Reports from a Resident Alien

So you have a minority group that's getting uppity. What's your best bet? Well, you divide the minority into two groups. Then you say one group is better than the other.

Doesn't matter what the division is; you can make it totally arbitrary and it'll still work. If the two groups buy it, they turn on each other. Simple, and your work is being done for you. It's a very efficient strategy.

What, you think it wouldn't work? I'm seeing it work in the autism community, and it's not pretty.

The divide-and-conquer high versus low functioning or autism versus mental illness or high IQ versus low or whatever dividing line they happen to think of keeps everybody down, not just the designated "lower" group. You've got your "lower" group fighting your "higher" group for not "really" being part of the group at all, and your "higher" group fighting to tell everybody they're not part of the "lower" group so they're actually OK, and the people who want the lot of you put in your place are sitting back with a very satisfied expression on their faces.

(Let's say "low-functioning autistic" is "an autistic person who needs an aide most or all of the time"--that is, extensive or pervasive support. Of course people move in and out of that category but it's the only possible definition that I can see that has any relevance at all. Functioning labels have very little meaning for any other purpose than answering the question, "How much help does this person need?" and then only if defined concretely rather than stereotyped. Hey, you don't even have to divide people into actually clear categories for this thing to work!)

The idea that Aspies are somehow "better" than "LFA" is ridiculous. Most of us agree on that point--that both groups have the same human rights and the right to keep your own brain the way you want it, make your own decisions, and direct your own life.

We definitely need to stick up for each other. Those of us who require limited or intermittent support need to stick up for the rights of the people who need more than that. Those of us who need a lot of help shouldn't devalue the importance of proper services for those who only need a little. Neither group should say the other is "not really autistic"--yes, autism is a huge, broad spectrum, a big group, and it makes sense to say just how diverse we are; but since when has diversity been a reason to deny rights to anyone? Oh, it's been an excuse, sure, but it's not a reason.

Two more divide-and-conquer strategies I can see: Autism versus disability; and autism versus mental illness.

The first split is often touched off by the fact that some autistic people are not disabled and do not need any extra services. It's common enough to be in that category as an adult if you are on the border of diagnosis as a child. The problem here is that when non-disabled autistics disavow the rest of the spectrum or put down their very real disabilities as "comorbids", the disabled autistics end up being told, basically, "Let's cure you and turn you into an AS/HFA." That's just as bad as trying to turn an Aspie into NT, every bit as much of a violation. It also implies the very idea that the autism rights movement probably hates the most: Individuality and the right to learn and think as you were meant to isn't nearly as important as not being disabled.

Autism versus mental illness: Yes. We know autism isn't a psychological disorder; it's neurological. Fact remains, though, that like many mental illnesses, it comes out in behavioral and cognitive symptoms. And many mental illnesses are nearly as highly genetic as autism. No, we're not "crazy", but why the idea that not having a mental illness makes us any better than those who do? Many of us do have mental illnesses--there's enough vulnerability, what with the social isolation and vulnerability to abuse--but even those of us who don't shouldn't think that makes autistics superior to someone with a mental illness.

The fundamental difference between autism and some mental illnesses is that the mental illness happens after the personality is developed, an unwelcome intrusion, and the person would like to go back to thinking the way they did before. But the freedom to choose your treatment and be treated with respect by professionals, is the same whether you are autistic or mentally ill. People who are too psychotic to make clear decisions should be treated with the exact same respect as people who are too autistic to communicate their decisions--and the exact same respect as those who are thinking clearly and communicating efficiently.

The right to make your own choices, and to be taught to communicate your choices, exists whether you are mildly or profoundly disabled, whether you are autistic, mentally ill, or both. There is no reason why autistic people of all sorts cannot agree on at least that, and work together to achieve it.

There's a big opportunity staring us all in the face, and we don't seem to be picking up on it: People with disabilities of all sorts, and people with mental illnesses, are fighting just about the same battle the autistic people are fighting. The same exact things would benefit us all. We're all in danger of being unemployed or underemployed even when we have the desire and ability to work. We're all in danger of having to live in institutions just to survive, or even being put into them totally against our will. We're all socially ostracised, but extremely small adjustments to a world that wasn't made for us could let us participate just as well as anyone.

