I’ve mentioned this here and there and it isn’t a great big secret; I’m mildly autistic. If you’ve seen Rain Man ... well., that’s not much help. Kim Peek, the real life inspiration for Raymond, is a savant, but he isn’t autistic.
Better representations of what it means to be on the autistic spectrum might be Vernon L. Smith, economics Nobel prize winner, Satoshi Tajiri, the creator the Pokémon, or Temple Grandin, a Colorado State University professor who has authored a number of books on being autistic and coping with life in a world full of people who are "neurotypical".
I feel compelled to write about this mostly because of the discrimination issues we face and the fact that we, who are already "outsiders" in so many ways, may be best equipped to deal with the rapid disintegration we're facing due to the mortgage scam unwinding.
As a child I had the repetitive motion stuff that is so typical of autistic children, but I’d largely grown out of it by my teen years. At this point faux experts, of which there are a great many, will be saying "He’s not autistic!" I also had the circumscribed interests – very narrow, very deep knowledge of things that caught my attention. I was very much into counting and organizing things, and the latter two behaviors continue to this day, although I do a much better job of concealing them now.
I’d thought for a long time that I had attention deficit disorder but in 2005 there was an article about Simon Baron-Cohen (yes, Sacha'a cousin) and his work in creating a fifty point self test for Asperger’s Syndrome, a mild form of autism quite common in the techies who frequent Slashdot. The further I read the more I identified with what was being said. The neurotypical average 16.8 on the test, with 32 begin a sort of cut off after which 80% of those at that level were formally diagnosed. I got a 34. And I’d answered the questions as an adult in his late thirties who’d already developed coping skills – my answers at fourteen would have been much higher.
I started nosing around a bit and found the AS and Partners forum on Delphi. The interface stinks but this is the place for information and here I found out that gluten and casein, the proteins in wheat and milk, were often a component of the troubles the autistic face. I eliminated wheat from my diet, didn’t notice much of a change at first, but a week later I got some soy sauce at a Thai restaurant and I thought I’d been poisoned. Imagine having the stomach flu and drinking a pint of something strong in an effort to clear it up. I was woozy to the point of being unable to drive for over a day and in a great deal of pain. I took this as a confirmation of the diagnosis.
Two years ago I received a copy of Temple Grandin’sThe Unwritten Rules of Social Relationships. I found it an interesting read but I’d mostly worked this stuff out on my own by trial and error. One of the things mentioned in the book is prosopagnosia, or face blindness. The neurotypical person can tell what another person is feeling by looking at their face. I can’t. I found some online tests for this condition and again got confirmation – the neurotypical folks will get 70% - 80% of the test correct, while I was getting around 30%.
The fundamental underlying issue seems to be differences in mirror neurons. These brain constructs allow one to recognize intent based on facial expression and to mimic motion. I don’t have the physically clumsy bit so my motion parts work fine but the human interaction stuff is definitely problematic for me. There are genetic and environmental issues behind this. My son, now eleven, has been tagged as having "sensory integration disorder", which got him a "bouncy chair" so he could stay in his seat during class. My troubles are a bit more severe and probably stem from neonatal and infancy issues. I’m adopted, it appears from the records that my birth mother had a drug problem, and I was born with congenital hip dysplasia. Most children go home with parents who hold them and play with them; for me it was a half body cast in a state orphanage for the first six months. I was growing inside the casts, I got horrible scars from it, and instead of detecting and correcting this I was "treated" for being a fussy baby ... with phenobarbitol.
If you watch the news every once in a while you’ll see some researcher trumpeting a "cure" for autism and more frequently you’ll find parents in total denial talking about how they’ve "cured" their children. There are a number of environmental issues that are important to check and remediate if they’re an issue but the die is pretty much cast by the eighth week of pregnancy. There is no rearranging a child’s mirror neurons after that point - genetics and epigenetics have had their say and life goes on.
I will state quite firmly that I am not interested in being cured. The name Asperger’s Syndrome implies that I have a "disorder" but I don’t see it that way; I’m just different than most folks. We sometimes joke amongst ourselves about the problems associated with "neurotypical disorder" – emotionally connected to every little event, can’t count and organize things, no circumscribed interests – it’s a wonder you NTs ever manage to invent or organize anything.
Oh, and if you’re here on DailyKos there are a couple of names of historical political figures that get mentioned as possibly having Asperger’s Syndrome; Ben Franklin almost certainly and perhaps Thomas Jefferson as well. Einstein, Newton, and Tesla often come up, as do Jane Austen, Emily Dickinson, and a bunch of other names you’d recognize. I can’t say much about most of them but Einstein seems a pretty obvious case to me – his history is well known and the poor academic performance followed by later brilliance in areas of circumscribed interest is very telling.
I’m perfectly comfortable just as I am ... except for the discrimination I face. I’ve rearranged my career so it isn’t so much of an issue, I’m up front about my differences when dating, but dealing with medical people? I need a get out of jail free card so I can bitchslap a couple of doctors. As some will recall I published another series earlier this year under the name One Brave Kossack, a name bestowed on me by nyceve.
The executive summary of this six installment series? The world’s least competent neurologist, Dr. Patricia Davis of the University of Iowa Hospital System, looked right at me as I begged for help with a kidney stone that was causing a berry aneurysm in my speech center to periodically stretch, impinging my ability to speak and very definitely endangering my health, and instead she labeled me a "suspicious malingerer" and dumped me right out on the street. Oh, and I’d very specifically said "I have Asperger’s Syndrome" right at the beginning of her visit. One would think a neurologist responsible for teaching others would have at least a passing familiarity with the autism spectrum. Nope, I have "an odd affect" and maybe a drug problem, according to Dr. Sloppy. I’ve never in my whole life felt such disinterest in my well being from a doctor. I could sue, but I’m pursuing disciplinary actions via the state medical board and I’m going to just keep telling this story.
It’s not my place to speak in specifics about others but I will say that as the Stranded Wind Initiative grows I see that I’m not the only contributor who is a little "different". Some of them are aware of their differences, some aren’t, but all of them are outsiders in one sense or another.
I think a great many more of us are about to become outsiders, if half of the stuff covered at The Automatic Earth comes to pass. Our banking system started crashing last August and with each passing day the troubles spread a little further. People are after Congress to do something about gas prices, but oil production peaked in May of 2005 and the regulars at The Oil Drum start out grim and go down from there in the assessments they give. The pre-dispossessed seem to have a leg up in coping – "the system" has already failed us in so many ways that we won’t miss it all that much as it blows apart.
So, that’s that. I’ve come out as an autistic adult – not such a big deal now that it’s all done and said, is it?
Oh, and it wouldn’t be a proper Walkabout without some photos. Part of my organizing and counting behavior is that I take pictures of every shop cat that I happen to meet – here are a few for your viewing pleasure.
Copper is the proprietor of Goldsmiths and Silversmiths in Omaha’s Old Market. He lounges on the countertop blocking the view to whichever bits of jewelry take his fancy and greeting the regulars. I take liberties with his furry person when I’m there until he grows annoyed and bats at me. I seem to be one of the few who can cradle him on his back without losing skin in the process.
I didn’t get her name, but she guards the door at Hydration in San Jose, California, watching customers come and go. This was a bad fur day and she wouldn’t let me pet her.
Boswell of Boswell’s Books in Shelburne Falls, Massachussets has access to the wisdom of the ages on the shop’s shelves and she gives every sense of having fully absorbed it with her regal bearing and disinclination for rapid motion; a Buddha-cat in repose is the only thing she displays to her flow of visitors.