Thursday, November 24, 2016

To Translate Silence

Each and every day, for anyone who views or listens to any form of mass media, we are bombarded by sounds, songs, and imagery of what normal is. This plays into the previous chapter, but let’s look at what this can do to a person and perhaps even more so to a person on the autism spectrum.

            Essentially, from my observations, this unobtainable status of normal rains down upon us every day and it is exactly that; unobtainable. What does this do? This makes a person question their clothes, their ways, their car, their status, their friends. For a person on the autism spectrum however this may also put into question the emotional aspect of everything. What does this mean? Take a look at television shows, friendship and love is often talked about in excess and along with it the emotions of these are overtly visible and obvious.

            Going back to “Film Theory” in “Finding Kansas” I put forth the concept that, “whatever happens first always has to happen” which means that mass mediums have a lot of potential power to a person on the autism spectrum because, whereas a movie may just be a story, for a mind on the autism spectrum it could become the benchmark for an emotion.

            There’s a hazard to television show or movie in that, and this may come as a shock to you, it isn’t real life. However, often times, emotions are played out in a way that is logical. Person A likes person B, person B isn’t all that into person A, but person A tries all sorts of things to when the approval of person B, person B is flattered, a date happens and eventually it’s happily ever after. Or, person C does something mean to person D, person D is upset and angry and wants to get revenge, but through a mutual friend things are talked about and by the end of the episode all is well and in all subsequent episode the mean event is never mentioned of referenced again. A cozy ending, right? Only if it worked that way.

            Right now I want you to go back and look at this chapter title and try to do it, please try and translate silence. Why am I asking this? In the same futile method that you probably tried to come up with a way to truly translate the essence of silence so to have I with emotions. From so many television shows and movies I was shown, in a visual sense, what emotions are. However, the internal feeling was much different than the external ways I was shown. So often when I thought something should be there it isn’t because I’ve been trying to translate the untranslatable.

            There is a major trap here! Actually many; the first is the confusion of emotions. Sure, emotions are hard enough to feel as is, and when I was younger and I was asked, “How do you feel?” I think a lot of times my answer of, “I don’t know” was truly valid one however, I wonder if this were amplified by this attempt to translate silence. Secondly, relationships and friendships could be thrown away because the silence couldn’t be translated. Movies and television are often a major Kansas for those on the autism spectrum and some who may not be able to pick up on social cues in person may be able to see them on screen which means that a friendship depicted on screen in the framework for all relationships/friendships in person and if it isn’t the same way then it, obviously, is not an actual friendship at all.

            The final and perhaps largest trap a person can fall into when attempting to translate silence is the depiction of happiness. If life is viewed as a game what is the criteria of winning? It would depend on what the last song, show, play, or movie watched. Is it falling in love? Making lots of money? Wearing designer clothing? Global domination? Being the best? There are so many grandiose messages we are bombarded with which, again going back to “Film Theory” the basis of happiness could be placed on one of these things. If it is achieved there may still be emptiness because all along, on the inside, where a person thinks something should be felt because that’s what they’ve been told and believed for so long, there’s nothing but silence.

            One of my favorite people I’ve ever worked with said that, “The only thing autism is, is human behavior to the extreme.” This applies here because this chapter I’ve just written could apply to anyone, autism spectrum or not. However, for those on the autism spectrum, this could be played out to a greater degree. We are bombarded with images of “normal” and so many would give just about anything to experience this thing called normal. I ended the last chapter stating I’m perfectly happy being myself, but there are far too many that aren’t at that place and even if they get to a place that they feel is normal, in the end they could be left trying to translate silence.

            In my life I envied those with a job when I had none. I thought, “If I only had a job everything would be better.” I thought this because that’s what I’d see on various forms of media and when I had a job there was sense of emptiness. I went from “If I only had…” to “If I only had” time and time again and each time there was only silence within me. Don’t get me wrong, there was some sense of emotion within me each time I, say, got a job when I didn’t have one but there wasn’t this extended sense of jubilation or fulfillment like I had seen played out on television shows. When an issue would pop up on the job that was emotionally stressful it stayed around; the emotions simply didn’t disappear at the end of the day and, unlike a sitcom, was talked about and referenced in the future.

            Again, obtaining goals, jobs, friends, and relationships are important, absolutely, but at the same time the feelings within a person may not be the same as what someone may have seen played out on the big screen for decades. It wasn’t until I accepted that there’s no such thing as normal that I could finally progress onward and not try to translate this deafening silence. Ha! Deafening silence; perhaps there is no more greater oxymoron if taken literally but it’s the best way I can describe this because, when one is trying to feel something that they’ve been told the way it’s going to feel, or if any of the examples I’ve given this chapter come true, and there’s nothing then everything else is going to be drowned out at this feeble attempt to make some sense out of the silence of emotions that are there.

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

To See Normality

One of the things that filled my mind for many years, and still does from time to time, is when I see normal. How can one see normal? First let’s define normal. Think about it right now. What is normal? Is it you? Myself? A neighbor? A group? Celebrities? (Ha!) The definition of normal is cloudy, at best, and therein lies the problem.

After my diagnosis I saw normal everywhere. It was the postman, the person driving by, the couple holding hands in the park, the clerk at Walgreens, bowlers at the bowling alley. In my eyes everyone was this seemingly unobtainable state known as normal and normal equaled happiness.

Yes, in my eyes every person whom I came across had it better than me. When I’d see two strangers meet and talk I’d have an almost unhealthy level of envy because that was something I’d never be able to do. When I’d see anyone at a job I’d be hideously envious because a job was something I’d never be able to do. And anytime I saw anyone in a relationship I’d die a little on the inside because that, above all else, would be something I’d truly never be able to do.

From my vantage point everyone was happy in this state of normal. From my vantage point everyone was living it up in Normalville having the time of their lives while I was chained to Asperger’s. This view of normal was about the worst thing for me because I counted myself out of any situation because of this mindset.

It’s a dangerous thing to perceive normal and chase it. Again, what is normal? I was blinded by the concept of normal that it took on a state that isn’t possible. Is everyone happy 100% of the time? No, but from the point of view I had they were because they were normal and I was not. This created a wedge that grew and grew week after week and month after month.

What was lost on me at the time is what I know now. It took a long time, but now I believe there is no such thing as normal and everyone, at some point in time, will see someone else and be a bit envious of who or what that person is. Most people don’t let that define them as I allowed my views of normal do to me and they will also not forget who they are when this happens. I would forget who I was as who I was seemed irrelevant to this fantasy known as normal.

It wasn’t until I realized that the normal I thought existed was a myth that I began to accept who I was. Everyone has his or her own challenges and normal is nothing more than the entity my mind created to show myself everything I’m not. And with that came expectations I could never live up to which guaranteed failure which, since I knew I would fail, made for a self-fulfilling prophecy.

