Sophist

[Sophist]

INTRODUCTION

Current Age: 27

Sex: female

Autistic Diagnosis: Asperger's Syndrome

Additional diagnoses: I have some Auditory Processing Disorder traits undiagnosed (history of inner ear infections), and I have very mild undiagnosed Temporal Lobe Epilepsy; I also experience higher level reading comprehension problems.

Medical conditions: Insulin resistance, Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, Osteoarthritis, IBS, asthma, sinus allergies, and suspected Selective IgA Deficiency and mild gluten intolerance.

Occupation: Unemployed. College student, doing practicum. On Disability for now.

Interests: autism spectrum, the brain, temporal lobe epilepsy, savantism, "intelligence," neuroscience in general, research, Frida Kahlo, paleoanthropology and human evolution, cooking, collecting movies, tv series (Britcoms, older series), books, strange antiques, porcelain/china figurines, spending time online...

Brief diagnostic history: I have been misdiagnosed with many things: Schizophrenia, OCD (which is partly accurate), OCPD, Dysthymic Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder. It was not until I became an ABA therapist that I began acquainting myself with the autism literature. I came across Tony Attwood's earlier book and thought, "This sounds familiar". I put the thought away for a time, not remembering my traits in childhood all that well. But later I asked my mother and things seemed to fit. I self-diagnosed in about July 2004 but my mother and others around me did not believe it. I sought out diagnosis and was refused by several inexperienced professionals. I finally got my mother to attend an AS/HFA/NLD seminar with me presented by Dr. John Ortiz. From that day, my mother was convinced and she then supported me in seeking a diagnosis. I got enough money finally to get an assessment at the Judevine Center for Autism here in St. Louis; they interviewed me and my mother and agreed I fit the AS profile. This assessment, however, did not provide a professional diagnosis. It was not until March 2007 that I brought the assessment papers to a diagnostician and received the "official stamp."

[Sophist]

I always knew I was different, odd, eccentric, gifted, not normal. For some reason though, even though I was different, I never questioned why I wasn't like the other kids. I was bullied, though not horribly, life could be lonely, but then I enjoyed solitude too. The only thing I remember questioning, that seemed to stand out that I had no explanation for, were my obsessions.

Even before I had heard of autism, I wondered why no one else seemed to get obsessed about things, collecting things, learning things, like I did. Not even my social inadequacies seemed to stand out for me because, well, being a socially inept nerd isn't all that unusual. But it didn't seem like any of my other peers had collections. Nobody felt the immediacy that "I had to have the whole collection"-- so much so that that was my motto through much of life: I have to have the WHOLE collection. (A running joke in my family.)

I even remember one instance in particular: I was sitting on the floor of my room and was looking at my VHS musicals collection and just stopped and wondered "Why do I do this? Why does no one else do this?"

I think the reason that this trait was the only one I ever questioned as truly unusual was because I knew about nerds, geeks, and dorks so my social ineptitude wasn't such a surprise; clumsiness also isn't uncommon, especially for nerds, geeks, and dorks. And I knew about obsessions but had only heard about them in a negative light, not positive. So why did my life revolve around these things?

They give me joy. But why don't they give more people joy? Of course, I found so many things in common once I discovered the online autistic community, found so many people who did similar things, wondered similar things, sometimes eerily so like a mirror looking back at me. I know now it's because my brain is autistic and this is just what many autistics do: we collect things, we obsessively learn things, we persevere and perseverate, we think till we can't think any more.

That's why.

[Sophist]

The first two years of my life were a series of inner ear infections and antibiotics. I began having these problems fairly early (3 or 4 months) and my second pediatrician (my mother fired the first one for saying she was overreacting) diagnosed me with an allergy to breast milk which were causing inner ear infections, put me on antibiotics, and recommended all lactose be removed from my diet. Thankfully, I can't really remember any of this.

The doctor and my parents were considering having tubes put in my ears, but my doctor wanted to wait until I was 2 because sometimes the tubes grow enough by that time and the infections stop. And that seemed to happen with me. So by age two, my infections drastically improved and then stopped.

