Opening Moves

In my book, Finding Kansas, I mention that I see conversations as a chess match. A person opens, then there’s a response, and a response to the response and so on and so forth. Keeping the theme of chess active, if I were to state what my weakest part of my game is, it most certainly is in the opening move.

I don’t know how people do it. Yesterday at the track, a coworker waved at a person as we drove by in a golf cart. I looked at my coworker as I didn’t recognize who he waved to and I said, “do you know him?” My coworker smiled, shook his head, and said “no”. 

How? I was so confused. How does a person wave or initiate a conversation with someone they don’t know. There aren’t many things that make me shudder in fear, but being the opener to a conversation is one and my coworker navigates the openings as well as anyone I’ve ever seen. 

In many situations I probably come off as snobbish or stand-offish. I’m aware of this and yet it isn’t something I can just do. The difficult thing to understand about the autism spectrum is that, the next person with my same diagnosis, may have no problems making the opening move, but perhaps the timing is off or they can’t “read the room” so to speak and talk to people that may otherwise be engaged in another conversation.

I’ve tried to overcome this, but it isn’t something that I can do. I try not to think of the list opportunities, the potential friendships, and all the chances lost due to the fact that, if the conversation chess game is left to me to open, the chess board will remain unplayed with two sets of perfectly set up pieces waiting until the end of time for that first move. 

The finish line

Monday’s blog meant a lot to me. I wish you knew how much strength it takes to get through the day. There is little I can do or say to relay to you how exhausting it truly is. However, attempting to is the motivation because it is the ultimate goal; the finish line. 

Having to attempt to fit into a box, so to speak, of what society expects is a challenge. This has to be done because we aren’t at a level of 100% autism awareness, but more importantly, 100% autism understanding.

When we get to that place, that place of a fully accepting society, the level of exhaustion and frustration will be less. It’s a possibility, I know it, that we can reach it. It’s a hope I have, and one I hope I can continue to do my part on this pathway to the finish line. 

Don't Let Them See the Autism in Me

Earlier this year, I learned about autism burnout. Well, I knew it was a thing within myself, but I didn't know it was an actual thing shared by many. One of the things that leads to this state in the constant struggle to not let the world see the way autism affects me.

First off... I know it's okay to be on the autism spectrum. It is! If you're reading this, please understand this. However, growing up when autism awareness wasn't a thing, I learned that I had to be a chameleon to avoid being noticed. This required, and requires, a constant thought process denying what my body needs to meet sensory or calmness needs.

When things get too loud, especially with drums or bass, every ounce of my being is telling me to, "run! escape! flee! I'm not safe here!" In public, this may get a strange look. If I expressed my level of discomfort on the outside, I'd get comments from others and I'd be noticed. To be noticed will start the conversations of, "are you okay?" and then I've got an equally painful conversation that is equal to the pain of the sensory bombardment.

When I get excited, it's a wonderful feeling, but the emotions are too much. I have to vent the excitement, or it'll feel as if it's going to consume me. The way I dispel this is by a stim, or as I like to call it, "the dance of the fingers". You may have heard of finger flapping, but I much prefer the dance. When I must dance, it's because there are exciting thoughts racing through my brain that are very much like a locomotive going downhill at full steam with no brakes. I need a break from such euphoria and by dancing my fingers, I'm able to dispel that rush of excitement. If I don't dance, my insides feel as if they're going to burst out of me in a fury of excitement. See the problem here? If I dance the fingers in public, people look. They always look. Those that know me well, I have no problem with them seeing me as exactly who I am. For those that don't know me well, well, I can't let them see which allows that train to rush down the hill with unabated speed.

When meeting someone new, my body tells me to avoid looking at them at all costs. There's too much info yet it's like trying to play chess without being able to see your opponent's pieces. It's awful, it's tiring, and if I look at the person, I may not hear what they have to say, but if I look away, I am being rude. In certain situation, I must add, there are no issues. On Saturday, Olympic gold medalist, Shawn Johnson East, was the honorary starter for the Indycar race in Iowa, and I had no issues greeting her in the flagstand and prepping her for the start of the race. This is because, when in that position, I'm under my concept of Alias, which is the best chameleon experience possible. It's actually easy for me there because I'm playing the part of starter of the NTT INDYCAR Series. It's outside of an official title I struggle, that I will flee any new encounter, because I can't let them see my avoidance of eye contact and my level of uneasiness.

