Autistic Every Day Of My Life…

Here’s a rundown of things I never learned to do, based on my position along the spectrum

If you haven’t already figured it out when reading my past writings, I fall on the autism spectrum. I have (what used to be known as) Asperger Syndrome, now commonly referred to as Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) or Pervasive Development Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (PDD-NOS).

In recent years, many mental health advocates have lobbied for the colloquial removal of the Asperger’s moniker, largely due to historical evidence that physician and researcher Hans Asperger (after whom the disorder was named) may have been in league with the Nazis. I was originally diagnosed with Asperger’s, as a high school freshman. However, my parents didn’t explain the intricacies of my condition to me until almost three years later, right before I was about to enter college.

Before I go any further, allow me to recommend Kirsty Kendall’s thought-provoking Medium piece entitled “What If Autistic People Were the Majority?”

Read it (if you haven’t already), and just take a moment to consider what our norms might look like if neurodiverse people (i.e., those of us who have cognitive and behavioral disabilities) were making society’s rules and setting the standards for neurotypical people (i.e., those without neurological disabilities).

Not that one version of binary control would necessarily be “superior” to the other — but what could be some of the differences within these dual alternate universes?

Some of my own characteristics that are common in many people with ASD/PDD-NOS:

• Inability to form “conventional” social relationships with peers
• Misunderstanding social cues or body language
• Difficulty making eye contact
• Misinterpreting someone’s intended use of verbal language
• Strong written communication skills
• Engaging in repetition, when exasperated
• Single-minded fixations and obsessions in terms of specific hobbies or interests
• Aversion to loud noises
• Prone to temper tantrums (“meltdowns”), or, alternately, some degree of internalized “shutdown”
• Mentally “creating” our own worlds, through our imagination powers or by running simulated scenarios in our heads
• Overthinking or reading too much into someone else’s words or meanings

These traits will manifest differently in people across the spectrum, so not all of these behaviors are universal to everyone who was diagnosed with Asperger’s. For example, many “Aspies” dislike being touched, struggle with word creation, or rarely ever smile.

But, for me, I love being physically touched by people for whom I have great affection. My verbal skills can be extremely articulate and eloquent, to the point where I’ll get accused of being “long-winded.” And I smile quite often — at least, when I’m in a good mood or managing to enjoy life in some form.

So, if you don’t already have a wide array of exposure to a diverse gallery of us “Aspies” — just remember that not all of these characteristics will be present to the same degree, or in the exact same combination, for every diagnosed individual.

Once I understood more about the nature of my disability, I became desperate to hide it from a majority of people. This was an especially fervent tendency of mine throughout college. I would go out of my way to attempt to conceal my diagnosis from classmates, roommates, dormmates, casual peers, and several authority figures. Generally, I’d only disclose it to professors if it was an academic subject for which I needed exam accommodations (extended testing time).

Unfortunately, my desperation to be perceived as “normal” would often backfire on me. While trying to hide my disability, my behavior would end up just coming off as utterly baffling to people who weren’t knowledgeable about the autism spectrum. Rather than realizing I was autistic, they’d draw the conclusion that I was a socially-awkward narcissist…or just plain creepy.

When you have Asperger’s, you eventually come to accept that it’s a part of you. Your focus shifts to how you can navigate the world in a safe and functional way. For most autistic people, this is daunting and laborious. But we do it out of necessity and self-preservation.

What’s perhaps more infuriating to me are the microaggressions we have to deal with…or the inability of some self-proclaimed intersectional feminists (or “woke” activists) to recognize that reality of ours.

In the same way people — unconsciously or inconsiderately — inflict microaggressions upon others based on differences in race, sex, gender, sexuality, age, class/income, politics, and religion…disability is yet another hurdle erected across the intersectional track field of life.

For example, in September 2020, Chris Rock went on ABC’s The View to talk about having Nonverbal Learning Disorder (NVLD). When consoling Rock about his past socially-awkward interactions with her, cohost Joy Behar praised Rock by saying his behavior was “not that bad” in comparison to Asperger’s (which Rock recalled that another friend of his had initially suspected Rock might have).

Gee, Joy, I’ll bet Chris Rock really appreciates hearing how his personality and existence is “not that bad” compared to Anthony Eichberger’s…

Or, during the 2014 Jim Jefferies Netflix special “BARE” — while Jefferies was inanely trying to equate slavery to gun ownership as a way of justifying his (equally-inane) anti-gun ownership views…upon making a valid point about the idiocy of pro-gun extremists who claim gun violence is mainly caused by people with mental disorders, Jefferies gratuitously quipped how it was unlikely that “the kid at Sandy Hook was ‘Asperger’s-as-fuck’”…

Um, no, Jim. Just…no. I don’t appreciate “my people” being relegated to a cavalier punchline during your backhanded attempt to rationalize your own draconian version of leftist diatribe amongst the masses.

Look, I realize that it’s very difficult for so many of you “mentally-healthy” folks out there to put yourselves in the shoes of us “mentally-ill” folks. And we don’t expect you to have flawless experiential empathy. But could you at least TRY to imagine what it might be like for us?

This isn’t about “cancel culture.” Contrary to the assumptions of fanboys and fangirls who are doubling-down and tripling-down on their defense of Dave Chappelle (regarding his recent attack on another group of “my people,” the LGBT+ community) — no, we don’t have any delusions about “canceling” anybody. That isn’t the point.

We are trying to help them realize that their words and actions have consequences.

