A Perspective on Autism: Seen from the Opposite Side of the Mirror—a Reflection

Preface

I am a late in life adult diagnosed with autism—or more specifically, Asperger’s Syndrome. I’ve had other psychiatric diagnoses but the autism one at first I thought was yet another diagnosis but then upon learning more about autism realized this was true—I’m an aspie, or as I often use the term kindred for others that are not neurotypical (“NT”) or atypical. I won’t expatiate the symptoms, or what autism is—there are plenty of books and videos explaining autism, but I will describe my experiences, some of them dear reader, taboo areas. Caveat emptor!

1. Introduction

I have a close friend whose young early teenage son is autistic. My friend asked me about my autism, how I experience and process the world, because as it was put, I can describe what I’m experiencing or have experienced, his son cannot so readily. But now I realize when my friend said my discussion about being autistic and what it is like helped as a parent, I could write about it to share this with others who are autistic, aspie, or simply want to know as a parent, sibling, or friend of someone who is autistic.

I will describe my experiences and give specific examples from my perspective of being autistic. The experiences are in sensory, the senses, processing the world and interaction with others. But an important caution and caveat I give to the reader:

My experiences are not exclusive of everyone who is autistic, nor are the inclusive. Every autistic person is

unique, but I have the phenomenon of behavior, thinking, and experiencing that is autistic. In short, my own experiences are my own. Autism is not a disease or infection with specific symptoms everyone labeled autistic will experience. Some autistic symptoms and behaviors I do not have, and others I do have more or less.

2. Sensory

I frequently think that my senses are like the character Roderick Usher from Poe’s “The Fall of the House of Usher” that is, over-developed. From the story:

“He [Roderick] suffered much from a morbid acuteness of the senses; the most insipid food was alone endurable; he could wear only garments of certain texture; the odours of all flowers were oppressive; his eyes were tortured by even a faint light; and there were but peculiar sounds, and these from stringed instruments, which did not inspire him with horror.”

I can relate to this greatly...and I think Poe is describing someone with autism, but in a different era in history of the 19th century.

Taste.

I frequently and often “drown” my food in condiments and seasonings—salad dressing, ketchup, steak sauce, Parmesan cheese, pepper. I’ve done so since I can remember, mostly as a teenager is when I really can remember I started. Reactions to this vary, one friend’s mother was offended and lectured me about how she raised her children when I did not eat her prime rib before drowning it in steak sauce—and she knows and said she understood that I’m autistic—not! Another former friend watched me take packets of ketchup and coat a helping of meatloaf I was eating at lunch in a cafeteria, commenting “That’s alot of ketchup. A lot...of ketchup.”

The reason for this behavior is that I can really taste food, and food that is cooked the same and tastes the same does not to me...I can taste the differences. I remember once hearing that in jazz music you sometimes have to hear the notes not being played. That’s exactly it, it is the things that are not there in the “same” meatloaf, prime rib, hamburger, hot dog. Then there are the new tastes that are there. Drowning food in condiments does make them taste the same, so that as I eat I don’t gag, hack, and am overwhelmed by the taste.

As a kid, and as an adult I often like say Vitamin D (whole) milk with a meal, or a glass of water or ginger ale. This is because I’m clearing my palate, and washing away the detritus of what is in my mouth as I eat— resetting my taste buds, but also clearing them. I wash away a taste and the after taste with something that is consistent and somewhat neutral in taste. The worst and most nauseating feeling is to eat something that has one taste and then the after taste interacts with another. I think of eating very spicy tacos, and then eating brownies made from dark chocolate—ugh that unexpected taste makes me want to spit...Yuck!

Even name brands are not the same. I always buy one brand because it is more consistent or sublime in taste than another. Still, I will take foods and “drown” them with say crackers, shredded cheese. It adds to the flavor, but it is also “watering down” the flavor to something consistent and not so different and new that I feel as though I’m eating something disgusting or gross. The only comparison is to think of when you had the worst cup of coffee, and how something in it was too much or too little. Eyeww! I once had a cup of coffee that accidentally had corn starch instead of creamer. Or the joke when someone gives you salt instead of sugar. Icky-poo!

Light-sensitivity.

I wear black frequently, and it is something of a personal stereotype. But the reason I wear black is because my dark clothing does not reflect the light into my eyes. I cannot wear bright clothing, a white T-shirt is barely tolerable. I have a new prescription for glasses which has helped, but I used to wear my sunglasses almost all the time, even indoors. The floors in a big national store chain floor are really bad. The highly polished white linoleum, the overhead fluorescent lights, my eyes felt like they had pins jabbed into them. It was that feeling when someone turns on the lights in a pitch dark room, and you awaken to that photo-pain; for me it was a continuous stream until I put on sunglasses.