            That was then and this is now. So what now is my definition of normal? It’s changed drastically as now I firmly believe there is no such thing as normal. Normal is simply a boring myth that no one can live up to. But you know what? If we do find that one normal person that exists in this world all I can say is, “congratulations, we’ve found the most boring individual on the face of this great planet.”

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

To Think

This chapter is something everyone does, right? I mean, right this second, you are contemplating the concept of think which that within itself is thinking. I don’t mean to get all philosophical on you (at this point in time) but this is something everyone can relate to. Myself, I love to think and perhaps this is why I love long car or plane trips because the only thing one can do is think. My thinking, though, is very intense and I work out many of the day’s problem while thinking. While it may be intense there is one massive downside to this and that is the fact that there is no off switch. The other downside is that I’m often thinking about many things at once.

One of the most difficult questions you can ask me is, “Aaron, what are you thinking?” I’ve been in a few relationships and so often this question would be asked and I would either lock up trying to discern what all I was thinking about or I’ll be honest and give a long answer of what I was thinking about and how those thoughts led to these thoughts which came full circle and in the end I was oblivious that the right answer should’ve been, “you.”

It’s true, though, that I will be thinking of all those things almost at once. And not only that but these thoughts are on a visual level and I can play out scenarios in my brain of how things would proceed if X, Y, or Z were to occur. As mentioned, there is no off switch and this can also be triggered in my environment which is how this chapter connects with the previous one.

If you want to know the most exhausting place I’ve ever been in it was school. I say exhausting because thinking is tiresome and if there is a constant barrage of thoughts to think about, and other things to process, it leads to mental and even physical fatigue. And also remember that I am overly in tune with my environment which wants me to tell you this story of kindergarten. It was a fire drill of all things which I had had several beforehand throughout the school year but this fire drill wasn’t on the normal Thursday and was in the morning hours instead of the usual afternoon. This raised alarms in my mind that something was different. These alarms grew louder as I saw over in the distance that the principal and office staff were also outside. In the prior events they stayed inside so I quickly knew something was different and that this wasn’t a drill but perhaps something serious like, say, an invasion of snakes of black widow spiders in the school. Remember, I was in kindergarten and my mind would play scenarios out and I wondered what would happen if those two situations happened and I was pretty sure, as serious as those two creatures are, that the building would immediately be evacuated. As it turned out there were no spiders or snakes involved, but rather a bomb threat coupled with a suspicious backpack that was laid by the front door.

Most kindergarteners probably wouldn’t have picked up that this wasn’t a drill and since I knew something was different I kept asking my teacher what was going on. I asked over and over again and she kept saying, “Everything is fine” which after 10 minutes of that I knew was wrong. This led my mind to come up with wilder and more serious situations and I became afraid for my life.

I used to always ask questions over and over and over. One common question I’d ask my dad was/is, “Is everything going to be okay?” This is about as open-ended as a question can get and I’ve heard from other parents that this type of question is actually commonly asked. This question could be anything, such as when I was in kindergarten asking about if it was a drill or not, or if dinner will be at 5:45, or if the plans we have are going to happen. Why is there this constant asking of questions and perhaps even asking the same question again and again? It all lies within this issues of thinking.

I don’t know what time of day you are reading this. I think most people read at night which if that’s the case have you thought about what you are doing tomorrow? And if so, how deep have you thought about it? Wouldn’t it be great if everything you’re thinking now goes exactly how you planned it? But, what if one event doesn’t go according to the schedule you have envisioned now? What would you do then, what’s the backup plan? And if that doesn’t go according to plan? Now, imagine having these thoughts, instead of me prompting you to right now, to having them of every second of every day. Remember the chapters you read earlier about worry and feeling an emotion and combine them to thought? Those two play mightily into the reason why we ask the same thing again and again.

For those couple of moments we are reassured when we ask a question we can think about something far more productive and far less anxiety producing than when we are worrying about what we are thinking about. A little reassurance can go a long way.


When the thoughts I’m having aren’t environment based, or worried about a schedule, my thoughts can actually be highly productive and I love getting into a state where it’s just my mind and thought. This could be if I’m watching a race analyzing everything I’m seeing, or playing a game of some sort, or just sitting by myself and appearing to be just staring into a world of nothingness. When I am in this state and someone comes up to say my name, and I respond, it often times sounds as if I am highly angry. At this moment, most of the time, you can’t take my tone as a sign of anger towards you. Instead, this tone you may be hearing has to do with the fact that I’m angry the way my body is reacting to the situation as well as the fact that my thoughts I were having are no longer there. Think of it as being awoken in the midst of a dream; when this happens, when someone gets waken up in the midst of a deep sleep, I don’t think someone just happily says, “Well hi there! What’s up?” It’s very much like this.

When my brain wants to think about something it can be very hard to distract it which is another reason why school was difficult for me. If I found one subject or concept taught earlier in the day I would only want to think about that and nothing else. Why would I want to learn about integers when just a few hours earlier we were talking about Mount St. Helens and volcanoes? Why would I care about a spelling test when earlier we were talking about the differences in clouds? When something caught my attention and became a Kansas it because ever so difficult to focus on the now because all I wanted to do was keep thinking about what I had found interesting. This was one of the root causes of the exhaustion because I tried to fight it and in the mornings I could but in the afternoons I no longer had the energy to do so which meant my mornings were always productive but as the hours progressed my ability to produce and focus diminished by the minute.

The other thing about thought is that it may take a bit longer. While, from talking to “normal” people I think I have more TPM (thoughts per minute) it takes a while to come to a consensus on what it all means which is why we may retreat from something to allow us to have a more quiet place to process. Thoughts can be very loud in our minds and if there’s a lot going on around us we may be unable to get to the end of the thought process so we will be stuck there processing, processing, and processing some more. And, to put this all together, we may not be able to respond to a situation until we’ve had ample time to think about it because we may have to play out all the scenarios which means you may have to give us our space to be able to think about it. And you may also have to give us time. I understand we live in a, “now, now, now” culture but my brain doesn’t work like that and the more you rush me the more uncomfortable I’ll become and I will quite simply be unable to respond. Pushing, sometimes, isn’t the best course of action and in this area I know it isn’t for sure.

Monday, November 21, 2016

To Be in School

I’ve spoken a lot about school so I thought it best to dedicate an entire chapter to it. I also wrote a similar chapter to this in Finding Kansas but from when I wrote the chapter “School” to writing this now my knowledge about myself, and the autism spectrum, has grown immensely.

