The long-awaited book!

 

Some eons ago, I mentioned that I was working on a children’s book that would help parents introduce their children to the idea of being autistic.

I give you A Piece of the Puzzle, written by myself and illustrated by Lars Askaner of Sweden.

It’s our hope that this book fills a need within the autism community by providing an accessible bridge for connection between parents and children.

Oh, and Temple Grandin says that “this book will help young children accept having autism and encourage them to develop their special abilities.”  Which is, of course, pretty cool in itself.

I hope you enjoy A Piece of the Puzzle!

 

Thoughts on processing speed

I told you that I’d come back and give you the other puzzle piece, didn’t I?  And it’s taken me a few days, I know.  I’ve been trying to solidify a third point or example in what I’m about to say… but my brain is stuck (oh, the stuck– that’s another subject for another post), and I can only thing of two.  I hope you don’t mind.

At least in terms of autism symptoms, I’ve been on quite an upswing recently.  Whereas I had been regressing for some time, losing skills and myself, somewhere along the way the switch flipped and I started to regain both.  Yes, I still stare at the floor half the time when I talk, and no, I’m no conversational genius.  Still awkward and quiet, too, as far as I know.  But those aren’t things that bother me to any great extent.  The meltdowns and self-injury and inability to communicate… that’s the stuff to be avoided, and I’m happy to say those areas are much improved as of late.

So anyway, another little quirk that hasn’t caught up with the rest of me is my processing speed.  I have seven ways to Sunday to cover up the fact that I often don’t know what’s going on around me… but the fact is, I often don’t.  Whether it’s conversation, motion and visual processing, or touch, it takes me a minute to know what’s happening, and often, by the time I’ve caught A, the rest of the world is already at G.

One way that processing speed affects me is with greetings and automatic responses.  If someone comes up to you and says happy birthday, you say thanks, right?  Or if someone asks “how are you?” an “I’m well, and you?” is called for.

Here in AutismLand, it’s a little different.  You may remember (although I don’t expect that you do as it was many eons ago) that I often say “thanks” when I’m getting off the elevator.  The person on the elevator looks at me like I’m nuts!  Or, if someone says happy birthday, my response is, often as not, “you too.”  How are yous get met with “thank you” as well.

What happens is this: The person says the greeting, and I don’t hear it yet, so I respond based on what I think they said.  I fill in the blank and answer “appropriately.”  Then, after I answer, I process what the person actually said and it clicks.  That’s where the oops comes in.  But, given that the person is usually fifty feet away by the time I’ve processed it, well, it’s to late.

My other processing speed issue, related to visual-motor processing, is escalators.  Now, I can usually do them.  If I’m really overstimulated, sometimes I ask for the elevator.  But even on a good day, those pesky things take me a minute.  I tell whomever I am with that I need extra time… and it usually takes me 3-5 steps going by before I can get on.  So, it’s not a long time that I need… but if the person behind me is expecting fluid motion, well, they might trip if they’re not prepared for me to stop.

I tend to think that some sensory integration work would help me with processing.  Sensory processing and processing speed, for me anyway, are all wrapped up together.  After all, the speed at which I process sensory input affects the extent to which I can integrate the input.  I don’t have space or resources to do much sensory work… and I’m also kind of lazy in that regard… probably the most helpful thing to me would be a weighted deep pressure vest, but that’s not happening due to cost.  I’ll have to get creative!  My favorite word!

 

Big news, another post to follow

Have you ever done a puzzle with someone who just isn’t very good at puzzles and keeps jamming pieces together that don’t actually fit?  An old friend of mine would do just that.  This left me in the position of trying to figure out how to disassemble his pieces and reassemble them correctly, all the while avoiding sending the message that, “Dude, you kinda suck at puzzles.”