Why in the world are we passing that up? Who gets more done--a lot of little fragmented groups fighting against each other for no good reason, or a big group that can force the world to listen?

Definition, "Supercrip": A certain way of portraying people with disabilities as though they were amazing for going about their daily lives; or of seeing them as "inspirational" for "overcoming" their disabilities.

"Human interest" articles, all pretty much written in the same style, tend to pop up repeatedly in the newspapers and magazines today. They portray a person with some sort of disability, and then they talk about some accomplishment. Usually, it's a relatively minor accomplishment, on the general scale of things; a Deaf kid signing along with his high school choir, maybe, or an autistic teenager going to the high school prom, or a kid with CP starting a business. Or, maybe, it's an "unusual" occurrence, with the only unusual feature being the disability, like two people with Down Syndrome getting married. Some stories take it further: Rather than just doing something that is supposed to be reserved for "normal" people, a disabled person has done something that is an accomplishment for anyone--like a polio survivor becoming a marathon runner. These people are made out to be practically superheroes--someone so amazingly wonderful and determined that nobody else could ever measure up (and wait a minute, you had polio too; why aren't YOU running marathons? That other guy did!).

So what's the problem, you ask? Why not celebrate these accomplishments?

Well, here's the problem. When you write a news story about, say, an autistic kid at a high school prom, you are saying that what you're writing about is newsworthy. It's unusual. It doesn't happen often; it's a freak event, on display for others to gawk at. These, you're implying, are the lucky people who have managed to overcome their disabilities and become more like "the rest of us". They're to be applauded, but all those other people you're not writing about are to be pitied.

When just living your life is considered an accomplishment, what do people expect? They expect, usually, a great deal less. They don't expect the autistic teen to go to the prom, or the kid with CP to become a junior entrepreneur. They don't expect you to learn to drive or get a job or get married, because those are things that "normal" people do.

Inisidious, isn't it? By celebrating the accomplishments in an average disabled person's life, they imply that those accomplishments are unusual--not to be expected.

I remember, for example, the driver in the Assisted Transport service I often used telling me, "It's okay. Driving might not be for you." She probably knows I am autistic, since when I'm overwhelmed, it's most obvious, and it was always very obvious on that bus. She simply didn't expect me--or, probably, any other autistic person--to learn to drive. And then, when I did learn to drive, many people proclaimed it "amazing".

I've had people make similar pronouncements about my attending college or having my own apartment. I'm tired of it--I don't want to be seen as some odd sort of "hero". What was I supposed to do--sit at home and have my brain turn into an inert blob from not having anything to learn; or move in with my mom and have both of us go simulataneously crazy? I am not amazing, and saying that is not supposed to be some kind of false modesty that indicates I really actually want the compliments. Sure, "congratulations" is fine, but "you're amazing"? Nope. Sorry. I'm not buying it. If an average person isn't amazing for doing what they do, then I'm not amazing for doing what I do.

Well, okay, you're free to say I'm "amazing" for ordinary things, under one condition: You must allow me to follow you and constantly make comments like, "Wow! I can't beleive you calculated that 20% tip so accurately!", and, "You found your car in the parking lot! Good job!", and, "I can't believe you haven't had a toilet accident all month!" and call the newspapers every time something of that sort happens. Gonna take me up on that offer?

I've seen this a hundred times: A kid's got some kind of a diagnosis, and suddenly the parents have this stupid idea in their heads: "Our child is disabled. That means he has to have everything done for him." So they tell him that he's helpless and he's incompetent and he must not try to do anything, and must rather find people to do it for him. They tell him by doing things for him, by not letting him decide things for himself. They tell him by saying, "Oh, you don't have to do that; it's hard," instead of saying, "Oh, that looks hard; let's find a way to do it." They teach him that he's incompetent.