Textures and Touch.

Certain textures, particularly from clothing can be a constant source of over-stimulation or “overstim” against my body when I wear (usually once) the clothing. I remember having to wear the “tight whitey” underwear, which later as a teenager and adult (I will never wear them again...) felt like a dull sandpaper. My mother wondered why I’d take pure gauze cotton cloth and wear it as a crude loincloth. I found out when she asked me if I had problems with my bladder and bowels. When I said no, I perceived she was operating from many assumptions, and finally I explained that the Fruit of the Loom and BVD’s underwear I had to wear was irritating my penis, scrotum, buttocks, and thighs...so I wore the gauze cotton cloth loincloth to tolerate it— then I started to wear pure cotton boxers.

I like the feel of some pure synthetics or others mixed with cotton a soft, silken feeling against my skin—such as polyester basketball shorts, and athletic shirts—which is why I wear them as casual wear for leisure. But there is a plastic fabric used mostly in rainwear that when I touch it well I’m repulsed by the texture—slimy and slick. I think of the black leathery skin of a Marikith—from Ravenloft in the role-playing game of Dungeons and Dragons, or the Cloak of the Manta Ray. A plastic PVC rain slicker or windbreaker is just as bad...something about the material is revulsive to me when I touch it.

For being touched, I’ve experienced that certain zones on my body are okay with touch. But I have very sensitive areas, such as my ear lobes. A person once trying to be friendly jokingly tried to tickle my earlobes. I became very angry and made it clear not to touch me. I don’t know why...I remember as a kid in elementary school seeing other kids get earrings and it made me clench my teeth to see it. One classmate had garden lizards snapping and holding onto his earlobes—it sends shivers up my spine even remembering it. But my earlobes are hyper-sensitive to touch.

Sounds.

As a teenager, and later as an adult I often could hear and discern sounds others could not. Fluorescent lights are the worst, I can hear the popping, hissing, and buzzing. In one job, I had all but one fluorescent bulb disconnected above my desk in my cubicle because of the sound.

Certain low frequency sounds will wake me up, such as footsteps, a car driving by outside. My mother’s Siamese cats used to awaken me by their footfalls on the carpet, or even worse on the bed. I could readily hear their purring, the low diesel-engine frequency sound.

Vibrations in a solid are in some ways worse than a sound. On a flight I was on, the turboprop engines made the floor of the passenger cabin vibrate, but I could feel the slight “off key” nature of the vibrations—the two turboprop engines were not in sync. The stewardess noticed my anxiousness, and I had to explain I don’t like to travel—which is true; but going into how the engine vibrations are out of sync, and I can feel it would have been met with derision and ridicule. Not verbally, but the facial response.

Smells.

Perfume and cologne are a toxic gas cloud when I smell them. In an elevator, once someone wore a very pungent perfume or cologne, and after a few seconds I was coughing into my sleeve, eventually hacking small particles of mucous. The most exotic thing I scent my body with is deodorant—Old Spice I like the scent of. Other deodorants are just...nasty to me. Artificial scents make me gag...the only scent I can tolerate is a soft vanilla. My sister and mother got into the scented candles when they became faddish, I can remember choking and having to retreat to the bedroom when the scent filled most of the house.

Freshly cut lawn grass always gives me a headache, that sickly grassy odor. While I have allergies to pollens...something about a mowed lawn makes me sick. As a teenager when I had to mow the lawn, I’d try to time it with a light afternoon shower—the rain washing away that smell. I got some weird looks from the neighbors out using a push mower in a light rain.

I find the scent of flowers, real flowers, can be overpowering. I always liked the smell of a marigold, but other flowers and plants are just too much. In college when they remodeled the grounds of the building where my major professors were, the two smells that I dreaded were the wet, soaking garbage smell, in the curb (drainage issues), and then all the flowers along the sidewalk—a trail of overpowering scents.

3. Interaction

Once a friend told me, quite nervously something about myself that I didn’t realize—that I intimidate other people. How? Apparently I don’t know personal space boundaries, I step into that space while maintaining fixed eye contact. With my football linebacker build, I understand now, how that can be intimidating. But that was not my intention, motive, or goal...I simply get to close physically. My close friends know and some like that about me...once the know me. Others, as I’ve discovered have found it discomforting and sometimes unsettling.

Eye Contact

Eye contact...I am an extreme; I either lock eyes with you and don’t break off, or I glance at your eyes and then look away. It is one or the other, never the twain shall meet. When I do look at a person I’m talking to in person, I find myself watching the facial gestures, muscle movements, blink rate, pupillary dilation, eye movement. Often I’m reading the person to assess their emotional state...such as if they are bored, annoyed, shocked, surprised but what is being communicated.