It's tiring. I know it's okay to be me. I know that I am not weak because of these challenges, yet I'm afraid to let others see it. It only takes one time for something to be pointed out to leave a scar that lasts a lifetime. When we overcompensate and something gets pointed out, this time opposite of the first, we are now scarred on both sides. We neither can nor cannot whatever the thing may be. This very well could be the essence of autism burnout because we have to exert so much level to not let them see while attempting to disregard and override every signal our brains are telling us to do. It's tiring, sometimes degrading, and it's extremely frustrating to know that I should be 100% comfortable with who I am, yet I'll attempt to bear the noise, I'll delay the dance, and I'll flub social greetings all because I'm attempting to hide from the world who I am.

Evidence of Growth

Traveling yesterday was, well, it was exhausting. Nothing seemed to go right and our flight from Indy to Chicago to get to Des Moines was delayed. The delays persisted and after an hour it was said that we were delayed due to the pilots being locked out of an app that allows them to view the plane’s manual. Frustrating indeed. 

We had a scheduled three hour layover in Chicago, but if we missed that flight we couldn’t get into Des Moines at 11PM and we needed every possible minute at Iowa Speedway during the day. 

The clock was ticking and the three hour lay over went to two, one, and then it was going to be an extremely tight connection. During the delays I was looking up alternatives which this is where the growth was seen. 

I thought back to all the travels I did with karting and USAC in the early 2010’s and I would not budge on what the itinerary would be. What was was going to be. No exceptions. However, I was looking up flight times, drive times, and when we got our flight pushed back on last time we requested our bags be offloaded and we made the drive to Iowa. 

It was unbelievable for me to do this. My anxiety used to be so bad with delays, but now I view it simply as it is what it is and can’t be helped. This proves to me growth is always possible. The more life is experienced, the more the ability to accept things that aren’t in my control truly are not. 

The biggest sign I had made huge progression was when we were somewhere in illinois and I looked at the dashboard. The gas light… it was on. Greg, who I used to work with in 2006, always ran the pickup truck to the point the gas light was on. My panic would swell each time as I feared the end of the world. That’s what my anxiety level was as I equated running out of gas to the end of everything. Yesterday though? I was in a conversation, looked forward and saw the light on and said, “hey, the light is on” and went right back to the conversation. It makes me smile writing this. Growth is good. 

Unique flag angle

 It isn’t everyday there’s a new angle of myself at work at a race track, but this video on Twitter has a new one!

Fearless!

Dennis Tyger with the golf cart photo assist 

To understand why the story in this post is so relevant, you should check out yesterday's blog about a race I worked in Rock Island in 2010.

It was a glorious morning in Toronto! It allowed for many great photos to be taken, including the one on this post. This put me in a great mood, but I had no idea that the day was going to get better.

As we got up in the flag stand, there were local starters already up there. If you watch any road course race of the NTT INDYCAR Series, you'll see Bryan and I at each race, but there will also be a local starter that assists. They are listening to a different radio than what Bryan and I are on so they can give us information that we may not be aware of yet, and as we introduced ourselves, there was already a sense of friendliness among the locals.

Over the day, between sessions, conversations were had and laughs were plenty, but something came up that involved talking about sensory issues. Perhaps it was my loathing of lotion sunscreen, or maybe something about sounds, but whatever it was it opened up the door to me opening up about being on the autism spectrum.

Being an author on the subject, and having this blog, it's hard to hide the fact that I am. All it takes is one Google search of my name and a person will know. However, going back to that blog in 2010, there's always a bit of hesitation in opening up simply because I have no clue how people will take it. Being told, "I'm sorry..." as I was in 2010 hurts. It hurts a lot. Even though I'm happy with who I am a majority of the time, a distinct response that makes me question if I'm on everyone else's level can quickly make me wonder if everyone sees me in that light.