I met an 18 year old girl with CP. She had one weak leg and one weak arm. She was a really good friend and an amazing writer. I met her when she went to college and lived on her own for a year. Then I went home with her for Christmas and I found out her parents were still cutting her food for her and tying her shoelaces, and they had never let her learn to drive, even though there was no reason not to learn (given one-handed controls), and never made her do any chores. Her ten year old sister had more responsibility. Her parents didn't trust her at all, even though she never did anything dangerous or impulsive.

When she had problems keeping up with schoolwork, and when her parents found she couldn't keep her dorm room clean, they made her come back home. Then they made her live in a group home. She could have been a writer; a really good one. But her parents taught her she was incompetent. I don't know if she'll ever get out of the system.

Parents like that make me really angry. I don't care how disabled your child is. Treating him like he can't do anything for himself, over-protecting, doing things for him, is not going to help him reach his potential. I understand that someone with a disability may benefit from staying at home longer; but doing it like that, directionless, with no plans for the future and no purposeful way to spend your time, is just asking to have your kid feel as useless as you act like he is.

Some people think that the only alternative to wanting a cure for your autism is thinking that you are superior, that your skills make autism worthwhile, and that autism must be the next step in evolution.

But I am not superior. I am worse at many things than most people, and better at some; the government says I am disabled. But even if I had been as skilled as Einstein, I would not be superior. I am not the next step in evolution; as far as I can tell, what I have is simply a concentration of otherwise useful genetics, amplified to the point that they cause disability; specialized, but not some sort of beneficial mutation. Autism is not a superpower and I am not an X-man.

What I am is an equal; a human being--as worthwhile a person as anyone else; not required to prove my worth by my ability or compete against others to show that autistic people are actually better than everybody else, but simply to find my own place in a complicated world--someplace where I'm useful, someplace where I fit. It doesn't have to be something flashy or "successful" as our society measures success. I contribute to society when I make baby blankets for donation, mop floors at a cat shelter, or ask a question during an anatomy lecture; and that's while I'm still on the bottom rung of society, on disability, having failed at several jobs. I'm only twenty-five. I could do much more with the time I have left. I could learn much more, become capable of more. It still wouldn't make me worth more than I am right now.

It's not like what I want is so very different than what the average, plainest, most normal NT in the world wants. He wants, simply, to find his function; to find his place in the world; to find out who he was meant to be and become that person.

What if you discovered that you didn't need a cure to do that? What if you could live a good life with autism? What if you discovered that being delayed, deficient, or impaired in one or more areas wasn't as bad as you thought it was? What if you discovered that the people who reject you can be educated to understand the differences, or else be shown up as complete jerks for acting the way they do? What if the world could be made to understand that "socially retarded" people can be part of society, just like "normal people" can be? Would you still want a cure then; or would it become superfluous once disability itself was seen as merely neutral?

I think all of that is much more likely to happen than a cure for autism. We have already gotten quite far with racial differences; why not with the differences between disabled and non-disabled people? That's what I'm working towards, anyway: Acceptance.

And it doesn't hurt that getting rid of even my autistic deficiencies would make me someone different from who I am today, because even the deficiencies define part of who I am. They're not straight-out lack of skill, you see; they're differences. I see details, notice patterns, and get visually overwhelmed by bright light--that's different sight; not a lack of sight. It's not so simple as increasing a deficient ability. Autism changes the very nature of how you think and perceive the world--even when it makes life more difficult, it colors your thoughts and your feelings and thus your identity.

Autism is a normal part of life for me. I know a lot of NTs see it as a tragedy; but they're comparing it to the way they live, and they see something strange and frightening. But for me, having autism is as normal as putting on my clothes or eating my dinner. It's a constant part of my life; just there, neither positive nor negative. I'm glad to be who I am; and thus my attitude probably falls under the heading of "autism pride"; but I might as well be proud of liking science, being introverted, or being a cat-lover. Once you learn that being disabled is nothing to be ashamed of and won't ruin your life--and once you really believe it, getting rid of the instinctive horror that many non-disabled people have at the very idea--then it becomes a lot easier to realize that, in fact, it's not so silly to want to stay autistic after all.

Unique people strengthen a society.

