The Asperger Files Part 4 - Stimming

Stimming (also known as self-stimulation) is something most people with Asperger's syndrome do, and it is described as a involuntary and repetitive movement. Its function is largely to help relax the thinking parts of your brain. With Asperger's syndrome, anything that can help you stop thinking for a while is just wonderful.

The most often portrayed 'stim' is body rocking. You see this in a lot of the popular movies about autism in general. In reality, it's not quite as common or severe as they make it out to be in people with autism, but it does occur (I rock in more serious circumstances, or when studying, but more on my own stims later) in some. Most people with Asperger's will use another form of self stimulation like excessive blinking, facial tics, hand flapping, finger movements, repetitive noise making, knee bouncing, tapping, and so on. Asperger's is high functioning autism, but for those with low functioning autism the stimming may be more severe and can include slapping or hitting (often themselves), yelling and other extremely disruptive movements.

For myself, stimming isn't as big a concern as it used to be. I've learned to somewhat control it, after years of friends saying things like "That's annoying, stop it" in response to me bouncing my knee, causing a table to shake when everyone is trying to eat. Or when they've made strange faces in response to me rocking side to side when concentrating on something. Even still, it's a frequent thing that I do, which I'm not always aware of until someone points it out. Another very common stimming behavior for me is to make figure 8's in the air with my foot or finger.

For the most part, stimming is very much a compulsive thing. Any efforts I've made to try and stop myself from doing it when I become aware of it just feels... bad. I become anxious and even upset at times. It isn't something I do constantly, of course, but rather something I do when I'm feeling some extreme emotion, like worry or fear or the most common: extreme focus.

It's just part of life for me, and not a part I'm ashamed of.

HOW-TO: DIY Nautical Room Decor

I've become quite fond of DIY projects. It saves money, it's fun, and you often learn something in the process. Whether complex or simple, livening up the space around you is always worth it. With Darwin's room finally painted, I wanted some nautical themed wall hangings for his room. Something simple, and I'll show you how I did it.

Step 1 - Gather Supplies

Canvases, stencils, paint, brushes, scissors

I already had these items around my home, but they are also really cheap to buy. You will need:

• 3 8x10  pre-stretched canvases (I bought mine in a pack of 10 from Michael's about a year ago for around $10)
• Paint (I used leftovers from when I painted Darwin's room, but you can use any craft paint to fit your budget)
• Brushes (I used really cheap ones I got in a huge value pack from Michael's)
• Scissors
• Pencil
• Computer paper
• Access to a printer

Step 2 - Making Your Stencils

If you are familiar with how to use a computer, you can probably figure this out on your own. What I did was go online to find some very basic nautical images. As you can see, I chose an anchor, and a ship's wheel, but you can use anything you want. I saved these images to my computer, opened them in Photoshop and faded the images to save on ink. I then printed them out to fit the 8x10 canvases. 

Once you've printed out your stencils, you need to cut them out:

Cutting out an anchor. Excuse my haggard nail polish.

Step 3 - Trace Image

Now that your stencils are cut out, it's time to trace them onto your canvases. Hold it steady with one hand, and trace with the other. If you have trouble holding the stencil still, you use a piece of tape to fix it in place.

Tracing an anchor

All done tracing

Step 4 - Time to Paint

Using a brush and your choice of paint colour, start filling in the traced lines. You can do this simple, by making it a solid colour, or you can use multiple colours to achieve the look you want. I used just one colour as I wanted a simple silhouette. I used 2 coats to get a solid finish.

Step 5 - Decorate!

Now that your canvases have been painted, it's time to hang them in their intended location. What I like about canvases is you can just hang them on a nail without having to attach any hardware or a frame. Of course, if you'd prefer, you can frame yours.

Looks good!

