A photo

 Good morning from Saint Petersburg, Florida. Today kicks off the 2022 NTT INDYCAR Series season with the first practice. It still brings tears when I think about how awesomely special this view I am blessed to have is. 

The race is on Sunday on NBC.

The Anxiety of Next

What's next? This is a question my brain is constantly thinking and analyzing. However, I want you to expand your thinking on this and not think about what's next as in what are you doing after you read this blog. I mean, you should think about going to Amazon and buying the book called Finding Kansas, however that's not what I mean. Instead, think about next and every possible interaction that could come in the next five minutes. Think of every phone call you may receive and think about all of your potential responses. Then, keep going with an infinite list of possibilities and maybe you'll get in the ballpark of what my brain does to me in almost every circumstance. To put it lightly it is indeed exhausting. A couple weeks ago I talked about autism burnout and this, for me, is one of the things that'll get me there quickly.  

I haven't found an off switch for this and when I am out with people all day long, I become emotionally fatigued in a way that's almost shameful to admit. Shameful? How can I easily explain that, even with nothing directly traumatic happened, I'm exhausted from the daily grind of processing and fearing what may come next? It isn't an easy thing and for myself it's doubly worse because I am aware of this. 

On the flip side of that I also can't explain my strength. Strength? What am I talking about considering I just mentioned I get rather fatigued simply be existing? While it is true that I get a bit overwhelmed at the end of the day the thing is I did, in fact, make it through to the end of the day. I can get hung up on the "weakness" at times and totally lose the fact that it takes an inner strength that is hard to describe to get the nerve to leave the front door in the morning and take on all the anxieties I know I have. I know my brain is going to overprocess and try to calculate the oblivion of next, and yet I will.

For anyone you may know on the autism spectrum I implore you to keep this in mind. While it's easy to focus on the weakness, and we live in a society that so often just focuses on the bad, try and think about how much strength it takes to simply get through the day living life on the autism spectrum whether one can't tune out any bit of sensory input, or to those that overprocess everything. Whatever it may be the dedication, passion, and inner strength it takes to simply attempt to leave the house, or pursue a dream, takes more strength than my vocabulary will ever allow me to attempt to describe.

My most memorable race

 In my book Finding Kansas there is a chapter about my first race. While that race was certainly memorable it is nothing compared to the race that is the most.

It was 1997 and I was in my third season of racing karts. This was a rebound season for me as I had a crash at the start of the 96 season and had spent the rest of the year timid behind the wheel which led to getting involved in crash after crash.

While the series was the Saint Louis Karting Association we were actually in West Quincy, Missouri due to the fact that our track, which I blogged about in 2011, was under water. This was fine by me as the TNT  Kartway was a blast to drive with a banked final corner leading onto a nice straight.

This story picks up right before the main race. I was 14 years old at the time and also flagging all the classes I didn't race in. As the races before mine were ran I was getting nervous as I thought I had a legitimate chance at the race win, but my starting position didn't show it. In the first heat race I won, which was my first heat race win, but the 2nd heat race saw me getting taken out so I would be starting 7th of about 15.

It was time. I zipped up my racing suit, crossed the track, and got into my kart and waited. This is one thing I don't miss about racing; this time before a race when one has to try and tune everything out. The world around is moving, there's smell of cooking food in the air, but inside the helmet there's a world of complete isolation. As my dad started the engine he gave me his customary, "use your head" gesture.

We rolled out of the grid and onto the track in anticipation of 15 laps of racing. As I said, I loved this track but going from 7th to the front was going to be difficult but at least I would be starting on the inside.

The field came off of the final corner (it's the one in the  bottom right of the photo and we ran counter clockwise) and a slow pace waiting... waiting... waiting... then there it was, GREEN! and we were racing into turn one.

Starts had intimidated me as it was on the first lap of a race the previous year I had my crash at the old Gateway race track, but I had to put that aside as I knew I could get to the front. 15 laps may sound like a lot, but it isn't when lap times are around 30 seconds. With that so I had to move up quickly to not allow the leaders to pull away.

