Just a few chores to get done…

rope caulk window in winter
It’s that time of year again.

The nice thing about having time off work, is that there’s no set routine for me to stick to.

The downside of that, is the very same thing — there’s no routine for me to stick with.

So, that means I have to work a little harder during my “time off”. I have to put more thought into how I’m going to spend each day. I have to put more time and energy, period, into everything I do.

It’s ironic — the time when I’m expecting to be able to rest, is the time when I get worn out more. But at least I get my naps in. That’s something.

I’ve got to put rope caulk around my windows today. No excuses. It’s getting into the single digits at night. I’m leaving my spigots dripping a little bit, so my pipes don’t freeze, like they did a few years ago. I’ve got the heat turned up. I have firewood put with easy reach in my garage. And I’ve got three days’ worth of hearty chicken-noodle stew in the refrigerator.

Rope caulk is non-negotiable in this house. Its windows are original to the house, dating back to — gasp — 1972 (younger than me, actually), and they get drafty. Personally, I prefer it that way. Because a tightly locked house is a house that doesn’t breathe. And houses need to breathe. I don’t care for getting trapped in a house with off-gassing from whatever stuff I hauled inside with me. Keeping a slight breeze going in the house keeps the air from stagnating. And it saves me from having to circulate with central air, etc.

Rope caulking is my annual admission of the fact that it’s friggin’ cold outside, and it’s not warming up anytime soon! I can let things go indefinitely, especially because I like to have a little chill in the air at times. But eventually, the New England winter gets the upper hand, and I pull out the rolls of corded putty that gets pressed into the seams and cracks around all the open-able windows in the house.

It’s good practice for me, actually. It helps me focus my attention, and it helps me strengthen my oft-flagging ability to keep my focus on one thing for extended periods of time. Rope caulking all the windows — 8 downstairs and 10 upstairs — isn’t instantaneous. After a while, the caulk makes my fingers tacky, and it becomes a sensory issue. But I know it’s going to happen, pretty much when I get to the the 10th window, so I have no excuse for getting bent out of shape about it. Yes, it’s uncomfortable. Yes, it sets me off. Yes, it makes it hard to concentrate. But that’s where taking a break comes in. And I can always step away for a few minutes to get something to eat or drink, wash my hands, and gather myself before I go back in.

I used to get so bent out of shape, when the caulk would stick to my fingers. But please. That’s just caulk being caulk. And me being me. So, enough of the upset. Just take steps to deal with it. And git ‘er done.

Speaking of which, it’s time to gather up my various breakfast dishes and cups, wash up, and dig out those boxes of rope caulk from the bottom of the pantry storage bin.

They’re in there somewhere. I’m sure of it.

Off I go…

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“Old School” Autism Adjustment

school building in snow on film strip

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I structure my life. And I’ve been thinking about how I handle myself, regardless of what comes along.

Because I do. Of course, it falls down, here and there. Of course it does. I’m human. I have finite resources, and like a high-performance race car, I need to pull off the track, every so many revolutions, and get tuned up. I’m no different than a Formula-One race car, in that respect. High-performance vehicles, including my body and brain, need more specialized care on a more frequent basis.

That doesn’t make me disabled. It makes me high-performance with specific needs.

Interestingly, nobody’s calling F-1 race cars “disabled” because their tires need to be changed more frequently than your everyday family sedan.

Please.

And here’s where my New Year starts out a little early. I’ve got this new resolution to really “reframe” (much as I hate that word) the way I talk about Autism. Hmm… let me think of a much better word than “reframe” — okay, let’s use “redefine”. Because that’s essentially what I’m doing. The words I use add shape and texture to the concept of my Autism, and by using different words and different mindsets to talk about that central part of me, I can literally change the quality of my life and the thoughts/concepts that guide it.

If others “get it”, then great. If my example helps them to redefine their own experience (whether it’s Autistic or not) and create a more self-aware and self-directed way of life that’s got less pain and suffering, then great. But my redefinition isn’t for the sake of anyone else. It’s for my sake. I am Autistic, after all. 😉

One thing driving this shift is my experience of looking through my library of images I’ve used in blog posts over the past year or so. I’ve been actively blogging here for nearly two years. I started this blog back in June, 2008, then had to tend to other things, and I came back in February, 2016. Some days, it seems like a lot longer than two years, and other days, it seems a lot shorter.

I’m alexithymic like that.

