Keep Talking, Someone Really is Listening

It is so rare that I have something positive to report about the state of the autistic person. The Centers for Disease Control released a report that there was a rise in autism diagnoses. The new ratio is 1 autistic in 36 children. This seems to be more in line with the high rates in New Jersey that I reported on earlier in time.

Here is the article: https://www.today.com/health/autism-prevalence-increase-cdc-study-rcna76233

The article on the Today Show site stated several times that the cause of the rise in autism diagnoses is unclear, whether it is due to some environmental factor, or whether it is due to universal autism screening at certain ages, implemented only in 2008, but if you are a regular reader of mine, you will notice I am on team universal screening. This reason seems the most in line with a genetic cause. As I have stated before, there are a lot of factors that point to potential autism in the distant past, such as the legend of the fairy changeling. Basically, the fairy changeling behaviors often line up with autistic behaviors, such as rocking and singing to oneself. These children were usually left in the woods to die off. As autism is now diagnosed, this is no longer the case. Another Whether you have eccentric relatives, or your family was plagued with fairy changelings, there is evidence of autism in the past.

This was the first thing reported in the Today 3rd Hour show. I watch it out of routine, which my fellow autistics and I find a lot of comfort in. There was a lot of discussion about why, which the CDC reporter believes is universal screening and diagnosis, which I mentioned earlier. Also, there was discussion about who was getting diagnosed. In other words, children of color were getting their diagnosis by universal screening twice as much as white children. I applaud this development. We need to find the autistic children out there, no matter what they look like, so we can help them, too.

What I really noticed was Sheinelle Jones’s behavior. She displayed the shift that is now coming in parents of autistic children, and it is due to us, that instead of the panicky mindset of “OH NO! My child is autistic!” the new thoughts coming on are “Okay, my child is autistic. What can we do about it?” This is where I find most of the hope I am displaying here. I believe that shift is coming because of bloggers and autistic activists like yours truly. This is why I am saying to keep talking. People are listening.

While I do not recommend the conversion therapy-style tactics of ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis), I do recommend speech therapy and stim allowance. I also recommend that society be taught about the troubles autistic people go through, and various types of behavior used to cope with a world that often comes at them like fifty fast-moving freight trains at once. The world needs us autistic activists and bloggers. Keep talking, someone is listening.

Musings, March 21, 2023

I have been busy transitioning from a comfortable income to a level of poverty. I went from roughly $3000 in monthly funds for two people, to $1275. I’m still recovering from the overdrafts of last month. (Do NOT deal with Rocket Money unless you can afford a hefty payment for the month.) Anyway, I’ve got some big changes to the system of the food purchases I need. Apparently, over $1200 in income is too much for a decent amount of SNAP benefits. I’m considering a part-time job in a place I can walk to, such as the nearby Arby’s, Dairy Queen, clothing or grocery stores, and maybe use my Peer Specialist Certification to get a job. (Unfortunately, I may need a driver’s license, which I have never had.) Maybe they’ll relent on the driver’s license requirement, who knows? I’ll have to see. It may take away my Social Security Disability, but maybe I can use my disability and mental illness (autism and depression) to help others.

Anyway, I’m off to my mother’s convalescent home progress meeting, so I’ll keep you guys updated.

Just Worried About Mom

I hope I’m not exposing family secrets with this. I’m just worried about my mother.

The truth is her willingness to fight for her health has vanished. She won’t let me move her, and she is getting stiff. Today, she won’t even take her medicines. I can’t keep her properly clean with this new stiffness. (I hope it’s not Stiff Person Syndrome.) As her caretaker, I worry about her constantly.

Is she depressed?

Is she getting Stiff Person Syndrome?

Does she want to die?

Okay, before I go diagnosing all this in my head – and I’m not even a doctor – I need to calm down, I guess. I’m having a hard time right now, and I know she is having a hard time, too. I’m just worried.