I didn't get the start I wanted as the outside line got the jump. I wanted to blame the flagman, but it was a substitute so I couldn't be all that upset. Besides, driving angry is a one way ticket to a bad race.

At the end of lap one I was in 8th with 7th right in front of me. You wouldn't think it, but there's drafting in karting, and a lot of it! Headed into turn one I had an unexpected run and as he turned into the corner I aimed out and held my breath as I was attempting an outside pass on a flat out corner. "Aaron, what are you doing?" I thought to myself. What the picture of the track doesn't show is the knee-high curb (okay, it isn't that high) that is in the kink that is turn two. That meant if I didn't complete this pass the driver in front of me wouldn't know I was there and I'd run out of room and I'd probably get launched over that curb. That didn't happen though as I stayed on the gas and somehow pulled off the impossible and was now in 7th with 14 to go.

6th place was right in front of me as we headed into the final corner and once again I got a run down the straight and once again I went to the outside in turn one and once again I pulled off what I thought to be impossible. As fun as those passes were they were certainly scary moments, but I was on a mission and running the best race I had ever ran and it was only two of fifteen laps in.

My passes on 5th, and 4th were more conventional as I passed on the inside in braking zones and now I set my eyes on third as the race was now half over. I was losing heart, though, as first and second were long gone as it took me several laps to get around 5th and 4th. 

With five to go I went for my move in turn one once again, on the outside, and made it work, but I had settled down and relegated myself to knowing that making up about five seconds in five laps was impossible. I may have been the fastest kart on track, but in the sport of karting a tenth of a second can be an eternity so five seconds was a margin that could not be overcome.

Of course, in the sport of racing anything can happen and it usually does. The leader and second place had been swapping the lead and in the north turn they made contact and both drivers spun way off the track. I saw the dust as I came out of turn one and as I got to turn three I counted two karts. It may have been by default, but now I was the race leader with less than five laps to go. Coming off the final corner on the same lap I glanced behind me and I had about a half second lead; all I had to do was to hit my marks, not push it, and I was on my way to my first win.

Across the line there were four laps to go, then three, then two and each lap passed as if a decade had passed. Time was crawling and I started hearing every bump, rattle, and I was sure something was going to go wrong. "Just keep it going, no mistakes!" I yelled as I headed to the final corner. The two karts which had been leading were back in the race but they were a good five seconds behind and I now had about a full second lead over second place.

Around the final corner and I could see the white flag in the air. This was it, the final lap; I was just 30 seconds from achieving a dream I had had since I was three and that was winning a race. I wasn't breathing as I went into turn one and my entire body was tense, but I  hit my marks and I headed to turn two then the tricky turn three.

Headed into turn three I lifted off the gas in the same spot I had done but then a flash of something caught my eye flying over my head. I didn't know what it was and I tapped the brakes and turned into the corner. There was something odd though; silence. I stepped back on the gas but there was nothing and I was slowing down. "No! No! No!" I yelled. To my left flashed the second place kart whom I sure could not believe what fate had given him and at the same time I couldn't believe what cruel blow fate had dealt me. 

I pulled off the track and I just sat there. I was just 20 seconds away from a win, and now I was seated in my kart, in the weeds. I would get up out of the kart just as the race winner went passed me with his one of his arms raised in celebration as this was his first win in what should have been my first win. About a minute later the retrieval vehicle came and the kart was loaded up and I then saw a huge hole in the engine which was the demise of my race.

Instead of riding back with the kart I walked towards the finish line as I still had to flag the remaining races. I took my time walking back as I wanted my eyes to dry first and I had to have composure to be able to do my job rightly. 

When I got to the finish line I took the headset from the sub and stood in a very dejected manner. The track owner, who was also announcing on this day, came on the radio and said, "Aaron, I know you are probably dejected beyond belief right now. But look at it like this; anyone can win, but it isn't how you win that matters but rather it's how you take defeat. Especially defeat when so close to victory so keep your head high and move on."