That's because there are lots of different problems that society faces; and some of them will be easily solved by average people; but some are very difficult unless you are unique. It doesn't even have to do with intelligence; just difference--if you need to drive a nail into a wall, a tape measure won't do; but there's nothing superior about a hammer versus a tape measure, really; you need them both at one time or another.

A society with lots of variation in it has more resources to combat the different problems that face it, like having a big tool box with lots of different tools in it; the more diversity there is in it, the better. A society is stronger and more flexible when it contains diversity of all sorts, including not just neurological but racial, cultural, gender, and age differences too. Even in a purely pragmatic sense, supporting differences between people, and mediating clashes between different groups, is worth it for the benefits that a diverse population brings.

"Overcome" is the worst possible advice you could ever give to someone with autism, Asperger's or otherwise. An autistic person who comes to believe this will begin to hate himself for being too lazy, too immature, too stupid.

Autism is not primarily behavioral; it is neurological. There are structural differences between the brains of autistic and non-autistic people (that includes Asperger's autistics). And it starts, in most cases, at birth; and in almost all cases before the age of three.

Autism is inherited. An identical twin of someone on the autism spectrum is 95% likely to have some kind of autism himself, though he is only 50% likely to have the same kind of autism. There is a lot of variation from person to person; it is thought that small differences in the prenatal environment, especially, can change how an autistic brain develops. (In the case of twins, remember that the prenatal environment can be and often is different for even identical twins. I am a twin; my twin died before birth; I was born healthy. Case in point.)

Additionally, while autistic people are introverted more often than they are extroverted, autistic extroverts exist. So do autistic people with every other personality type. Autism affects personality and cognition; but it is not just a kind of personality.

There are a lot of other neurological conditions associated with autism. Seizures are common. So is face-blindness (the inability to memorize faces). So are learning disabilities of all kinds. Tourette's. ADHD. Sensory-integration disorder. Dyspraxia. All of those are neurological in origin.

And if you think it is "easy to overcome" Asperger's, then you have never tried to overcome Asperger's. Learning social skills is possible; but it is as hard as learning to read while being severely dyslexic. You may learn them; but you will always have to work very hard to use them. And then you have everything else still to change: The need for routines; the love of specialist subjects; the odd speech and body posture... Some of those things simply can't be changed. There's only so much a human being can do at one time, and for someone with Asperger's, it's very hard to fake typical for a short period of time and impossible for long periods of time.

Trying to "overcome" Asperger's, rather than working with it, leads to such high levels of stress that mental illness is almost inevitable. I had to spend time in a mental ward before I knew that; though, in my defense, at the time nobody knew I was autistic, and trying harder was the only solution anybody had ever told me to use. Trying harder didn't work.

The feeling of "trying harder", of faking normal, is like running too many programs on an old computer... Sooner or later, there is simply not enough processing power left, and you lock up. Being very intelligent doesn't protect you from that, because the brain, unlike a computer, doesn't have a single CPU. The processing you use for socializing is different from the kind you use for math; and if you have Asperger's, your brain is made in such a way that, whatever your other talents may be, your social area works slowly and inefficiently. You can only do so much with that. The solution isn't opening program after program and hoping your computer will learn to speed up; it's using the processing power you do have in an intelligent and creative way. If you don't have the processing power for eye contact, then don't make eye contact. If you get tired out from interpreting speech, then use e-mail. Work around things. Don't bash your head against a brick wall--literally or figuratively--because you will only do damage to yourself and possibly others.

If you want to live a good life with autism, it is not worthwhile to try to become non-autistic. You are much better off finding workarounds, finding your own ways to do things, pursuing your own goals in your own way without chasing after an ideal "normal" that is not YOUR ideal at all.

When Asperger's as a disability is discussed, people seem to be thinking along the lines of, "Disability must be severe to be called disability." That's true only in the legal sense, when it has to prevent you from working.

Many Aspies feel they aren't disabled. Sometimes it's true; sometimes it's just a way of saying they don't mind having Asperger's, that it doesn't stop them from doing what they want in life. But there's a difference between that and not being disabled.

