Pinball Confusion

Autism has many faces. It's one of the most unique "conditions" out there. It is so diverse, mysterious, and quite possibly one of the most fascinating things a person can have. AND...it can affect anyone in many different ways.

It's been a weird journey being the "in between" of Autism...

Anytime I have mentioned that I have Autism to someone, most people generally have the same, glazed look on their face. I think I have mastered the art of mind reading, because as soon as it comes out of my mouth, people's brains start blowing fuses and the thing that was once their brain turns into a pinball machine. They are confused as to why the ball they are playing with in their game doesn't match up with the slots that they are aiming for. And, on top of that, a bagillion lights are going off making it unclear as to what game it is they are even playing anymore. No bonus rounds for them.

In other words...YOU? Really?

I wonder what people expect sometimes when someone tells them they are Autistic. Should I start rolling on the floor, flapping my arms, and foaming at the mouth? Autism doesn't equal freak show. With the look in their eyes, it's like they have opened a can of soda expecting coke and they get pepsi instead and they experience this weird shock. People's image of Autism is of the extremely low functioning, it seems like. If you do meet someone low functioning, they aren't representing the entirety of Autism. Even though there are children and adults on the very low functioning level, it shouldn't be the only thing people look for when encountering an Autistic person.

I don't have to be low functioning in order to be Autistic. I also don't have to have Asperger's syndrome. This also comes as a shock to people when I tell them I'm not Aspi. People's minds, if they know any amount of information on Autism, think someone either has to be, like I said, on the extreme level of low functioning or just have Asperger's. Just so everyone knows, I don't have the right qualifications to have the Asperger's diagnosis. Yet, everyone I talk to about my Autism automatically assumes this is what I have.

Stereotypes are all kinds of fun, aren't they?

This game of pinball I keep having to play with people just gets more and more exciting.

Stereotype pinball...interesting concept.

I'll never forget the one person, who I least suspected to, flat out tell me I wasn't Autistic or anywhere near the spectrum...

I had a therapist for many years of my life, I believe from the age of 10 to around the age of 17 or 18. I have technically been in therapy since the age of 2 (yes, 2...) but the therapist I am going to talk about was the one I had for the longest period of time. I grew to love her. At first, I hated her. A lot. I even told her that a couple of times. I hated her clothes, her hair, pretty much anything I could pick at her for, I hated. I was a little brat at times back then...
At the age of 10 was when I was ready to ditch the whole special education system, so it was then when I thought I didn't need therapy anymore, either. Actually, the big reason I wanted to leave special Ed was because of the embarrassing, large lady with a leg limp and a loud, Jewish mother voice who would come pull me out of my normal class. As if people didn't think I was weird enough, this lady would come bursting through the door and pretty much yelled for me to come follow her...the stares of my peers and snickering was enough for me to want to jump out of the window and go bury my head in the sand box. There wasn't a lot that really mortified me back then after a certain period of time and I was a little de-sensitized to bullying, but this lady managed to accomplish making my existence as an elementary student more of a nightmare than it already was.

WOW, getting a little side-tracked there...I hate having so much to talk about :-)

So, back to my therapist. Going to therapy became like going to see the large, Jewish limpy lady, only no one knew I saw my therapist except my family. It was the concept of it all...having to go see someone and further my feelings of handicap. My therapist was actually a really nice lady. When I was younger, however, I was done feeling like a freak...to me, going to therapy was seeing myself as the child who rolls around on the floor, flapping her arms and foaming at the mouth. I was done feeling like that because it's how I felt every time I got made fun of at school. My therapist helped me through a lot of those feelings, though...after while, I discovered that I was at my best when I was at therapy, in the sense that I was able to be completely myself without worrying how any one else would look at me. It became a place of weekly sanctuary...I personally think everyone would be a lot happier in this world if they went to therapy.

One day, in therapy (I was around the age of 16), we got to talking about my Autism, and I shared with her my feelings of resentment about being Autistic when I was younger, and how I look back at how much I have changed over the years. She looked at me, puzzled.

Remember that pinball machine I mentioned earlier? Hers was going off the charts. And hers looked like the Simpson's pinball, where every time you miss the ball you hear a loud "DOH!" from Homer.

She told me I wasn't Autistic. 

Proffesional with a Master's degree in Psychology say WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA??

That was the first time in my life that someone, an adult, who had known me for a very long time, told me I wasn't Autistic. She explained that, on my records, I probably had the right diagnosis as a young child, but that in the time that I saw her from the age of 10, she never would have given me that diagnosis. Stunned, I tried explaining all of my sensory integration stuff and how when I get tired you can see it, and she wasn't having any of it. She told me that even with all of that, she wouldn't label me as Autistic. She told me nowadays I just had dysthymia, which is a long-term, chronic depression. I got that, at the time, I was pretty depressed. But, not having Autism?

I got that I was high functioning after I developed throughout my childhood. I wasn't super low functioning, but didn't meet the requirements for Asperger's. It's not like I had been lying to myself...or that adults at school or my parents had lied to me. I felt very confused after she had said that to me. I can understand, after seeing me one day a week, for an hour each time, how you might not see the "Autistic" parts of myself.  Even though I had some pent up resentment from the label from when I was younger, I didn't know how could just "be me" without the label always on the back of my mind. It's like she had taken everything I was ever told, drenched it in gasoline and set fire to it. I had resentment about Autism because of the bullying, but it didn't mean that I hadn't clicked with many of the traits that come with it, or that there were parts of Autism that I wasn't actually kind of proud to have...

Over the years, since that therapy session. I've realized some things about myself. I discovered, thanks to my neurologist, that I am in the high functioning category of Autism. I also discovered the idea of a spectrum...that things aren't 2 sided in the world of Autism. I fall where I fall on it, and I don't need approval to be where I fall. I also figured out, with a little soul searching, that labels are over-rated. I know myself...really well. I see all the traits about myself laid out on a table, and even though I consider myself to be Autistic, it doesn't define me. No one's diagnosis should ever define them.

With all the pinball machines I have seen in my life, I don't really let it negatively affect me anymore. I see it as an opportunity for social change...Autism awareness goes past trying to find a cure or whatever. It's about seeing all it has to offer to our world. I might not fit some Autism stereotype, but I embrace the impact it has had on my life without letting it consume all of who I am. Just the other day, I was out with my best friend and his new girl friend, and I was talking about something and just casually brought up having Autism and kept going on with my story. I could see the pinball machine going off in her mind, but I didn't really care. If she really wanted to know more about it, she would have asked, I didn't need to fully explain my diagnosis or validate it for her. It was made clear that it was a part of me without it consuming the conversation. I could carry on and have a good time and just being me.

Pinball machines are all uniquely made, when you think about it...

Not one game is the same. Every game will have different challenges and a different end result. 

You can't always win. Some people are just going to be ignorant. I'm cool with that.

 I'll keep playing anyway.

<3 Maddie