As I opened up on my being on the autism spectrum the response was... it was awesome. I got the initial response of, "I had no idea" which I will say some individuals on the autism spectrum don't like to hear, but for myself, in this environment, I love it because I can quickly explain my concept of Kansas and that, yes, if you see me in a flag stand you'll probably have no idea, but see me on the sidewalk or somewhere else out in public and it will be rather apparent.

The two starters that were up there, Gloria and Michelle, both started mentioning other individuals they knew on the spectrum, and they both were extremely proud of a local racer who is on the spectrum who is now racing in the Radical series in the US. From there, the conversation went to the nuances of life on the autism spectrum and the joys, challenges, and everything between.

What a difference a dozen years make! On Sunday, between sessions, the conversation shifted to the alarming high rate of unemployment for those with Asperger's, and if everyone were as understanding, and had the frame of reference the two people in the stand had, I strongly feel that number would be lower. 12 years ago, I felt less of a person when someone apologized to me for my diagnosis, but having the response be so open, warm, and accepting made my heart soar. 

Each day I wonder if I'm going to have to have that conversation... the one that I explain I'm on the autism spectrum to someone that has no idea what it is or means. It can be awkward, demeaning, and leave a scar that makes me want to stay quiet all the time. Then there's days like this weekend, where there is understanding. My motto when I present is, "understanding is the foundation for hope" and I firmly believe this as I experienced firsthand this weekend. With the experience I had it adds a layer of fearlessness in opening up because there are those that understand. There are those that care, and I hope we get to a place where this is the majority and examples such as the race twelve years ago becomes a distant memory.

A Flashback from 2010

For what I want to write to make sense, you've got to understand where we were to understand where we are now. The progression has to be measured so here's a post from an experience I had from 2010.v 

Over the past weekend I was the assistant race director at the Rock Island Grand Prix kart race, the largest street race in America, and had a most unique, and sad experience.

Several months ago, I posted an article titled, "I'm sorry..." in which I describe some of the social issues I know I have and still have issues with. This, sadly, is not a sequel to that article. This time I was not the one apologizing.

The Rock Island Grand Prix is one of my favorite race weekends because of how close the audience is. I am not sure at the actual numbers, but the numbers are in the multiple thousands. Why so many? As my photo I took in 2006 illustrates, the RIGP is a street race ran on public streets.

I am stationed in turn three and after one of the early races a spectator called me over to ask what my blue flag with orange stripe meant. I explained it and then she asked me if displaying the blue flag at street races was my day job.

This woman was in her mid 30's, give or take 13 years as I am awful at ages, and I figured this was going to be a "typical" conversation people have. How fast a conversation can change.

I told this woman that I am a Community Education Specialist for a non-profit in the autism field in Saint Louis. She asked what that meant, and I told her. She asked what makes me qualified to be in such a position and I told her that I am an author and that I am on the autism spectrum.

Her response? "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry? For what? I was taken aback by that comment, and I was unable to respond. I don't know if I was offended or saddened. Whatever I was, I was frozen because no one has ever apologized or expressed sympathy to me for being on the autism spectrum, and they shouldn't.

Is there that big of a fear of the word "autism?" I had my sunglasses on and was making partial eye contact and the look on her face was one of true pity; like I was a disappointment or a defect.

Words eluded me. I just stood there oblivious as to what to say next. I now realize that was the prime opportunity to be a Community Education Specialist. But how does one react when one apologizes for who I am? I reacted by simply returning to my post some 10 feet away and waiting for the next race to start.

I now know what to say and that's why I am writing today. There is nothing to be sorry about! I am going to be honest and say that, yes, there are challenges, but other things come easy. Most of the time I am happy as can be and have a wonderful time lost in thought. There are times where the only word that can describe my perception of social situations would be "confused" but I have grown to accept this and am always challenging myself to become a little bit more adept at the art.

It is because of my Asperger's Syndrome that allows me to write. I have one semester of community college to my credit and there is no obvious reason as to why I am able to write at the quality and quantity that I do.

It is because of my Asperger's Syndrome that I have all the race official positions I have. My reflexes and ability to hyper-focus allows me to excel at these positions.