Anyway, I noticed that so-so many of my images have really negative connotations for me. There’s a lot of suffering archived in my media library. And while searching in vain for some really uplifting images (or just some pragmatically strength-inspiring pics), I came up with nothing, time and time again.

sunflower

Oh, here and there, I found an image or two. But on the whole, things look pretty grim. I’d have to say the ratio of gloomy:gleeful is about 9.24:1.

So, that’s gotta change.

I’ve talked before about how we need more Autistic Joy, and I still believe that. But it’s not enough to mention it now and then in a blog post. It’s got to be the main theme in all my blog posts. And if not outright joy, then at least some discussion of how I’m managing my Autistic life — and doing it successfully.

Oddly, I feel as though I may be failing “the cause” as I write this. Because Autistic people are supposed to get support and resources for our difficulties. Yes, when appropriate, I absolutely believe that. If I am completely and totally unable to help myself, then I do need extra help.

The thing is, I’m rarely, if ever, completely and totally unable to help myself. I may have lost track of all the ways my system was being slowly eroded by circumstances beyond my control. I may have allowed myself become so run-down that I lost my normal capabilities. I may have gotten so wrapped up in what I was doing, I forgot to eat, drink, sleep, and empty my bladder, and that’s making my life a lot more “interesting” than I’d like it, as I gingerly wobble across the house to get to the bathroom.

But those things are on me. I may be Autistic, but I’ve helped to create those conditions. I didn’t properly manage my life — which I’m perfectly capable of doing. I didn’t take good care of myself — which I know I need to do, so what’s my excuse? I didn’t set a timer (which I know I sometimes need) to eat, drink, sleep, and keep track of my bladder’s state. Self-created suffering is not the sort of thing I can use to demand more services for my situation.

It may sound like I’m being too hard on myself, but I’m not. I was raised to know better, and to do better. And I was raised in a world where I was expected to take responsibility for myself, even for the times when I struggle. Especially for the times when I struggle. Because everyone is dealing with something pretty Big, and they don’t have extra time and attention to devote to my own self-created issues.

If I’m capable of discerning my difficulties (which I am, more than anyone else), and I’m able to learn from my experiences (which I can, and do, regularly), then it’s my responsibility to make provisions for my situation. Manage my issues. Restructure my life so that I’m not suffering, if it can at all be prevented. And make the damn’ effort to not get myself into taxing situations that I know, from experience, are going to make life worse for me — and everyone around me.

Yeah, I’m old school. That’s for certain. My approach isn’t for everyone, but it most certainly is for me. And as one contingent of Autistic folks focuses on the disability side of things, I’m focusing on the “Autistic ability” side of things — because our lives are different and shouldn’t be expected to be exactly the same. And because I’ve figured out how to live my life as an actually successful (and yes, I’m using the word in its true sense) Autistic adult. I was as a successful Autistic child, teen, and young adult. I just didn’t realize it, thank you alexithymia. Turns out, the very thing that makes it possible for me to function effectively in situations that freak other people out, actually hides that effectiveness from the rest of me. So, I’m a heck of a lot more successful and happy and content than I realize.

Damn… I need to write a whole post about that, sometime. Or maybe I already have… Anyway, that’s another idea for another day.

So, with the New Year just around the corner, it’s time to get some more positive pictures in my media library. And get some more pro-active, pro-Autism posts in my blog. Staying stuck in how horrible everything is… well, that doesn’t serve anyone. Least of all me.


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And a Meltdown in a Pear Tree

Oh, this is great! Sing along… 🙂

Stim the Line

Merry Christmas Everyone! Or for anyone that doesn’t celebrate Christmas, Happy Belated Hanukah,  late Solstice, early Kwanza, and a Very Happy December 25th!

I think no matter what you celebrate, The 12 Days of Christmas carol is probably something that you’ve heard. The math has been done, and to purchase all 12 days of gifts would cost you almost $35,000!

I’ve replace the drummers, pipers, lords and ladies, the maids, the swans, and the geese, the gold rings, the calling birds, French hens, turtle doves, and the partridge with things that are a little more relatable!

So I present to you-

The Twelve Days of Autism 

On the First day of Christmas, Autism gave to me, A meltdown in a pear tree

On the Second day of Christmas, Autism gave to me, two info-dumps, and a meltdown in a pear tree

On the Third day of Christmas, Autism gave to…

View original post 362 more words

Last-minute Christmas shopping went well, all things considered

Big box store interior with people walking through aislesMerry Christmas, everyone. I’m omitting the exclamation point, because there have been far too many of them, lately, and I’m in the mood for something more … subdued.