I’ll start by saying that school was not easy for me. You’ve probably gathered that by the numerous examples I’ve given so far be it the fire drills or my love of arguing with those in authority. Anyway, preschool was difficult to begin with as my language skills weren’t that developed at the time, and I should mention I’ve been told most people don’t have memories to the details I have, but I always got so frustrated when I would talk and no one would listen or understand what I was saying. On top of that, when any sort of pretend play would happen I’d try to state what was wrong, or how to do it, but my words were never understandable.

By the time kindergarten came along I was better at speaking but I didn’t have much interest in communicating with those my own age. I did have one friend my own age, my neighbor, but he was in another class. Also, those my own age didn’t interest me as I’d much rather talk to the teacher because, either she understood me better, had interest in what I was saying, or was good at pretending on knowing what I was saying. This isn’t to say that I didn’t make the attempt to socialize. Yes, I tried, but not in the most appropriate of ways as I’d talk about my Kansas’ be it auto racing, the flags of racing, the drivers of racing, the cars of racing, the tracks of racing, car numbers, or the weather. In extreme events, when I was worried about the Soviet Union, I’d speak about my fears of intercontinental nuclear war which always got the same response with me being looked at oddly and then being left alone.

When others would try and join me in the fun of pattern blocks (okay, pattern blocks were and are the most awesome thing ever made. Sensory wise, there was nothing better than putting them together and creating all sort of neat designs one hexagon at a time) I would always disagree with the way they had their design so I had no qualms in letting them know. If they didn’t adhere to my advice I’d coldly go over and destroy what they were doing because it wasn’t right. This was a theme in all my time at school. I may have been labeled the “teacher’s pet” but I could have a streak of seemingly mean or cold behavior. This would go towards anyone, as mentioned in the previous chapter because teachers were no excluded from this.

After kindergarten and first grade came around I was scared out of my mind. I didn’t understand how, when I was in kindergarten, the amount of hours were doubling. After lunch on my first day the nerves got so great that I vomited right there at my desk. This was a one-way ticket home and using my “Film Theory” from Finding Kansas this started a precedent of how to avoid school albeit this first example was fully involuntary.

I may have difficult towards my classmates, but I was also a terror to substitutes. To my primary teachers I’d almost be a timekeeper and if the top of the hour was near and we weren’t in transition to the next subject I’d adamantly protest. Rules are rules and schedules are schedules and any deviance is not accepted. My 1st and 2nd grade teachers were amazing in that they tolerated this behavior and were always understanding and they’d explain it logically to me if we went over the allotted time. However, when it came to subs, well, that’s a different story.

As I state in my presentations my most famous, or infamous, run in with a sub was in 2nd grade. She came in and straight away put a wheel on the board. Now, I loved wheels and any game that loved a wheel automatically got three bonus points in my mind, but this wheel, wherever it came from whether it was from the depths of hell, or a teacher’s supply store, it needed to go back. You see, it was segmented into different subjects and she called it a topsy-turvy day and she would spin the wheel and whatever subject came up next would be the next subject we would do. Um… NO! I don’t do random all that well and in this subs defense every kid in the class thought this was the best thing ever, but I was the poster child for preparedness and this random element was not sitting well so I complained and she politely said, “Yes, Aaron, I know” and spun the wheel.

So often subs will use this logic when explaining something, “We’re going to do it this way because I said so.” If you want to lose a person on the spectrum use this language because it won’t make sense. It quite simply won’t because if everyone in the world used this language the question has to be asked, “Whose say so would have more say so than the next say so?” This is why we have rules, routines, and schedules and to come along and change it without any explanation other than, “because I said so” is only going to illicit a response of fear and anger. Why fear? Here’s the thing; if you’re making this change now what’s preventing you from using the same logic 15 minutes from now on another topic. This is something most people won’t think of as most people are a “now” thinker meaning they are only seeing the here and now, but for us on the spectrum we may be constantly thinking ahead and if you change something now everything I foresee happening is questionable because the only guarantee is that random could happen at any moment.

So the teacher spun the wheel and the next hour I complained again and got the same polite response but then in the third hour I finally had a logical argument because we did have a printed schedule on the wall. I rose my hand with extra oomph as she went to spin the wheel and I pointed towards the schedule and stated my protest and she looked over, saw it, and walked over and proceeded to rip it off the wall, threw it on the floor, and then spun the wheel. The worst part was my 2nd grade teacher was gone for the entire week so I really hope her week in Florida was worth it!

3rd grade was not a pleasant experience. I changed schools and had a very inconsistent teacher. One day she’d be firm the next would be random. It was hard for me to feel any level of comfort and she also had the, “look at me when I’m talking to you” mentality so that year was not one I enjoyed.

4th grade was great as my teacher really challenged me and got me thinking outside the box. It’s amazing what a teacher can do without doing much, but Mrs. Colvin was a great example of that as she didn’t try to reinvent the wheel, but she used many of my existing interests to spawn new interests. Going to school was never fun for me, and I would protest or be “sick” in the morning to avoid going but when the last day of school came I cried for the first time at the prospect that I’d never be in her classroom again.

5th grade was a turning point for me as halfway through the year my family moved from Indianapolis to Saint Louis and on my last day in Indy two major things happened. The first was I learned I landed the lead role in the school play which I wouldn’t be able to play and secondly, and more importantly, my class that I was leaving behind bought me a College Park Elementary school pencil. While it may have not been much, and it may have only cost a nickel from the school store, it quickly because the world to me.

In Saint Louis it took a couple weeks before I felt comfortable going to school but eventually my parents no longer asked if I were ready so off I went and, sadly, the class I went to had a habit of pranking the new kid. What did they do? I’m sure pranking has come a long way from this seemingly innocent prank pulled against me, but during the lunch/recess hour a fellow student got into my classroom and hid all my pens and pencils. This was almost fine because I wouldn’t have cared if my new pencils and pens were gone. However, that College Park Elementary school pencil was gone as well and since I don’t remember people visually without a physical item it was very much like deleting the memories of those in Indy. Because of this my reaction was not a mild one but was rather severe. And because of that whoever pulled the prank did not come forward and if anyone had knowledge they kept it to themselves because no one wanted to have any part of the trouble that one might have gotten into considering my reaction.

A few months later when the teacher’s podium was moved for the floor to be cleaned my supplies were found, but it was too late by then. No one could understand, including myself, why inanimate objects had such an effect on me and since first impressions are important I never really fit in at that school. This trend would continue and eventually I’d be homeschooled which is where I’d finish up my schooling career.