But during those first two years, it was basically constant crying and my parents trying to sooth me. It's difficult to know what sort of a baby I would've been had I not had the infections. Would I have been pleasant? Quiet? Or would I still have been difficult to console and calm?

So for those first two years, my mother rocked me, sang to me, read to me, till the wee hours of the night. They got up and put me in the car and drove me around, which seemed to calm me. And despite the inner ear infections, I began speaking at 10 months (first word was "turtle") and walking at 10.5.

So by the time the infections stopped and I hit toddlerhood, I was a VERY active child. My mother says I wasn't overactive, but for a girl I was as active as a boy. I was always running around, doing things, playing, but I was also incredibly cautious and rarely hurt myself. And I talked. Talked, talked, talked, talked, talked.

I enjoyed the company of my parents, especially my mother, although I wouldn't usually seek consolation if I had hurt myself. I would just sit and cry rather than run to her.

I wasn't great at socializing, but then being the youngest in a close neighborhood of families, I was the baby and always excused. My method of interactive play was usually telling the older children what to do. And apparently this was deemed as "cute" coming from a little blond 2 or 3 year-old child. (And my interactive play never moved far beyond that even as I aged. )

And during those years, my obsession was collecting toys. Stuffed animals especially (I hated dolls). Toys from Happy Meals, from Burger King, toystores, whatever. And I had to have the WHOLE collection.

I remember my early childhood rather fondly. I was well-liked by the neighborhood, despite that I wasn't very good at playing with children; they got to play with me. I was overly friendly and would walk up to strangers, wave at people through the windows of my home or the car, etc.

Things changed though when we moved to another neighborhood and once I began school. I was born originally into a safe haven of people who thought my eccentricities were cute. But then we moved and I began school, and things started to change. I was different. People made me aware I was different. The new neighbors ostracized me, parent and child alike. And having peers at school, it started to become apparent that I was not the same. Though most times this was put down the the fact I was gifted and "walked to the tune of a different drummer".

And that was my diagnosis for so long: Different Drummer Syndrome.

[Sophist]

I am the only one in my family (that I'm aware of) who has ever been diagnosed with an Autism Spectrum Condition. But everyone in my family who has shown traits has fallen within the AS/HFA/BAP ranges. I have seen/heard of autistic traits on both sides of my family.

On my father's side, my father was very Aspergery. Classic early computer nerd, worked at MacDonnell-Douglas/Boeing for the vast majority of his career where he began working on OS's for non-defense-related planes and then graduated into designing OS's for defense weapons (such as the Stealth and the Cruise Missile). He was a computer engineer and was trained in math and physics. He also seemed to have sensory issues, liked consistency, and was inordinately quiet. He was very poor at reciprocal communication. His big interests in life were computers and sports. He obsessively watched particular sports and teams.

My uncle, his half-brother, is a bit of a nerd. A real history buff. Strangely instead of following his interest of history in a more academic avenue, he has chosen to be a prison guard for many many years. He's a very funny gentleman, good sense of humor (unlike my father), but his autistic traits still show through. (My father and uncle shared a father.)

I don't know very much about my paternal grandfather, except that he was inordinately funny and people rarely stopped laughing because he'd just be cracking everyone up. He was a mailman. My father's mother died young from uterine cancer. Supposedly she was a quiet but very warm and friendly woman.

On my mother's side, my mother has some autistic traits but nowhere near a diagnosis. She has lesser obsessional interests, she is intelligent, and is also an anxiety-prone person. But she's definitely a lot better with social stuff than I am. Her father was a mess, confusing medical history. He was always odd, but then even more odd following a head injury during WWII (he was in the army and got mugged and hit over the head). So an organic psychosis was assumed but the true nature of his brain damage was never confirmed. The rest of his large family (many brothers and sisters) according to my mother were "normal".

My mother's mother's side is quite Aspergery. Her mother probably better fits an Autistic Disorder profile, although I don't know anything about her early language development. She began having severe temporal lobe seizures in her mid twenties and they were so severe that they changed her personality completely and she better resembled a psychotic Bipolar. Before this, though, she was still very weird and didn't function particularly well.