My "Type" - Things I Like in a Partner

It seems as though, as of late, there has been a lot of talk with friends of mine, and the places I hang out on the Internet, about "types". You know, the kind of person you are generally attracted to. It got me to thinking about what my own "type" is, if I have one, and what that person might look like if you broke all their qualities down into a list.

From the age of 16 until 25, I wasn't single for more than a week. Total. This wasn't to say I bounced around from lover to lover. I had 3. The first two lasted for 3.5 or 4 years each, and of course the last was Dave, up until he passed in September 2011.

Because of my lack of actual "dating" in my lifetime, I feel quite immature when it comes to actively engaging in the dating scene. It's not something I ever did before, because I always ended up dating someone I was friends with first, and each of those relationships were beautiful in their own right. Because of this, I'd never really dated around enough to know what my "type" is. So, I thought I would explore that a little bit in this post by making a list of the things I really like in a partner. It might be fun, or I might never post this.

Here we go!

- Big eyes (any colour)
- Dark/medium hair
- Likes kissing
- Likes rain
- Likes kissing in the rain / against a wall
- Likes the Internet
- Button-up Shirts
- Jeans
- Plays an instrument or draws or writes (basically, something creative)
- Likes to play video game
- Not muscley or buff
- Doesn't watch or play sports
- Likes to make me laugh
- Easy to make them laugh
- Honesty
- Shyness / Awkwardness
- Intelligence
- Good dresser (nothing fancy, just don't wear sweatpants constantly and make sure your clothes are clean)
- Good hygiene
- Active on social networks
- Loves being bitten while kissing (TMI, but whatev, don't judge me)
- Loves to bite
- Loves spontaneous adventure but also loves sitting at home watching a movie together
- Cares about their health
- Doesn't smoke
- Doesn't drink to excess
- Doesn't do drugs
- Likes kids & thinks Darwin is awesome
- Has similar musical tastes
- Has emotional reactions to art/music/poetry
- Likes listening to music in the car
- Likes to be silly sometimes
- Loves my weirdness
- Isn't super serious
- Isn't afraid to show emotion
- Comfortable in his sexuality
- Comfortable with himself
- Gets jealous (just a little)
- Good conversation
- Likes road trips / travel
- Likes to cuddle
- Likes hugs
- Surprise hugs from behind
- A little bit self conscious / insecure (no big ego)
- Thinks my awkwardness is cute
- Holds hands in public
- Properly fitting clothing (I don't want to see 6 inches of underwear or full-on crack)
- Romantic
- Considerate of emotions
- Thinks for himself (don't just agree with everything I say)
- Challenges me
- Adores me
- Has goals
- Non-violent
- Loves deep conversation
- Passionate (about life, love, hobbies, etc.)
- Finds joy in simple things
- Isn't afraid of commitment
- Isn't afraid of love / showing it
- Trustworthy
- Does sweet little things (little love notes, surprises) and likes to receive the same
- Would let me paint his nails
- Proud of me
- Encourages me
- Sees me as an equal
- Appreciates little things I do for him
- Honest, even if if's something that would upset me.
- Lets me wear his t shirts or hoodies
- Taller than me
- Can clean up after himself
- Makes me a priority
- No temper
- Nonviolent
- Patient with me
- Likes my cooking
- Likes going for walks
- Dog person (I'm allergic to cats)
- Open minded
- Likes random adventure
- Loyal
- Forgets anniversaries (so I won't feel so bad when I forget them)
- Thinks Fight Club is an awesome movie
- Gives good back rubs

Well, that's about all I could think of in the hour it took me to make that list. Obviously there are probably more things but I think this will do for now. If you read this far, congratulations! You're either really bored or have a crush on me.