Disability is in large parts a social construct; it compares someone to the requirements that society places on him, and asks whether he needs anything more than most people to fit into that society--whether it's extra energy, extra education, technology, or outside help. Move someone to a different society, and he may no longer be disabled.

Realistically, though, there are an awful lot of conditions that are disabilities and yet don't hamper you too much once you have adjusted. For example: Let's say you're self-sufficient but you use a wheelchair. You have access to ramps and elevators. Nothing's really closed to you--even mountain-climbing has become accessible. So are you still disabled? Most everybody would say yes, you are, because you can't walk... Okay, so let's take a Deaf guy with a talent for lipreading. He learns to speak with what sounds like a bit of an accent. All he has to do is look at someone to understand them. Is he still disabled? Most people would say yes, he is, because he still can't hear...

But how is that different from an Aspie who has learned to cope in social situations? You still have the basic difference that cause you to put forth a lot more effort when you're in a social situation--like the deaf guy who's using a lot more brain power to lip-read than he would watching people sign.

Disability can be mild. It can be almost or completely compensated for. And in those cases, the only reason it's still called a disability is because you do have to use extra effort, or extra technology, or accommodations of some sort, to compensate. Disability isn't always something you can NEVER do.. it's often something you do differently. Like an Aspie's socialization.

Some Aspies aren't disabled, but I would not call it that until they got to the point that they take no more effort than an NT when they socialized, got no more stressed than an NT from sensory input, and could, if desired, spend no more time on special interests than an NT spends on hobbies... Only the milder cases get to that point, and usually not until middle adulthood. Whether that's necessarily better than staying "disabled"... I doubt it, really. It's life, either way; doesn't have much to do with happiness.

And to complicate matters, some things aren't thought of as disabilities when they really ought to be; for example, ADHD can cause more problems than Asperger's, but it is not commonly categorized as a disability until it reaches an extreme level. Without the technology afforded by eyeglasses, someone with 20/200 vision can't drive and can't navigate well--but because so many people wear eyeglasses, it isn't considered a disability. Chronic illness is on the borderline, too; diabetes requires extra effort and extra technology, but it too isn't quite considered a disability.

A whole society is determining what "disabled" means. Depending on how unusual a condition is, it might be put on either side of the line without real thought. Some things that cause less trouble than Asperger's are considered disabilities just because they aren't the norm--for example, having a prosthetic leg. (Granted, that causes more trouble than Asperger's at the beginning; but let's say you were born without the leg and grew up using a prosthesis)...

Let's face it: Society determines what "disability" is. And our society thinks socializing is awfully important--possibly the most important skill, if you don't count basic self-care, or even if you do count it. Many Aspies are considered disabled; and because disability is determined by society, that means that at the base of it they ARE disabled, just because of the mismatch between what society demands and what they can give; because they have to fill in the gap with extra effort, extra education, extra technology...

The Aspies in question--disabled because society says they are--usually do not think this is a tragedy or an impediment to doing what they want with their lives. But that is true of so many people who are disabled by any measure of the term--everything from Down syndrome to quadriplegia to blindness. People exist with those conditions and just about any other who consider themselves to be quite functional, not deprived or "worse off" than anybody else, not impaired in doing what they want to do.

Just because you do not think that having a certain condition is a problem, doesn't mean it isn't a disability--because what you think isn't in the definition, really. That's why the disability community is so important; our status is defined by those around us just as a racial minority's status; and what those around us think of us affects us quite a bit more, psychologically and socially, than the actual impairments we deal with.

From a study in Pediatrics... hmm, last February, I think, maybe March:

Children with severe cerebral palsy have better emotional well-being, a better self-concept, a happier attitude, less bullying, and more acceptance than children with mild cerebral palsy. In fact, if you didn't count physical well-being and independence as measures of quality of life, the quality of life by the measure they used (which was designed for typical kids) was pretty even across the board for the severely and mildly affected kids; in the subfacets above, it was higher... The only things that reliably made quality of life worse were chronic pain and parental stress.