What made this the most memorable race? The final race of the next season I would pick up a race win in a race that saw even more daring passing on my part so why isn't my first win the most memorable? It was the track owner's talk over the radio as I just had experienced the most ultimate gut punch fate could deal me in that race. It wasn't so much going out while leading at lap four, this was going out when I was so close that it was all but a guarantee. However in racing, and life, there are no guarantees and I think back often to that race as I recall the moves on the outside, the liberating feeling of being the first to see the white flag, and that big shiny piece of metal which was my engine blowing up. Yes, I think back to this often as anyone can win, but it's how one deals with adversity and challenges that shows a persons strength. A few minutes after his pep talk I was starting the next race with the same passion as I had on all the races prior and yeah, I truly wished I would have won, but isn't this what shapes who we are? And wow! that day certainly was a precursor to the events that follow in my life.

A post from 2016: Taking the Stand at Indy

 With INDYCAR starting this week I wanted to share a post that I wrote in 2016 when I was beyond blessed to be in the flagstand for a day of practice for the Indy 500. This goes with yesterday’s post about employment in that getting any opportunity for experience can be vital many years later. 

               There I was, checkered flag in hand as 6:00 came and three cars doing in excess of 220mph were headed my direction off of turn four as I stood high atop the famous yard of bricks at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. The cars approached, I idid some fancy stuff with the checkered, and the cars went passed and that was it, the greatest day of my life was over. It’s odd to start a story at the end but for this story to have the merit it deserves we must start at the end because to the outside observer the end product would be the only thing seen because here I was, a starter for practice for the largest race in the world much less the 100^th running of it. This, really, is the stuff dreams are made of and I could easily make this blog about myself in the hard work I’ve done, or the years of dedication, or my style, part that would be a shame on the true meaning of this story because to understand this story we have to look at it going from the end to the beginning.

                The day prior I had been working an event put on by Purdue and USAC in a parking lot in the infield that features electric karts. I noticed a track official whom I had met previously in 2012 when I filmed a video blog in the flagstand the day prior to that year’s Indy 500 and then the next year that event led me to be an honorary starter for a day of practice. He saw me and asked me how I was doing and how my books were going and my presentations. It was a great feeling to be remembered and he then asked, “Have you ever been in the stand while the track was hot?” In 21 years of flagging I’ve never once been atop a stand when Indycars were on the track so I nervously said, “no” in hopes that maybe, just maybe this conversation would head towards where I could only dream. Again though, that day was made possible by the event which encouraged me to do a video blog in the first place because it wasn’t simply a random, “hey, wouldn’t it be cool if I did a video blog from the flagstand at IMS?” Nope, it wasn’t that so we’ll have to continue going backwards to get to the answer.

                Prior to the video blog from 2008 to the present I’ve been the chief starter for SKUSA and that led me to become a starter for USAC which has me traveling all over the country working races. The start with SKUSA was amazing because the owner and CEO saw me at a regional race and turned to the promoter and asked, “What the heck is that?” pointing in my direction as I was doing my normal thing with flags. I then was surprised at the awards ceremony when he called me out and said I was the new starter for the SKUSA Supernats which is the world’s largest karting event and it was from doing that which allowed me to get involved with USAC. Now I mentioned my usual flagging thing which for that we have to go back even further to 1995.

                I was 12 and I started racing gokarts at the Saint Louis Karting Association. The club had a flagman and his age was reaching 80 and his ability to discern colors was fading and when the color of the flags means everything it became a hazard so I volunteered to hand him the right flags when I wasn’t racing. I was amazed he and the club allowed a 12 year old such a responsibility but it happened and with his retirement at the end of my first season I became the club’s chief starter at the age of 13, but why was I so eager to help Frankie, the club flagman? For that we get to the beginning of this story.

                It was 1990 and I lived in Indianapolis just about two miles from the Indianapolis Motor Speedway and I was enthralled with all things motorsports, specifically though the chief starters and especially Duane Sweeney whom was the chief started of the Indy 500. While many childhood heroes of the time had the last name of Unser, Foyt, Andretti, or Mears mine was Sweeney. My dad was a pastor of a church and a member of the church worked at USAC, which at the time was the sanctioning body of the race, and he asked her if she could get me an autographed picture. Duane did one better by giving me a picture AND HIS CHECKERED FLAG he was going to use in 1990. Needless to say, as a seven year old, I was hooked and my love of flags grew and grew and grew some more.