Generation Internet

I consider myself to be among the elders of the Internet Generation, AKA Generation Y. I used Yahoo before Google existed. I learned HTML coding in high school. I hung out in IRC chat rooms and used ICQ messenger. I remember when 128MB was huge and it took a week to download a single song through IRC (as long as the person you were downloading it from didn't go offline). I had profiles on Hi5, Bebo, Friendster and MySpace before Facebook even existed. The first website I ever built was on Homestead.com and it still exists (It was one of the first results that came up when you searched "Tom Green" on Yahoo search). My second website was on Tripod.com and it also still exists. As embarrassing as it is to look at my old websites now, they hold a great deal of nostalgia for me. I remember every detail, sitting at the small desk in front of an old IBM computer my mom had purchased for the family, tapping away and connecting with people and information from all over the world. Each of my sisters and myself were allowed 1 hour of Internet per night, unless my mom had to make a phone call. Waiting for dial-up to connect after my mom taking forever on the phone was torture for a 16 year old who just started talking to boys on ICQ or MSN messenger.

I think I live in a pretty unique generation. The last to remember what it was like to grow up without a cell phone or Wikipedia, but still young enough that my mind was partially shaped by the Internet during those developmentally important teen years. I've watched the world shift, and while I've shifted with it, I've watched others older than me get left behind.

As I watch the world around me, I see people defining themselves by a series of glowing screens, myself included. I spend a great deal more time developing my online "self" than I do my physical self. Online communication is easier, and takes the place of face to face interaction until you no longer feel like you're capable of the latter. I watch people younger than me sit in groups, but each of them interacts only with the phone in their hand. Texting, tweeting, Facebooking, updating their Tumblr blogs, yet not making eye contact with the boy or girl sitting next to them.

It makes me feel old to note the difference between my generation and those who are just in their teen years now. Though we have access to the exact same Internet, and even use the same websites and devices, there's a big difference in how we handle the information. A lot of it has to do with prioritizing, I believe. If I'm in a room with someone, they take priority over anything that happens on my phone or computer. If I get a text, I wait to check it after the person I'm physically with leaves or becomes otherwise distracted. I have friends just a few years younger than me who will stop mid-conversation or even mid-sentence to check a text message on their phone (I'm looking at you Lindsay!).

We live in a really unique time right now. The human race has never been more connected. Just a few decades ago, if you wanted to talk to a friend or family member in another country, it would cost you a hefty long distance phone bill to talk to them, or you would have to send them a physical letter, which could take weeks to get there. Now, you can connect with anyone on the planet in couple of seconds using Skype, or you can send an email that gets delivered instantly across the globe.

As connected as we are on a communicative level, we've become so disconnected in other ways. Today, I smiled at an older lady when walking home and she honestly looked surprised, then smiled gratefully back. We avoid eye contact or pretend to be preoccupied on our phones to avoid interacting with strangers out in the wild. I've been practicing the casual smile with strangers lately, as an exercise to help with my Asperger's, and I'm surprised with the results. Most people won't meet your eye and if they do, they look surprised when you smile at them. So few actually smile back.

Being the mother of a young boy, I can't help but wonder about what the future holds for the human race. We live in an incredibly unique time in history. It's exciting, but it can also be a little bit scary. Will we reach a time when our entire lives are lived online? Rather than having to remember facts, we need only remember to bookmark the site where we learned those facts, to quickly recall them as needed. Our brains are being exercised, but in different ways. What will this mean, a few generations down the bloodline? Will body language become obsolete? Will our bodies become obsolete?

Signing off,
Wendy: Proud Member of Generation Internet

A Journey to Self-Realization - Unhealthy Thoughts

I awoke late, feeling like garbage. It was Wednesday, and I'd spent the last two days eating foods that no human being should eat in the quantities I was ingesting. I searched myself for energy, but could find none. Begrudgingly dragging myself from between the sheets, I stepped into a new day with as much enthusiasm as a woman headed for the gallows. I winced at the daggers of sunlight assaulting my vision from the window. I was a girl, defeated. I would soon realize why.