I am really pretty sick of people assuming that quality of life gets worse if you are disabled, and gets even worse if you're more disabled. You can't make that assumption. Life is just life, and I am really tired of people saying either "But your life would be better if you weren't disabled", or "You can't imagine what it's like to be more disabled."

It's like being stuck in the middle--I'm not disabled enough to really know "what it's like"; but if I were more severely affected I wouldn't be able to talk to tell you I was just fine the way I am.

Duh: I don't know what it's like to be another autistic person. But that's true whether or not we're functioning at the same level. Nobody ever knows what it's like to be anybody else; we can only imagine. Problem is, some people assume they know.

So basically, using that reasoning they can just proclaim that if you can speak, then what you say doesn't matter; if you can't speak, then they'll just assume you're not happy and try to mess around with your brain. Never mind that 'speak' doesn't mean 'communicate'... but no, they don't listen to that either half the time. People ought to learn Autism As a Second Language in high school, really.

Considering that Aspies are indistinguishable from many independent autistic adults... considering that many of us also fit the criteria for Kanner's... I'd say it's yet another variation on the autism theme.

It's different from autism in that we tend to think more verbally and develop language on time or early. But the social, communication, cognitive, and behavioral differences from the norm are identical to autism, especially when you take language, self-help, and intelligence differences into account. And, of course, consider the fact that people on the spectrum are so very diverse... even at the same level of independence.

What's this with "Asperger's isn't the same as autism"? Why insist "Aspies aren't disabled"? Why distance ourselves from the idea of disability? Why is it so horrible to be considered disabled?



Definition of disability: Having one or more abilities significantly below the norm, in such a way as to cause a mismatch between your skills and what is expected of you in society.

Asperger's is right on the disability line. Some Aspies are disabled; some aren't. Saying something is a disability doesn't mean you're also saying it's bad or should be cured. I think even if we were all disabled--let's say Asperger's meant that we were forever unable to understand facial expressions and body language--it wouldn't be right to cure it, because it's part of our personalities. That's true of Kanner's and CDD autistics, too; it's part of their personalities to be autistic, and we've no right to deny them what we want for ourselves by saying, "They're disabled; we're not; so it's OK if a cure turns them all into Aspies". Isn't. Any more than it is to turn us into NTs.

Just because you're not disabled yourself doesn't mean that you can deny that others might be, or insist that it's OK to be Aspie but not OK to be low-functioning autistic. Trying to shake the "disability" label won't do you a bit of good, anyway; all it says is, "I don't want to be seen as disabled" and in turn "I think disability is bad". It's neutral; all it means is unusually low abilities in some area or other, which says nothing about happiness or usefulness or all the other areas without a low skill level. I know that an Aspie who's never been held back by Asperger's (does that even exist?) might not know what it's like; but face it: If you fight to be seen as not disabled, rather than fighting for acceptance of every autistic person, you're leaving a lot of people--including a lot of Aspies, and most Aspie children--behind.

You're different. Face it. Convincing people you're not disabled, even if it's true, won't change that. Disabled is a really vague term, anyway, and my definition on the basis of "ability significantly below the norm" is arbitrary and probably different from everybody else's definitions. Better to convince people that being different--whether disabled or not--isn't bad, but something to celebrate. Not only does it solve your problem of being different-but-not-disabled, but it solves the same problem for people who are disabled, not to mention people who are above the norm and thus different.

You can fight all you like not to be considered disabled, but that won't change the fact that if you're an Aspie, you're still off the norm. You'll always be different, and if you can convince them you're not disabled, they'll still know you're different. You could always play NT; and if you're good at it, they mightn't be able to tell; but do you really want to do that--act like somebody you're not--just so you're not considered to be different?

Prejudice comes from having a bad opinion--often an unthinking opinion--of someone who's different. Most targets of prejudice aren't disabled. But all prejudice, against all sorts of people, could be defeated if people accepted difference as neutral rather than negative.

I'll admit that you're in a bit of an awkward spot if you're autistic but not disabled. You don't fall into the stereotype; you don't need accommodations; but you're annoyed by people who call you "recovered" because you sure aren't NT, either. But what autistic person really falls into the stereotype, anyway?