This post makes me think of those poor puzzle pieces.  I have two things to tell you… two puzzle pieces… but they don’t fit together.  Tempted as I may be to jam the pieces together and put them both in one post, I’m not going to this time (though I have before and likely will again).  It’s not good for either piece to be jammed where it doesn’t fit, yeah?  And I don’t want to take away from either thing I have to say by jamming it with the other information.

So, piece number one is that I’ve found a publisher, a real publisher, for Living in Technicolor.  This is the… oh, the second one I reached out to, Conditional Publications.  Conditional is a publisher by and for people with neurological conditions, including autism.  In fact, the founder has ASD!  It’s a very small group, and since they’re currently working on another book, it’ll be a little while until they get working on mine.  This is no problem for me.  I’m kept busy enough with other things that waiting is just fine.  Look who’s getting all patient, would you?

That’s puzzle piece number one, and I’ll leave you to digest that while I continue to mull and think about piece number two.

Oh.  Yes, I’m still on a break.  No, this is not blogging.  This, um, updating.  But really, I’ll blog as things come up and happen and occur to me.  I’m just not going to force it like I’d been trying to do.  It doesn’t work, anyway.

 

Taking a relaxing

We’ve certainly been on a journey, haven’t we?  I’ve been blogging here since just months after I graduated from college.  I didn’t know anything much about autism.  I had one friend.  I had just been faced with the fact that maybe I wouldn’t haven’t a “typical” adult life, and I was learning to deal with that.  Juxtapose that to today, when I know autism inside and out.  I have friends near and far, and even some in person!  And while I fully accept that I may not work or drive or own a house or have children, that’s not going to stop me from being the best Lydia I can be.  Yes, we’ve been on a journey.

In the beginning and for several years, blogging was my way of processing the world.  I couldn’t make sense of interactions and situations until I’d come and blogged about them.  And believe me, I still need to type in order to understand.  But, right now, I can’t really publicly type through my life.  I need to do it privately.

I’m also running into the fact that, well, I don’t know what to write about anymore.  I’m dry.  Trust me, it’s not a good feeling.

And so, I’m going to take a break from blogging and recharge my batteries.  I’ll come back when I feel ready, whenever that may be.  If something happens that I want to blog about while I’m on my break, I’ll come blog about it.  Maybe it’s not so much a full break as a… a… relaxing.  I think I’ll maintain my Autistic Speaks Facebook page, so just check in there and you’ll know if I’ve posted something.

If you need me, just email me at autisticspeaks@gmail.com.  I’m still here

It starts with a chuckle…

I’m not one to wear my emotions on my proverbial sleeve.  I can hide anything.  I’m not proud of this, but it is what it is.  Sometimes it’s pretty upsetting, when I’m falling apart inside but no one can read it on my face, so no one stops to help.  I need to learn to express that I’m upset, and we’re working on that.  Right now, I’m most likely to text it to you from 2 feet away.  Hey, it works.

I’m a big fan of joy, let me tell you.  I get great joy out of little things.  But this face of mine, it doesn’t always show it.  That makes me sad.

As I came off my SSRI a few months ago, for the first maybe two months, I cried at every little thing.  Every touching moment… I’d be bawling.  It was just withdrawal, but boy, was it weird!  I never, ever cried (unless I was melting down) prior to this.  It’s simmered out a little bit, and though I still cry more than I would have on the SSRI, it’s not all the time now.

But you know… I’ve noticed something else.  I’m not sure when it started.  Not sure where it came from.  Maybe it was when Lucy came.  Maybe not.  But, I also laugh.  It started with Lucy, who tickles me… she jams her nose right into my bellybutton and oh, it tickles.  And I laughed, so hard.  I was hysterical.  She does this about once a day, and I let myself laugh.  No little smiles or polite chuckles, though that’s how it started…. I mean real laughter.

And then I’ve found myself laughing at things on the computer and TV.  Sometimes, I laugh so hard I can’t continue to see the TV (have you ever watched Ellen?  You’d laugh too!).

Oh hey, Ellen’s on.  I’m gonna go laugh!