Their side of the family was very talented, including art, writing, and engineering. My mother's paternal grandfather was an engineer and built bridges around the world, particularly around Mexico and South America. He was also a very cruel man and horribly abusive. He was also very fond of his solitude. He would usually hole up in his study, writing his book (which he never finished).

This is what I know of my family that is most reliable. I know my mother, father, and uncle from personal experience and observation. The other members of my family were from hearsay through my mother. Sometimes double-hearsay from my father to my mother to me.

I'm certain my father would've been diagnosable (he's passed away now). I'm not certain about other family members. Either Asperger's or a Broader Phenotype.

[Sophist]

I'll be honest, it was a PAIN IN THE ASS trying to get diagnosed with Asperger's as an adult. The DSM and ICD are poor substitutes for understanding ASCs and their variety. Especially since so much of Asperger's and autism criteria are based on male stereotypes-- not to mention childhood stereotypes, not adults. So, needless to say, it can be inordinately difficult, maybe even impossible, for an adult undiagnosed female autistic to get the right diagnosis.

There are so many inaccurate stereotypes out there that are winding their way amongst the professional diagnostic communities. Now, I realize that they all went through training, medschool or PhD/Masters programs; and I know that in those programs they are taught to never use a single behavioral trait (or lack thereof) to diagnose or refuse a diagnosis. Why? Because conditions which are, currently, behaviorally defined are not comprised of a single trait but an entire multi-trait profile.

Some of the more classic reasons for a refusal of diagnosis of an ASC? Here's a couple examples:

"You can't be autistic because you're married and have children."

"You can't be autistic, you're too introspective."

"You can't be autistic, autistics don't speak."

"You can't be autistic, the autism spectrum are childhood conditions."

"You can't be autistic because you have a job."

"You can't be autistic because you don't act like Rainman."

"You're not mentally retarded, you can't be autistic."

"You make eye contact, you can't be autistic."

And then probably the response most of us have heard over and over again: "You're not autistic, everybody does that. That's normal." I don't know what planet they're from but it's clearly not Earth!

I know medschool and gradschool doesn't teach this stuff to their students. Quite the opposite. But why does it continue to happen? Why do many professionals take a single trait, one that often isn't even listed in the accepted criteria lists, and use it to refuse diagnosis?

This needs to change. I know this occurs in part because ASCs are so complicated and so varied and, because the idea of a spectrum is a newer one, it takes awhile for expertise to spread and grow. But there is also ego and professional competitiveness I think which causes this growth to lag. Diagnosticians who refuse to learn or broaden their concepts; or at the very least, refuse to refer someone onward to an expert in the field. (Also, I'm sure in the US, the problems with insurance companies just exacerbate the entire situation.)

Perhaps this sounds a bit pessimistic. But I have been hurt by the ignorance. I see other people hurt and refused help because official diagnoses aren't keeping up with the occurrence rates. Online, a large portion of autistics who end up diagnosed are diagnosed because they themselves sought out the diagnosis. And many are refused diagnosis also because they sought for it, it wasn't just passively given to them. So there is hesitance when we actively seek the label.

It is for this reason, to improve the diagnostic process (and in turn, improve research and treatment), that this Case Studies Project has been started. I hope it can improve relations between online autistics and the professional communities, and that we can both teach and learn from each other.

[Sophist]

I have only heard of the phenomenon through the online media, of some autistic children who have had fevers and, via observation, there seems to be a reduction in the severity of their autistic traits.

For myself, however, despite that fevers are rare for me, I find whether with feverish or non-feverish illness that my traits become more obvious. I cannot tell if it is the illness which is the significant variable or that illness places stress on the system in general.

I can tell an increase in my sensory sensitivies when I am ill (I have a prolonged inner ear infection at the moment so I've been studying myself with some interest). Sound especially seems to be more painful. I am uncertain whether this is increased CNS excitability or something having to do with the illness in the sensing organ (the ear), or both. But normally sound does not bother me as much, compared to some other senses. Generally I prefer quiet, although provided I'm not ill or tired, I can handle noise. Really the only sounds I find painful are a certain pitch that clinking dishes make and the sound of my mother's small hand vacuum. Both hit pitches which are literally painful. But for the most part, my auditory sense is one of my least sensitive.