The term "disabled" is vague to begin with. Many of us fall on either side of the line depending on how you define it.

But if you as a high-functioning Aspie try to divorce yourself from "disabled", it won't do any good: Unless you fake NT, you'll still be perceived as different. And it sure won't do any good for the rest of us.

Let's say Asperger's gets redefined as a personality trait, not as a kind of autism. What happens to the Aspie kids who need to be taught how not to melt down in the middle of phys ed? What happens to the Aspie adult whose boss won't give him a quiet, fluorescent-free workplace? There'll still be Aspie bully victims; remember that difference, not disability, is the target of prejudice. All those little things that the disabled part of the Aspie population needs won't be available anymore.

Wouldn't it be better to forget whether or not you're defined as "disabled", and work for acceptance of the entire autistic population instead? Why is it so important that you be considered "not disabled"? Prejudice on the basis of skill levels is pretty common in the Aspie community, and I think it's inexcusable. You've been a victim of prejudice; you know what it feels like. And yet, you level prejudice at others because their skill levels are lower than your own.

I would much rather that all autistic people be accepted. Disability should be immaterial to that. "Some autistic people aren't disabled" is an indicator of our diversity, in the same way that "Some autistic people use sign," and "Some autistic people have synesthesia", and "Some autistic people have ADHD".

Stop focusing on "I'm not disabled". Start focusing on, "I'm different, and that's not a bad thing."

After six months (which I've been told is an unusually short time), I've finally been approved for SSI. For you non-Americans, that's social security disability income--a welfare program for the disabled, about the equivalent of working at a part-time, minimum-wage job. It's just enough to allow me to pay for rent, utilities, and food for myself and my cats. If I need medical care or my landlord decides not to rent to me anymore, I'm in big trouble. I should count my blessings, though: Before I was approved, I had been staring homelessness in the face, and not liking the prospect. Actually, now that the crisis is over, I can admit I was literally considering suicide rather than homelessness--not a nice prospect for someone who would much rather live. 

Will wonders never cease? Today, I found myself at a bona fide, NT-style, nothing-to-do-but-socialize party--the sort where folks stand around holding cups of punch and plates of finger food, talking about grandchildren, cars, and who's going out with whom.

The party, specifically, was for those who work at the church where I used to work (I recently quit, but apparently with no hard feelings on their part), and the whole family was invited. So we had children of two years, grandparents, and every age in between.

[Here the author pauses to find out just what Newton the hamster is doing with the toilet paper tube he has recently been given, and discovers that he is tunneling under it, rather than going through it as a sensible beast would.]

When I first arrived, and was escorted onto the property by a barking dog named Trixie, I was introduced to a guy about my age, whom I will call James. He is the son of a coworker and, like me, doesn't have a driver's license. A mutual friend was to drive us both home.

James overheard me talking about the constellations we'd see on our way there, and he told me he liked the Solar System, as I did; and we conversed awkwardly about it for a while. However, neither he nor I managed to keep the conversation in the air properly. It was at this point that I thought to myself, "Hmm... this guy is definitely not NT." I saw him making eye contact readily, though; so I thought, "Hmm... this guy probably isn't an Aspie, either." But I did see him sitting a bit stiffly and playing with his fingers, a lot like I do.

In any case, I think perhaps both James and I were used to having typical people pretty much facilitate communication by "holding up the conversation" singlehandedly. Naturally, when you put us together, it was hard to get across the gap. That we were at a party, which was steadily getting louder and louder, and more confusing, and the voices harder and harder to tell apart, made it impossible; so I gave up on it, as I assumed he also did.

Thankfully, I found that I knew someone there--the brother of a former roommate, who had come to visit us during the summer my roommate and I shared a house in town. He's a home-schooled mechanical engineering student, and thinks very much as I do, though he's more social (I think he, like most engineers and home-schooled people, is on the Aspie side of NT). He explained to me his senior project, which is on hydrofoils; these are "wings" that take advantage of the fact that water is more dense than air to make a boat "fly" a few inches above the ocean. The problems that have to be solved involve turbulence and drag, and choppy seas that don't provide a smooth surface for the hydrofoil. I think perhaps having a boat that can easily convert from hydrofoil to normal might be useful.