My list-making and task-charting worked, and I didn’t have to really think about what to do next, since it was all written down. That left me more energy and resources to focus on the tasks at hand and really give it all I had. I found some additional presents that I was so happy with — some of them I only discovered after a couple of passes through a certain section of the store. I had to keep doubling back, because I kept getting distracted by everything around me. But after I got used to the surroundings and got my bearings, I found some great stuff.

I went back to one of the stores I’d visited with my partner, a few days ago, to see if there was anything additional I could find. Sure enough, there was. I was more successful this time than last, because I was working alone, I didn’t have to keep her situation in mind, and I was more familiar with the store.

So many people were out yesterday… for a Sunday, it’s unusual. It was pretty disorienting. But then, it was Christmas Eve, so…

All in all, I had a pretty positive experience. I still got worn out after only a few hours, though. And it took me longer to do some things that I would have liked. I also would have liked to not see some of the holiday decorations at one of the stores I visited.  They were pretty scary, actually. For some reason, a buyer thought it would be a good idea to cover the torso of a headless female mannequin with red or green glitter, and attach it to the top of a small Christmas tree. It was a little nightmarish.

Mannequin Christmas tree
For the record, people, this is not stylish. It’s a little scary.

The scary human-Christmas-tree-cyborg aside, yesterday was a good day for learning… about how even if I’m left to my own devices, even if I’ve got the day mapped out, even if I’m crystal-clear on what needs to happen, I still have my limits at this time of year. And no matter what I do to mitigate the effects of uncertainty and More Things To Do, I’m still going to be really taxed by the environment.

No matter what I do, no matter how much sleep I get, how well I eat, how well I take care of myself in general, I’m still going to struggle with external circumstances and the super-duper, pumped-up atmosphere of the holiday season.

And yet… I really do love this time of year. Driving around on the back roads, the skies were clear and the world was suffused in ice. We had a lot of freezing rain on Saturday, which glazed everything in 1/4 inch of ice. And on Sunday, as the weather cleared and the sun shone, and all the muted colors of the slumbering trees and dead grasses and frost and ice and snow stood out in sharp contrast against the blue sky with its passing whispy clouds, I couldn’t help but just love every minute of it.

I really do enjoy this time of year. I love the long nights, the quiet that comes after the storms, the weight of winter clothes, and the slower pace to everything. I thrive during the winter, when I feel like I can finally catch up with myself. And I literally feel at my physical best when I’m outside shoveling snow in sub-freezing temperatures. My body feels the most comfortable when it’s below 20 Fahrenheit  (-30 Celsius). My inner heater seems to kick in only at that temperature. And when it’s below zero (Fahrenheit), I really feel great. I don’t even feel the cold that intensely, when it’s that cold. I feel it more, when it’s around freezing. Then, it feels like it’s getting in my bones and shutting me down.

So, this coming week should be wonderful — it’s going to be in single digits for several days, and below zero at night.

Yeah, I love this time of year. But the whole Christmas season messes things up. Too many lights. Too much music. Too much shopping. Too many people. And interactions with strangers. Noise. Lots of noise, interspersed with sounds that I’m supposed to pay attention to. Movement. Unpredictable people not paying attention when they’re driving. Everybody with emotional issues. Money issues. Let loose in the world and insisting on talking to me. Ugh. I’m so glad it’s nearly over. I really just want to enjoy myself. Have nice meals. Get grounded. Chill out.

All this means I’ve got to make some changes. My partner and I agree that next year’s going to be structured very differently than this one (and years past). We’re going to do more advance preparation, buying presents ahead of time, getting better prepared, mailing things out weeks before we need to. Just being more mindful, early on, so we can really enjoy ourselves when the season “hits”.

Doing a lot of advance prep always seemed … wrong … to me in the past.  I didn’t want to think about Christmas, till it was right “on top of us”. I couldn’t get into the spirit ahead of time. But the older I get, and the more I appreciate the season, the more sense it makes. I can get the obligations out of the way up front. Put in the time and energy up front, so I can relax at a later point.

Doing it all at once may be in the spirit of the season, but that’s just not working for me anymore.

So, it’s time for a little change — a big change, in fact. And because both my partner and I are of like mind about this and can support each other, this is one change for the better that’s likely to “stick”.

It’s all for the sake of getting to really enjoy this time of year. That’s important.

And with that, I shall get into my day and enjoy this Christmas for what it is — another stage in the turning of the wheel that takes us ever on.

Merry Christmas, everyone.  I hope you have a good one.