But when I'm ill, it's as though everything is not only amplified in volume, but that even those noises which do not seem "loud" nevertheless are somehow grating for my nerves: like a mild version of nails on a chalkboard. I am also more prone to self-stimulate more, including having the urge to do so in public, which I usually do not experience.

So for myself at least, I find no lessening of my autisticness when I'm feverish or ill. Quite the opposite.

[Sophist]

I began having more serious troubles in high school. My home life was inconstant and unpredictable, which for someone who is upset even by some of the slightest of unwanted changes, this made life hell. I tried to find solace at school but that was rather fruitless. I fell into a depression, and then a psychotic depression. I became reclusive sometimes and would cut class and go and sit in the chapel for some quiet and rest (this was a private Catholic school, so there was thankfully a quiet chapel to go to).

The school (unsurprisingly) became very concerned. At that time, I had also developed an obsessive interest in schizophrenia and actually wanted to be schizophrenic. You've read books on AS that talk about children developing an interest in, say, Vikings and then dressing up and acting as them. Well, imagine that, but with schizophrenia. Although there were also some things I identified with in the condition so it seemed the best fit at the time.

At about age 17 I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, although my psychiatrist obviously had reservations but I think she saw how much I wanted the diagnosis and so caved in. I wouldn't be surprised though if on my charts she had me diagnosed as something else.

Once the stress of the time passed, as did the psychotic depression, I was still stuck on heavy medications and a diagnosis of Psychotic-NOS from a different psychiatrist.

Once I finally lost interest in schizophrenia, came back to the world of the less delusional, hehe, I began my search for why I was different. Given that psychiatry, neurology, and psychology love to label every abnormality they can, I was fairly certain I'd find a label that gave some reason to my eccentricities.

Because of some of my problems in expressing empathy, particularly to my mother, she mentioned that I may be Narcissistic. I read about it, it had some similarities, but then others, not so much. But I tried it on for awhile. In the end, that wasn't it. (Although I do realize I have some characteristics.)

Then I considered ADHD for awhile. I do have some ADHD traits (as do most autistics), so I asked my psychiatrist what he thought. He didn't say much.

But then very quickly I discovered Aspergers and the light bulb went on in blazing glory. I realized I was not the classic stereotype, especially since all I knew were descriptions of children, and usually boys at that. But I began self-researching, going online, talking, and realized "THIS IS IT!"

I went to my mother, who was originally hesitant. She only knew the DSM definition. I also approached my social worker who initially was against it, then for it, and then against it (bit confusing). Then my psychiatrist (a doctor in his residency): he was quiet and I eventually found out he didn't think I was AS at all because I was too perceptive and self-aware. At least I can be grateful he didn't give me one of those, "Asperger's is a childhood disorder, you can't have it" retorts, although he was still enough of a jerk to refuse to give me a referral for an assessment elsewhere. So, bullheaded, I sought out an assessment on my own. Unfortunately, I didn't do my research to realize I should've sought out someone with the experience in adult ASCs. Sadly, I went to a child psychologist who just thought I was depressed and needed therapy. (At the time I was depressed, granted, yet he didn't bother to find out the background, to see whether it was endogenous or exogenous depression. During that time, I was going through an SSI re-assessment and was worried I was going to lose my financial support, and my apartment, everything; I was looking for a job I didn't think I could keep because I needed to make money for when I might lose my SSI; I was applying to college after a respite; my relationship with my mother, my only support system, was rocky; and my psychiatrist, social worker, and mother thought I was crazy rather than autistic. So, yes, a bit of a stressful time. ) Needless to say, that assessment didn't go anywhere.

BUT FINALLY I had the sense (and the money) to seek out an assessment at a local autism center. By that time, my mother was also convinced I was AS after having attended a seminar with me on AS, HFA, and NLD, so she was able and willing to come to the center to be interviewed. The assessment agreed on AS but wasn't an official diagnosis. Later, I took both assessments I'd had done to a local psychologist who finally diagnosed me with AS (and also agreed, via the assessment, that the first psychologist who assessed me was a total git ).