There are several more points I’d like to make about school. The first is that I struggled in anything that required a group. There were many reasons why from not wanting to socialize to not trusting other’s work and if there were any debates on anything I’d be about as close-minded as possible because I knew I was right and it was my way or no way. Group work often has results much like mine and there was one project in 7th grade that I actually submitted my own personal submission outside of the group I was in. It wasn’t that I misunderstood the idea of a group but rather it was that I didn’t trust their work, they didn’t listen, and I knew I was right.

Secondly, I could be cruel when it came to others around me if they didn’t pick something up as easily as I did. Things did either come easy (math, geography) or things were impossible for me (anything fine motor, English, spelling) but during the part of class where the teacher would call upon students to answer a question, and I knew it, I’d let our verbal, “Ugh’s” and “Grrr’s” when someone got it wrong because this meant two things; the first was that they didn’t know which was beyond me because I had the mindset of, “if I can do it everyone can do it” and secondly was that a wrong answer meant we’d talk about this longer which, since I already knew it, meant more minutes of endless boredom.

Finally, and on a positive, as I mentioned my 4th grade teacher was phenomenal as was my 2nd grade teacher. They both did something which I swear let me become the person I am today. In school the only thing I enjoyed were academic games as long as it wasn’t a spelling bee although in 2nd grade I tied for the win for the class but I just got lucky as everything I got was geography based so I let the other person go to the school spelling bee. Anyway, when it came to flashcards or states and capitols I lived for those games and the game played was a one question, sudden death winner takes all and proceeds to the next desk duel to end all duels. It was simple; get it right and proceed. Get it wrong and wait and sadly, for my classmates, both of these subjects fell within my Kansas so rarely did anyone else get to play. In 1st and 3rd grades I was declared the “retired champion” and was exiled to the corner to do busy work. This work wasn’t graded but I had to do anyway. Talk about a logic fail! Instead of banishment in 2nd and 4th grades my teachers did something else as I got a promotion and became the host of the game. I either held the flashcard or named the state or the capitol but all in all this was practice for public speaking.

For the teachers reading this I first salute you and secondly I have to say that you can do amazing things for us and you may never know the outcome. Society can get so caught up in trying to fix everything right this second, but sometimes it is like planting seeds and the seeds planted for myself took two decades to sprout, but here I am. It may not take much sometimes and outside the subs I had my teachers never got angry with me which, had they, I may have become afraid of them. Also, several of my teachers were able to engage me in my interests which built up a trust with them. My 2nd grade teacher began to follow auto racing and she would quiz me as to where the world traveling Formula One series would be racing and she once asked me, “Aaron, where is Silverstone?” which I knew the track but had just a faint idea about where it was and that it might be in someplace called England and from that moment on my love of travel and learning about new places were born. So yes, while I did write a lot about my negative experiences there positive ones as well and I never got the chance to say thank you the wonderful teachers I had so I must dedicate this chapter to them to express my gratitude because without them I would not have achieved what I have.

Friday, November 18, 2016

To Argue

Of all the social rules there are the one that I hear most of that we break is our endless ability to argue. My parents often thought that I’d become a lawyer because my ability to argue any point, whether I was right or wrong, was superb. Okay, the word “superb” is my word, not theirs, but when it came to anything whether it was wanting a pack of gum at a gas station or wanting to stay up an extra 15 minutes I could always argue the point. However, it is one thing to argue with one’s parents which I think all children will do, Asperger’s or not, but we may carry this trait with us outside of the home.

            One of my favorite sayings I’ve said at my presentations have been, “I feel there is nothing more tenacious than a person on the autism spectrum that knows they’re right when they are being told that they are wrong.” This played out in 4th grade to an extreme that my 4th grade teacher, wherever she may be, surely remembers.

            My 4th grade teacher was amazing, she really was, but she had a habit of not using the test keys. And most of the time she didn’t need them. However, there was one test she gave us which was a common sense test regarding estimating weights, speeds, and temperatures that created a situation of hot water (sorry, I just couldn’t resist that joke.)

            It was a basic 20 question worksheet and near the end there was this question:

            How hot is the normal bath? Is it

A.      32 degrees

B.      72 degrees

C.      100 degrees

D.     212 degrees.

This was an easy one for me because I didn’t need to estimate as I went through a spree from 1st through the start of 4th grade of measuring the temperature of my bath water. I knew unequivocally that the answer was C. I may have been sure in my answer but so too were everyone else including my teacher who said it was B.

The next day, when I received the paper, I noticed that I got marked wrong on the bath water question I immediately went to the teacher’s desk to protest. I didn’t get far when she told me that everyone else said it was B but I became relentless in my protests. She kept saying that she was, “right” and I kept saying, “No, you’re not.” This lasted for a couple minutes and because I was always perfectly behaved I think she let me have this time and eventually I said, “I know I’m right because I spent a couple years measuring every bath I took.” This seemed so far-fetched in her eyes that she said, “No, you didn’t” and I responded with, “Yes, I did” and you can quickly see that this argument was getting nowhere. She eventually said, “Aaron, you’re going to have to drop this or I’m going to have to put your name on the board.” This was in the end of the world in my eyes so I went back to my desk but I already knew my next move.

When I know I am right there is no such thing as a wasted breath when it comes to proving I am right. I simply won’t accept the fact that a person is telling me that I am wrong and will go on and on and on in my debate. For my fourth grade teacher this meant that I’d have to talk to her outside the classroom where the jurisdiction of the chalkboard did not exist and it just so happened that I lived in the same neighborhood as my teacher and she was also a marathon runner and I just so happened to know her training route.

After school, when I got home, I waited an hour or so and then hopped on my bicycle. My teacher always ran the outer look of the neighborhood in a clockwise fashion which meant, if I rode counterclockwise I’d increase the chances I’d come across her. This strategy worked and as I passed her I did a U-turn and began riding next to her. I didn’t want to make it too obvious about my intentions so I waited a good, oh, five seconds and I said, “About that test?” She quickly responded with, “Aaron, we’re not going to talk about that test!” to which I became relentless in explaining my logic on why the average bath water could not be 72 degrees. I explained that the neighborhood pool closed if the water dropped below 75 therefore if everyone took baths at 72 then most of America would be freezing each and every time they took a bath.

For a marathon runner there is a certain mental zone they have to ascertain and when you’ve got a pesky 4th grader talking about a test and naming off facts and figures the way I was it made for that zone to not be obtainable. She eventually realized that I wasn’t going anywhere without her concession so she conceded and said, “Okay, Aaron, if I look at the test key tomorrow will you leave me alone?” I said “Yup” and rode off happily into the sunset.

