Breakupversary

It's Autistics Speaking Day. I think I only completed an ASDay post on the first year, 2010, and since I don't blog very often, I'm not sure if I would have decided to write one this year. As it turns out, I didn't even remember November 1 was Autistics Speaking Day, even though I've been watching November 1 coming for quite a while. That's because November 1, 2013, was the day I stopped being in an abusive relationship.

That was your trigger warning. I'm not sure if this counts as an ASDay post or not. It's aimed at Autistic people, disabled people, and to some extent, anyone who is part of a marginalized group and sees that as an important part of their identity.

I have written about my abusive relationship, and I have more to say in the future. What I have to say today is: I didn't know that an abusive relationship could feel the way mine did. I generally didn't feel scared of my abuser or like I was being hurt; instead, from the beginning of the relationship, I was afraid that I was abusing and hurting her. I saw her as a very weak, vulnerable person who I was obligated to protect, and even when I was really unhappy and wanted out, I didn't see it that way. I saw myself as being stressed because my girlfriend needed more help than I could consistently provide. Or, towards the end, I thought that I just was too disabled, or too selfish, or not disciplined enough, to do everything she needed.

It wasn't until after the relationship ended that I became afraid of her. When we were together, my perception of the world was so absorbed into hers that I didn't realize how little control I had over my choices, how afraid I was of displeasing her, and how little she cared about my well-being. It's pretty scary that her thoughts and opinions became mine, that even disagreeing with her in my head was really difficult; but naturally, I wasn't scared at the time, because I didn't have enough control over my mind to be scared.

A few times I cried uncontrollably for hours; I felt hopeless; I got sick. But I always traced it to sources other than my relationship. The closest I ever got was thinking that really bad things happened because I didn't respond to her the right way, and if I just did it better next time, things would be okay. I could handle her.

To be clear, my ex was also Autistic, and had various other disabilities. Her disabilities played a major role in why I stayed with her and was afraid to question the nature of our relationship. At the time, I had a few rationalizations for it:

1. It would be wrong to think that she might be exaggerating or lying about certain needs, or using her disabilities as an excuse for her behavior--even though that was clearly happening sometimes, I refused to consider it.
2. I should be loyal to her because she was disabled. It was right for me to stay with her and help her because disabled people should look out for each other.
3. If I didn't stay with her, she would be alone because other people didn't understand her disabilities and discriminated against her. She wouldn't get the help she needed, and she might even die. A few times she told me that because I had upset her, she might get institutionalized and they would kill her.

As comforting as it might be to imagine that she was faking or lying about her disabilities, that the person who did this to me wasn't Autistic--well, I knew her well enough to know she definitely is Autistic. I also know that it doesn't matter, that if she wasn't really Autistic, or wasn't really disabled, that wouldn't make this any better.

This is a friendly reminder that marginalized people can be abusive or dangerous just like everyone else; and that some social justice ideas are right most of the time, but have exceptions. You don't have to always agree with someone just because they are marginalized. If someone is obviously lying, you shouldn't just accept it because they are marginalized. Disabled people aren't usually lying about their disabilities or using them as an excuse, but it does happen, and you don't have to put up with it if it's hurting you.

Maybe most importantly, not everyone who shares an experience with you is trustworthy. Making Autistic friends was very important to me and I'm now at a point where most of my close friends are Autistic. That does not mean all Autistic people are my friends or have my back, or that I should have their back. This sounds obvious, but it's a lesson I've had to learn a few times, and I hope (maybe unrealistically) that I'll never have to learn it again.

These are some links I find helpful.

The Pervocracy--"Why does she stay with that jerk?"

Myths About Abusers

Off the Rails by Abbey Wilson--particularly the "Why I Don't Believe in God" series--one, two, three, four, five. Additional warning, this is about being in a cult as well as an abusive relationship. It's very different from my experience but for whatever reason, it was the first thing I read that I related to.

Trigger Warning: Breakfast

I like the writing of Lundy Bancroft (like this for example, and that whole tumblr has a lot of good stuff), but the big warning is that he basically doesn't believe women can abuse men. This is ridiculous and makes me uncomfortable.

Also, if you are in my situation, there might come a point when you should take a break from reading and writing about abuse, even if you think it's a good thing to do. It can upset you and make you paranoid; at least, it can for me. When that happens I make an effort to focus on other subjects for a while.

Autistics Speaking Day post 1/3-ish, do NOT link this, it is not done

1

Today at Walgreens I got my TB test, and I also got a COUPON for $3 off on any purchase above $15. Just like Walgreens wanted me to I immediately forgot what I was doing and wandered around the store trying to find $15 worth of worthy stuff.

In the toy aisle was a $15 FASHION FLUTTERSHY:



This is probably the most torturous thing that could happen. That is my authentic cell phone picture of the FF and you can see that she really wanted to go home with me. Forever.

My purse is like this:



I was also carrying/fumbling with other stuff. There was no way that I could bring Fashion Fluttershy to, on, and from the bus without dropping her and letting her be hit by a car. I was forced to use my coupon on lipgloss, batteries, and hand sanitizer, which are almost the only things I ever buy. Really hate my life. Stuff is miserable.