It was a frustrating road. Painful, but worth it. Not only for my own diagnosis, but that it made me painfully aware of how much room for improvement there is in the diagnostic process; not only in improving diagnostic criteria, but in diagnostic methodology as well. And now, because I've been through all that mess, I can give advice to others online who are just starting out so hopefully they can avoid the mistakes I made. And, who knows, since I'm going into the field of psychology and research, I may be able to help make some larger contributions I hope.

[Sophist]

I don't know what it is, but when it comes to certain things, if there is a change, my mind just explodes in a fire of emotion and anxiety. Sometimes they are stupid simple things-- things which even I realize at the time "This shouldn't be a big deal!", but it is.

For instance, tonight my mother wanted to try a new recipe. I looked at the picture, the ingredients, and it all looked quite good. (I should say right now I have an OCD interest in brown rice; I don't know what it is, probably a bit of my obsessive desire to eat healthily, and brown rice is so good for you-- anyways, I digress slightly.) Normally, food is a great point of anxiety for me. Don't get me wrong, I love eating (too much), but in my past I have had a continual host of food sensitivities which I've worked very hard to overcome. Therefore, new foods also cause me some apprehension. (I have made great strides though: two years ago I would've refused point blank to even consider eating this new dish my mother wanted to make, but now I am more willing to approach things in a positive manner.)

But given my obsession with rice, and that I am VERY used to using specific measurements in my rice-dish meals, I tend to prefer to use similar amounts for each meal. Why is this such an issue with me? I'm not quite sure: I guess it's just what I've become used to and THAT is how it's supposed to be.

And tonight, when my mother told me that the recipe called for only a single cup of brown rice, it took every fiber of my being to keep me from throwing an adult-sized tantrum (I am used to more rice). I argued a bit before I realized that this was causing me distress, but my mother refused to add more in because it was a new dish and she wanted to follow the recipe exactly the first time because using more rice could be too much rice.

It seems so silly now I think on it. And then again it doesn't, because food always causes me anxiety. So my mother made some extra rice for the side. And it took me a good half hour for all my anxiety and distress to fully dissipate as the food continued to cook. And I sat there thinking, "This is so silly. I'm freaking out over some brown rice". Of course, the realization didn't really help the feelings dissipate any faster. Once I'd finally calmed down more, it was like my frontal lobes just shut off and all I could do was be miserable for awhile and zone out. My mother probably noticed; I think I was abnormally quiet and probably didn't look too happy. But once I saw that the dish was fine, that I could add rice to it to my heart's content, my mood immediately lightened and everything was okay again.

All that over a little rice, heh.

[Sophist]

I have always been empathic towards animals. I grew up around animals and even while I didn't have human friends, I spent my time with my animal friends. For some reason, no matter the circumstance, my empathy for animals has been overflowing. I can feel my insides wrench when I hear about or see some animal which has been mistreated or is suffering.

People have not been so easy for me. I tend to feel more passionate, more empathic when it comes to moral justice issues-- when it comes to people en mass suffering due to greed or cruelty, such as those now in Darfur.

Other types of empathy for humans are more difficult for me. I have never truly felt part of the human race, despite that I am a Homo sapien; I have always felt on the outskirts, and, frankly, closer to other animals. And even though I'm ironically going into psychological research to study humans, I do so because of my fascination of the workings of the most complex brain on earth; that is my first and foremost motivation. Others, however, sometimes go into such fields because their primary motivation is to help people. To me, this is a pleasant side effect of the work I will hopefully do.

I do feel more empathic for many autistics (I think it helps I'm one of them) because I find the autistic brain fascinating and want to "figure it all out". I also do want to help improve our condition and understanding of ourselves, along with improving intra-family relations.

I find many issues in ASCs do greatly trigger my sense of moral justice, and so I am very passionate about studying and helping ASCs.

