Intellectual Regulation and #Aspergers

Dysregulation

I think in complex epiphanies. I never have a single thought, except “I am insufferably bored!” Thoughts stay with me, whispering, connecting, birthing ideas faster than I can speak or write.

Life is a procession of instantaneous and profound moments. Some would consider my experience spiritual.  I know it is neurological.

I have little to show for my excessive mental energy. Too many ideas crowd me.  Sprawling narratives stream from my fingers. The ideas dart about so wildly  they hold meaning only to me.  Weeks pass before I whittle a simple blog post to lucidity. The world outside my skull is so slow it crawls.

Excruciating boredom opposes intellectual excitement.  The sensation is physical. Hold your breath until it hurts. The burning for air in your lungs is how boredom feels deep in my muscles and joints. Intellectual nothingness is drowning.  Movement is a gasp of air, but until my mind can latch on to the right thought, I flail.

I exist either dazzled by thoughts or restless with fidgety, aching boredom.

I am intellectually dysregulated.

Vroom

As a child, my mother smoothed my way. She fed my brain continuously or pressed me into captivating activities. She scheduled my time.

The hardest part of my life was young adulthood. I chose the wrong career path. I mistook intellectual ability for intellectual motivation.   Electromagnetics and calculus were easy, but boring. Despite natural talent, I failed.  I did not possess the maturity, the wisdom to find a good path for myself.

Only in the past few years did I become self-aware. Raising an autistic child placed a platter of insight before me. He is me revised. Perhaps most parents take this journey; a complete digestion of their own lives, absorbed and reflected upon to nourish the next generation.

My son must learn that uncommon intellect comes with a caveat—the rest of his abilities will lag.  One day he will celebrate not the marvel of his genius, but the other skills he mastered to balance it.

Summer Break Projects with #Aspergers and #Tourettes

Summer Break

Summer break lurks. I am anxious in advance.

The unstructured days of summer challenge my son and me. We crave stimulation, yet our uneven executive skills leave us either aimless and bored or agitated and disturbed. Without advanced and detailed planning, summer will be miserable.

Over past school breaks and summers, I learned how to make time pass more agreeably.  I hope what brings us, a mother and child on the autism spectrum, brings you a full and happy summer.

stamps

Fun is Subjective

The key to a successful project is organization. No, I don’t mean being organized ahead of time (though it helps). The key is to let your little one organize! Do you remember when your child loved lining up toys? This is the exact same thing.  Fun is subjective. Smeary blobs of paint are yucky. Tidy rows of crayons are delightful.  Art can be chaotic but giving your child control over their supplies not only reduces anxiety, it is a fun activity itself.

Above, my son arranged his ink pads in a pleasing fashion. He similarly ordered his rubber stamps and ran off to get the label maker to identify the stations where the ink, stamps, and paper will be. His process took 45 minutes. On this day he only stamped for five minutes, but on others we spend hours stamping.

colors

Accommodate for Needs

Tyoma and I love colors and patterns. Potholder making is a favorite activity, but it has pitfalls. Looms require both a fleetness of fingers and a tedium tolerance that eludes most six-year-old boys. We tackle the loom together. To nix anxiety, we list Tyoma Jobs and Mama Jobs.

Clarifying who does what and when visually is essential to all our activities. T sorts the colors into piles, selects a pattern, hands me loops, and straightens each row I weave. I set up the loom and do the actual weaving.

This is an excellent activity for a young touretter. I wove while he hopped, chirped, and bounded. My hyperactive son shared in the process of making something and got the movement his body craves.

Anticipate and Redirect

Tie Dyed TWhen I told my mom that Tyoma and I made tie-dyed shirts, she gasped. When I told her we did it at the kitchen table instead of outdoors, she gasped even louder.  We used a delightful kit with dye squeeze bottles instead of buckets. Not only was the tie-dye easy, it was tidy!

Imaginative and impulsive brains may make art dazzling, but eight ounces of concentrated dye in a squeeze bottle is a terrible temptation.  As I shook up the pink dye, our kitty strolled by. I was seized by an almost irresistible urge to squirt her with dye. I resisted and put kitty away, covering visible carpet and furniture with blankets and plastic.