The next morning I walked into my classroom, a bit arrogantly I must say, and I looked at my test I was holding and I proudly placed it in front of her. Not to my surprise, the red pen came out and my score was adjusted and the grade book came out and all was right with the world. Or was it? She only changed my grade when there were twenty or so other students who got it wrong and yet she kept their credit. I said, “Are you going to change everyone else’s scores now?” She just leered at me and said nary a word so I took it upon myself to talk to each student that day and I implored them to go to Mrs. Colvin and demand that she take 5 points off their test. No one did and I quickly lost any bit of popularity I had but it didn’t make sense; why would anyone take credit for something that was wrong? It was a fun week of arguing, but I quickly wore out the ears of all my classmates.

I got lucky that Mrs. Colvin was such an amazing, and patient teacher because my level or arguing might not have been accepted in another classroom because I would have been seen as trying to undermine authority or trying to disturb the classroom but I didn’t see it that way; the only thing I saw was that a right was deemed a wrong therefore it had to be fixed. Everything else didn’t matter. This goes back to the “To Feel and Emotion” chapter as, when I feel I’m right and being told I’m wrong, I must fight it to the ends of the Earth to prove that I am right and many teachers will not put up with this at all simply because of the same misunderstanding that happened in the last chapter with the police officer.

If you aren’t prepared for it our arguing may appear as if we are either control freaks or that we are trying to argue for the sake of being annoying. While we might actually be a bit on the controlling side there’s a reason for this; if everything that is stated is truth and if all the rules are followed my world becomes much, much safer. I don’t have to process if any given person is telling the truth or not. If everyone follows the rules I don’t have to worry about contingency plans. If the schedule is followed I don’t have to worry about something starting three minutes late. What may seem like an irrelevant argument to you might be the most important of things to me because it’s more than just this one thing. If people accept one rule to be broken despite protests then what’s stopping the same situation from happening again, and again, and again? And if this is the case when does the madness end? My understanding of social rules is more vague than those who are normal but what I do understand I expect to be followed and I can assure you that I will argue when anything isn’t according to plan because, often times, the only thing I have going for me is knowing facts and schedules and if you say I’m wrong on something I hold dear then look out because the arguing will commence. And did I mention, I’m superb at it?

Thursday, November 17, 2016

To Break a Social Rule

One of the things that may lead us to be a target of bullying is our tendency to say the absolute wrong thing at the wrong time and have no idea. This can also create issues besides bullying as we may say the wrong thing in the workplace or not understand the hierarchy system and complain to someone way above who we should be talking to. In most cases, in my opinion, our breakage of a social rule isn’t by will but by simply not understanding the rules of that moment.

            I have many examples of this, well, too many actually to be perfectly honest. Of course the biggest one I have is that, to see if my then girlfriend liked me, I broke up with her on Christmas via text message. In my mind she’d simply call and protest and all would be fine. The end result was anything but and the error I made was that I could not see the emotional impact of my social move. In presentations I call this, “being logical an emotional world” and often times that leads us straight into a tense situation without our knowing it.

            A major portion of the presentations I have given have been to law enforcement and I’ve heard many, again too many, stories of the interactions between law enforcement and those on the autism spectrum. The best, if best is the right word, example of this happened to an 18 year old with Asperger’s when he was pulled over by an officer. Thankfully his parents let him know what lights and sirens behind him meant but unfortunately that was the only thing he really understood of the traffic stop.

            The officer came and tapped on the window. This, to most people, would mean to roll your window down and when an officer wants something “later” isn’t an acceptable answer. However, if you are, “logical in an emotional world” and you takes things at an absolute literal value this would then mean a person tapping on a window is doing so to simply tap on glass for some unbeknownst reason. This, of course, didn’t sit too well with the officer and he knocked on the glass with an anger vigor and said, “Sir, roll down your window… NOW!”

            The driver was now a little confused at the officer’s anger and he responded with, “Oh, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Before I continue on I want you to try and put yourself in each party’s shoes in this story. It might be hard if you are on the spectrum, or if you are not, but try. Imagine being the driver fully perplexed at the seemingly absurd behavior by the officer. I mean, first he taps on the window and now he is yelling. “What’s wrong with him?” was probably a thought that crossed the driver’s mind. Now go to the officer who has to deal with stressful and potentially life threatening encounters each and every day. Also, some people like to be rude to the police so at that moment the officer isn’t thinking that this person has any form of autism or the like and is simply being obstinate for the sake of making the officer’s life miserable. This is what makes encounters with law enforcement tricky when it comes to Asperger’s because our naivety to what is expected of us may come across as that we are simply trying to be a jerk or to play a, “gotcha” game which is exactly where this story heads.

            The officer, now irate, asks the driver, “Sir, can I see your license?” A few seconds passed as the driver processed this odd question and the driver responded, a bit sheepishly, “No.” The officer was at the end of his patience and he said, in the sternest voice humanly possible, “Sir, can I see your license… NOW!” This tone was almost humorous to the driver but the driver took a bit longer on answering as he tried to figure out if it were a trick question or not and when he knew it wasn’t he chuckled and said, “No, you still can’t see my license” and with that a few more things were said and the driver was arrested for disobeying an officers and obstructing an officer’s duty and taken to the station where, thankfully, the officers there had autism training and were able to read between the lines that this person wasn’t trying to one up the officer and was honestly confused by the commands given. No charges were filed, but his mom did have to pick him up at the station and when she got there she asked, with tears in her eyes, “Why didn’t you help the officer?” to which her son dryly replied, “But mom, I was trying to help the officer! He kept asking me if he could ‘see my license’ which how could he? It was in my wallet.”

            These social encounters can leave a target on us or may lead us to be mocked by our peer group if they witness it and most of the time we’re left wondering, “What just happened?” Honestly, we can say the wrong thing and have no idea we just broke a rule.

            Here’s the thing about social rules; they are always changing. One minute a joke is acceptable the next minute it isn’t. I’ve seen several university studies as of late boldly proclaiming that, “people on the autism spectrum may be drawn or become obsessed with games” which, for me, this is the most obvious study next to, “people need oxygen to breathe.” At a young age I said, “Within rules everything is known” and when it comes to social rules we are often left wondering where the actual rulebook is that everyone adheres to because it’s just so darn confusing.

            Here’s a good way to envision what trying to navigate these social rules are for us on the autism spectrum; imagine you’re playing the game Monopoly and you just rolled a 7. You’ve landed on Boardwalk where there currently sets 11 houses and 27 hotels which is way against the rules but nevermind that because there is also a king on Boardwalk being checked by the knight that just landed on Community Chest and also you just landed on a Triple Word Space so I hope you have some good letters on your rack to play off the word currently on Luxury Tax. Say what? What is going on in the example I just gave? Is it Scrabble? Is it Chess? Or is it Monopoly with one of the weirdest house rules set known to man? When it comes to socializing this is what it can be like and trying to discern what is actually going on can lead us to be severely frustrated because, each time we try, the rules are constantly changing and by the time we adapt they’ve changed again. Can you see why we can get so frustrated? Most of us crave sameness and order and when it comes to the social rulebook, well, there doesn’t seem to be one so if a social rule is broken the root cause may be a simple misunderstanding.