When you’re constantly told that you don’t have a legitimate place in the world because you’re so “different” — because you aren’t “normal” — what do you think that does for a neurodiverse kid’s perception of themselves?

When daily ruminations of our flaws and insecurities are baked into our DNA, how can we claim it’s appropriate for anybody to so flagrantly challenge our very existence?

A self-absorbed comedian claiming that he or she was “just joking” doesn’t really pass the sniff test if a neurodiverse person is driven to suicide…or when a lifetime of derision and harassment propels them to the extreme of harming themselves or others.

Because I have this neurobiological condition, let me share the ways in which it has hindered my functionality throughout life. Here are some things to which I have major aversions, or that I was never fully able to learn how to do:

Driving: aside from the thought of operating a 3,000-lb. vehicle utterly terrifying me, the notion of having to pay inflated auto insurance costs turns me into the White Millennial Gay Male version of Norma Rae. So I don’t drive.

Biking: I have an (admittedly) irrational fear of hitting a pothole or another type of road bump if I were to be peddling along on a bicycle. Even with a helmet, I could sustain damage to my lower body. So I never learned how to ride a bike.

Running: although I could run moderately fast as a kid, all of that changed once I began gaining significant amounts of weight midway through high school. That morphed into a fear of tripping and falling. I still remember running laps in Phy Ed during my junior year of high school; I’d model my kinetics after Velma from Scooby Doo, as a coping mechanism. Now, the only times I run are on an elliptical machine at the gym, or in a rare emergency (such as when I had to race through an airport in 2007 because I was about to miss my flight, and I pretty much suffered a panic attack).

Ice-skating: or slippery surfaces, in general. This is probably related to my fears of falling down from bicycling or running. I have never been ice-skating at a rink or a frozen pond.

Swimming: this a longer story for another day. I had body image issues, growing up. Still do. I also had a fear of drowning. In middle school, I sort of learned to swim (a little bit!)…but I’ve failed to retain any of that knowledge.

Shaving: I have a phobia of cutting myself on sharp edges. For this reason, I refused to learn how to use a handheld facial razer. I only use an electric razor to shave.

Enclosures: I get claustrophobic inside elevators, phone booths, and other spaces where there is nobody else accompanying me. I cannot use an airport body-scanner (not that I’d WANT to).

Making fire: I am pyrophobic. Not only did I never learn to make fire from sticks or flint…but I practically flip out if I’m near open flames or lit matches.

And then there were the things that, in hindsight, I actually would have wanted to learn — but my sheltered early life severely limited those opportunities.

I wish I could have learned culinary creativity, as a kid. But my family was economically poor, and my mom was in the habit of cooking the same crappy meals with lack of nutritional quality. My love of working with prolific ingredients and creating new recipes in adulthood has arisen from this childhood deficiency.

By that same token, I wish I’d have offered to learn how to do my own laundry, as a kid…rather than my mom doing it for all of us. But, again, old habits die hard. In hindsight, I’m embarrassed by it. I had to teach myself how to do laundry once I got to college…and I did a pretty good job of acclimating to it.

Due to my toxic relationship with my father, I never had that many positive male role models in my life. I had to fumble my way through learning how to masturbate — and shedding the guilt that accompanied it. If I’d had supportive older brothers, I probably could have gotten used to communal public showering at a very young age. I could have learned how to snap a towel…which I still don’t know how to do. Maybe I would have had some degree of acceptable athletic ability? To this day, I’ve never been able to skillfully throw a football or hit a baseball (although there’s a good chance part of that is related to a biological deficit, when I was born, that severely hindered my balance and coordination).

And, finally, from other people’s perspectives, I’ve struggled with multitasking or understanding shorthand. As I get older, I’ve come to realize how they were diminishing me because I didn’t telepathically pick up on THEIR self-centered ideals of “multitasking.” And a lot of the people who’ve accused me of being unable to understand “simple directions” are, at their core, extremely poor communicators themselves.

But I was led to believe there was something “defective” about me — individually, biologically, and culturally. In actuality, now I realize they just wanted me to serve as a whipping boy against whom they could exert their misandry or ageism.

I’m not trying to throw myself a pity party or make any of you feel sorry for the life I’ve led. I’ve accepted how the world will probably never view me as “normal,” due to these factors. People will tell me I should simply “toughen up” or “find Jesus.” They seem to think that an ableist framework of “tough love” will suddenly impel me to “conquer my fears.”

My very existence is inherently virulent. It is what it is. I want to solve all of the world’s problems, but I’m painfully aware that I don’t have that individual capability. So I imagine the worst-case scenarios playing out. My therapist, Danielle, calls it “getting on ‘the what-if train’.”

To all of the classmates, peers, and authority figures throughout my life who’ve told me:

“There’s something different about you…”

“You worry too much!”

“How do I know you’re egotistical? You can just tell!”

“You take everything to the absolute literal!”

You are right. You’re right about all of it. There are many things that make me an aberration, compared to most people. But that’s because I realize this planet has a ticking clock. I may not have fully realized this until recent years: but my seemingly unyielding desire for things to “go my way” has all been a vain attempt to prevent our world from devolving into an across-the-board Mad Max-style dystopia (think The Walking Dead but without the zombies).

My happiness, my comfort level, my hedonistic whims…these short-term moments are all secondary, if my agony can help contribute to setting off a domino effect of prosperity and societal advancement in the long run.

I’ve accepted that I’m never going to be “normal.” But maybe I can do my part to inspire other people achieve stability, compassion, and clarity…for however long I’m still here?