Anticipating potential catastrophes is easy because I think like my son. If you are not pre-wired with autism, imagine the biggest, most indelible mess and plan accordingly. Better yet, know what to do at the cusp of disaster: redirect.

Midway through our second shirt, Tyoma confessed to a compulsion to “make a fountain with the green dye.” I nodded, asked for the dye, and suggested he find a squishy ball. We set the ball on the table for “compulsive squishing.”

Sensory options like squeeze toys or something unexpected (such as making a green fountain in the sink) are great redirectors. Composure is essential as well. Emotion stokes compulsion fires and ignites meltdowns. Say, my son flipped over a jar of apple cider on the counter, I would serenely ask for towels and we clean up like it’s no big deal. Parental irritation and potential meltdown avoided.  It’s neurology, not personal!

Making Applesauce

Final Words

My son’s growing mind needs stimulation—but not too much!  Every successful activity is a discrete dose of the right stimulation at the right time. I enjoy our special projects but they exhaust me. I cut myself liberal slack–especially since I am on the autism spectrum. I don’t always have the abundant mental reserves to introduce new activities, so we tackle new projects once a week.

Whether or not you are on the spectrum, your child will still need structure, accommodations and something enjoyable in every project. I wish you luck as you embark on your summer vacation and would love to hear what activities are successful (and why!) in your household.

 

 

Entertaining Others With Your Aspie Gifts
Should I Indulge My Asperger Child?
Embrace Neurodiversity!
Excitability, Asperger’s and Tadpoles

A Quiet Week Celebrates 1000 Ausome Things

1000 Ausome Things Title
Our progress as parents arises from positivity. We use words like “differences” and “strengths.” We look for coping skills and strategies. We tone it down, tune it up, and take life 15 minutes at a time. This makes our family strong.

But we are greedy.

We want to change the world.

So we join the flourishing tribes of allies, autists, and kin striving to eradicate outdated myths.

I would like to share autism positivity from three perspectives of the autism spectrum:

  • As the mother of an autistic child.
  • As the daughter of a father with Asperger’s syndrome.
  • As an autistic adult.

Here are some delightful slices of my life:
 
1000 Ausome Things 1

Tyoma

At six years old, Tyoma is a remarkable child. Most are struck by his intellect and vocabulary. Tyoma loves projects.  He embraces each one with unrelenting enthusiasm and meticulous design.  You can find him building LED displays or creating fonts on Fontstruct.  A language lover, Tyoma has taught himself Japanese hiragana and he can even read you  highlights from your Toyota manual. He is quirky in a charming, innocent fashion; endearing himself with unusual observations and out-of-the-box thinking.
 
1000 Ausome Things 2

Dad

Dad has always been a collector and an adventurer. Before marrying my Mom in the 60s, he split his time between working on his Ph.D.  (mathematics!) and collecting minerals. He even took a job in the Alaskan goldmines so he could add a few specific specimens to his treasury. After marrying mom, Dad became a collector of photographs. Their website hosts images from their trips to the Great Barrier Reef, Galapagos Islands, Caribbean, Gulf of Mexico and many other destinations.
 
1000 Ausome Things 3

Me

I blush to pat myself on the back, so I asked my husband to name my most positive characteristic.  Without hesitation, said “empathy.” I laughed. Empathy is a characteristic not often associated with autism.  He is correct, however. Autism boosts my empathy. Emotional regulation issues allow me to experience emotions intensely—I am a sensitive person. Processing the emotional states of others is hard work for me. Body language, facial expressions, and cues other than spoken words are continuously monitored.  This combination of effort and sensitivity opens my heart. I care how people feel and I long to nurture, soothe, and support.

Overwhelmed: Find Purpose in the Small Things

Overwhelmed

My blogging has heaved to an abrupt stop. I write unsatisfactory, incomplete posts, unable to translate my meaning into lucid words.

So, I dive into random art projects. Modest and primitive, each tiny task focuses my mind and relieves anxiety.

I will obsess over verbal perfection and hesitate to publish an unscrutinized sentence, yet I can slap gesso on a paper bag. Or doodle in ink.  I can create some small thing. It may be imperfect, unbalanced, or unsettling–but it is me.