This is the only notable thing that happened to me today and I swear to God, I used to have a part of myself that would feel worried and guilty upon experiencing it. You guys! WHERE'S THE AUTISM?

Probs I should be reminded that I have a disability whenever I do anything, or my disability is not real.

2

I don't think it's really surprising that I feel this way, because our society treats autism like some kind of super strict religion. Even people who think that autism is tragic still seem to think it's a lifestyle. It's just not the RIGHT lifestyle. Autism is characterized as "stealing" people because little kids are growing up with the wrong personality. It's basically like they're joining a gang where you don't look people in the eye or have the right feelings.

I would argue that this explains why most anti-autism rhetoric doesn't focus on the feelings of people with autism. If autism is so bad then they would have a lot to say about their suffering, right? Wrong. We wouldn't want to listen to what they say anyway, because they're in a gang!

3

For some reason, I always find myself more annoyed by autism pop culture that pretends to be positive. Like, focus-grouped autistic memoirs and especially interviews and profiles by non-disabled journalists.

These interviews and profiles start out with pretty much the same question or concept every time.

"When did you realize you were different?"

This is the cue for the interviewee with autism to tell an exotic story about when they were a kid and used to line up all their sparkplugs/cow fetuses. It needs to be sparkplugs/cow fetuses, and not Transformers or Barbies, because non-disabled kids have those too. The interview can then develop into something that sounds like it was written by a barker at a Depression-era freakshow.

Like other people, I used to be a child. I did lots of interesting and boring things. But talking about those things isn't the most respectful way to do an interview with me as an adult. Actually, age aside, asking me about how different I am just kind of sucks.

Every single time I see an interview like this, I wish the person with autism would say, "You mean, when did I realize I was gay?"

4

I am different from the norm in a lot of ways--just like everyone else. Like many people with my disability, I did and do love stuff that non-disabled people love too. This summer the New York Times wrote the most obvious article in history about how kids with autism really like trains. Anyone who doesn't live under a rock already knows this. Still, I doubt that my beloved toothbrush

()

is being purchased only for autistic jaws.

In writing about this I deal with an obvious trap. If I try too hard to emphasize the normality of people with disabilities, I might feed into "disabled people are just like everyone else"--a 100% true statement that also happens to be the most annoying trope of all time.

Some fun facts are true about my recent trip to Walgreens. For example, if you sent a non-disabled person to choose $15 worth of stuff to buy I can guarantee they would be able to find those items in the store much more quickly than I did. Without causing me much grief on a case-by-case basis, my comparative slowness adds up. I'm really impressed that two girls in my nurse aide class go to work every day after class. After spending ten hours of my day in class and in transit, I find it hard to even eat when I get home and things like showering and laundry are tasks I can't always manage.

I forget why, but the guy who read my TB test remarked, "You must have a lot on your mind." I don't, but a little is a lot for me, which is fine--but an actual lot would be more than a lot and not really a fair expectation.

Disability adds up. That's the first thing. People don't need to be exotic cow fetus collectors for it to be true, though my lack of cow fetuses used to really wear on my soul.

to be continued

Regular Person Listening Day

Hi, it's Autistics Speaking Day, which is a thing. Um, well, basically an organization for autism made up of people that aren't autistic--I don't know if you've ever heard of that before, but there's a lot of them. They decided that they should do a thing on November first, called Communication Shutdown, and they thought that people should promote autism awareness and try to think about what it's like to be Autistic by not using social networking sites like Facebook.

Which, I mean,

number one, like disability simulations tend to not be good, because you can't tell what it's like to have a disability just by putting on a blindfold or sitting in a wheelchair or not going on Facebook (which doesn't actually have anything to do with being Autistic)...but you can't tell what it's like, so it's silly to imagine that you can and it's better to just listen to people and treat everyone respectfully,

um, you know,

and, um, I think a lot of Autistic people, when we hear about autism awareness, are like, "well I mean, wouldn't people be more aware if they just listened to us, instead of doing something like this, which doesn't really have to do with us?" So Corina Becker, who is an Autistic person who does a lot of cool things, decided that we should have Autistics Speaking Day which just means that people who have autism could just, like, write or say something, like, on the Internet or somewhere else, just to tell people how they feel about stuff.

I made a post and stuff, it's about the sort of thing I always talk about, nothing interesting, I'm going to link to it in the description of this video.

One thing I wanted to say is just...I mean, when I see the phrase "Autistics Speaking Day" that does make me feel, you know, it makes me feel weird because some people can't speak and some people can't even write.

So, by definition, it has to leave some people out I guess, at least superficially, but, I think, um, I feel like people may see that and say, "Well, the people with autism in my life, they can't write a post, and they can't tell me how they feel." So, um...to people who feel like that, who are in that situation, I think that there's still a way of observing Autistics Speaking Day with the person in your life. And, um, one way of doing that is respecting the person and knowing that the life they live has meaning for them.

