Worth Your Read: Parental Support For Bullied Autistic Children

http://www.thinkingautismguide.com/2020/06/when-autistic-children-get-bullied-how.html

I'll start out by saying I was bullied in elementary school, from grades K to 3.  It only stopped when I changed schools.  Particularly galling was the fact that it was a Christian elementary school, and a small one.  You'd think people would have, I don't know, noticed, cared, and done something about it.  Apparently not.

This is not uncommon, as I understand it.  I can't honestly remember how much I told my parents, or the school.  I do think I told my mother, and despite her crippling depression she did give me some pointers that helped somewhat.  The situation wasn't resolved, though.  And I don't think the school did anything that helped, assuming they believed me at all.  Upon arriving at the new school district in a different state, I essentially resolved to be antisocial forever to avoid being in a similar situation ever again.

That resolution lasted right through middle school, where one of those "let's help the outcasts and outsiders make friends!" groups slapped me together with a pair of fraternal twins who decided to adopt me as a friend.  As things sometimes do, one friendship led to another and by the time I moved again, I was losing a small network of people I'd grown fond of.  So it goes.

This was in the 90's, which was before smartphones were invented, before social media became a thing, and before everyone carried the Internet in their pockets at basically all times.

This article focuses on in-person bullying, specifically that experienced in schools.  While this is absolutely a current concern, notably missing is any discussion of cyberbullying.

Some of the same considerations apply: presume competence, believe the autistic person, and take care how you ask for information about what's going on.

For an article more focused on cyberbullying, Kevin Healey has this story, and there's an additional resource here.

So far in my life, I have yet to meet an autistic person who hasn't been bullied.  Usually we're the favored targets, above and beyond all typical bullying, due to our tendency to take people at face value, our unusual mannerisms and passions, and our smaller support networks.  Let's do better for today's kids.  

Legwork and Life: Black Raspberries (and other rubus berries)

It's been a while, but I thought I'd say "hi" and "I'm doing okay despite the virus and stay-at-home orders" and also "here's what I've kept busy with."  There's actually a second post I should do on zucchini, but you'll forgive me if I keep it brief.

Black raspberry, or rubus occidentalis, is a wild growing bramble berry.  I've enjoyed the flavor since I was quite young and had very little idea what I was putting in my mouth (but Mom said it was safe).  It's smaller than domestic blackberries or raspberries, but very flavorful.  Like blackberries and raspberries, the brambles have thorns, but with care, you can get a delicious snack without too much trouble.

I gathered small handfuls here and there when I was little, but didn't think much of it.  Last year, one of my friends got into foraging, and I rediscovered rubus occidentalis.  Together we found several very worthy foraging spots for these delicious berries...  so this year, these happened:

Those are the same size of container, but it's three separate trips.  Each container is about the size of a large saucepan... so now you have a better idea of how many berries you're looking at.  Suffice it to say, I spent a lot of hours outdoors. 

I think this is one of those things being autistic helps with.  When I wasn't berrying with my friend, I'd put a playlist of podcasts on and just work my way through the area slowly but surely.  This allowed me to get into a state of hyperfocus: much of my mind could be occupied learning about mythology or trying to understand racial oppression in the US, and my hands and eyes were kept busy spotting and harvesting black raspberries.  Meanwhile I'm breathing fresh air and getting exercise.  Overall, it was a very positive experience.  My main gripe is that I don't have enough time in the day when I'm dedicating several hours to just berrying.

I only got ice cream after berrying once, but being able to throw fresh berries into my treat was really rewarding.  

There are actually five kinds of berries in the pictures above.  While the bulk of my harvest was black raspberries, there were also wild red raspberries, wild blackberries, some kind of hybrid blackberry/black raspberry, and what I assume was someone's escaped specialized raspberry plants. 

All rubus berries are safe to eat, so I consumed a few of those odd pale yellowish berries.  They tasted exactly like raspberries.  (Please note, not all berries are rubus berries!  Do not eat random berries off plants without IDing them.)

Because it personally amuses me: side by sides of domestic and wild berries.  Selective breeding at work!  I'm pretty sure raspberries weren't the size of my whole knuckle joint when I was little.  Though I think they were still bigger than that wild raspberry in the picture.  Maybe twice the size?

Anyway, once picked, I obviously ate some of my harvest raw...  but I also wanted to cook with them.  Which mean washing them.  From container to soaking (and picking little bits of plant matter out) to drying again. 

