I’m not sure why more isn’t discussed about the physical autistic experience. Maybe it’s because the folks getting funding aren’t aware of how big a role our physiology plays in shaping our psychology. Maybe they don’t know how much their own bodies affect their thinking.
Maybe their creed prohibits them from admitting it, and they take as gospel the disavowal of the body for the sake of the soul — never asking, never plumbing, never peeking beneath, what the source, the root, the base of that rejection might be:
The kind of pain-discomfort-overwhelm that overrides the will, that injects the sudden need to think something – do something – imagine something – block something into the process of living, even before conscious thought has a chance to form.
The kind of unsettlement that blocks the awkward thought even before it has a chance to register, which protects us from our own silent suffering with a blanket of unawareness. Distraction. Something Else to think about that has Nothing To Do with what’s happening now. Right now. In the body. In the system. In the vessel, the container, the vehicle for our daily lives.
Autism is like that — at least, for me. It’s a never-ending stream of impressions and sensations and clues and cues that my body cannot ignore. And it doesn’t want to. Waves … Yes. Waves. That. Those. The continuous connection to All That Is, in every conceivable way — especially those that have nothing to do with what the average block-of-wood body walking around freely admit exist… numbed and succumbed as they are, in the ways they can tolerate.
I am not like them. I am not like most people. 67 other people, for every one of me. IF the numbers can be trusted, which I’m not sure they can.
I am not the sort of person who can block all that out, or pretend it doesn’t exist. I’m not the kind of human who can ignore the signals I pick up — even if I wanted to, my body is tuned to them, attuned to them, always able to sense and decode and interpret and then pick up some more again… a never-ending stream of electrical impulses running through my system — body and brain — shaping me, connecting me, affecting me.
It doesn’t stop.
It never stops.
Even when I sleep.
If you wish to plumb the depths of the autistic brain, look to the autistic body. Consider the effects of traumas — large and small, starting from the very moment we begin to become aware. Consider the effects of stress — of every ilk, including the “stuff that shouldn’t matter”. Because it does. It most certainly does. To those of us who cannot block it out — who tried, for years and years with drugs and alcohol and all-consuming passions and self-abnegation… and now (once we’ve acclimated and discovered Better Ways to modulate it all) wouldn’t, even if we were given the chance.
The autistic brain starts with an autistic body.
Before the mouth says strings of words that make coherent sentences.
After the mind learns how strings of words made into sentences — whether spoken or read — can soothe the burn of the Surround.
Before the expectations of Everyone Else are decipherable as express demands, they register with us as wordless wants.
After the Tyranny of the Collective makes itself known as that indecipherable amalgamation of arbitrary caprices, all of which have thorns that prevent us from grasping — at-tall — they pre-register with us as a looming storm cloud flashing with electric threats — will that pinpointed fork of searing failure strike close or far? will it strike us at all? or can we obliquely slide on past with pre-rehearsed stock answers to questions we barely hear and cannot interpret before the askers need our Reponse?
The brain, the body — both work so tightly in concert with one another, it’s impossible to separate them. Not for us. Not for anybody. But for autistics, it’s inescapable. We’re wired. We’re connected. Within. Without. To ourselves. To everyone and everything else, God Help Us.
Seriously, neurotypical world, you’re a mess. Clean up your act. Why do you think we’re so autistic? Because we have to deal with your trashy, unkempt psycho-emotional lives, the trashed-out world you force us to live in, the detritus of your egos, the flotsam and jetsam of your latest attacks on whoever appears to be floating by your panic-stricken hair trigger lust for destruction.
You’ve declared war on your own bodies, and consequently, ours. And the results… well, just look at them. You don’t much like them. But rather than addressing the issues you’ve caused — pollution, destruction, malnutrition, indentured servitude at every level of society — oh, no — you’d rather “cure” us. Eradicate us. Send us off to be electroshocked, or ply us with junk food till we comply with your selfish, self-centered, self-delusional versions of “what should be”.
That shouldn’t be.
Nor should we be subject to your whims and wishes. You’re a trash fire, you neurotypical head-cases. Cutting yourselves off from your bodies, cutting yourselves off from the natural world, cutting yourselves off at the neck, and pretending nothing exists below.
. . .
Ah, never mind… what is… well, that is. That rant is just the corticosteroids talking. I’ve been on a topical application for poison ivy for two days, and I’m experiencing an interesting mutation of “roid rage”. I’ll stop now. Take a breath. Remember, that’s my body amping up my mind.
. . .
Where was I?
Oh, yes — autistic bodies, autistic brains.
Long story short — the foolishness about how autism is All About The Brain needs to stop. The hallmark of our essence is an all-pervasive connectedness with everything. Everything, I tell you. You cannot separate the autistic brain from the autistic body, and you cannot solve the mysteries of our being, unless you look at our physiological state — first and foremost. The body, its pre-conscious, anticipatory, protective instincts are what compel and propel many of us in our own unique ways. And until you wrap your heads around that, you’re never going to “get” us. Nor will you accept us. Nor will you accept yourselves.
Autistic bodies — autistic minds.
Come to terms with us and our reality, and you might just learn a thing or two about yourselves