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Last-minute Christmas shopping – I gotta do what I gotta do

big box store interior
Sometimes, it’s just unavoidable.

Ouch. We had a bunch of freezing rain, yesterday, which kept me inside… then drew me outside to break up the veritable ice-skating rink on my deck, stairs, and driveway… then knocked out the power for a few hours, last night.

Now the Christmas turkey I’d been thawing is “iffy”, and I don’t dare cook it up. The inside of the refrigerator probably stayed pretty cool, the whole time we were without power, but I don’t want to take any chances. I just don’t want to spend Christmas day sick — and neither does my partner, who’s even more sensitive to food stuff than I am.

So, it’s time to shift and adjust… make the most of my situation and count my blessings. Because I really do have a lot to be grateful for. That thought has to carry me through, because I have a full day ahead of me, this Christmas Eve.

I need to food shop. I need to visit some local stores to find some nice things for my partner. My go-to store was closed the other day, when spent the afternoon shopping. I made the best of it, but I still have to get some more presents for my partner. I’m not looking forward to wading into the stores, but it’s gotta get done. Nobody else is going to do it for me.

This year it’s so weird — I thought for sure that I had gotten her a bunch of things, but it turns out, I didn’t. She (in typical style) has gotten me a bunch of things. I ask her not to, every single year, because A) I really don’t need them, as I’m trying to simplify my life and actually have less stuff, and B) it’s a setup for a reciprocity nightmare. She expects the same level of “gifting” from me, as she provides to me, and it’s a set-up for failure. I’ve ended up melting down more Christmas mornings than I care to think about, because of the pressure — and my inevitable failure. I try and try, and I think I get it right… but then I don’t. And it’s crushing. For her, for me, for the whole experience.

Ah, well. That’s just one of those things.

At least I have today to redeem myself.

And so I shall. I’ll map out my route, find stores along the way that are bound to have what I’m looking for, and I’ll be thoughtful about it. Part of the problem with shopping before, was that I had to take care of both myself and my partner. She’s got mobility issues, as well as some cognitive issues, and when she’s left to her own devices, unfortunate things happen — like her losing the lenses from her glasses and not even realizing it till much later… like losing a glove… misplacing her wallet… slipping on ice… forgetting something… getting hurt. I have to be on high alert — especially when we’re out in public where everyone is shopping and milling around. It’s already demanding for me, and I’m stretched to my max. But I have to stay on point for her, as well. Because that’s how I roll. I need to take care of her, as well as myself.

Today, though, it’s just me. I can move at my own pace (which is much faster than hers), and I can get some stuff done. I’ll chart my course, figure out where to go and when to go there, I’ll choreograph it down to the quarter-hour, and I’ll just git ‘er done. Then I can come home, put up the food, and relax. Chill. Take care of myself. Take a nap. Wrap presents. Just get into the Christmas spirit in my own absolutely autistic way.

See, that’s the thing — when I’m allowed to do things in my own way, and I can leverage my strengths, things can go great. But when I have to accommodate others and go at another person’s pace in the non-autistic world, it’s really challenging for me. It’s good practice to accommodate and help others who need it, and it’s good practice for me to interact with the non-autistic world — sort of like a martial art — so it’s been very beneficial to my character. But there are times when I just need to go off by my autistic self and get stuff done in my own special autistic way.

Got my list, and I’m checking it twice. The year’s been full of naughty and nice behaviors, but all is forgiven for the next week or so. Then the wheel of the year stops turning, Yule sets in, and I can settle in, as well.

I’m sure next year will have lots to keep me occupied. But right now, today is what matters most.


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Dakota Fanning Is Star Trek’s Biggest Fan in Please Stand By Trailer

Dakota Fanning stars as a young autistic woman who escapes from her caregiver to submit her epic Star Trek script in Please Stand By.

Magnolia Pictures has released the first trailer and photo for Please Stand By, which tells the epic story of one big Star Trek fan trying to get her story out into the world. The film had its world premiere at the Austin Film Festival in October, while also screening at the Rome Film Festival and the Virginia Film Festival over the last few months. While this isn’t exactly a Star Trek movie, it will be interesting to see how Star Trek fans spark to this unique story.

A young autistic woman runs away from her caregiver in order to boldly go and deliver her 500-page Star Trek script to a writing competition in Hollywood. On an adventure full of laughter and tears, Wendy, played with exquisite delicacy by Dakota Fanning, follows the guiding spirit of Mr. Spock on her journey into the unknown. “It is there for us to conquer, not to fear.” Directed by Ben Lewin (The Sessions) and also starring Academy Award Nominee Toni Collette, with a special guest-appearance by Patton Oswalt.