Pies were the obvious choice.  I actually made three, but gave the bulk of those pastries, including a half of a pie to my parents.  I also made a gluten-free pie for the first time, which would be more impressive if I hadn't used a baking mix.  The crust still came out poorly, because I couldn't use my gluten-infested rolling pin.  So I hand-shaped it and it was fine, but the crust cracked and filling leaked. There will be no awards for best in show, but they were still tasty at least.

There was also freezing them on trays...

And stuffing them into a gallon bag for later.  I may not be inclined to eat a whole gallon bag worth of black razzes (and friends) right now, but winter will likely be another story. 

Finally, I also made syrup.  This involved simmering the berries with water, sugar, corn starch (to thicken it) and a bit of vanilla.  The berries have to be mashed pretty good to get most of their liquids out.

You can strain all the pulp out of it, but I left a small amount in, just for some texture.  Leave it all, and you don't have a syrup, you have... I guess jam, kinda.  Leave none and you practically have store syrup.  Leaving some reminds you where the flavor came from without making you chew your way through all the seeds.

It's pretty good on ice cream!

I've made two batches of syrup now, and frozen most of it in ice cube form.  It'll last longer that way and can be thawed out when I want to serve it. 

The season is basically over now, which means I can stop braving the 90+ degree weather and focus a bit more on my plants and handling such things as dental appointments, getting an eye exam, and all that fun health maintenance stuff. 

It's been a very active summer for me, and I think I'm better for it.  Hopefully, my harvest and cooking work will brighten the gloomy winter days ahead.  

Reading the Research: Enforced Poverty

Welcome back to Reading the Research, where I trawl the Internet to find noteworthy research on autism and related subjects, then discuss it in brief with bits from my own life, research, and observations.

Today's article is a report issued from Drexel University on the financial status of autistic people.  Or, I should say, the lack of financial stability of most autistic people.

The poverty rate for autistic people is much, much higher than average.  So is the under-employment rate, and the unemployment rate.  There's reasons for this.  

First, retaining the services of a therapist or team of care professionals (especially good ones) is incredibly expensive.  There can be a lot of complicated medical issues that come with autism, including epilepsy, sleep issues, a barrage of allergies, and special dietary needs.  Then there's services for behavioral and developmental support: Speech-Language Pathologist, school support services, therapist, and home support staff.  

And naturally, sometimes the school refuses to provide what you need, and you also need to retain the services of a lawyer.  

All of this adds up, and atop that mountain of expenses is the typical living expenses: a home, utilities, and food.  How is someone supposed to afford all that?  

Mostly, they can't.  Unless your paycheck is in excess of $100k (so, almost no one), that mountain of expenses is impossible to handle on your own.  But the services are still needed.  

So the vast majority of families turn to social security programs.  Medicaid, in particular.  If the need can be demonstrated, the state will arrange (or let you arrange, depending on the specifics of the program) for support services, free of charge.  Sounds great, right?  

There's a catch.  Not only is it incredibly hard to get the state to recognize you have legitimate needs, but also Medicaid programs tend to have a limit to household income.  Above that limit, and you do not qualify for services.  

That would seem fine, if the limit was $100k.  But it's not.  Instead, it's typically around the poverty line or below.  Working class and middle class families are out of luck.  

Say you're a family with a middle class income, maybe $60k.  The support services you need will run you tens of thousands of dollars into debt every year, so you can't afford to pay.  So then what?  You still need the services.  

The answer that many families have opted for is, "You quit your middle class job and get something that barely pays your bills, but puts you under the Medicaid limit."  

The adult autistic version of this is, "Well, I might be able to climb the ladder in this company I'm working at or get training to get a better paying job, but if I do that I'll lose my SSI and support services, so I can't."  That's of course assuming they managed to acquire a job with advancement prospects in the first place, which is statistically unlikely.  

Usually autistic people (myself included) simply aren't able to get or keep a job of that level.  We might be qualified, even exceptional, for the position, but when office politics comes calling we sink rather than swim, and are quickly let go for not fitting in or understanding.  Here's a poem about this.

It's a bad situation, and it only gets worse as costs continue to rise, while Medicaid income limits remain the same.  
(Pst! If you like seeing the latest autism-relevant research, visit my Twitter, which has links and brief comments on studies that were interesting, but didn't get a whole Reading the Research article about them.)