                What’s the relevancy in all this? Why did I start with what could be a crowning moment in my life and stating that, if that were the only part of the story, then the story would be lost? While it may have been myself and myself alone with flags in hand it wasn’t myself alone that got me there and this is the soul of this story. I was diagnosed with Asperger’s at the age of 20 and back in 2003 the information on the internet did not paint a pretty picture for my future. The only thing that kept me going in life were the 11 club races I’d flag a year. I stayed that way for several years but then I got that regional series that Tom, the SKUSA CEO, would see me at and things started turning around. 

                My story, along with other success stories of those on the autism spectrum are filled with these events and if you just look at the finished product you are missing the true value of the story. It wasn’t that I simply flagged some in practice today but it’s all the people that helped out along the way. Much like how next week the winner of the 100^th Indy 500 didn’t get to victory lane and didn’t get to drink the sweetest tasting milk in all the world all by himself. It took a team and a lifelong commitment from friends and family. So too, in a way, is the stories of those that are on the autism spectrum and have excelled. 

                It takes a team to succeed and as I climbed down from the flag stand it hit me like a sucker punch to the gut on just how rare of an achievement it was to do what I had just done. Few will ever have the view I had and as I shook the hands of all that were with me on that day I envisioned shaking every person’s hand that gave me a chance, or gave me support along the way. Every story I have in my development would not be possible if not for the event that preceded it. Some of these were major events from family members, or those that got me involved with Easter Seals Midwest, and others were seemingly minor. I thought about all the teachers I had that did amazing things, and the few friends I had that were a support, and without them this experience wouldn’t have happened. I then thought about the teachers of today, and parents of today, in that seemingly irrelevant events may have such wonderful ramifications down the road, but most of all I thought about Duane.                 

                When I got into my car my emotions finally hit and I’m not afraid to admit I cried. I fought back tears the first time I displayed the green at Indy, but many drivers will admit that they teared up too their first time to Indy as a driver. But yes, I thought about Duane and I made a statement to the observer in the flagstand with me that worked with Duane for many years and I said, “You know, I’d give about anything to be able to tell Duane what that flag he gave me meant because without that flag what you see today and my story simply wouldn’t exist.” 

                History will remember the winner of the 100^th and yesterday will simply be a small footnote at the end of this year’s race. Some will remember the driver that was the fastest, most won’t. Some will remember the perfect weather, but for this writer it will be a day that lives forever but I didn’t get there alone. It took a team and for every educator, parent, or simply a member of society it’s amazing what even the smallest of gestures can bring and that’s why yesterday wasn’t about me, but rather every person that fought for me, cried for me, gave me a chance, and spoke for me when I couldn’t that allowed me to stand atop the yard of bricks and experience racing at the grandest stage and have an experience I will never forget. To all that were a part of this story I will never find the words that will give justice to how much it all meant, but most of all I wish I could simply tell Duane the simplest yet most sincere, “thank you.”

The Most Important Lesson: Chain of Command

The flags are packed! Today is the day I fly down to Saint Petersburg as this weekend the 2022 NTT INDYCAR Series begins. This will be my third season working my dream job but the lessons that helped me get here were learned long ago. I'm currently working on a book that's going to tell the entire story of the journey to Indy on how things learned decades ago were paramount in making it and in today's story, well, I really enjoy this story of learning how chain of command works.

It was January 2002, and I was working at a videogame store in a mall. It was a miracle of sorts that I even had a job there as I gave the world's worst job interview. No, really, it was atrocious as I said, "I don't know" to every question the manager asked. Did I have any sales experience? Did I have any management experience? To those questions and others, I stated that I didn't know. Somehow, I got the job the next day.

Quickly, I picked up the art of sales. I loved it, actually, and it was something I had done forever while playing Monopoly. It was my goal to make you think you were getting a great deal and it was my goal to win the game. The rules of this game to win were to be #1 in every sales category they kept track of. One of these were game reservations and at the time those cost $10 but then a competing store opened a location in the mall and offered $5 reservations.