One example of the opposite of what I'm recommending is something that one of my psych professors said I think a week or two ago when she was talking about autism. Someone mentioned that one of the kids with autism they had worked with was very focused on like, people's hair, or like, shoelaces, or something, I can't remember what it was...

No, it was trains, which are great, it was actually something that's, like, inarguably cool, but then my professor was like, "Well, you know, that's autistic people, they get really interested in uninteresting things."

So, um, I mean, how does anyone decide what an uninteresting thing is? Like, I don't like the TV show Glee, but my friend likes it, and my friend doesn't like the TV show Mad Men because she thinks that nothing happens. And some people like sports, like, professional sports, and I don't like professional sports, I like comics books and some people don't, um, and, well, I like trains, and I like, um, looking at colors, and some people, um, they just like spinning things and looking at them. People like a lot of things and I guess I don't really like the idea of saying that...

I mean, it's certainly possible to say, "For this person it's become, like, a severe problem that they're always spinning things and not doing anything else." You know, you can say that, but I feel like the level of judgment in saying, "They're interested in uninteresting things..." (coughs) Sorry. I'm also sick, um, in addition to being Autistic.

But um, I think a lot of the time, people have a way of talking about people...I mean really, all disabled people, but often people with very severe disabilities who aren't verbal, people have a way of looking at them and saying, "their meaningless behavior, um...they...I don't understand what they're doing so I think that it's meaningless."

Um, I guess I feel like one thing that Autistics Speaking Day, which I guess you could just call it Regular Person Listening Day, I guess one thing that Regular Person Listening Day could be about is just seeing that everyone does what they do for a reason, and if someone in your life is doing things that you don't understand, like making noises, or getting very upset when you don't think they should be upset, or not being able to wear their clothes because their clothes are uncomfortable for them and their sensory issues, I mean, I feel like a way of listening to them is just refusing to ascribe meaninglessness to behavior that you don't understand, um,

I think that's a kind of listening that you can do for everyone no matter what they can do in terms of talking.

Autistics Speaking Day post

The other day my mom showed me some articles in the newspaper about autism. Midway through one article (http://www.thestamfordtimes.com/story/492905), I read this:

One of the center's clients, a Rowayton resident who wanted to remain anonymous, said her daughter used to avoid eye contact and, like many autistic kids, repetitively flapped her arms and walked on her toes. The client's daughter has been working with Rohdie for a number of years, and when asked what challenges the behavior analyst and now the Southfield Center has helped her daughter overcome, the client said "Oh my God, everything."

"You would never be able to tell she was autistic," the client said, adding that, with the help of Rohdie and other professionals in the field, avoiding eye contact, flapping and toe walking issues have stopped for her daughter.

This kind of attitude from parents and professionals makes me want to scream.

I generally don't like writing about my disability experience in much detail. I'll just say that a) a lot of important things are hard for me to do consistently and independently, b) I have severe anxiety problems, and c) a and b feed into and increase each other. At this point, my dreams for where I might live and what I might do after college are pretty limited which is depressing (and increases my anxiety, ha ha). I think it would be very easy for me to end up in an emotionally and physically dangerous situation, and I'm working hard to avoid that.

A lot of people with autism spectrum disabilities have it way worse than I do--their opportunities for communication may be very minimal, or they may be so overloaded by sensory or emotional experiences that they self-injure and seriously hurt themselves. Younger people with ASD are often bullied, which can result in various kinds of damage. And all people with developmental disabilities are much more likely to be abused.

People with ASD have real problems. That some of us walk on our toes is not one of them. When I read the above quote, I had several thoughts:

1. Passing as non-disabled is not always a good thing because it means that people don't realize you need help, and won't believe you are disabled even if you tell them, because you look "too normal."

2. The experience of living as a passing person can be really isolating and scary because you are constantly trying to hide your reactions, feelings, and body language. It makes you pretty tense and it makes you feel like the people in your life don't really know you.

3. When "not looking autistic" is equated with "being better," that makes it hard for an ASD person (and their parents and professionals) to develop a good set of goals. Instead of goals like, "This problem is making my life harder--how can it be improved?" the goals are like, "I look autistic--how can I hide it?" In the person's mind, goals that are objectively good (like being a kind person, and trying to be happy and successful) become mixed in with the subjective, energy-consuming goal of "not looking autistic." I am still trying to untangle this crap in myself.

4. Some people "stim" (rock back and forth, toe-walk, hop around, run around, vocalize, flap their hands, etc.) because it helps them deal with overwhelming emotions or sensory information. Some people avoid eye contact because eye contact makes them upset. If they stop stimming and start making eye contact, they may be a lot more stressed.

5. Even if 1-4 weren't true, it's still a waste of resources that would be better spent dealing with the real problems that ASD people have.

6. I could try to give these parents and professionals the benefit of the doubt, and say that they're being thoughtless and inefficient. But when I read this stuff, it doesn't just annoy me, it hurts me. It says to me that these people care more about not having to look at a visibly Autistic person than they care about actually helping people with ASD in meaningful ways; that they would rather ASD people suffer in silence than be happy and loud. That doesn't feel like ignorance, it feels like hate.