Someone recently made
the observation that I don't often give the impression of being very Autistic. This is an observation that I and many
others on the Autism Spectrum hear regularly.
While it is somewhat “flattering” that folks acknowledge I am prosperous
and successful in my endeavors in spite of my many ongoing challenges, it is
also disheartening that my differences are unrecognized and misunderstood by so
many.
So how then can a
person with Autism Spectrum Disorder appear to be so “normal”? To begin with, Autism is a Spectrum
disorder. There is an assortment of ways
that the attributes of ASD manifest themselves, and they do so differently in
each individual. In addition, these characteristics
also vary in intensity from person to person.
When Autism is portrayed in the media, it is usually done so in an
extreme and stereotypical manner. Most
people with ASD have characteristics that are more subtle than those that are
depicted in the movies or in the news. When
commenting that I don’t seem very Autistic, people often refer to my ability to
apply social skills and to engage in relationships. There is a common misconception that people
with ASD prefer to be alone and have little or no desire to have friends or
significant others. While it is true
that I do enjoy some time alone, I also love being around people with whom I am
familiar and have a mutual trust. Even
when I am not directly engaging with others I revel in their company. Perhaps the most significant reason I resemble
the Neurotypical to the unprofessional eye would be the development of my many
coping skills. Rather than of rocking
back and forth to extremes when I am feeling anxious, alternatively I rock back
and forth in a more “quiet” manner as to not draw attention to myself. Those tiny kitten-like meows that slipped out
during our meeting at lunch today were actually suppressed roars of raw emotion
and sensory overload escaping from within.
As with most Autistics, eye contact is arduous and painful for me. Nonetheless, I may fool you by looking past
you, looking at your glasses, or watching your lips move as you talk. In addition to coping, it takes an
extraordinarily long time for me to be comfortable enough with someone before I
can show my genuine character. I have a
propensity to accrue my strongest emotions and release them with those I trust
most. The behaviors I release include
both my jubilant, playful flapping and squealing and my exceedingly awful
meltdowns. While I don’t like anyone
seeing me in these states, my level of emotional expression is proportionate to
the level of understanding and trust I have with the person.
What does it matter
if I appear Autistic, anyway? In truth,
it matters significantly. There are
certain expectations society has for the way we behave, and if someone isn’t
aware that I interpret the world around me distinctively differently, that
person will be quick to judge and make assumptions about my personality and
character. My “rudeness” or “attitude”
about something was nothing more than a response without any negative or
underlying motives. Instead of
understanding that I obsess over things and fixate on ideas a person may just
assume that I am fanatically egocentric.
When I become upset over the fact that my hamburger has mustard on it,
someone who doesn’t know about my Autism might think I am just picky. When I hog our conversation with the topic
of my interest and you become bored, you might perceive me as annoying. As someone with Autism, I need those around
me to be aware that I might shy away from social situations, I might cry or
laugh at inappropriate times, and I might even take things personally when I
misinterpret your intentions. I have a
silly voice I speak in at times when I am feeling different emotions. I usually only employ this voice when I am
around people I trust. If you’ve heard
it, you are one of the lucky ones. Sarcasm
is lost on me, and if I suspect so I might even ask you to clarify whether or
not you were being sarcastic. I tend to
take things literally. In fact, I
sometimes take things so literally that once on a road trip with my family my
father told my brother and me to “sit on our hands.” When
we arrived at our destination 6 hours later, my dad told me to get out of the
car. My response? “I can’t.
I am sitting on my hands.” This
was one of those situation in which it would have been beneficial to have known
how Autism affects my thought process.
When we have a conversation, I might understand the words that you have
said, and I probably will understand their meaning, but often times I do not
understand their intent.
I have also observed
the implications of “not seeming Autistic” in my students. Teachers who view Autistic students as
Neurotypical often misinterpret their behaviors as intentional disruptions or
oppositional. When teachers see that students are somewhat
capable of “getting by” socially, they are less willing to make accommodations
and to provide necessary supports. They
often have the attitude of “If the student can do X, they should be able to do
Y.” This can be very discouraging,
demoralizing, and frustrating for the student with Autism. Students begin to lose confidence in their
abilities and begin to feel as though they are being picked on by the very
people who should be on their side.
Although I do not
define myself by my Autism, and although there is a certain appeal to the
perception that I am doing well in spite of my many adversities, the message I
would like to share with folks is that it’s important we celebrate
neurodiversity and appreciate the individual differences of all. When someone tells you about the challenges
they face, don’t write them off and assume that because they appear to be
coping well they are. Always seek to
find a deeper understanding of a person’s unique characteristics. Stick around a while and you will see them J
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