Check out the rest of the info here. The trailer looks great!

What if non-#autistic “pretend play” is pathological?

board game with pieces
I’ve been thinking a fair amount about so-called “theory of mind” (ToM), lately, and I keep coming across references to it. Take, for example, the recent paper “Theory of Mind Deficit Is Associated with Pretend Play Performance, but Not Playfulness, in Children with Autism Spectrum Disorder” They talk about how “pretend play” is impaired in autistic kids (oh, sorry – “children with Autism Spectrum Disorder”), and how “ToM significantly predicted pretend play variables”.

Well, okay. They ran the tests, they did the analysis, they made their findings. The paper says:

The results showed that children’s ToM was significantly associated with their pretend play in initiating play actions, object substitutions, property attribution, and pretending an imaginary object were present. However, the correlation coefficients failed to show a significant relationship between children’s ToM and their playfulness.

So, kids who did poorly on ToM didn’t “perform” pretend play very well.

From the paper (bold emphasis is mine, and I’ve taken out the citations):

Play, the main occupation of children, both reflects and improves the development of their physical, cognitive, and social skills. Play is the dynamic interaction between the individual child and the child’s immediate environment, and it is influenced by sociocultural factors. The two essential manifestations of play are external performance and internal experience. The former is observable performance, which unfolds in play activities; the latter is playfulness, which is the key to determining whether an activity belongs to play or not. Therefore, it is important to view play as a whole construct involving both external performance and internal experience.

Issues with this paper begin right from the start. First off, the idea that play is “the main occupation of children” seems flawed to me. And it seems to completely misunderstand the purpose of “play”. Kids aren’t just horsing around. They’re developing their inner systems, their senses, their reflexes, their relationship with the world. In my opinion, learning and development is the main occupation of children, and if it comes across as play, then great. But learning/development is not secondary to play, as the authors seem to believe. Quite the contrary — play is secondary to learning and development.

The paragraph then takes a turn for the better (sigh of relief) when the authors talk about how play has a dual nature — external and internal. It’s not just about how it looks to outsiders; it’s also about how you experience it yourself (the level of playfulness). And yeah, we need to consider both the internal and external sides of play, in order to assess it fully.

Pretend play is a form of external performance and is defined as play composed of both conventional imaginative play and symbolic play. Conventional imaginative play is preliminary pretend play. It refers to perceiving objects (or conventional toys) as real or small copies of things, and using them in a functionally proper way outside of the typical context. Examples are pretending to feed a doll using a toy spoon, using an empty cup to pretend to drink, or rolling a toy car on the floor and making engine noises. Symbolic play is sophisticated pretend play. It refers to using objects (or unstructured toys) as something else, attributing properties, or pretending an absent object is present. Examples are using a banana as a telephone, pretending a piece of cloth is wet, or making an imagined cup with the hands and pretending to drink. Therefore, pretend play provides an opportunity for children to practice events occurring in their daily lives or social worlds. Through engagement in pretend play, children learn the differences between reality and imagination. Moreover, pretend play reflects and facilitates the development of emotions, language, cognition, social skills, social awareness, and perspective-taking ability.

I’m sure there’s plenty of research substantiating the above, but I think there are a lot of conceptual leaps that hew to a typical line. And those leaps may be blinding the researchers to additional considerations.

Why is it so essential that children turn something into something it’s not, to show sophistication? Why is it assumed that children who substitute one thing for another are developing normally? Seems odd to me. Why wouldn’t they wonder if something was amiss with those kids, if they clearly can’t tell that what they’re holding is in fact not a telephone, but they keep trying to use it as one? And how is it heart-warming, for a child to not understand that their doll is inanimate, that it’s incapable of eating and drinking, so it’s pointless to try to feed it or give it a bottle? Maybe that’s standard-issue non-autistic childhood behavior, but it’s not the only kind of human behavior that bears fruit.

The bias becomes quickly clear. Pretend play appears to be the one and only precursor to normal development. So, one could say that if it’s absent, it’s logical to expect that “emotions, language, cognition, social skills, social awareness, and perspective-taking ability” would all be ultimately impaired. Ugh.