I am who I am and a part of me has Asperger's Syndrome. I see it as a strength, most of the time, so please tell me why you are sorry. It isn't that bad, and I would not trade it in to be normal even if I were offered an insane amount of money.

If this perception of autism, this need for this woman to apologize, is prevalent then my job just become more important. I never once had any event like this happen, and now it has. Next time someone apologizes to me I will be ready, and I will simply ask, "Why? I am happy as myself. Do you think I am wrong for being me?"

 

An Impromptu Concert on Lake Shore

Yesterday was a long day of setting up for the Honda Indy Toronto race. As the sun began to get lower in the western sky, we were on the back stretch which is Lake Shore Dr. There’s an amphitheater towards the water back there and there was a concert that was going to take place. The music played there was outside of ear range but the story of this post is the people headed to the concert. 

The lines of people kept flowing out from a tap that seemed to be infinite. Truly, it was a perpetual passing of people that neither grew or decreased. One section of this never ending parade of people started humming a song and then all of a sudden a singing of  “I Want it that Way” took place. 

Why is a random song relevant? As the song bounced around and different parts of the infinite line of people sang, I once again understood that what I was witnessing was something I never have, or will be a part of. 

I got sad. I don’t understand how people can just let go and be completely free with no regard to harmony, pitch, and simply exists without thought. I watched with a great level of envy as this line of people that, in my eyes, had everything kept walking by. 

It took a while but I realized I was falling into the trap of forgetting who I was. That’s such an easy trap for us on the autism spectrum to fall into. In this moment of watching the others, I put the perfection label on them. They were perfect, and I was not. This is a gigantic fallacy, but when viewing others in an envious eye, it is easy to fall into the trap. 

As we drove away from the back stretch I started to wonder how those people looking my way thought. I’ve never thought of this before, but if they knew the places I get to work, the people I get to work with, and the extreme joy I get working my gig as the starter/flagman for the NTT INDYCAR Series, I think they too might have had a hint of envy looking towards the track. A concert may be fun, and I may not let myself go socially and be completely free, but for me there’s no other place I’d rather be than my home at the track. 

The Devastating Evidence of the Work at Hand

I was thinking about what today’s post was going to be yesterday while sitting on an Air Canada plane while we were stuck in Indianapolis. It was annoying and allowed for me to spend too much time on social media. As I was scrolling I came across a lawyer’s page trying to drum up clients for a class-action suit regarding the autism spectrum. There were 12 comments so I decided what possibly could’ve been said, and that’s when I saw it. 

A self-advocate was questioning the imagery portrayed stating that some people on the spectrum find it offensive. In response, a person commented that they shouldn’t have an opinion due to their diagnosis. The self-advocate responded stating they, along with everyone, should have an a voice and an opinion and that’s when it went off the rails.

To counter the advocate, the commenter, who seemed to have a legitimate account and not a dedicated troll account, stated that they should only have a voice if they have a job and pay taxes. I share this with you because I was deeply troubled, and still am, by that notion. The commenter further said that if a person is any sort of drain they should have no say in anything. 

I cried when I read this. Thankfully I was in the front of the plane so no one could see, but how could anyone cast such a viewpoint publicly? Maybe I’ve been too sheltered in my social media usage to not see such extreme statements, but I shuddered to think what those on the spectrum would think if they saw that. 

If I saw that in 2009, it would’ve reinforced my belief that I was nothing but a drain and that I had no prospect of bettering myself or the ability to achieve anything in life. I proved that wrong though! I’ve given over a thousand presentation, have reached hundreds of thousands of people, and have even made it to the flagstand of the NTT INDYCAR Series. 

What would’ve happened though, had I read that type of comment in 2009? Would any of my life played out the way it had? I’m unsure, and that troubles me that I say that because I know I was susceptible to such negative talk. 

We still have a lot of work. Never for a moment forget that. We still have so much work to show the world the entire spectrum that exists within autism. We must strive forward because to become complacent will mean that those voices that say we won’t achieve a thing will become louder than ours. There is so much growth, potential, and life in all of us on the spectrum and we must strive for a world where we can grow, meet our potential, and not have to worry about outsiders questioning if we deserve a voice in life.