I complained to the store manager that we were being killed due to this. He disagreed because, "Whether it's $5 now or $10 now the end price of $59.99 is the same." While that might've been true the reduction in reservations showed otherwise. He countered by saying, "Of course it's going to be down 50% because there are two locations now." However, my numbers were down 75% which was greater than the expected 50%. We were losing business, and this meant my goal for being number 1 in the whole district was in jeopardy.

Perhaps I shouldn't have cared. This was an entry level job, and the turnover rate was exceptionally high. Also, the pay was a few cents over minimum wage. Why would I care so much? Well, when I do something, I'm going to do something the fullest of my abilities. It's either all in or all out and I was fully committed to this sales thing even thought there was no bonus or reward for my dedication.

I continued to lobby the manager for some sort of change, and he eventually said that there was a feature in the sales terminal to email corporate directly. Later, he told me that he meant this as a joke but as he took a lunch break, I went into the sales terminal, and I found the corporate email section and I began my letter.

Writing came easy to me explaining my case. I also used some humor and a hint of desperation in the business we were losing. It took an hour, but I was happy with the case I laid out and I hit send.

The following week when I clocked in the manager saw me and called me over. He said, "Aaron, big thing, corporate did not appreciate your email. Really? You used humor in the email? That email goes straight to the CEO! They were not a fan of reading your writing so never use that email system. Oh, and reservations are now $5." Mission accomplished!

This was a big lesson for me, though. It wasn't learned right then as it took some other events down the road to solidify the concept of chain of command, but just because I knew I was right didn't mean I had the power to use tools not meant for me to change the system. Up to that point in my life I would supersede any chain of command if I knew I was right and I didn't understand the concept of, "even though you're right you're wrong." There's a system in place in most places and to go rogue is not typically a good strategy.

When I've heard stories from other individuals on the autism spectrum in the workplace this concept of command seems to get us in trouble and the problem is when the person is actually right. What's the balance here? There are times when bypassing the chain of command is the right play, but most of the time it isn't. Learning this dance can be difficult because, truly, in this videogame store example they did agree with me and changed the price for all stores with a competing store nearby. While I was spoken downward somewhat because of the email I got my end goal, but what if they had fired me for bypassing the chain of command? Would I ever have spoken up ever again? 

In the workplace everyone will experience the chain of command in their life and learning the delicate balance that exists. For us on the spectrum in can be a bit trickier because if we put our entire being into the work, we can easily get frustrated if others don't have the same passion we do and we will continue to pursue avenues until we get the conversation we want. Some may consider this a bit of annoyance, but shrouded in that potentially frustrating annoyance is actually a dedication most employers should be pining for.

The Wall

This is to all the people I've worked with over the years that have never seen the other side of the wall...

I’ve worked with many of you for many years, and others have seen me at the track for many years. It’s no secret I have Asperger’s and on track I can assure you it is a great advantage for me. I can’t recall the amount of time I’ve heard “Aaron, how did you see that from half a track away?” I love it! The speed, the challenge, the reflexes required but at the same time there’s one aspect that weighs heavy on my heart and it’s been an albatross for as long as I can remember.

My wall is high. I do my job and put every ounce of my soul into it but one thing I avoid is either before or after the day and that’s the social aspect. I don’t know how many of you actually “know” me. Sure, everyone puts up walls, everyone is a little guarded, but when I have the energy to go out with the crew at the end of the day it seems to be a cause for celebration, and I’m always confused at this; is it excitement that I’m going along or more that I’m not hiding away?

It’s an isolating experience. There’s a part of me that does want to know everyone; to be a true part of the crew instead of a mysterious lonesome figure that is either 100% on or invisible. I may come across as cold, uncaring, or maybe downright rude and I have no intention of that. What’s going on in my brain I can only describe as a tempest mixed with a hurricane mixed with a GPS system that doesn’t know North from space zebras that are wearing funny hats.

