Life, Autism, Disability, and More

Tag Archives: quiet hands

simon on a couch

This has nothing to do with this blog. We just went and sat on furniture because he likes to, and I took this picture and liked it.

In under a month, Simon turns 15.

Horrifying, isn’t it?

He will be firmly in teenage-hood, and, come the fall, he’ll be in high school.

I meant terrifying, not horrifying.

But that’s the scary news. Now for the awesome news:

Simon explained why he was stimming and how he was feeling.

For those who don’t know what stimming is, or why you should not stop a person from doing it, here’s a quick explanation. Stimming (self-stimulating behavior) is what a number of people on the spectrum do. It’s what a lot of people might call “hand flapping,“ or it can be any number of other behaviors that help the person to calm themselves or express themselves. You shouldn’t stop it because, well, it’s a person calming themselves or expressing themselves. (Go read this now. And be prepared to cry.)

Back to the story…

We went out to Logan’s Steakhouse. They serve grilled cheese, a veggie plate, and steaks, so they meet all our requirements for going out. They even have free peanuts.

We were waiting for our meals to come out, and Simon was stimming. He was sitting in the corner of the booth, flapping his hands, and moving his head. And smiling.

“Why are you doing that?” I asked him, not actually expecting an answer, but asking because I always try anyway.

“I’m happy,” he said.

Wait. What? He said he was happy?

“Why are you happy?” I asked, pushing my luck.

He didn’t say anything for a minute. Just kept flapping and smiling.

“I like Logan’s,” he said.

Wow.

First off, I can know with some degree of certainty that he does actually know why he stims, and he’s doing it on purpose. Second, I know that he really does like going out to eat there. I was pretty sure of that second thing already since he asks to go whenever we go buy our comics – I have no idea why he has put that connection there, but he has, and it’s awful hard to say no when you’re tired and don’t feel like cooking.

So, the next time you think about telling a person who stims to stop it or to have “quiet hands,” shut up instead.

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simon with binocularsLet me start by saying that I love John Scalzi. Really. I do. I swear. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have gone to his signing/reading up in Houston when “Lock In” came out. I was totally enthralled by his reading of the part of the “book” that wound up not being in the book.

But.

Then I read “Lock In.” Well, I tried to read it, anyway.

I stopped about 100 pages in. Because, regardless of his intent, what I got from it was autism and Asperger’s.

The threep suit that the main character (male or female – you take your pick, but I’m using “he” for short-hand in this blog posting) wore made him seem like he had Asperger’s.

The sensory stuff that he dealt with, the super-memory, being locked in his own head…like kids with autism who can’t communicate.

I was okay with it, and I kept reading because I kept thinking maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe I was the one who just put autism into everything because I think about it so often.

Then it was time for the scene at the dinner table of the fund-raiser of the main character’s father. And there was an argument because many people at the table felt that the locked in people should try to be more “human” (even in their threeps), while others argued that it was the individual’s right to choose how they interacted with the world.

And I had to stop.

There is such an argument right now about how much people should accept. Should people on the spectrum be forced to be “normal”? So many people force their children to go through ABA and learn to behave like all the neurotypical people. No stimming (which, as you can read about, is often extremely detrimental to stop for many people on the spectrum).

I also remember, from oh so many years ago, an article that I believe was in the New York Times about a woman who was happy with her son, she kept saying that in the piece, but then when he was 8, he wanted to be Mickey Mouse for Halloween. And, clearly, that was unacceptable, and so she had to “fix” him to get him to be more like his peers. I wanted to slap her for forcing him into a role he didn’t want to be in. Why should he change – just to make her happy? To make society happy? The kid was happy. What difference did it make if he loved Mickey? There are plenty of adults who do, too!

It goes further than that, of course. I could write about this for pages and pages.

But I’ll just stop with this: imagine being truly locked in. Imagine not being able to communicate your wants and needs. And imagine that, like in the book, the government cut funding to things that would help you to communicate.

And now you know why I couldn’t keep reading. The reality is there. The thought of the insurance not covering things that might help Simon is a reality I don’t want to consider, even though I know that’s probably where the world is going.

But rather than end with that achingly painful thought, let’s think about something else. What if we looked at the behaviors of autism differently? What if we considered the good and the bad, and we helped those on the spectrum be happy instead of making us happy?