When you feel your worst, create. Grab a marker and some stickers. Rip open envelopes and decorate them. Stamp butterflies on an old map. Bake. Sew. Organize. Do something, anything. You will be released. Even an overwhelming, disappointing day can be a success.

I share my humble fare because the process removes me from anxious dark places. Find your small things and share openly.

Asperger's and Boredom

Waiting for Sandy to pass.


 
Artichoke head

Yay! I love making anatomy collages!


 
Akahisia

I often feel restless and compelled to move.


 
Butterfly Lungs

The day I realized I needed energy to feel boredom.
Self pity seems to be effortless, however…


 
Vessels and Vines

A kidney illustration reminded me of vines and flowers.

Histoplasmosis and a Senior Aspie

Eye Doctor

My father is a man’s man. In the 1960’s he donned leather gloves to shovel ensilage for my grandparent’s dairy.  A weightlifter and physical culture enthusiast, Dad out-shoveled both my mom’s brothers. He even kept pace with the seasoned farmhands.

Dad’s zest and hard work earned him a case of pulmonary histoplasmosis.  Histoplasmosis is the sort of illness you’d see featured on an episode of House, M.D. or a sensational TLC documentary.  Caused by the fungus Histoplasma capsulatum, histoplasmosis usually attacks the lungs causing tuberculosis-like lesions.

Fifty years after the infection, Dad’s lungs still show tell-tale scarring. At the time, he experienced the illness as “a bad flu.” He recovered in a few weeks and resumed his job of impressing my mom.

In the mid-seventies, strange ocular symptoms plagued Dad. Persistent iritis, blurriness and blind spots interfered with his photography. He saw several specialists until he happened upon Dr. Holstein. Looking over Dad’s lab work, Dr. Holstein said, “Hmmmm. Looks like you’ve ruled about everything out.  Except ocular histoplasmosis. That’s a doozey.”

Histoplasmosis is a sneaky illness. It’s recurrent and can return to infect other parts of your body.  Ocular histoplasmosis inflames the eye’s blood vessels, often causing permanent vision problems and blindness.

Dr. Holstein treated Dad’s symptoms for several months.  As the weeks passed, Dad and Dr. Holstein forged a friendship of sorts. The two of them loved sailing ships and bonded over their shared admiration. Soon, Dad’s appointments were scheduled near lunch and closing time so they could gab about sailing at length.

I imagine Dad and Dr. Holstein engaged in a convivial conversation, describing sailing rigs with enthusiasm and volume. Mom and Mrs. Holstein even became telephone-friendly, although our families never socialized.

Dad improved and relapsed over the next ten years until his ocular symptoms vanished entirely.

Until a two months ago.

This sent Dad to a new ophthalmologist—Dr. Holstein retired. Dad gave his medical history to Dr. Lazarus who piped up about Dr. Holstein.

Dr. Holstein! Oh yes. He’s a strange bird. Never came to any of our parties. We must‘ve invited him to a dozen parties with the other eye doctors in town. Once I asked him, “Why don’t you visit with us? We’re your colleagues!”  Do you know what he said? “I don’t come because I have nothing in common with any of you and I am not interested in socializing.”  Huh! Strange, strange fellow. He’s 92 and he’s building a sailboat in his front yard.

Dr. Lazarus’s blunt assessment of his colleague aggravated Dad.  Our family expects respectful behavior, especially amongst professionals. Furthermore, Dad wondered, “What is wrong with honesty and hope?” Dr.  Holstein deserves applause, not disdain.

Dr. Lazarus even dismissed Dr. Holstein’s diagnosis. Dad had “allergies,” according to him.

Weeks have passed. Dad’s “allergies” lingered. Additional testing revealed that ocular histoplasmosis is indeed visiting my father again.

Carry on, Senior Aspies

Dad’s world is blurrier and brighter.  He and mom have enjoyed revisiting their affection for Dr. Holstein. The two of them plan to drive by his house to examine Dr. Holstein’s boat.

Carry on, Senior Aspies. Carry, on.

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