So, in the end I have empathy in these forms most easily:

* empathy for animals

* empathy for humans in a larger global sense, particularly regarding issues of social injustice

I have more difficulty feeling and expressing empathy in:

* one-on-one interpersonal situations

Sometimes in one-on-one situations I feel moved by another person's situation. Other times, not so. It is rather inconsistent. The former two (animals and global empathy) are pretty consistent, especially for animals.

[Sophist]

For the vast majority of my life I never realized that my eye contact was abnormal. I didn't really start having social phobia issues till high school, and since the level of my "face contact" tends to be decided by my comfort level, this issue never became obvious to me-- at least not so I recognized it. It is amazing the amount of eccentricities we have (humans in general) which we never realize are odd until someone points it out or we read it in a book...

For one, I don't make eye contact. However, I do make "mouth contact"-- which sounds a bit odd, but rather than looking at the eyes mainly, I look at the mouth. This occurs, I now know, for two reasons:

1) eyes do give me some anxiety, so I dislike direct contact, especially when the other person is looking back at me;

2) I have some mild Auditory Processing problems so I do use reading lips as a way to supplement my hearing.

When I am comfortable, or at least only slightly anxious, I am able to look at the person's mouth. I have concluded that the main reason I never realized this was abnormal was because no one ever commented on it. And THAT is because people usually cannot tell, provided you are looking somewhere around the mouth and/or nose, that you are not actually looking them in the eye. The woman who diagnosed me in fact commented that I make good eye contact; I corrected her and said, "No, I am looking at your mouth, not your eyes", yet she commented back in some disbelief that that was what I was actually doing. In short, unless you're standing nose-to-nose with someone, they cannot tell where you are looking provided it is in a close vertical line with the eyes. (I believe humans are better at noticing side-to-side gaze direction than similarly slight differences in vertical gaze direction.)

Though there have been times I have been sooooooooo anxious that I can no longer make face contact, and in those cases it is obvious. But thankfully this doesn't occur too often.

Sometimes though, particularly when I'm a bit anxious, I have a tendency to stare the other person down I think. I'm not really intending it, but when nervous I find some comfort in looking at the mouth, as though it's a "safe place", and so I sort of latch on and don't let go, heh.

[Sophist]

I find that I have some reading comprehension problems. I feel as though my comprehension is dependent upon my being able to visualize images to understand words. It's not unlike that described in Sentence comprehension in autism: Thinking in pictures with decreased functional connectivity by Kana, Keller, Cherkassky, Minshew, and Just (2006). I can feel it: the poor connectivity between my visual system and my language systems. Normally, in many types of cognitive processes, they flow smoothely, things work well. But with this, I literally feel like I'm trying to push a cognitive boulder through a small hole-- trying to PUSH the information through from language to vision so I can understand what it means. My ability to do this of course decreases the more distracting stimuli are present, particularly auditory. It's also dependent upon my energy level, since it takes my uppermost levels of concentration.

The disconnect is not unlike that seen in hyperlexia. I was not a precocious reader; however, my ability to phonetically read was always far more advanced than my comprehension. And the less concrete a sentence, the worse it is. The more abstract, the longer I take to read a piece, because it's so difficult to quickly find images for abstract concepts.

I hate how this slows me down. I've never enjoyed reading. I love the information I can GET from reading, but never the act itself. And there are SOOOOOOO many materials I'd love to get through related to my area of interest, but it just takes so damn long, so much work, so much concentration, so much thought. I'm usually the slowest reader in my college classes (in fact, in one Research Methods class we did a reading test in which our speed and comprehension was measured as a fun exercise; by far, I was the slowest of the class despite being one of the top students).

I realize that because I am forced to read more slowly, to really THINK about the things I'm reading so that I can understand them-- picture them, it causes my reading to be active rather than passive and I find I come out knowing a lot more than someone who just sat down and rapidly read straight through. I'm glad it's had this effect. But I do worry about my ability to keep up, particularly in graduate school. It will be a lot of work, a lot of reading. And I just hope I can do it. I hope I can keep up or accommodate somehow...