I'd experienced days like this before. Many of them. But this one was tinged a slightly different shade of disgust as I shamefully avoided eye contact with that girl in the mirror. I let her down. Again. What was worse, is that I planned to continue doing it. Since I was already doing so poorly, I might as well continue the downward spiral. I'll squeeze in a few more days of failure before starting all over again. With that self-defeating attitude, I ate a bag of candy and a chocolate bar to start the day, almost before I even realized what I was doing. Depression: Life on Autopilot.

I felt good while I ate them, but immediately afterward I felt even worse than I had prior. I was nauseous. I was bloated. I was sick. I cooked a healthy lunch for Darwin, while filling myself with sugar and crap. Any energy I had was gone. I slumped through the day, catching occasional glances of a very angry and unsettled girl in the reflection of the fridge, or the bathroom mirror, or the bath water's surface disturbed only by the falling tears I couldn't yet explain.

What am I doing to myself?

A predictable cycle, spinning like a tumbleweed throughout my life over the last year: Plan a healthy lifestyle. Live that healthy lifestyle. See some success. Fall down. Stay down. Rinse and repeat. I could set my watch to it.

From every pit, I would talk myself up and out of it. Remember this feeling. Never again. But I knew it was a lie. It wouldn't be long before I would see these depths again. This cyclic depressive game of heads or fails.

Why do I keep giving up on myself?

After a late night meal of mostly candy and shame, I decided there must be some reason that I keep turning to these foods. I've been treating sweets like medicine. They make me feel good, but why? I feel like shit afterwards, so why do I eat them at all? This isn't me. It never used to be this way. Why now?

Knowing full well that I needed to have a long conversation with myself, and with Darwin asleep, I retreated to my bedroom and shut the door. Part of me knew; had always known. But, denial is a powerful thing, especially when we deny ourselves. I had felt it building for months, stirring deep within my gut. This realization of an intense personal weakness. With every failure, it became more apparent: an internal archaeological dig to uncover what time had forgotten.

I sat on the floor and forced myself to look in the mirror. Before I could admit to myself what was wrong, I wept. I looked at this sad girl in the mirror and I didn't recognize her. This person I've been trying to be, this person I aspire to as my truest self, wasn't the person looking back at me. The girl I saw, and what I saw in her eyes, was a deep and secret pain. She was broken. She wasn't the positive and forward-thinking girl I'd been trying to portray on Facebook and in my conversations with people. The fragile veil of light had fallen away, revealing something long hidden from view.

Suddenly, I had to write; to focus my thoughts. To get to the bottom of that pit and finally read the writings on the wall at such a depth. To decipher my actions into a little package that I could easily understand. And so I wrote. I wrote for an hour non-stop. I allowed my feelings to pour through my fingertips into a Notepad file, unfiltered.

The more I wrote, the more freedom I felt from this realization that had been weighing on me for the last year. I'll spare you the long-winded Notepad file which was mostly incoherent rambling in favor of simply sharing what I learned about myself:

I think I'm trying to fill a void. When Dave died, he left a gaping hole in my heart and in my life. I've been using food as a comfort, and as a way to fill up the emptiness inside me. A particularly disturbing realization is that I've been using a lot of the foods that he used to use to treat his low blood sugars. When I eat a handful of candy, I feel connected to him. I'm transported to a time when he was still with me, popping jellybeans in his mouth and tossing me the black ones that I loved and he hated. Low blood sugars were a scary thing to witness. He'd become so incredibly out of it, and when he ate jellybeans, it was like they brought him back to me...

That isn't the only thing I realized.

I think I'm subconsciously punishing myself. Deep down, I feel guilty living without him. Maybe since I couldn't make him healthy, I don't deserve to make myself healthy. I couldn't save him. As hard as I tried and despite the many nights I skipped sleep to try to fix him, I just couldn't. I wasn't good enough.

My best wasn't good enough. The scale is forever tilted in death's favor.

