I pledge . . . To honour the ten principles of the Autistic Union; To do whatever is within my reach to help fellow autistics who are still finding themselves after identifying as autistics, and when struggling in a neurotypical world; To bring autistics together so that we can strengthen our community; To always speak … Continue reading #TheAutisticUnion Pledge | Luciane Hatadani
You speak and everything is in slow motion.
Yet nothing sounds clear .Your words sound like a robot through my ear .
You send instruction and await my behavioral composure in favor of what you’ve asked .
And I fail Everytime because words hit my ear and enter my mind the unscramble is a task .
No I’m not disobedient !
Yes I hear you ! My ears are not deaf ! Don’t scream ! No loud noises no loud noise I rock back and forth.
My thoughts are constantly rearranging as they flow from your mouth to my ears .
But in conversation you await an answer never knowing my mind is unscrambling the puzzle of your words to find it’s proper context .
It’s too late they are all irritated with my pace
Stop it i am not demonstrating incompetence .
I plead for your patience
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Over a decade ago, when I was working as a low-level administrator in a university student support unit, I remember a student who was a regular and frequent visitor to our service. He came in virtually every day. He spoke in a staccato, “mechanical”-sounding voice. He always wore the same choice of clothing: blue outdoor coat; dark tracksuit bottoms; white polo shirt. In all the time he was studying at that university, I never remember him wearing anything different.
I was, and am, nothing like him, right?
My mum used to work with a boy who ate Chicken McNuggets every day for lunch. Always the same number of pieces, heated to the same exact temperature. The local McDonald’s staff knew him well, and understood what he wanted, and needed.
I was, and am, nothing like him, right?
Whatever I watched, heard, or read about autism, I couldn’t relate to. I…
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Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I was going to work on some projects today. I had even brought my laptop and thumb drive. I made sure I had all my plug-in chargers with me. I was committed, focused, determined.
But thoughts have their way of elbowing in, butting in line and shoving everything else aside.
Today, just now, my thought was: I need to write this. I need to get it out there and out of the way. I need to share it for the people who might need to read it. My apologies to those who wish to be done with this issue already. But we all know that the truth is, it has never really gone away. It shouldn’t go away until it Goes Away, if you know what I mean. So, maybe it’s OK that today, I tell my fourth and final “Me Too” story.
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In a post about a month ago, I mentioned in passing that I was about to try out a new martial arts class that was starting up in my town. I’ve now been training there a month, and really enjoying myself. 🙂
It’s still a small class, split between some teenaged beginners and another woman returning to training after earning her black belt over ten years ago. (We have a bunch of other things in common, too, so we really clicked.) She and I have been working on more advanced forms and techniques, which has been fun and engaging; I’ve already relearned two old forms I used to know, and last week we learned one that was brand new to both of us. That form got me thinking about the most valuable aspect of training for me.
It’s a very Tiger type of form, so the energy is aggressive…
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It’s Saturday evening. I got about 2 1/2 hours of sleep this afternoon, topping off my 24 hour total of about 9 1/4 hours. I’ve needed to sleep like this. It’s been a rough bunch of weeks. Or rather, months.
After months of stress, including some really distressing changes to routine, I have finally found some balance. I’m finally back at a place where I can actually think complex thoughts. For some, not being able to string together highly complex thoughts might not be that big of a deal. For me, it’s brutal. It’s as bad as not being able to get up and move freely around the space, my back and legs cramping with intense pain. I’ve been there many times, physically, and it happens mentally as well.
Not that anybody notices. My low level functionality is more than adequate for the people around me every day. But it’s…
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I’m coming ’round to my desired routines again, getting back to some narrow interests that have drawn me in and held my keen interest for years at a time. I’m finding myself able to think again, after a months-long hiatus of all-consuming DO-DO-DO–GO-GO-GO. I’ve been so busy “upping my output” that I’d lost touch with the simple act of taking in.
I had all but forgotten about some of those vital interests — the books I’d bought to read (devour, really) and ingest and think on, long and deeply, got stashed in my office and I haven’t spent much time there at all for months… the papers I’d downloaded to take in and consider also ended up in piles in my office… the theories and philosophies that have lit up my life so brightly for so many years, faded into the background of my day-to-day rush to…
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