Today I’m feeling down as I look back on the people I could’ve known, people that I do know but simply see, and while I should challenge myself to be more my limitations are great. Maybe in previous jobs this led to resentment. I’m not sure, but if I work with you now do know that even though I may seem emotionless or aloof I’m very grateful you are there. It takes so much for me to simply get through the day, and perhaps this is a way I stave off the burnout I blogged about earlier in the week but do know I so dearly want to be a part of what I see you all have, but for me it's a greater thrill to be working at 100% of my potential and to be a part of a great team. That's where I shine, and I am extremely grateful the racing series I work for understand this about me. I may prefer to be alone at the end of the day but I'm beginning to realize I'm not fully alone because there's a peace that comes with others knowing this about me and not expecting me to be something I'm not. Perhaps all the work we've done in awareness and understanding of Asperger's is evident right here in my life because I haven't heard a cross word and others understand my need to recharge. The desire is still there to be a part of the team socially, but while writing this I got sad thinking about the chasm between but I'm smiling greatly in the realization I get to work with such awesome people that understand me. I hope the future will have this be commonplace for those on the spectrum to where it isn't even thought of for a second that it should be any other way.

A Threat in the Fog 10 Years Later

The following writing below was written a decade ago when I was in Springfield, Missouri. The odd thing is I had a dream about this event last night and had no idea today marks ten years. 

This post is important to me because it shows the potential dangers of being socially paralyzed. I think I'm extremely fortunate this story ended the way it did.  

Recently I was in a town for a presentation, and I was staying at a hotel. It was a little past 10:30 p.m. and I got hungry, so I decided to go to a gas station to get some snacks. As I left the lobby of the hotel, I noticed just how junky the weather was; there was a fine mist in the air with a dense, soupy fog in the air. I almost walked back inside because, after all, if I were making a horror film this would be the weather, I would have in it.

As I neared my car, I saw two people walking down the sidewalk. I calculated in my mind that I and them would get to where my car was parked at nearly the same time. I am usually extra cautious to avoid people because and even more so in this weather because of my horror film concept, but on this night, I didn't turn back around and go to my car.

When I got to my car, I heard someone say, "Sir, excuse me..." and I instantly froze. Panic ensued and I was sure I was about to be robbed or worse. The lady continued, "my mother and I need to get to Wal-Mart before they close, and we've been walking for two hours. Could you drive us there? We'll pay for your gas."

If I were panicking before I was now at Defcon 1. I stood there, staring off into space, processing; I was trying to think of a way I could say no and not seem like a jerk. I wanted to say, "I'm sorry, I am too afraid." or maybe "I would if it is daylight" but I didn't know how to put that into words. I then thought of all the stories I've heard of people on the spectrum being taken advantage of simply because we can have a hard time simply saying "no."

In my presentations to police, I mention a story of a 16-year-old with Asperger's lost in a park. The police were called and when they got to him, they asked him his name and he said nothing. They asked him who his parents were and still nothing. He resisted any and all comments and essentially became a statue. Eventually the parents were brought to him and his mom, right away, asked, "Son, why didn't you help the officers?" The son replied, "But mom, why are you mad? You always told me not to talk to strangers." That story was going through my mind at this point in time as I continued to stand there trying to come up with some way out of this corner and I wish I had that 16 year-old's resolve.

I started to shake a little bit and I decided that, if these two were robbers I was going to be robbed whether or not I got into my car with them so, with a highly remorseful voice, as if I were signing my own death sentence, I said, "Okay, get into the car."

I've done some dangerous stuff in my life; I've covered a couple hurricanes, been to Africa three times, and I raced for a decade but this I thought as I headed towards Wal-Mart that this very well could've been the most reckless thing I've ever done.

The fog seemed thicker and as I pulled out of the hotel parking lot I noticed my two passengers had not put on their seat belts. I just about spoke up, but I wanted to say as little as possible. The younger one, in the back, asked lots of questions and to each one I said just enough not to give anything about myself away.

Of course, as we got to the first light, it was red. I reflected on my life and thought about how I got into this situation. It happened so fast and since I have a hard time saying no as well as having a hard time processing on the fly, I truly was cornered into this.