It isn't easy to look yourself in the eye and admit that you're not as strong as you thought you were. My hope is that, now that I'm aware of what's happening; now that I've faced what I was running from, I will be able to fix it. I realize that my inner reasoning is flawed, but I'm finding it difficult to look in a mirror and try to convince myself that I'm worth it. Now that I have all of this out there in the world, I hope that I can begin to work on tearing down the mental blocks that are keeping me from reaching my goals.

Saying Goodbye

Farewell. Adios. So long. Breaking up. Leaving. Separating. Parting ways. Goodbye. These are not usually words that conjure a snapshot of a happy moment. They are the the markings of an end. The expiration date on a relationship that's become more work to maintain than it is worth in happy moments; the full stop at the end of a sentence. Everything ends, whether we choose to recognize it or not.

People bob in and out of our lives, like buoys on the surface of an uncertain ocean. The ones we swim to are the ones who make us feel good. They're the ones who add positivity and meaning to our lives. The perfect friend or lover is someone you have enough in common with that you can see eye-to-eye, while having notable differences which make it possible to learn from each other and complement one another.

I am of the belief that when your relationship with another person begins to feel forced, or takes a tremendous amount of effort to maintain, that it's probably time to part ways. It is not my intention to sound apathetic. I recognize that relationships go through rough patches. You may have a disagreement with a friend that you rebound from after a length of time, or you could fight with a lover in the same fashion. However, when you look at your exchanges with another person and recognize that they are mostly built on negativity; when you can't remember why you became friends in the first place; when your core personality is so different that your views clash in an unproductive way; when their negative outlook begins to turn good times into bad ones; when you start to dread spending time with them... it's no longer worth making the effort.

Keeping someone in your life simply because it's habitual isn't benefiting anyone in the situation. Keeping them there because you would be lonely otherwise is unhealthy and codependent. Keeping them there because you're afraid to end it is perhaps the worst reasoning of all.

Maybe it's the Asperger's, but I don't find it overly difficult to cut people out of my life. There's something freeing in saying goodbye to someone who takes away from your happiness. After all, life is too short to spend your time on people who don't deserve you.

These Residual Scars

Few things can mess a person up like finding the man you love most in the world dead. Although the residual scarring from the trauma of it is great, one side effect stands out from the rest as the most bothersome.

In my mind, I feel like since I found Dave's body, I'll find Darwin in the same wretched state. It's a deep, intense fear that hasn't gone away.

After Dave died, I was afraid to sleep for days. The logic was: Last time I went to sleep, David died. Next time I fall asleep, Darwin will die, and it was difficult to convince myself otherwise. When I finally did sleep, and woke up, and he was still alive, it got a tiny little bit better. I slept again, woke up, and he was still alive. Then it happened again, and again, and again. These days, I'm not really afraid to sleep anymore.

No, now I'm just afraid when he sleeps. At first, it was SIDS I was worried about the most. For the first 9 months of his life, he slept by my side when he slept. All I had to do was look over at him and see him breathing, and it would ease my anxiety. When I went to sleep, he came with me. I'd wake up dozens of times in the night, to make sure he wasn't smothering.

It was difficult to make the transition to him sleeping in his crib; more for me than it was for him. I was compelled to check on him every 15 minutes or so. I have a video baby monitor, which helped some, but you can't really see if he's breathing on it. If he slept in one position for too long, something deep inside me would fill with dread to the point of an anxiety attack. I'd slowly open the door to his room, expecting the worst, only to find him sleeping peacefully each time.

Now that he's 18 months old, I don't feel compelled to check on him nearly as much. However, every night, if he's been asleep for longer than usual without waking up for a bottle, I timidly check the baby monitor. I'll often find him not moving at all and that same panic kicks into high gear. What's worse is I'll be afraid to go into the room, because for a split second, I'm absolutely positive that he's died in the night. When I finally build up the courage to crack open that bedroom door and peek in, my heart is in my throat and when I see him breathing the most intense relief washes over me and I smile. He's alive.