Identity Issues of Autism

Well, I'm back, after finally getting my computer to let me into here. Not sure why or how it exactly locked me out of my own blog, but I know that it did and was annoying.

Anyway, I've been doing some general thinking/research on the identity. Basically, outside having at one time qualified for a rather strange set of guidelines that attempted to represent an underlying condition (actually, a disease), what is it that makes me autistic? What, really, is that underlying condition?

Well, if you were hoping for a clear answer right now, it's not coming. Give me a little to work on that. But I thought that maybe someone might find something interesting in what I had kind of angled for right now, anyway.

The first thing, I think, is that it wasn't truly defined within skill sets. I have had a very similar mentality, at some level, pre and post verbalization. In fact, while I am not as clearly frustrated as I was without words for many reasons, that wasn't a clear statement when I was, say, seven, where, when put out of my length, I would act the same as if I wasn't. Indeed, all language did, despite the certain opinions of others, was put another frame with which to address the world, and in terms of transformations of views, it's actually not at the top of my list (maybe number three).

So with that out, I looked at something more regarding personality. Yet, I can think of ways in which that isn't unifying of autistics, in various ways. We still, just like everyone else, have different temperaments, different values, different priorities. So, just to try to label out something that specific seemed incorrect, as well.

And, of course, it'd be hard to say there was a specific difference in perception that would suggest such a thing, though, again, there is frequently some difference in perception. That's hardly a surprise; such things can be trained and developed, and if you read autistic autobiography there will be once again similarities but nothing totally unifying.

And, for good measure, it's not a leaky gut. Not all autistics are similar that way. And, again, it's nothing specific biomedically, at least within what I've seen. I doubt, really, that there's anything uniting physically.

So I've been tossing variables left and right. But, what, really, did unify autistics? Of course, what's frustrating is when the language is a little... missing. So this is left a little vague more because I'm at a loss for language, rather than confused myself.

But at some level I noted that, at some level, autistics have a specific social remove, and upon thinking about that even a more general remove. It wasn't that they couldn't have certain skills, or that all were similarly disposed for all the same things, though there are general tendencies I'd say that were suggestive of that remove. But it was that remove existed, that there was a level of social separation of larger understood qualities, a step away from some of the more general thought processes to a more individual and self-sustained and enclosed line of thinking, with benefits and conflicts all the same. It should be contrasted from being different socially (that's eccentricity), but a remove more specifically of the thought processes into a system less generally shaped in regard to social forces. Eccentricities are still shaped by certain forces like that which would be considered "normal" (or perhaps in reaction to them), but the autistic mind is less so.

A few important implications here of philosophy. One is that this means as much that autistics are both more similar and more prone to be different, because the assumptions are different. If two autistics latch onto the specific exterior effect that is polar opposite (which, because there are less stimuli, have a more potent effect. That would be my explanation for the autistic tendency for intense focus), they might be considered more different to each other than to the "normal". But, also, some conditions seem to happen with that remove that would be expected (fewer innate social skills), simply for the nature of the remove. Again, no absolutes.

The second is that it then becomes important to separate autism from the entailed conditions that can be par for the course. For example, while a speech delay is possible (and likely) because of that remove, it should not be equated to that move. I think that sometimes this is why language that allows the condition to modify the person ("I am autistic" versus "I am a person with autism") is upsetting to some, because they take it to equate the person with the negligent skill or condition ("I am a speech delay"). But this is not really the case so much, despite the DSM-IV's opinion, and it is important to recognize it to be so.

I'm under no illusions that I'm talking about different conditions at some level. But note I am not really trying to equate autism to something that is specific personality wise or the like, but to a broader universal into which some particulars can be placed coming from different reasons. Really, those things are much more for geneticists and biochemists than for a philosophy student of sorts.

This should not be the last time I will go back to autism identity like this; it's an issue I've been looking at for some time, and I really didn't put much here at all. But I think that they're interesting questions, and even if I bore you to tears after sometime (if you aren't already), I'll be having fun doing it.

Eh, hope it doesn't come to that, though.

Alien, And Having Fun, At College

I was talking to someone at school recently about college in general. He was telling me about his individual challenges and thoughts coming here, and how different it was, in some length. Of course, I remembered, in all of that, remembering my own thoughts like those. He didn't have a diagnosis, but it still reminded me of much of what I experienced with myself.