[Sophist]

I wouldn't consider myself especially sound sensitive. I mean, when I was a child I used to have a real problem with school fire drills, so much to the point my mother had to work with the school to somehow calm my anxiety from the expectation of having a fire drill. Our school did fire drills in a series each year. First was the fire drill on a specific day, at a specific time, which everyone knew about. This gave me some anxiety, but not as much as the next one: everyone knew the day of the next fire drill, but only staff knew the precise time. So, in essence, my anxiety was so bad expecting it that my day was basically shot and I couldn't concentrate. Once we got past that fire drill, things were easier, since they didn't even tell us the day the next would happen, so I wasn't waiting in so expectation and fear.

Nevertheless, I wouldn't consider myself overly sound sensitive, especially not considered to some of the sound sensitivity I've heard some other autistics describe. Yes, crowds bother me, all that noise; it stresses me: too much going on. And noises occurring while I'm already upset or anxious can be stressful and infuriating. However, the only sounds I say which truly bother me now anxious or not, sounds which I find not only uncomfortable but literally painful to my eardrums, are the clinking of dishes near me and a small vacuum my mother has. They both hit a pitch where my eardrums try to beat themselves to death.

Otherwise, sound is not my most problematic sense. By far, taste, smell, and touch have given me the most consistent daily grief. I have battled with taste aversions my whole life, and only recently due to an OCD fear of eating unhealthy foods have my tastes broadened (fear is an excellent motivator, heh). Smells are a constant pain; basically anything that doesn't smell like "air" I find inordinately bothersome, and many times these allergens and irritants trigger a sinus reaction as well. I find cigarette smoke, particular cleaning fluids, care fumes (particularly those from dirty engines), and other such smells unbearable-- to the point that even though I KNOW I look ridiculous, I'll put something over my face to use as a mask. It's either that, or feel like I'm suffocating. And finally, touch has been a big problem: finding clothes I like (which both satisfy needs for comfort and style-- although I won't pretend to be fashionable ), bearing the touch of skin (the oils in the skin drive me INSANE, including my own skin many times), other sticky substances, etc. You'd be amazed how much human oil is left behind on public surfaces. Why does no one else notice this? I end up washing my hands as though OCD, when it isn't a compulsion, it's sensory and I just want to get that sticky feeling off my hands. So, as you can imagine, doorknobs are hell. As are handrails, and basically any other commonly touched surface. The keyboards and mouses on public computers are a NIGHTMARE.

Though I have found taste, smell, and touch the most obviously problematic for me, my visual system is also a big issue, but not in a painful sort of way, but something I would describe more as a "visual pickiness"-- that which causes me discomfort and anxiety rather than pain. Colors, shapes, shades, furniture arrangement, all severely affect my comfort level. This tends to give me problems in my classes and while test-taking because the visual layout of a room can make or break my mood. One reason I may consider this slightly less of a problem than taste, smell, and touch is simply because I am less consciously aware of how much I am affected by my visual environment.

Example: I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and take progesterone shots every three months as treatment. I get this done at Planned Parenthood, not having insurance. At the local PP I go to, they had a horrible waiting room: salmon-colored walls, gray chairs, gray carpet. I knew I never liked the place. And whenever I went, I would find myself having a panic attack and, hence, an asthma attack. It wasn't until this last time I went, when they had redone the waiting room, new paint, new carpets, new chairs, that I realized how much all that was affecting me. Now, instead of salmon-pink walls, they had a lovely calm light blue, and the chairs had a little more color to them, and the new carpet balanced it all out well. And for the first time, I felt calmer there, and I didn't have a panic attack nor an asthma attack. I was amazed. Since then, I've been concentrating more on how much my visual environment dictates my mood. I hadn't really realized it before.

[Sophist]

Chronic Fatigue symptoms don't sound particularly uncommon in ASCs. Not sure if it's just the group I tend to hang around with online or there is actually a higher occurrence. Whatever the reason, I'm sitting here right now and am just suddenly tired. I know I have issues with hypoglycemia due to insulin resistance, but I'm usually pretty good at knowing when I need to eat or when I've overeaten. But I have bouts of fatigue in which I just don't honestly know what's going on with my body.

