurotypical costume and endure so much face time when what I wanted was solitude.  I beat myself up for years because I thought I wasn't supposed to want to be left the hell alone.

• “You’ll change your mind about wanting kids when you meet the right man.” No, I will not. I have never wanted kids. I can be very maternal with my friends, but I am not meant to be a mother. Kids are messy and noisy and refuse to do things in an orderly, scheduled manner. I need a routine and lots of quiet time.  I do not need a house full of legos and unidentifiable odors.

• “It’s not THAT crowded.” To you, maybe. To me, being around too many people at once is sheer hell. At the same time, there are certain times when I can deal with crowds. At a theme park, when I’m alone or with one or two friends, I’m okay. Yes, there are a lot of people, but everyone is going in a different direction and I’m in a small group. I can cope with that a lot better than I can deal with a general admission concert. No assigned seats, everyone pushing to get closer to the stage, everyone with the same destination – too much. The last one of those I went to, I ended up at the back of the venue alone while my friends were in the middle of all the chaos.  Guess what?  Going out with your friends and ending up by yourself sucks balls.

• “But you’re a performer, so you can talk to anyone.” True, I was in show choir and drama in school and I was a tour guide at a local theme park when I graduated high school. I loved being on stage and it was easy for me. For a little while, I could interact with people without really interacting. I was just playing a part. When first I got my tour guide job, I delivered fifteen minute tours from the back of a tram – zero human interaction. Later, I was trained as a VIP guide, which meant that I had to take groups of up to fifteen people into the park and interact with them for four to eight hours. I hated it. I also spent some time working as a leasing agent at an apartment complex and as a concierge at a convention hotel. I despised both jobs. Where I am now, I can keep human interaction to a minimum and it’s the best job I’ve ever had. It would be even better if I could telecommute and cut down the interaction even more.

• “You’re overreacting.” You might think so, but I’m reacting the only way I can. I can’t help but get riled up over what you see as “little things”. I can become intensely aggravated by a shirt tag or the sound of dripping water. I can totally lose it when my routine is disrupted. I will freak out because I can become overwhelmed by things most people don’t even notice.

There are plenty of other things I can add to this list and will as I explore and examine my life so far. This is a whole new world for me. I never thought learning I was different would be the thing that finally made me feel normal.