Pretend play deficit appears to be a clinical feature of children with ASD and has long been a focus of the study of child development. Previous studies have found that children with ASD are unable to understand the pretend actions in play. Wing, Gould, Yeates, and Brierly (1977) conducted the first research that directly examined pretend play in children with ASD and children with intellectual disability and found that the majority of children with no observable pretend play or those with stereotyped, copying pretend play behaviours were children with autistic disorder. Several studies have also found that pretend play is apparently less frequent in children with ASD, and that their play behaviours lack symbolism, creativity, and complexity. Rutherford et al. conducted a longitudinal study that measured children’s pretend play in a free play condition and a structured condition with external instructions. Their results showed that children with ASD found it significantly more difficult than typically developing children to perform pretend play in both conditions and that spontaneous pretend play was more impaired. Furthermore, in addition to difficulties in performing pretend play, children with ASD have impaired comprehension of pretend play as well. In summary, research has shown that children with ASD are unable to understand the pretend actions in play. Children with ASD have decreased frequency and complexity when performing pretend play, and the difficulties can present spontaneously or appear with external facilitations.

Oh, my. That’s chock full of bias, pathologizing, and outright cluelessness about what’s really going on beneath the surface of autistic play. It’s so full of … “incomplete understanding”… I’m not sure where to start.

There’s the deficit model approach. Talking about our differences as impairments. Citing research from 1977 (for heaven’s sake!), and not apparently asking any #ActuallyAutistic folks about why we played they way we did, when we were younger. Trust me, a lot of us remember. And we could shed a truckload of light and insight on this question of “Why do autistic kids play the way they do?”

I take issue with their assumption that autistic kids don’t understand pretend actions in play. What if — just what if — we actually did understand, but categorically rejected it, because we needed to play in a very different way? What if we’re just more interested in learning how the real world actually works, rather than fooling around with playthings that aren’t the real thing? There seems to be an assumption that children aren’t capable of that kind of reasoning, when we’re quite young.

But I remember clearly, so many times when I was young, being offered dolls and toys and other objects that were supposed to be played with a certain way, but consciously choosing not to interact with them the way I was expected. Because I wanted to find out how they worked. I wanted to see how they were put together. I didn’t play with the pretend vacuum cleaner my aunt gave me one Christmas. I took it apart and played with the different pieces, to see how they operated, how they felt, how they took up space. I had no interest in any dolls other than one that looked exactly like a real baby and had a body made of fleshlike foam. I didn’t think of that doll as my child, though. I thought of it as a friend. Because clearly, I couldn’t have a child of my own. I was too young. I was closer in “age” to that baby, than I was to my mother. So, you do the math. It made no logical sense for me to pretend I was that “baby’s” mother.

So, when all these adults are sitting on the floor, trying to get autistic kids to do pretend play like the “normal” kids, they might ask themselves if it makes any logical sense for those kids to do what they’re asking them to do. And it might also help if they tossed in a bit of reality along with the pretend. I just don’t get why children are expected to concoct their own version of what’s real and what’s not, when the real, physical, tangible world is right there in front of them, just waiting to teach them about all the laws of physics.

What the paper clearly misses, is the possibility that rather than being a sign of impairment, autistic kids’ modes of play are simply a sign of difference. Where non-autistic kids may pretend more, say, using a banana as a telephone or pretending that a doll is a real baby or imagining that a toy car is a real vehicle that makes real sounds, autistic kids might — just might — have more of an interest in non-pretend (or real) play.

What if autistic kids (who were shown in the study to be playful just like the non-autistic kids) simply have a different mode of play which emphasizes reality, which interacts with things as they are, rather than turning them into something else?

And what if that ability to actually play with the real properties of objects were essential to our development in learning to navigate the world around us and interact with our environments?

Looking even deeper, what if the researchers factored in sensory processing issues and rather than pathologizing their play styles, they realized that they actually served a purpose. To whit:

In this study, it was observed that children with ASD who had poor adaptation to change and more unique use of objects would exhibit play behaviours that were less changeable and lacked narrative. For example, the children might keep rolling the toy truck to watch the rotation of the wheels without any play purpose, and the children would also show resistance when asked to play with other objects or when the tester modelled the play actions.

Play, as many of us autistic folks know, can be “less changeable” for a whole host of reasons.

First, the situation might be overwhelming for the kid, which prompts them to stim, or find some repetitive motion that soothes their jangled nerves. Also, certain kinds of play might lead to a “flow state” which is blissfully consistent. Or the kid rolling the truck might be observing the rotation, seeing how it changes, based on the surface, sensing the vibrations of it, basically absorbing massive amounts of data about that seemingly simple scenario — all of which is invisible to the adult. What’s more, that adult might have had a childhood rich with pretend play, which got them in the habit of making stuff up in their mind that seemed to correlate with reality, but which was just the product of their undirected, uninformed imagination.