So many times, I've heard parents tell me that their son or daughter got caught up with the bad crowd on a whim and they couldn't understand how they got swept up in the ordeal. I would respond with an answer of some sort, and it was the right one, but now I know just how easy it is to fall into a trap and be in a corner.

The following lights were green and when we got to Wal-Mart the daughter offered to stay and when the mother got a refund, they would pay me gas money. I declined saying, "it was less than a mile, don't worry about it." and they both thanked me saying how wonderful I was and out they went and off I went.

Obviously, I survived and obviously nothing went wrong, but it could have. I got lucky. If anything, this is a major wake-up call because "no" needs to be in my vocabulary. I may be an autism advocate, but I am a horrible advocate for myself. However, this just adds to the things I can speak on from first-hand experience. I've always heard people on the spectrum are very much more likely to be a victim than others. I now know why, and I know now that "no" is very quickly going to be used more. Yes, it was probably a very nice thing I did for those two people, but I don't know if it was the safest. Yes, they needed a ride, but on a foggy night is it the safest thing to do? Even if it weren't foggy the answer is no and I hate to say that the world is dangerous, but if one doesn't know a person can they be trusted? Sadly, the world we live in has shown that the answer isn't 100% yes and all it takes is that one time. Thankfully, on that night, it wasn't that one time.

Why I Twirl the Mechanics

 There was a comment submitted recently about the twirling of the belt loops that sparked my interest. The commenter was correct that everyone has a sensory need of some sort. People not on the autism spectrum may twirl their hair, tap a pen, a foot, or any of an infinite number of potential things to meet the sensory need of that moment. So then, for myself, what are the ingredients to spur the belt loops? 

Quite often the need for some sort of sensory distraction comes with processing. Sure, I'm not going to lie, when there's a beltloop that's torn either on the top or bottom it is nothing short of sensory heaven to twist and twirl. It's a calming bliss that is impossible to describe unless you know this feeling. However, outside of a quick trip to sensory paradise, the need to twist is there when there needs to be a lessening of the proverbial volume of my brain.

Volume of brain? Yes, let's take the initial email on my phone that alerted me to a comment on my blog. As I unlocked my phone with my right hand my left hand was twirling a beltloop as my brain began to fear every potential bad comment I could have. Who did I make mad? Was someone out to make sure my blog would be ruined? Were those catastrophic thoughts? Absolutely, but that's where my brain goes with any unknown and to lessen the alarms my brain offsets this with that little bit of sensory input of the twisting of the beltloop.

When presenting I've noticed I will start off with a bit of twirling and by about the quarter mark I've quit but as soon as Q&A begins, I'm back to it because of the unknown aspect. I love the questions and answers segment, it's actually my favorite part of any presentation, but there's still that momentary sense of stepping into the unknown and the beltloops ease the stage fright.

So in short this is a coping mechanism my body has learned to help me to either focus or to dispel anxiety just a bit to allow me to fit in. When presenting to police officers I do stress these sensory needs in that, if an officer thinks a behavior is annoying or not necessary, they can try to request, or by force, stop one of these sensory needs for it to be replaced with a different behavior later because they could be taking away a much-needed coping mechanism.

So do remember this if you know someone on the spectrum that has any given quirk like this. Everyone does have some sensory need in one way or another, but for us on the autism spectrum that need may be absolutely needed at times to get through the chaotic nature of this thing we call life.

Autism and Burnout

 I had a parent send me a message and ask if I had any material on burnout. Well, the message was "autism burnout" but as I was working on a racetrack at the time, I missed the autism part and spent the weekend thinking about employment burnout and how that played out in my life. Re-reading the message today I read how it was actually phrased so I looked up autism burnout and was amazed at what I read as I've explained what I was reading in many different ways without knowing that autism burnout was a thing. From firsthand knowledge I can assure you it's a thing. Because this isn't a medical website, I'll let you do your own web searches on autism burnout, but I will describe to you how burnout has played out through my life.

copyright Ken Johnson

I'm extremely blessed in that my work at a racetrack is fully within my Kansas. Just yesterday I was at Homestead Miami Speedway for the SKUSA Winter Series, and the weather conditions were challenging. The day before it was extremely hot, then yesterday we raced in the cold rain which eventually gave way to hot and humid conditions. All the while I'm playing in traffic and putting on a show with the flags at the finish line. It's physically taxing, and I am feeling it today, but for myself this is a breeze compared to the things that'll lead me to burnout.