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

To Be Bullied

            I mentioned that it may be a necessary thing to have; this being overly aware and of all things it is greatest when it comes to social situations and the amount of defense I do each and every day to avoid all things social is great. This is even greater in places where I’ve had a bad experience.

            When I present to schools I commonly get asked, “Were you bullied when you were in school?” and I have to be honest and say, “I don’t think so but if I was I was fully unaware of it because I was so engrossed in whatever it was that I was engrossed with at that moment.” However, I’ve had two events in my life that were most certainly a bully moment and to be bullied, well, it was the worst experience(s) of my life.

            The first one happened at the bowling alley I bowl at. I’ve bowled there for over half my life and it was also the place of my first job, and on the start of a new bowling season an even occurred that I will never forget and I wish it had been a 300 game, which I did have once on an opening night, but for as big of a thrill as a perfect game is this experience was equally on level with it except on the negative side.

            It was the first night and my first game of the new season was awful for my standards. My average is usually over 200 and game one was a 150. I was a little hungry so I went to the snack machine and punched in the numbers of the Chex Mix and as the machine did its little unwindy thing the bag got stuck. This was perfectly normal for me as more often than not the snack I wanted would get stuck. Because of the frequency of this I got good at shaking the machine. Well, I didn’t shake the machine but I would just give it some quick wobbles to dislodge the snack. I tried this and it wasn’t working so I looked over to the main desk where I saw the manager walking my way.

            As the manager neared I awaited the usual semi-comic jest he would say. He’d normally say, in a gruff tone, “Dammit Aaron, broke it again did you?” and I was already planning my response but all thoughts were shattered when he shoved his index in my shoulder and said, “"What are you, stupid? Can't you read the sign? It says 'do not shake' you wear glasses right?" and as he finished saying that he stormed off in one of the most aggressive postures you could imagine.

            What just happened? I stood there in shock and one of the employees who witnessed this stood there about as dumbfounded as I was, but for him he wasn’t hurt like I was. Somehow the bag of Chex Mix had found the bottom of the machine, maybe the manager got it as I don’t remember, but I was now doing everything I could not to break down in tears. I anything, at this moment, I was in shock; pure shock. I began to shake and I got the bag of Chex Mix now having no desire to eat and I got back to the table my team was at and I slammed the bag onto the table and that was it, I broke down.

            At this moment I wanted no part with the world. The world had won and I was defeated. I couldn’t fathom how normality changed so quickly to a hostile situation where I was being demeaned, and poked. I texted my dad saying something along the lines of, “help me!” and he responded with, “What happened?” and I just replied, “Disaster at bowling.” From there he called but I didn’t pick up as I couldn’t talk at this point in time. This was one of the odder experiences in my life as I literally could not get anything out.

            It was obvious for those around me that something had happened but no one knew what. I had this look of extreme rage and sadness in my face with the combination of an excess of tears and yet I kept bowling. My dad arrived and I walked up to him and he asked, “What happened?” and I quickly turned away. I didn’t want to talk about it and yet it was the only thing I was thinking about. I had to say something but from this bully experience I was silenced. Maybe it was the sheer level and intensity of the emotions I was experiencing, or maybe it was the shock and fear of the ordeal, but whatever the case may have been I couldn’t speak to my dad. I had to say something though so I did what I have found to be my best outlet and I found the standings sheet and I started to handwrite the story of that evening.

            When my dad read the story he became irate and confronted the manager. I kept bowling and the odd thing was, despite the amount of tears and utter sadness I was feeling, I started striking and my 2nd game was a 220.

            As the third game started I began to feel deeply depressed about this situation because I started blaming myself. Maybe if I were stronger this wouldn’t have hurt me. And, why was this still bothering me? I should be able to just, “man up,” right? In the middle portion of the third game I was able to speak again and my dad asked if I wanted an apology and that was the last thing I wanted. Truly, the last. For one, I don’t believe in them (the best apology is to not let whatever it was happen again because anyone can say “I’m sorry” and not mean a word of it) and secondly the sight of him sent shivers down ever vein in my body.

            No apology was ever given and some years have passed since that event and to this day I still have not said another word to him. I have noticed he is treating all customers better than he used to. My dad told him he had an, “anger problem” which working under him I knew this was probably the case and maybe he needed the event with me to realize it himself and he has seemed happier since, but from that night, anytime a person walks up to me with the look of a purpose or with just a hint of anger, I am worried about whatever type of poke, or yelling that might ensue.

            A couple years after the bowling alley I experienced an equally worse event at a golf course. I realize both of these events aren’t truly bullying events in the sense that students ask me, but these one-time events created moments that I never felt more belittled, irrelevant, and worse about me than any other event so I feel the feelings are the same. Granted, these weren’t prolonged episodes like some people face at school which to that I can’t imagine a prolonged bullying experience as just these momentary episodes are more than I care to have experienced.

            Anyway, at this golf course, it was nearing the 4th of July and I was technically on vacation. I was at my sister’s house outside Indianapolis and I went golfing and the course was packed. Typically, I love a golf course in the middle of nowhere where I can play at my own pace and not have to risk any sort of social encounter. It seems most people play golf to chat, or to do business, but I play to be alone and on this busy day being alone was hard to do as the front nine holes took an alarming 3.5 hours to play. It was all good, however, because I was on vacation and I had nowhere else to be.

            On the first nine holes I was a bit troubled by the behavior of the trio in front of me. They were in their younger 20’s and were enjoying life to the max and then some. Beer? You bet, curse words? Every other word. While this might be typical twentysomething behavior it isn’t what I care for so I kept my distance.

            As I went from hole nine to ten I was able to pass them as they were in the clubhouse stocking up on my adult beverages as this thrilled me because I might be able to finally get into a rhythm. I put the tee into the ground and hit the ball and it was the best drive of the day. Oh, it was such a beautiful shot played to the right side of the fairway just short of the water hazard. In golf it is always great to have a shot planned and to be able to carry out. It’s even greater when, if you’re like me, it doesn’t happen all that often. I marveled at my shot for a second more and I walked towards my golf cart when a course official came and said, “We’re going to pair you up with the three guys headed this way now.” Who were those three guys? You betcha it was the trio who were enjoying life to the max.

            The official who told me this told me to wait at the 10th tee box and I waited and the trio came. Another official came to wait by me and as that trio got there the new official informed those three about me and one of them said, “You’re pairing us up with him? Look, he doesn’t like us and we don’t like him!” They couldn’t see it but my face took a major look of being perplexed as how did they come to that conclusion, but their protests were futile and the course official said that this was the way it was going to be.