And if an adult comes along and interrupts your flow state, disrupts your experiment, insisting that you do something different that isn’t contextually appropriate, how is that supposed to affect an autistic kid? It’s annoying. It can be  hurtful. Why should we accommodate their non-contextual request to change what we’re perfectly fine with?

However, the results showed that ToM was not a significant predictor of children’s playfulness, possibly because of the small sample size. In addition, the results showed that autistic behaviour was the most significant predictor of children’s playfulness. It suggested that children with more autistic behaviours would look less joyful during play. As autistic behaviour encompasses the characteristics of ASD, the results are congruent with those of previous studies demonstrating that children’s playfulness is related to individual characteristics, such as age, sex, and other personality attributes.

So, stop with the pathologizing, already. And never mind the ToM stuff, period. I find it very telling that the researchers felt the need to say autistic kids “look less joyful during play”. How would they know what joyful looks like? Trust me, I can be ecstatic on the inside, and people around me think I’m pissed off. Seems the impairments of social detection aren’t only autistic.

After reading through this paper, I have to wonder, what if so-called pretend play were actually a sign of pathology, indicating that non-autistic children are prone to make up things  in their minds which simply aren’t true… and if left unchecked, that can ultimately develop into full-blown inability to deal with reality as it is. What if children who were skilled at pretend play eventually grow into adults who surround themselves with invented falsehoods which confirm their biases and are never challenged, because they’re seen as “normal” behavior? Given the amount of autism research like this paper, it would appear that too many pretend-play experts have been allowed to persist in their childhood habits of making sh*t up, and it’s now affecting their adult work.

Hmmmm… I think someone should do some research on that. Now that would be a paper I’d like to read.

Best winter concoction – ever!


Okay, so I know it doesn’t look like much from a distance, but what I’ve got brewing in my tall mug is saving me, this winter season.

It’s a mixture I learned about from a former co-worker, nearly 5 years ago, when she gave me a jar of it for Christmas. She said it would help me fight off infection and stay strong through the winter. Sure enough, it did.

It’s very simple. You can make it at home. I have a batch I keep refreshing every week or so, because I keep using it up.

It’s very simple — basically, you slice a (whole) lemon and ginger (thin), you pack it all into a glass jar, then you pour honey in to cover everything up. Let the jar sit for a few days, and the honey will become thin and infused with the lemon and ginger. Take a few tablespoons in a mug of hot water, and it’s a wonderful treat for a cold winter’s day.

Plus, it can help relieve colds and other infections that always seem to pop up around this time of year. I don’t want to jynx myself, but so far so good — I haven’t had anything worse than some sinus trouble, this year. And that was before I started drinking this on a regular basis.

The honey is an antiviral and a great energy boost, and with the taste of lemon and ginger, it’s really delicious.

Heaven knows, I need the boost, these days.

I’m detoxing from that “Siri” book, trying to restore balance to my frazzled system, talking myself back into the real world after that detour into damage. I’m reading research that’s got me thinking along broader lines, along more educated lines… along lines that need to be more educated.

Yeah, I need the boost.

Time for another sip of my delicious concoction.


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Autistic family, autistic irritation (plus, why I’m a terrible 21st Century author)

picture of a pencil with a sharpener and shavings lying on a blank notebook

I can understand why some thinkers are recluses. Heck, I’ve been a recluse, myself. Blogging is one of the few concessions I’ll make to being “social” about my work. Social media, to some extent, as well. But I’m not a big fan of running around, telling everyone about my work, what I’ve been doing, etc. Something about social interactions really sucks the life out of my thought process, especially when I’m working on an idea. And when the idea becomes fully formed — or formed enough to show up on the printed page after a bunch of rounds of edits — I’ve often moved on to the next Big Idea… and I’m thinking about that.

But of course, everybody wants to talk about that old idea that’s in my proverbial rear-view mirror. Stuff that’s new to them is “old hat” to me, and I can’t be bothered thinking about it, anymore.

I could never be in a band for that exact reason. Having to play the same songs, over and over — especially the songs that everybody else loves, because they’re familiar and they make them feel a certain special way. Ugh. How horrible. I could never do it. Same thing with ideas and books and whatnot. I don’t want to hang around chewing on the food for thought I masticated and swallowed days, weeks, months, and years ago. I’ve moved on.