I suspect I do have IgAD and a mild gluten intolerance, although this would need to be confirmed/denied by testing (or at least the IgAD; I wouldn't relish getting a colonoscopy to discover a gluten intolerance when I could just try a gluten-free diet and see how it goes). Of the materials I've read on IgAD, I don't recall hearing chronic fatigue mentioned-- although I don't know how well IgAD is studied. For the most common autoimmune disorder it seems highly UNDERstudied, most likely due to its less serious nature and little promise for treatment or cure.

But I am 26, have numerous medical conditions even a 70 year-old would be impressed by, and I'm just so tired. --Not depressed... just tired. And it's frustrating because it limits the things I'd LIKE to have energy to do.

The tiredness doesn't seem anxiety-related, although when I do get upset that drains me inordinately fast. These days, what with utilizing some self-monitoring methods of anxiety reduction, my anxiety is fairly even keel. So I don't suspect this is mental fatigue due to running myself down all the time.

I haven't got symptoms of fibromyalgia, I don't get chronic infections. In fact, aside from the chronic medical conditions, my health is pretty damn good. I don't often get sick.

Occasionally my lymphnodes have swollen without other accompanying symptoms, although I do suspect it may have been in response to very mild ear infections I just wasn't aware of, since within the past few months more obvious inner ear infections have arisen.

I eat very well, take my vitamins, treat myself well, I could do to exercise more regularly (although the osteoarthritis does often prevent my getting into a routine), I feel young, I feel healthy, but I also feel like utter crap. And I really hope some day more research is done into the immunological side of autism-- not just the genetics and cure stuff they're currently looking into, but autoimmune disorders, etc., which have gotten a colder shoulder because they offer less promise for prevention.

[Sophist]

If you'd've asked me, oh, a year ago whether I was lonely, whether I felt as though my social inadequacies were sorely felt, I'd've said no.

But now, I don't exactly know what's changed in me, perhaps just age, but I find myself wanting companionship. Most people do. But because my life revolves so much around my interests (autism, the brain, research), I was always too busy to be unhappy or to truly feel like I was missing out on something. I've noticed most people start feeling this way earlier than I have.

--And I won't say I'm unhappy now. I'm just... lonely. Not depressed, just a bit empty. The part of me that's designed to be a social creature, despite that I'm not particularly talented at it, has started stirring, nudging me.

I'm thrilled the way my life is going. I feel good about my future, my career. I'm just a bit lonely that's all... quietly, softly lonely...

[Sophist]

I am a visual artist: I draw, paint, and do digital photography. I am also especially sensitive to my visuospatial environment. It has only been fairly recently that I've become acutely aware how much it dictates my mood, my levels of comfort.

I mention that I am an artist only because I've also become aware how much my visuospatial sensitivity affects my work. It's not just an issue of judging or designing a good composition; to me it's more than that. If a drawn object is not in its proper place, whatever my brain judges that place to be at the time, the piece to me is more than distasteful to the eye-- it affects me much more than that, it affects my entire person.

Despite that I've taken art classes throughout high school and college, I am largely self-taught-- mainly because I have never taken direction well from teachers (especially when it comes to art) and so most teachers, once they see my ability, usually just relegate our interactions to oohs and ahhs. Which I prefer. And most times I don't know HOW I do it; I just do it. And sometimes I find that frustrating as well because, even though the world often holds up natural intuitive talent beyond that of learned, there is a drawback in not being able to explain to others the whys and the hows. Whenever somebody asks me why I did something, most often my answers tends to be "Because I liked it that way". (This often frustrates professors despite that they love the work; they want to know WHY. Apparently, I'm often supposed to have some symbolic reason behind the action...)

But I had never realized the connection: my designs in art, how I have to have the furniture and objects in my house, how certain colors and shapes affect me more than I realize... Vision to me is one of the most important things to dictate my mood.

And while some people find extreme beauty in experiencing music, it is the visuospatial environment that I love, that I hate, that is a part of me. And many times my mood will shift because of it, and I won't realize until later (or sometimes I'm sure I never realize it) that it was because of my surroundings that I inevitably felt that way.