            As they got on the tee box one of them whispered to me, “Look, after we get done with this drive we’ll let you play ahead. You’re not going to like us.” You’ve got to give that guy credit for knowing this, but as they hit the ball the course official said aloud, “Wait a minute, why do you four guys have three golf carts? This isn’t going to work! You, put your bags in his cart” referring to my cart. The guy protested and protested but it was of no use. I remained there, staring straight ahead, worried about what was going to happen as I did not want three plus hours of being with these guys. I thought of exit strategies and I thought of quitting, but I paid money to play golf and play golf was what I wanted to do.

            Eventually I felt the thud of this guy’s bag being placed on my cart so I turned around and looked at the course official and I said, “I have a form of autism and this isn’t really going to work for me as I’m not the most social of people out there.” Saying this was a giant leap for me because I am a horrible advocate for myself. I was, at that point in time, actually proud of myself but this was short lived as the official replied, “Look, most course have a sign, we don’t, but most do that states that we reserve the right to take your cart of pair you up at any point in time and this is one of those times. Again, we don’t actually have a sign but that’s just the way it is.”

            I responded, with a voice of complete imploring, “Look, I have Asperger’s, it’s a form of autism and socializing with those I don’t know is extremely difficult for me.” His response? “Look son, this is America and sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do.” At this point in time I was on my way to losing it the way I lost it at the bowling alley but I didn’t want it to get that far so I got out of the golf cart and verbally exclaimed, “I’m done” and I started to get my golf bag unfastened from the cart to walk back to my car. The course guy said, “What’s he doing” to which the twentysomething guy said, “Uh, I think he’s quitting” which got the reaction from the course official, “Quitting? Really? It’s not that difficult.”

            To this day the words, “It’s not that difficult” ring in my ears. Writing this hurts, it really does, and when I heard those words at the golf course I collapsed in place and began to hyperventilate. The trio of guys were now in a shock of their own and the guy in my golf cart went back to his and they drove off as if nothing had happened. I think their shock was in part to the fact that they now didn’t have to worry about me and the course official got into his cart and disappeared and I was left, alone, having a major episode.

            Why was there an episode at all? I know what I have; I know my strengths and I know my weaknesses and to be told, “It’s not that difficult” is to diminish everything I am as a human. I reached out, I spoke up, and I was shot down because I did so. It’s not easy for me to say that I can’t do something and to then be mocked because of it was more than I could handle. The #1 thought going through my mind was, “If I were normal this wouldn’t be happening! If I were normal… If I were normal… God, why am I not normal?”

            To be bullied is to put a person in this state. I remained there, on the cart path behind my golf cart, for what seemed to be months and others came and teed off as if I weren’t even there which was rather odd for me because if I saw a person in crisis the way I was I’d at least ask them if there was anything I could do but I must have been invisible to all those others who were more concerned with par, slices, and woods because no golfer said a word to me as I was hunched over, tears streaming from my eyes, and hyperventilating.

            However long it was, another course official came and parked beside me and I took notice of him and he never once looked at me and, as he was staring off towards the sun which was now starting its downward trek in the western sky, he said, “Have you ever heard of Asperger’s?” This question was so unexpected I instantly had no problem breathing at a normal rate. I was able to mumble, “yes” and he responded, “Well, my grandson has it and just like you, when anything gets 1% confrontational he can’t handle the situation and I’m going to make an assumption that you have Asperger’s.” which I responded with a meek, “yes.”

            Maybe the official that started this debacle had told the management that a person claimed that I had stated that I was on the autism spectrum, and then again maybe he deduced it himself, whatever the sequence of events was I felt 1000 times more comfortable than I had just seconds prior. It took just a couple more minutes but I put my bag in his cart and he drove me to my car and on the way we talked about Asperger’s and as I got off he said, “On behalf of my grandson and myself I want to apologize with what that guy did. The manager has been informed and I assure you this will never happen here again.”

            In this second situation I named a hero swooped in a saved the day, but for those that endure bullying each and every day they may be awaiting that hero each day but in the end that wait is in vain. Again, I must state that I can’t imagine being subject to being mocked each day. And maybe not just being mocked, but being ridiculed for things which the autism may create be it a fixed interest, or finger or arm twitches of flickering. We know who we are, we know our strengths and weaknesses and when it comes to weaknesses they aren’t a choice. We can’t simply turn them on and off at will. We are who we are and there’s nothing we can do about it and when we are belittled the feeling is of supreme sadness. In both of these events I felt insignificant, irrelevant, and I questioned my existence as a person. Was I really a person? Am I a part of this world? If so I’m obviously not on the same level. And at the core of the emotions is the thought of, “If I were normal this wouldn’t be happening.”

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

To Worry

What did we learn in the previous chapter? I hope you learned that whatever emotion is being felt we be felt to an extreme level and will all but consume the person. These emotions could be good, or bad, but whatever is will remain unabated. However, for me, there is one emotion that seems to trump all others and that is worry.

            I’ve heard several misguided experts proclaim that, “All people on the autism spectrum have no imagination.” While some might have this, and while I was never good at pretend play unless it was under my terms using my logic, my imagination is super strong in terms of being able to visually play out scenarios in my mind. This can be a strength, but when I was younger this proved to create a lot of issues that those around me couldn’t understand and I couldn’t vocalize.

            The first thing in my life I can remember worrying about was the weather. There were two instances that might have influenced this, well, maybe three. The first, and this is what made me think of three, was this weather radio my dad had. Yes, this before the time of the Internet and this NOAA weather radio, anytime a watch or warning would be issued, would blare out this hideous squelchy, screeching sound. I would scream when it would go off and this may have appeared as a fear of the impending storm, which was there, but also the noise itself was bothersome for my system. Now, if we use many of the concepts put forth in my previous books such as “Film Theory” and “Associative Memory System” this meant that stormy weather equaled that noise which was bad therefore both storms and that radio were bad. I don’t know what happened to that radio but I hope it got dropped in a tub of hydrochloric acid.

            The second event was when I was about five and my dad and mom had just left the house and I believe my grandpa was watching me and no later than five minutes after they left a massive lightning bolt struck a tree in the front yard. I can remember this moment as if were right now as the sound was deafening and the light, oh the light was blinding. I think in this instance I screamed for an hour afterwards and from that moment on every storm equaled, in my mind, that experience of severe noise and light which was, perhaps, one of my first true sensory meltdowns.