“As We See It,” Episode 1: Thoughts

Well, I was lurking around Amazon Prime Video, wondering if I could find something I could watch and relate to. I picked up on “As We See It,” the pilot. A quick about: Three diverse autistic people struggle and triumph in an apartment in Los Angeles. Also, there is a psychological aide there, and they have various relationships around them.

I have never related so much to a character than I did the girl who wanted to have a relationship with someone and, sadly, “be normal.” Of course, she was twenty-five in the show, while I am in my forties. My experience points to happiness coming from ditching the normalcy strife and just embracing my authentic, autistic self. (Sure, I can mask and put up a neurotypical act just like Sir Anthony Hopkins, but I find that exhausting.) The girl on the show clearly has not found that out yet, so she’s striving for what she calls “normal.”

I must confess, now, that I have been too hard on Sheldon Cooper of “The Big Bang Theory.” Another autistic character acts a lot like him, but it’s apparent that he has little to no control over it. If, maybe, Sheldon himself was revealed to be autistic, I would not have ranted and raved about his stereotypical behavior in previous entries.

In a third character, who has higher support needs, there is a struggle to get to a local coffee shop through a small walk through a chaotic and overwhelming street of Los Angeles. Seriously, the autistic brain is fairly chaotic without the intrusions of loud noises, pop-up dogs, random cyclists and other people jumping out in front of you. SPOILER ALERT: It is conquered one evening. But who knows if the character can handle it another day?

Some of you ought to know that I secretly call autism Chaos Brain. Imagine a messy house. There is stuff laying about everywhere. Nothing is in its place. Clothes, dishes, stuffed animals, records, whatever, but it’s all out and everywhere. This is a proper metaphor for the autistic brain. Now do you see who we are so overwhelmed by outer stimuli coming into our view? It just piles on and on until, in essence, you get something so chaotic, it overwhelms. So, when you come across our autistic selves being hesitant about something, ask us if we can focus on one thing. It helps.

I am just letting the neurotypical brain into my brain space. It’s not easy, is it?

I’m not putting down your particular type of hard. I’m just letting you into my own type of hard.

Distracted Reading and Gun-Toting Powerlessness

Okay. Today I explained to my mom why I don’t read my books while she’s watching tv. Simply put, I get distracted. (It’s an autism thing.) For example, the last time I tried to read my book while she was watching Family Feud, with Steve Harvey as the host. For those not in the know, Steve Harvey is a boisterous man. I was reading Prey by Michael Crichton, and somehow, I was picturing the nanotech facility with Steve Harvey in it. My mom doesn’t laugh much, but she smiles widely when it’s funny to her. I think she got the message. (Those in the know, know.)

Anyway, on to other news: I am just as shocked – but not surprised – that there was yet another mass shooting in an elementary school in Texas. Children and teachers were slaughtered this time. I don’t have to say much more, but what surprises me is that people are much more open to gun reform now. I’m not surprised by the NRA with their obsession with guns, guns, guns. It seems to me that the long-disproven myth of the “Good Guy with a Gun” still rings true in their hearts. It seems more that the gun is treated like the ultimate tool for POWER AND CONTROL. People in the NRA somehow, even with their guns, feel powerless. Powerlessness is behind the most bitter of battles, like the gun battle in the USA. Here’s the thing: powerlessness is the state of man everywhere. I know how it is to feel helpless and powerless. It’s scary. But there’s no need to build up a stockade to keep control. I mean, what will you sacrifice in the name of control?

I’m going to lose a lot of friends here, in a pro-gun state where people concealed carry in church, but I am not entirely sure that the good guy with the gun is the god you want to sacrifice your children to.

Now, I’m not saying that you shouldn’t defend yourself, and maybe an assault rifle might be needed to go grocery shopping someday (Hello Demolition Man), but I don’t think a person with an illness should be allowed to walk into a gun seller, walk out with assault rifles the same day, and be able to shoot up a place where people meet – certainly not a place full of innocent children, like an elementary school. Have we lost our minds? I certainly haven’t. Not yet, anyway.