Eccentricity of Speech

Sometimes I say or write things where the idea is communicated, but the choice of words, phraseology, or idioms used are colorful, archaic, and eccentric—extremely idiosyncratic. I often invented my own words as a kid and teenager, like “garburetor” for a garbage disposal—an alma-gram of “garbage” and “carburetor” together.

My humor is unique, I often make jokes or jests that puzzle that baffle others. For example I once had someone tell me my zipper was down, and then the person—a young teenager with braces said “Made you look.” I sighed, and then said “Quite, my dental alignment challenged friend.” which produced a facial response of...perplexed. Or stating to an annoying person, “You obtuse piece of flotsam in a stagnant tarn.” The person asked if I had insulted them, and I confirmed I had...they were about to make a rejoinder, but knowing I’d say another unfathomable quip...simply turned and walked away.

Un-tactfully Truthful

I have sometimes said things that I perceive as factual or truth—but the statement is in the situation, as I later realize, embarrassing or awkward for all involved in the conversation. When a friend was being expressive about his date with his new girlfriend, I directly asked “So, did you penetrate her?” The rebuke I interpreted as a request for clarification so I explained, “Did you have an orgasm?” In hindsight, the rebuke was to castigate me for my question.

One male friend who was proud of his body building asked me about some clothing he was wearing. I looked, had him turn around, and then I said directly to him that the pants were tight enough to emphasis the curvature of his buttocks. He looked at me and asked me what I meant, which really confused me, and I said “It brings out the curvy shape of your bubble butt.” His tone, facial expression, was one of bafflement, and he replied “Oh.”

Calling Out the Game

My favorite foible is when I call out a conversation game...such as getting in college the whispered crank calls...I simply state in a rehearsed tone of “Yeah, yeah...blah, blah, blah...forget you too.” (and no I didn’t use ‘forget’ but I avoid profanity as a general rule) and then would hang up the phone.

Another is the game when others try the mind game with a perceived threat. Once in a job at a Fortune 500 company, a low-level manager said he’d have to start a file on “this” with the tone of ominous consequence. I simply responded by making the sound of a ghost and raising my hands while fluttering them in a practiced response of disdain but with a sarcastic tone. I have found such displays convey more meaning than mere words.

Flirting for sexual expression is one where I really call out the game, often to create dismay. A guy was once sticking his tongue in his lips, winking at me, and finally I asked him about it when eating lunch one day. I gave him three options—manipulation, teasing, or sexual interest. His response was “Wow, you really are direct.”

I had someone once awaken me, and I was in my sleeping attire—a dark T-shirt, and black basketball shorts. I had a sexually erotic dream, so had an erection when I awoke. I blearily stumbled to the door, and when this person was explaining how they needed my help with a technical problem I noticed they kept glancing to my basketball shorts at my crotch. Finally, I asked “You find something interesting about my erection or genitals?” This person quickly stated they’d meet me later...and when I told a friend of this experience, he told me he’d blushed.

Non-sequiturs

My favorite and it often baffles yet still surprises me is the “non-sequitur” statements or questions people will make. Upon such a remark or interrogative, I will stop and half to think to realize after some seconds, that is what is is.

Once in college in an industrial engineer course that used some software that came with the textbook for linear programming by the simplex method, I couldn’t get it to work on my DOS-box. I e-mailed the professor, and the response was “Everyone else got it working.” And I thought how does this help me? What does it matter if everyone else got it working. That was the classic flaw in thinking of “Everybody knows...” but applied to this situation. I caught myself before I e-mailed my analysis of the comment.

Once I was using a multi-function printer/copier to print out a large document. A worker came in wanting to photocopy a work order. The machine had jammed, and I was in the process of trying to pull the errant piece of paper from the internal guts of the machine. Impatient, this person then asked “What were you printing?” Again I stopped myself from saying “What does it matter?”

When I was at a conference doing a technical presentation, an annoying older man kept stating how what I had achieved technically was “impossible” and at one point had this attitude of he didn’t like my presentation —I felt his interruptions so distracting I almost responded with “Let me get the wayback machine from up inside my posterior and go back in time to change my presentation.” I did not. Afterwards he approached me, and said what I’d done was impossible, and he had two doctorates, the best paper in the last twenty-five years according to a professional society. My response was “Irrelevant.” truthfully calling his irrational bravado and bluster for what it is...a non-sequitur.

Liar, Liar, Wrong Question, Incorrect Answer

I have been called a liar, but answered in truth. Supervisors and managers often use the expression “You lied to me.” My first response is one of, there is no point in further communication since I am a liar. The second one is often when I remind them of what they asked, or what I said which was truthful. That unfortunately upsets others, but again it is the truth.