I saw James getting more and more bored and probably uncomfortable as the time went on (anyway, I think he was playing with his fingers because he was bored and uncomfortable, because that's why I'd play with mine); people left him alone for the most part, and I noticed that when people spoke to him, the pitch of their voices went up. I associate this with what people do when they talk to someone they are not sure will understand them--children, animals, and disabled people. I know about that last one, because they talk to me that way sometimes--the people at my psychiatrist's office, especially, as well as anyone who is helping me--and I'm hardly disabled at all. I wanted to invite him over to talk with me and the engineer but I wasn't sure how to do it, so I never did.

An hour into the party, I was quite ready to go home. The typical "too loud, too much, too bright" feeling of overstimulation was getting pretty bad; so I went to the room where everyone's coats were, and read the book I'd brought for the purpose, because I knew I'd need it. It was only a half hour before James, also, had prevailed upon our mutual friend to take us back home.

On the way back James told us that he had studied food service at a career center, and that he works at the local college cafeteria. When he got out of the car, my friend and I talked a little more about him. She says he is a very good worker, and that he enjoys his work so much that he usually returns from the day smiling--imagine that! She said she was amazed that he gave her a hug today, because he doesn't usually initiate gestures like that himself, and it takes him a while to warm up to someone.

James and I have a lot in common. If I guess right, he has some sort of developmental delay (if there's no communication disability that masks true mental ability--you learn to put that disclaimer in quickly when you have studied autism). If my guess is right, we probably have very different IQs. But there are problems we have in common... People patronize us both; we both have trouble enduring parties, socializing with new people, and keeping up our ends of a conversation. We're both working jobs with about the same level of sophistication. And we both seem to have attracted the same person to our aid, for the same reason: We can't drive.

James does have one thing I envy, though: He is apparently very happy--more so, at least than I am. He's living with a mother he likes, has at least one friend, and is working at a job he enjoys. He has hobbies--like the Solar System--that are insteresting to him. IQ really isn't that important--sure, it's one of my strengths; but there are other things to life than being smart. It's taken failure despite intelligence for me to realize that you can be amazingly intelligent; but if you're not wise, if you're not happy, if you can't make a difference... then your high intelligence is really pretty worthless.

People on the autistic spectrum might really benefit from getting to know people with other disabilities. Being very different from the rest of humankind, whatever that difference comes from, is a unique experience that sets you apart from anyone else in the world who hasn't ever been distanced in that way. There are many different kinds of distance, though; people with mental illnesses have a hugely different experience from those who use wheelchairs, from those who have Down Syndrome; different from deaf people or immigrants or people with very high IQs or people with autism or people who are part of a non-dominant culture. But I think we could learn from each other, wherever the differences come from and however they're expressed.

When you're autistic, you're set apart from the rest of the world just by the way your brain is made. Autism means that you will always be at a distance from other people; and that you will have to build careful bridges to connect with others. And autism, in this particular world, means that other people often create distances that don't need to be there. People with all sorts of disabilities have had to learn how to bridge those gaps; and that's something they have in common with even the most accepted and loved autistic.

POP Report 6 Well, I'm posting this at 3:50 a.m., so you know my sleep schedule's shot. Getting up at 2 p.m. today probably didn't help any. Other than that, I seem to be doing fine. I accomplished some of the things on my day planner (though not others), and I set up my day planner in the morning, as I should. I didn't get the things I did in the right order, though, which caused confusion; and I nearly didn't renew some library books, which would've resulted in an $8 fine... Now I just need to figure out how to predict how long I'll need for any given activity, and use the planner to actually do things in the right order and at the right time. I was late for my ride to the party by about 10 minutes; but that didn't turn out to create too much difficulty. She said she didn't mind; I hope she meant it; she does know about me not quite reading people properly, so I think she probably would have told me if she were upset.