Worth Your Read: Ask vs. Guess Culture

https://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/613906274411823104/ask-culture-and-guess-culture

My spouse ran across this concept from the Internet and shared it with me.  It's been very helpful in improving our communication. 

The linked thread is somewhat long (worth reading the full thing, though!), so I'll summarize as best I can.

There are two ways of making requests of others.  Say we need to get from Home to Point B, don't have the money for rideshare, and don't have a car. 

The first is throw caution to the wind and directly ask.  You might call or text friends and family, saying, "Hey, could you give me a ride to Point B?  My car's in the shop right now and I'm stuck. : ("  This is Ask Culture, where you can ask for whatever, but you need to be ready to take No for an answer. 

The second is to hint at people, and hope they'll volunteer what you need without you having to ask.  It relies on shared expectations and values.  So you might call or text family, and when they ask how you're doing, you might say, "oh, not great, my car's in the shop and I've got an appointment at Point B soon."  This would clue the other person into your need, and, since they care about you, they might offer you a ride if they're able. 

You have not directly asked, and so if they can't offer you a ride, they don't need to risk hurting or disappointing you by telling you no.  Instead, they might say something like, "Oh, that sounds terrible.  I wish I wasn't home alone watching over the kids- they've got the flu right now."  The person has thusly let you know, by way of "why they can't give you a ride to Point B," that they are unwilling to give you a ride to Point B.  This is Guess Culture. 

Now, in the original Facebook post my spouse shared with me, someone opined that these two Cultures are equally valid. 

You can probably see where I'm about to head here. 

Hi, I'm autistic.  One of these cultures is how I operate naturally, and one of them actively, pointedly, and directly disables me.  Equally valid?  Don't be ridiculous. 

Guess culture is rife with literally everything I'm disadvantaged at: advanced theory of mind, reading body language, subtleties, talking around things rather than directly about them...  All because people don't want to say no or be said no to?  Holy forking shirtballs, people. 

The world does not end if someone turns you down.  It may be disappointing, and you may need to find another option, but.  Seriously.  Nor does the sky fall if you have to say no to someone.  If it upsets you that much to do either of those things, you really need to find out why these very normal parts of life are so upsetting to you, and get to work on changing that and learning to be more open about your communication.  Life involves No. 

Another autistic in a different reposting of this thread said, "guess culture is to autistics as an ice-coated cobblestone beach is to wheelchair users."  This is pretty well accurate.  At least the beach can't help being what it is.  People can choose how they communicate. 

My spouse and I come from very different backgrounds when it comes to this.  My family, I think, did a mix of Ask and Guess cultures, but because I am who I am, I default pretty heavily to Ask Culture.  My spouse, on the other hand, comes from a pretty thoroughly Guess Culture background.  Needless to say, communicating has been difficult at points. 

The cycle is easy to describe.

I, being somewhat oblivious and exhausted at many points, miss the hints that he tries to give to clue me in that I should offer something.  In turn, he becomes snappish or sad because I haven't offered the thing he's been cluing me in that he wants.  At some point, an argument starts between us for some unrelated-but-valid reason.  The issue escalates well beyond reasonability, and at some point I learn that my spouse is upset because he wanted me to offer this thing and I didn't. 

I become even more frustrated because he didn't simply ASK for what he wanted, and he tells me he didn't ask because he didn't feel comfortable doing so.  I tell him I can't read minds and that if he wants something he needs to ask for it, citing that I'm autistic.  Both of us leave the discussion frustrated, hurt, and sad. 

Thankfully for both my sanity and my marriage, my spouse is working on practicing Ask Culture.  Because my spouse defaults to Guess Culture in times of stress, I am also working on recognizing the signs that I'm being Guess Culture'd at.  I can then choose whether to ask straight out, "Are you Guess Culturing me for something?" or handle it in some other way. 

I don't really appreciate having to put in the extra effort when I'm stretched thin as it is, but since I love my spouse, it's a price I'll pay.  I'm hopeful that at some point I won't need to, though.  Guess culture is neither kind, nor helpful, nor supportive for autistic people.  It is rife with passive-aggression, misunderstandings, and chronic over-thinking.  The only reason to learn to deal with it is because other people don't give you the option not to.  

Reading the Research: Peering into the How of Sensory Sensitivities

Welcome back to Reading the Research, where I trawl the Internet to find noteworthy research on autism and related subjects, then discuss it in brief with bits from my own life, research, and observations.

