Showing posts with label autistics speaking day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label autistics speaking day. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Today I am silent

Today I am silent.

That is it's own form of communication. Choosing to not engage in the unspoken rituals expected of us. It's own form of saying, no, I'm doing my thing, what is right for me.

I make that choice. Limiting my speech to that which I choose, that which I deem worth the cost; that which I deem necessary; that which I deem worth enough to deal with the downsides. Otherwise, I can choose to be silent.

Smalltalk around me. I don't need to reply.

I can choose my self-care as more important than making others more comfortable with this uncanny valley person that is me. I can choose to say no.

I'm asked dehumanizing questions, the emotional labor expected of a token autistic in an unfriendly environment.

But I don't need to honor them. I can take care of myself.

It's my choice. My decision. My desires which matter. It's my needs which I value, as I say, I don't need to speak.

And that's why today I'm silent.

Because today, I rest.

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Acknowledging Me

How my body moves determines how much I know.

I mean, I know this to be the case, because of how I interact with you. The same person, the same people, but completely different interactions. How my body moves determines if my words are worth hearing, or if they're only to be discarded, into the abyss of "we're trying to fix the autism".

If I rock, or sway, or so much as tap my fingers, then how can I make decisions? I don't know that much. How could I? You decide so. You know this about me. You know that people who move like me do not know how to do such difficult tasks.

Yet if I'm still, I can lead. I can provide new information that none of you have seen before. I can teach, and share, and you listen to me!

You. The same people. Depending on my movement that day.

Because how my body moves must determine how much I know. Not the words I speak, not the thoughts I think.

It must be how autistic I look.


Ironic, it is, that these movements regulate me. These movements organize me. These movements help my thoughts fit their pieces together into these words that you hear.

Ironic, that while they don't determine how much I know, they determine how well I can use what I know. And yet, if I am in a state where I am using this self-regulation, then I am deemed not capable of knowing this information. Not capable of knowing about autism.

Ironic, that making it easier to think, easier to share, easier to know what I'm saying, what I'm doing, how to exist in a world not meant for people like me, makes me know so much less in your eyes, that I should not be listened to, even about people such as myself.


But, how my body moves, doesn't actually determine how much I know, and you can't see that. You only see the stigma of a diagnosis, not the person in front of you. You don't see the same me every day, only that who you want to see.

I'm autistic every one of these days, moving or not moving. I'm the same person, with the same strengths and same impairments; same job and same college community; same interests and same need to teach and share and improve myself and what is around me.

I'm always Tuttle.
The same Tuttle.

I'm just actually autistic, and it's sometimes harder for you to pretend that I'm not.

Monday, November 4, 2013

But what about those florescent lights?

I was going to make my post on time this year, I really was. But then things came up that were more important than writing a blog post. And now again, I vary between writing thousands of words because someone mentioned a topic that I wanted to reply to because they were wrong and not being able to pull up what I was going to write about on here. But, despite all that I'm going to write a post, even if its two days late, and even if there's a lot going on, and even if I don't remember what I was going to write about because so much is going on. And I'm going to make it meaningful.

Right now, what's meaningful to me and easy to talk about, sensory issues, so that is what I'll write about.

I don't hide from people that I'm on the spectrum and that I have bad sensory issues. It'd be rather hard to hide the sensory issues wearing blue glasses around, but still some people do overlook them and say that you can't notice. I question them sometimes, if I'm sitting sideways in a chair, wearing blue glasses, and stimming, but apparently this isn't enough to be visible sometimes.

Sensory issues can be invisible. Even more than other parts of autism. Social issues are visible if you're interacting with people. Communication issues, the same. Issues with change aren't immediately visible, but generally come up quickly, and are understood to be part of autism. Same with the other parts of RRBs. And well, stimming is usually visible, though apparently sometimes overlooked.

Sensory issues, when they're hypersensitivities at least (which within the HFA crowd seem to be the most common based on my experiences, though in SPD, hypersensitivities are actually less common than either hyposensitivities or seeking behaviors), are generally very internalized. The person reacts strongly, feels pain, doesn't process things properly, but doesn't show others very much. They don't scream out every time a florescent light turns on, but that doesn't change that the florescent light has an effect on them. It's an invisible reaction. Because others don't know. And others don't expect the environment could effect people so much.

Which leads to sensory issues being overlooked. We talk about communication. We talk about change. We talk about how many people are murdered by family members for being different. But, what about that simple florescent light?

Just for me? I hear those lights. They hurt. They feel like they're stabbing my brain with high frequency buzzing. They make me want to rip my ears off because it would hurt less than listening, and they jam my brain, because I have to listen through the buzzing. And try to concentrate through it. Eventually the buzzing might give me a migraine. A sudden noise of the sort might have other reactions, but lights are these constant offenders, like someone taking the static, turning it high frequency, putting it in headphones, and making you walk around wearing it so you're the only one who can hear it.

And then of course there's the vision part. They flicker. I don't know who gave people the idea that the flicker isn't visible to the human eye because its definitely visible. And both the flicker and the buzzing get worse as they age. A constant distraction of a fan flapping in front of your face, flip, flip, flip, flip, flip, because its flicker flicker flickering. And again, people deny it, because they don't see it. And because its so fast, again, not only is it distracting, its a slow buildup of too much getting too pain. Someone flicking lights on and off is irritating. Now, have that happen always in the room. It's normal. The eyes or the processing behind the eyes or something has to compensate though, and it doesn't so much like doing so (to put it not very scientifically), and eventually the eyes are tired, and hurt and tired, and the headache sets in.

And trying to process things with these - apparently my communication skills drop significantly as soon as you turn on a florescent light, and come back when you turn it off. Other sorts of processing is harder to test, but it generally gets messed up.

I know others who are more messed up by the lights. And others who are less messed up by the lights. I have other visual processing issues (headlights are one of my biggest ones), and many others in other senses. But, we don't need to look at dealing with everyone always. We have to look at doing what we can to make things better, when we can and how we can.

When that means in my bedroom, giving me LEDs, for when I can't use natural sunlight, that's a thing, because that's something that helps. And that's a thing that is worth mentioning even though it doesn't fix every visual processing issue I have, not to mention every sensory issue I have.

When that means, getting places to at least replace the bulbs earlier if they have to use florescents - that'd be a huge step.

But, right now, as I walk around, I'm in a way showing people that this matters, and when it comes up I explain. I'm wearing my tinted lenses, for myself, but doing it for myself is being open. And sometimes being open is enough to be saying a lot. Just wearing my lenses is enough for someone to say, why are there blue lenses? And that itself, is communicating to them about me, about autism, and about the importance of actually taking care of our sensory issues.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Autistics Speaking Day (one month late)

One month ago was Autistics Speaking Day.

One month ago I thought of starting up this blog, because it was something I was meaning to do.

One month ago I sat down at the computer and was unable to write.

One month ago was one of the few days since I started participating in the autistic community that I did not make a forum post.

Three and a half weeks ago I wrote my first post on here

Yesterday I found this autistic speaking day post.

Today all I can say is that even though she clearly is more severely affected than I am, that's the absolute best Autistics Speaking Day post I have seen.

And today I say thank you for letting me have an easier time than others with this. Thank you for this not being something I've needed to say because while those days are rarer for me, I've not been pushed on one of those days.

(And on the note of that blog, this post of hers is the best written thing I've seen about the use of the word autistic instead of the "person-first language")