A Decision (for Science)

TRIGGER WARNING: Talk of Menopause; Periods and Symptoms Included

You know what I read lately? There is literally no research on how autistic women experience menopause. The only evidence of it is reported in blogs. So, in an effort to push for research on such major changes in an autistic woman’s life, I have decided to report my process of menopause on here. Currently, I am apparently in perimenopause right now.

The average age of menopause in my family is fifty years old. I am now approaching forty-five.

My periods are now somewhat irregular. This is a recent development. My mother and I reported this to the doctor.

Hot flashes come after cooking, usually while eating. I remember my first hot flash. It happened on a cold, snowy January day. I was wearing a tank top and flannel shirt on top (it was the fashion then), and suddenly I got so hot and sweaty I had to remove the flannel, drink water and open the doors to the outside. I almost went out into the snowy landscape waiting there for relief. Good thing my mother realized what was happening and talked me out of it. If I work hard enough while cooking, I can get just as hot and sweaty while eating.

I have noticed a shift in my attitudes and moods. This shift has definitely gone towards the grouchy side; God help my mother. I hope it’s not like my mood swings during my monthly cycles.

I will report more things as I age. Thank you for coming on this new journey with me.

A Beef with “Special Needs”

I believe that the term “Special Needs” makes the needs addressed that way sound unreasonable. I prefer “individual needs” myself.

Now, the term “special” has been hijacked by those who like to use euphemisms. As far as I am concerned, my mind goes straight to negativity now if you describe someone as “special.” Thanks a lot. And if the needs are “special,” that sounds like they are unreasonable demands.

Go inside my head a little bit. I can hear the providers now:

“Oh, those needs are SPECIAL! They might be too hard to accommodate, even though that person may be accommodating us at their expense! But her needs are SPECIAL! They’re too difficult to provide!” Now, the providers are less willing to provide those “special,” and therefore, unreasonable and difficult to provide, needs. Even if it’s just building a ramp for people in wheelchairs and scooters to get in the coffee shop.

There is a local coffee shop in my town that I will not visit due to the fact that it’s up some stairs. My mother, who uses a motorized scooter, can’t get in unless she gets out of the scooter, at great pain, and climbs the stairs. And we have to carry the scooter up the stairs, too. So, I am wondering if there’s a wheelchair entrance somewhere in the building. (I’ll ask them later on.) Anyway, that’s just an example of why I don’t like the term “Special Needs.”

Anyway, if we called them “individual needs,” like the needs are supposed to be, people will realize that individual needs are not unreasonable demands, and if we implement them, such as the ramp or the allowance of sensory items at a desk for an autistic worker, we can turn disabled people into productive and contributing citizens, which is what we’ve always wanted them to be.

Of course, your worth and purpose here is already determined by the fact that you’re still breathing, not by your contributions, and remember that!

Talking to a Brick Wall, and the Seven Dwarves of Yuck

I apologize for not posting lately. For a while now, I have felt like I was talking to a brick wall when I talk about autism acceptance to neurotypical people. For those not in the know, visualize talking to a brick wall. It won’t listen, it won’t change its mind. The brick wall is a perfect metaphor for the stubborn mind of the person who will not listen. As is the mule; you can say that most people are as stubborn as mules when it comes to their beliefs. Anyway, I apologize; I was soundly discouraged.

Also, last night, I was taking down the St. Patrick’s Day decorations and putting up the Easter/Spring decorations, and I made a comment about how dirty and sweaty I was; I said I was “the Seven Dwarves of Yuck.” (With all regards to Peter Dinklage and the like, if this is offensive, I apologize for that too. I tend to take a view of dwarves similar to the ones in the recent Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit movies – similar in limbs and resemblance to elves, but somewhat stockier. Plus, there were very attractive leading men among the actors.) I thought about it, and I guess my hankering towards cleanliness might be an autism thing, and/or a woman thing. Maybe it’s just a human thing. But, there is this tic about me that I feel gross when I have not bathed for a long enough time, or have worked myself into a hard sweat, as I did last night.