So, I really do make a terrible 21st Century author. Writing and publishing have turned into such a promotion-intensive activity, over the past 40 years, which is a shame for writers like me. I’m just not all that keen on self-promotion. Plus, I really hate talking to other people about my work. It’s an internal process. Talking screws it up for me and messes up my thought process. And part of me thinks, if other people have to talk endlessly about an idea, they must not really get it, so why am I bothering talking endlessly about it with them?

How I long for the days when people could read something, reason through it themselves without needing constant conversation and reinforcement, and then draw their own conclusions without tapping the purported “wisdom of the herd”.

Ugh. How I hate that expression — “wisdom of the herd” (it hisses through my imagination as if the character Bubble from ‘AbFab’ were saying it). That combination of words defies logic, to my mind.

Well, anyway, I’m just venting. What was it I wanted to say? Oh, yeah — how glad I am, I’m not traveling to see my uber-autistic parents.

Don’t get me wrong. I do love my folks, and I enjoy much of the times I share with them. But I can do without their cluelessness about what it’s like to live in the non-autistic world as an autistic person, how exhausting it is, how dangerous it is, how confounding and thwarting it can be. Their surroundings are as autistic as autistic can be — and they make sure it stays that way. Everyone in their immediate circle is either neurodivergent or knows they’re outnumbered by neurodivergent folks, so they defer to them.

Autistic is the Normal of their world. Neurotypical is pathological. Ha! So there. They’ve got their black-and-white thinking, their strict routines (for everything), their rigidity and dogma, their sensory issues, their hyperverbalism, their very, very autistic mannerisms that stand out sharply in the world outside their enclave but are the most natural thing in the world within their protected sphere of influence. They have all the supports they need to live successful lives in that context, and they can’t imagine anyone wanting or needing to live any other way.

My two biological siblings — both autists extraordinaire (tho’ they don’t know it) — have recreated our parents’ lives to an uncanny degree. It’s a little creepy. But by my family’s standards, they’re wildly successful, fulfilling all the requirements of A Good Life. Meanwhile, my adopted sister and I are outside that paradigm, and we’re struggling. She’s on disability and hasn’t been able to work or do much of anything other than manage her pain for a number of years. My activities are quite constrained by, well, being constantly exhausted by the demands of my everyday life. Exhaustion and an intense life with a lot of personal demands, isn’t a great recipe for exploring all of life’s glorious variety — including packing in all the activities my autistic family does, church involvement, volunteering, intense social activity, etc. In my parents’ view, that means my sister and I are failing — not that we’re dealing with a more challenging set of circumstances and are actually more functional in significant ways than our siblings who didn’t “fall far from the tree”.

The ironic thing is, I wouldn’t mind being able to stick closer to the ways of my upbringing. But autism-centric society doesn’t always work in my favor. And the rigidity and routines that make life sweet for the auties and Aspies of my parents’ type make life absolutely miserable for me. Their arrangements are great for people in one “quadrant” of the autism spectrum, but they make life a living hell for folks who occupy a different space. And they’re so damn’ intransigent about it. Come to think of it, it reminds me a lot of how brittle and abrasive Autistic Twitter can get, sometimes.

Shades of my upbringing… and the reasons I moved away.

So, where was I… Oh, yeah. Bitching about my parents. My whole family, actually.  Vent, vent, vent.

But really, venting is only part of what I want to do, here. I’m off work for the next week and a half, which is bliss. I will actually have time to do all the things that have had to wait, thanks to my exhaustion and general overwhelm. Glorious. How delightful. I’ll be able to clean out my study. I think I’ll do that right now. I’ll have time to connect my new computer (I got a second-hand $3,000 machine for $304, which delights me). I’ll have time to lie down and nap whenever I danged well like.

And no travel to family. Not a bit. None of the stress and strain of highways with holiday-addled drivers. No sleeping in strange beds and dealing with strange routines. No social overwhelm. No hugs and sudden contact from hyposensitive, sensory-seeking family members. No foods that make me ill. No noise, no scents, no sensory assaults. No causes for meltdown/shutdown. And no interpersonal drama, other than the occasional heated discussion with my partner about something we both care deeply about.

Bliss.

So, why wreck it with ruminating on my disconnects with my family? They’re autistic. I’m autistic. We love each other and hate certain things about each other. And of course, we’re all 100% correct in our assessments 😉  Ha! Such is life in an autistic family.

Spring is coming, eventually. I’ll see them then.

For now, it’s all about making sure I’m well cared-for in my own well-cared-for space.

For once.

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