Once I had a manager call me into his cubicle with the standard statement of conclusion that I had lied to him. When he stopped his verbal tirade (I don’t know how to respond, although now I know such behavior is considered verbal abuse, harassment, and unprofessional...) I reminded him to restate his question. He had asked me to resolve a technical problem. I said “I would look into it.” But it turned out the problem was not of my wanting or would resolve the bug in software, the problem was in hardware, well beyond my purview and domain. When I pointed out I said “I would.” but not that I could, he became from his choice of words, the volume, and the speed of delivery—more upset.

In a technical interview I was asked to explain, and I did. The hiring manager looked at me after my first sentence, and shouted at me: “Yes or no!” and I indicated it was no that simple, and did he ask me to explain or was that rhetorical. His response was “You talk like an engineer!” I thanked him for the complement, and then added demanding a yes or no answer he talked like a lawyer. But again asking for an explanation but only wanting a simple yes or no in reality.

Fashionably Unfashionable

I will buy and wear black clothing, or darker clothing. It simplifies my wardrobe, and choice. I can recall as a kid and teenager in the morning getting ready for school opening my closet, and then having the paradox of choice—too many choices. I would stare, and freeze not sure what to wear. Finally my mother would when I awoke, open the closet and put the clothes I was to wear on the bed. Later I simply arranged my clothes in an order so that I’d wear the same thing each day of the week—and very few saw that pattern. In college, and as an adult I buy many of the same thing so I don’t get paralyzed over-thinking my clothing to wear. As for fashion, I’ve been teased and ridiculed for wearing black, once a “friend” put my image in a movie poster for the movie “Men in Black” which I found immature, asinine, and juvenile—mocking me.

Physiological Response—Not Emotion

When I experience emotions, some are familiar such as anger, frustration, that I can identify them. But at other times I feel like Mr. Data from StarTrek, I have a physiological response that I don’t understand. I often will quantify my physical response, such as increased heartbeat, breathing shallow, stomach pains, cold sweats.

But I know I’m having an emotion and feeling it, but not knowing what it is. My response is often going blank, or a automatic rehearsed response—such as laughter. But later its a delayed response, and then I have a feeling or emotion...but at the time I simply don’t perceive the emotional color of a statement. My experience is one of finding myself in an alien, human body, a meat machine of muscle, blood, bone, and flesh—to paraphrase Nikola Tesla. The human body is a life support for the brain, and other bodily response and reaction is—unknown, alien.

At other times I see something in a situation that brings mirth, puzzlement. I was watching a movie with family, it was an intense hospital scene where the main character is near death. I laughed and was quickly rebuked for it not being humorous or funny. But to me it was funny, the entire family together, passed out—I read humor in that perspective. But social norms I was to become maudlin with emotion. I didn’t, but I’m expected to lie and express false emotion.

Treating Me No Differently

I knew one individual with a masters degree in counseling once explained he did not want to treat me differently. That has the veneer of acceptance, and understanding, but the actual reality it was inaction, lazy, and created humiliating, awkward, and shaming situations because he did not interact with me as autistic.

I often wondered if situations where it developed I was not reading the situation, missing social cues while he and others were laughing, smiling, and saying things—that it was deliberate. The feeling I had was one of being a freak, and less than human.

In terms of interpersonal and interaction, I’ve realized people are not comfortable outside the norm of social mores, rituals, and implicit codes of etiquette. The frustrating thing is that there is no central resource for cultural norms—they change based upon the perception of reality. I can read, learn, and understand the Emily Post social guidelines. The difficulty is I only know the social and cultural rules when I break one of them. Everything is by negation...you perceive things as “not” without knowing what.

That is the biggest thing as an aspie, autistic—you know that you’re not reading or perceiving something—but not what, and it is frustrating to know this, and to know it will happen again...only at what point. ??? I have a great degree of social and general anxiety, now learning I am an aspie I know the cause. I often feel that other people in my own nation, culture are alien, and I’m an outsider—an android, replicant that walks among them.

My plea and only piece of advice to give anyone reading this as an autistic individual with other kindred in the world is simple. If you’re a neurotypical a “normal” among the human race, accept (by that realize they need your understanding in relating and communicating) someone for whom they are, not what, how, when—and least of all why.

Afterward

My intention was with example, and instances of life experiences, what someone who is autistic experiences. There is a dizzying, abundance of information about autism and Asperger’s Syndrome.

I strongly encourage someone with interest to learn more and not just treat us “like everyone else” as this incompetent hack counselor stated. I have given my e-mail for further questions, comments—to communicate. I have used a pseudonym so I can write with some anonymity—I am autistic, and have accepted it—although with painful, unexpected reminders.

Note: I licensed this essay under Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License so that it is shared to enlighten and inform—so please copy and share!?

Online PDF of this essay is https://tinyurl.com/AutismEssay