Next week the NTT INDYCAR Series begins, and I'll be in Saint Petersburg for a week with extremely early hours and working in the conditions whatever they may be. The hours are long, it's a marathon, but again this is easy compared to what I've experienced in the past.

So what causes what I would consider "burnout"? For myself it's always been due to the social aspect of a situation. And this, I think, is where this can be a tad bit confusing if you aren't on the spectrum because you may find it difficult that social situations where nothing bad happens can be just as draining as situations where something bad did occur. For myself, it's the processing aspect of life which is the gasoline on the fire that causes the burnout and regardless of if a social situation went well or bad the amount of processing is still high.

Processing delays are common for those on the spectrum, but this doesn't mean that the processing is slow. Quite the contrary because the way it plays out in myself is that so much processing is going on that it's difficult to be able to get the information I need out of my brain in a timely manner because so much other stuff is being processed. The problem here is that, without a break, this time gets longer and longer, and it'll get to a point where I'll have to hear something or read something several, if not more, times to finally understand what it is that is either expected of me or the info I need to recall.

I haven't had the extreme lack of recall since my school days, but at the start of the pandemic just under two years ago I had been going on about a year straight of nothing but go go go between presentations and flagging. I have memory gaps at the end of 2019 that are of a fog and in March of 2020 I remember telling my dad, "I can't explain this, and I know autism can't get 'worse', but it feels as if my autism is getting worse." Reading what I read today about autism burnout explained a lot.

Thinking of this leads me to understand that there's a difficult balance here. Going back to my days in school is difficult to think about safeguards that would've helped because I wasn't diagnosed at the time, and I had no ability to relay how I was feeling because I had almost no self-awareness. How could I have verbalized that the constant sensory bombardment throughout the day led to extreme exhaustion which then the exhaustion led to fatigue which led to an inability to do the work given because I had no energy left to do anything except simply exist? There's a lot of steps there and without a diagnosis and with zero understanding of myself, and myself to others, there was no hope of any adjustment to the environment that would've helped.

Looking ahead, what can help? Being aware of this, both by a person on the spectrum and those around them, is going to be critical. And this is where I go back and stress that situations that weren't bad can be just as detrimental. As I've said, understanding is the foundation for hope and simply understanding that this exists can help things head in the right direction. I wish I would've known about this 25 years ago because my keen recall of dates and facts had vanished. I knew I knew something, but just couldn't come up with it. This compounded the problem because I started processing the fear of not knowing something because I typically did know something when asked.

I'm going to be doing a lot more thinking on this subject. I'm wondering if this whole burnout thing has been the cause of many of my low points and also, if it had been, what could've helped. Clearly, I am not alone in this struggle which even in writing this I have felt a hint of needing to justify its existence which within that means I have a hint of guilt on this when that shouldn't be the case. I shouldn't feel bad about needing time to recharge, recoup, and get back to my baseline level. I shouldn't feel bad when I need to skip a social function like, say, everyone going to dinner you after a workday so I can be energized for the next day. And yet, you may have picked up on the tone that I have that hint of remorse that I do need to. That internal fight by itself is enough to cause the burnout because I'm aware of "what others think" and what I need. Trying to "fit in" or to "hide" who I am to be part of a group is emotionally and physically crushing and I'm so grateful the race series I work understand what I great at, and they allow me to be the best I can be, but nonetheless there are times I do wonder what that block is, what it would be like to simply be without all this processing and what it would be like to be in a social situation without a million thoughts happening all at once... anyway, this final paragraph was written in this fast paced, circular, almost confusing manner to illustrate the constant elements at play. IF you did think it was a hint in the realm of a ramble all I can say to you is imagine having this at all hours of the day. If you can, then you're on your first step to understanding the burnout.