By the way, we believe St. Patrick’s Day is a Christian holiday at its core, simply for the fact that a man named Patrick brought Christianity to Ireland. (Of course, Wales, my namesake nation, has St. David, so….) Anyway, that is how you can celebrate St. Patrick’s Day and any other Saints’ Days you can think of. But enough rambling on about religion. I decorate to bring some routine into my year.

Speaking of religion, how about other people bring holiday discussion onto the blog? I’m ready to listen.

Valentine’s Day has been Kicked Through the Goal Posts

Okay, let’s take it slow: today is Valentine’s Day. Saint Valentine’s Day, to be exact. But I’m not in a celebratory mood. It’s not for the reason you think, though. You see, yesterday was the Super Bowl, and to be frank, I’m all celebrated out from this football and pop culture phenomenon. I’m in the Eastern US time zone, so maybe it’s the fact that I stayed up pretty late last night having fun. Yes, there are autistic football fans. Need I say we autistic people are practically everywhere again? We are such a widely varied bunch of people that you can find us practically anywhere. I digress, though: Valentine’s Day is kind of falling through the cracks this year because of this, I guess. If I had more money, I would probably get my mom a proper Valentine: in my humble opinion, it would be one of those cards the size of a small child. I love her that much. I would also get her a nice massage. She seemed to enjoy the one she got years ago, and I think it would help her.

As I write, there is something that has come up: I guess there’s not enough spoons for me to handle back-to-back holidays at this time of the year. If I guess correctly, Super Bowl Sunday is kind of an unofficial American holiday, you know?

Just one question for all the Super Bowl people: since this is the first time that hip hop has taken center stage at the halftime show, I’ve got one question: What took you so long?

More Notes on the Vaccine Debate

Why is it a debate, first of all?  

Vaccines prevent and/or fight the disease they were designed to fight. Why is that so hard to understand? What is preventing people from using their heads to think and take the vaccine. 

Is it because you think the disease is a hoax? Well, ask my brother, my sister-in-law, and my ex-boyfriend. They all had COVID-19, and they all believe.  

Is it because you think the vaccine is the Mark of the Beast in the Bible? Considering that the MOTB is inserted in your right hand or head, and the vaccine is put in your shoulder, I doubt it. Besides, I never renounced God in order to receive my COVID-19 vaccine. (It’s required for the MOTB.)  Besides, get this: What if vaccines are God’s tools to prevent getting a disease?

Is it because you think vaccines cause autism? Well, there are numerous studies that disprove that, including studies conducted by anti-vaccine groups. Also, it’s time to get over your autistic fear and hate.  

The truth is, people are afraid of autistic people. I’m autistic. And, it seems, people are afraid of me. They are so afraid of me, I imagine jumping out of that table/box on the Ellen show, wearing puzzle pieces on my body, to scare some random anti-vaxxer celebrity. And until the prejudice and HATE – let’s call it what it is, HATE – against autistic people is dealt with, people will still die of vaccine-preventable diseases, many of them children under these paranoid parents’ wings. Do you want to bury your child? Besides, what is the point of turning everybody autistic? WHY? 

As I said before, there is no evidence that vaccines cause autism. That supposed “no soul” look in your child’s eyes, miss Jenny McCarthy (she described her son that way), is probably dissasociation or the ability to “zone out” to deal with getting a shot! Besides, a better question to ask any parent of an autistic child is this: Do you have any eccentric relatives? Again, autism is genetic. Of course, don’t kick yourself if your child is autistic. It’s not like autism is a Christmas present. “Here, have something that makes people hate you.” Who does that? It’s nobody’s fault. Stop believing lies. Get the vaccines.