            Thirdly, about a year after the lightning strike, a severe storm producing tornadoes was passing through Indianapolis and the tornado sirens went off (this too was a sensory issue ”first” as well as scaring me because I figured that eerie sound that everyone could hear would only be used if something was really, really bad) so my dad and mom rounded the family up and we headed to the basement. As I went from my room headed to the basement I can remember looking outside and the clouds were something I have never seen since; it was the greenest sky you could imagine and yet it was night and the clouds were moving in a straight down fashion. On top of all that electric lines and transformers were blowing ever half second. Needless to say it was a scary sight for a six year old to see.

            We get to the basement and go into the deepest room but as soon as we get there the entire family, excluding me, go out the basement door to watch the storm. I heard the news and I had been taught that in a tornado one must go to the basement. This doesn’t mean go to the basement and proceed to go outside! This means hunker down and hope and pray for the best. However, I was left alone, screaming mind you, and going through my mind at the age of six on that stormy night, were all the possibilities that would happen to my family be it a lightning strike, or the impending tornado. Both of those options could have happened but my mind could play it out and I could truly see it. Because of all this I screamed and I screamed and I walked halfway down the hall and demanded that everyone come inside.

            From all of those experiences I developed a severe fear of all things outside a sunny day. I used to live by a map The Weather Channel had and that was/is their thunderstorm forecast map. This map shows the US and where there could be strong thunderstorms the area will be shaded in orange and the possibility of severe was red and if my hometown was shaded in red it was all but impossible to get me to go to school? Why? Several reasons; the first was that schools don’t have basements and the rules on the television always said go to a basement or a “central room.” There was an experience I had in kindergarten where a storm was close and the sirens were going off so we went into the hall which was right by the front door. I knew this wasn’t safe and from that day I didn’t trust a school with my storm safety. Secondly, if I was at school, I couldn’t see the radar which back then, Internet less mind you, the radar was only viewable once every ten minutes which meant that every ten minutes my imagination ran wild.

            If I were at school my mind would play out situations of how and where the storm would develop and in my mind it always ended with a catastrophic F-5 tornado coming and ripping up where I was into oblivion. Was this probable? No, but could it happen? Yes, and this is where it can be difficult for those around us to understand our worry because to you it is something that has such a remote possibility of occurring that you don’t give it a thought, but since feeling an emotion is to feel something to the unfiltered level this means that not only can I play out the scenario but I can also feel it in advance.

            If storms weren’t bothering me another issue plagued me from a young age and that was the fear of losing those around me, specifically my dog Missy. Yes, I feared losing human family members but that worry was so deep that any thought of that at all was brain shattering and the only way I can compare that is to imagine what it would be to drop a piece of china from a ten story high window. But when it came to Missy I would sit with her and silently cry fearing the day that she was no longer barking in supreme happiness when I came home. This was when she was just a couple years old and again, was it probable that her life was going to end anytime soon? No, but again the possibility was there and since it was there in my mind it was consuming. My dad would always tell me that my worry was like, “paying interest on a loan that you haven’t taken out yet” but being so young I didn’t understand it. Even if I did it wouldn’t have mattered because the fact of the matter was that she was going to die, someday, and there was nothing I or anyone else could do about it.

            As I grew older my ability to worry grew with age as I learned more about the world and more about potential life changing events. With the advent of caller ID I began to fear phone calls because anytime a number called that I didn’t recognize I always feared the worst and assumed it was the highway patrol letting me know that someone I knew had been in a fiery car crash. This worry and fear, when it hits, is instant. It isn’t, “Oh, here’s a number I don’t recognize. Could it be one of my mom or dad’s friends? Hmm, probably not. Could it be a store letting someone know a product came in? A telemarketer? Oh, I don’t know, there are just too many possibilities.” Again, that’s not how my brain works. My brain instantly goes, “Okay, who just died.”

            I will cover social worries in later chapters as those deserve their own time, but of course social issues can also cause worry. And with all these worries, and if I forget to mention this later on, you’ve got to remember that these worries/fears are more than just a slight worry for us as they’ll become the only thing that matters. We don’t go from an alert level of all’s well to all’s hell in a gradual form; no, we go from 0 to 10 instantly and we may be able to feel it, see it, and experience it because, if we’re a visual thinker, we can see it in advance. And what this means is that saying, or diminishing our fear by saying, “It’s nothing to worry about” or, “I understand” will do little to quell the storm of worry that is raging. Can you do something? Oh yes, but you’re going to have to understand why we are afraid and try to think logically and visually, but since each person with autism is unique and since each person’s worry triggers can be anything and everything there is no one answer I can give in confidence as to make everything perfectly better instantly.

            As I reached my adult years the primary worry has been the worry that everything “won’t be okay.” This is a broad term I use and I have constantly, for almost 15 years, asked my dad at least once a day, “Will everything work out, will everything be okay?” Part of the genesis of this question was that awful website I read when I was diagnosed which told me everything was not going to be okay, but from that the worry had many sides and depths. Will I always have a place to live? Will I be accepted? If things are difficult will I swim instead of sink? Will I be able to pay my bills? Again, please remember that these things I just asked are things we all think and could quite possibly be part of the essence of being human, but for some these questions are just that. For me they take on a life in my brain like a movie and I can play out and see all the future expenses and I’ll know the exact date that I will run out of money. What can’t be calculated, and maybe this is caused by the worry, is what money will be earned. As good as I am imagining the end of my world and all that could go wrong I can see what could go right. You see, Benjamin Franklin had it right when he said, “But in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.”

            There are other aspects to this that can cause worry for us on the autism spectrum and they are all around you right now. If you’re in a home listen for a moment and turn any music or background noise you may have on. Maybe you hear an air conditioner or heater, or maybe, and I hope you just heard this but the odds are low, you just heard the house settling. If not, I hope you know the noise which can very much sound like a footstep on the floor. I’ve heard over a dozen stories from parents that struggle with this because, and I suffered from this too, that when that noise is heard I don’t think that it’s the house creaking but rather I think of some masked robber here to take my things or hurt me. Again, is this the likely thing it is? No, but it could be and when we are talking about all the possible outcomes in life it is impossible to get everything right, isn’t it? But, what I think is one of the underlying causes of this worry issue, is that processing for us on the autism spectrum can be longer so I have to be prepared for the worst before it gets here. Maybe this is an instinctual response that can’t be helped to protect my body in these events. And then again maybe this is just because I’m just hyper-sensitive to my surroundings and since whatever is felt is felt to an extreme level therefore any hesitation, any worry, or anything that is 1% out of the ordinary will create a response that might be impossible for you to understand, but while it may be impossible to understand how I can fear a storm that doesn’t exist yet, or mourn the death of my living dog the fact of the matter is that my worry is real regardless the current state of realness of whatever it is I am worrying about and that is what those around me, and others that are around those on the autism spectrum, must understand.