It's really daunting, making that jump. A very different two years ago, I was fairly convinced I wasn't able to go to college, on the basis of being able to care for myself and keep myself together. In fact, quite convinced would be better, which really got to my college-educated parents, since I seemed to be intellectually doing well at this point (the verdicts out on how I was emotionally doing). Of course, I got a good confidence booster along the way and somehow ended up (go figure) in college two years early, but that's complicated.

Going through it, I've found that, indeed, there are differences, and that I haven't very actively socialized on my own prerogative like others, but I guess I've grown to be comfortable in my work, and have a lot of excitement for it (after a struggle (which I finally succeeded in getting underhandedly), I have a philosophy tutorial I'm excited in; identity as it relates to autism. I'm enjoying it a lot). Hey, it fits in well enough within academia, so why not? I guess I could appreciate more socialization, and I do like engaging in ideas so much (something I will thank ABA and some good classes I've had for), but it just doesn't take top priority (I get questions a lot, of course, like "But aren't you lonely?" But so long as I get to participate in some interesting discourse somewhere, I just don't have a longing for people).

And, yes, there is that present understanding that I am different. But it brings none of the negative connotations (in fact, I can't imagine the contrary). When normal is alien, and different is great, I can know I still exist comfortably, here or anywhere.

Cliff

The Autistic Art of Bearing Stimuli Or, In the Exceptional Circumstance, Thinking Politics to Violins

It's been a well acknowledged fact of mine that, as an autistic, I have to deal with a number of odd circumstances, and there are details that I have to deal with that others don't. Perhaps one of the most obvious is sound, and (in sometimes not obvious ways) there can be some real annoyances that come from that. Acoustics in classrooms tend to be mixed, and there's no way of knowing what you get, which may lead to some interesting experiences.

I have inherited a particular difficulty this time around. The room, and far worse the hallway to which it is attached, brings in all kinds of sound. It was interesting, because it's not usual where I have to deal with so many different kinds of sound (to be distinguished from different sounds).

There was, as so extremely typical, chatter from other classrooms. The number of conversations I had to "let go", in a sense, was more than usual, yet not nearly as many as I've dealt with. Each one, though, is distinct, which I'm told is not usually the case (to be specific, the individual sounds are distinct. I don't have to string them together into words if I don't specifically know where they're coming from). It's constant, and it's a matter of consistently dealing with the "traffic", if you will.

And then there was the walkie-talkie. Now, everyone could hear this, and so it's not right to call with a walkie-talkie as much as a walkie-talkie tenfold. This is normal, an interruption, rather than something consistent, something you have to distinctly distance your mind from after it has come (usually, there's no way to "let it go" quite the way you might a syllable). These are frequent.

Those two types are what usually are the plague, a little amplified this time around, and I could have used most classes to pick out both. But I had a new, interesting challenge this time around, that really was perhaps the first of its kind, in relation to a setting in which I was expected to think actively.

Somewhere ahead of where I was, a music class was in session. Now, that's not exceptional, but the music carried such that I could hear all of it, no problem. I can do that with an iPod, if I focus, but this was really different, in that it was in plain view as if I was right outside the door. No one else could distinctly hear it, but I could.

The way I know that was by reaction. The music was sad, really sad (violins I noted well), and though I might not have been in tears, I was coming pretty close (who said autistics weren't emotional again? I'm a total wuss for that stuff). An awkward moment amongst awkward moments, trying not to cry about music no one else could hear, while trying to simultaneously engage in a political discussion. I hope no one thought I was getting emotional over the differences in organizational structure of the Democratic and Republican parties.

I note that, while this was a very odd moment, it was not exceptional as the only odd moment. That's sometimes what sensory things are, often, the expected, the unexpected, and the flat weird. I'll admit that the "flat weird" stuff is almost worth the expected and the unexpected. People can be... interesting, and you get a fun sense of that. I remember, for example, about a debate I heard over lunch over whether or not to shave a poodle (in the end, they decided against the fact). You also, for better or worse, hear some interesting people, with interesting opinions, and quite the opposite. And you realize how much you can be as funny and strange, in often enjoyable ways, as those you're listening to.

Hey, it makes up for trying to talk politics over violins.