Today's article gives us some insight into what causes sensory sensitivities.  Unsurprisingly if you're familiar with how I define autism, the cause is found in the brain.  

Typically when I speak about sensory sensitivities, I'm not talking about visual ones.  This is because I mostly don't suffer from them.  However, there is actually a wide variety of these sensitivities.  I wrote about them in depth a couple years ago.

As a quick refresher (and for folks that really don't have time to read the linked article), there are at least five forms of visual hypersensitivity:

1. Light sensitivity, which can cause pain when looking at or near LEDs, sunlight reflected off snow, fluorescent lights, camera flashes, and glare from basically any bright light source.
2. Contrast sensitivity, which can make black letters on a white page blur together.  Needless to say, this causes great difficulty when reading.
3. "Tunnel reading," which is difficulty reading groups of words or groups of letters together.  It can be hard to move from line to line on a page, which naturally also makes reading a headache.
4. Impaired print resolution, where the letters on a page or computer screen are unstable, shimmer, or move.  There are a lot of ways to make reading misery, aren't there?
5. Environmental distortions, which is similar to impaired print resolution, except not limited to print.  The whole world, including stairs, faces, furniture, and even flooring can shimmer, vibrate, shift, or warp in your vision.  

This study sought to discover what causes these conditions, and found that autistic brains don't moderate themselves very well.  The visual input basically comes in at full force, and rather than tone it down to make it usable, the brain just... gets buried in it.  We can also be more distractible in terms of the motion of large objects.  Finally, they suspect autistic visual areas-of-focus may be smaller than neurotypical ones, meaning some of us may have a sort of "tunnel vision" effect.

It seems this team is likely to try to flesh out their findings, so we may get more specific answers as to what's going on with visual sensitivities.  Hopefully, with this understood, treatments could be created for people who suffer from these symptoms at a high level.  

Someone like me, who sometimes suffers light sensitivity but is mostly unaffected, wouldn't need such a thing.  But a person whose whole world is constantly warping, shifting, and shimmering could hardly focus on school, making friends, and pursing their interests.  

Much of scientific progress is incremental, but I have hope, someday, for less suffering for everyone.  

(Pst! If you like seeing the latest autism-relevant research, visit my Twitter, which has links and brief comments on studies that were interesting, but didn't get a whole Reading the Research article about them.)

Book Review: Quirky, Yes -- Hopeless, No

Quirky, Yes -- Hopeless, No: practical tips to help your child with Asperger's syndrome be more socially accepted, by Cynthia La Brie Norall with Beth Wagner Brust, is a topical guidebook focused around handling children in the now defunct "Aspie" subset of autism spectrum conditions.

That subtype is basically: visual thinker, no learning disabilities, average to high IQ, mainstream education, fully verbal, no physical disabilities or conditions like epilepsy or cerebral palsy, and fixated on special interests with no general curiosity.

You can essentially look up information on subjects like anxiety, conversation, teasing, sarcasm, and courtesy.  Each has a short section (less than 5 pages) and comes with a "See also:" for related subjects.  There's a significant amount of repetition of concepts, since some subjects overlap in places.  The overall message is what's in the title: autistic people are different, but you shouldn't give up on us.  The book is meant to help you understand and give you immediate ideas of what to try.  Sound great, right?

Honestly?  I didn't really like this book.  It got a lot of things right, but in some cases it did so in the worst way possible.

For example, one of the early sections talks about meltdowns, and how they're different than tantrums.  The issue?  The book doesn't use the word meltdown.  It insists on giving you two different definitions of "tantrum," and explaining the autistic meltdown in great depth but not using the obvious word for it.  The content is more or less accurate, in that meltdowns are not about control or getting what you want, but about being overwhelmed or overstimulated and not being able to handle it.  If there's a perfectly good word to distinguish a not-tantrum from a tantrum, I can't understand why you wouldn't use it.

I also didn't like the "one size fits all" stereotypes the book liked to trumpet.  The thing about autism is that it's a spectrum.  The well-worn saying is, "If you've met one person with autism, you've met one person with autism." That includes the subset like myself who were given the label "Asperger's Syndrome" instead of "autism" or "high functioning autism."  There are going to be differences, so saying "all Aspies do this" or "all Aspies have this problem," or "Aspies think like this" is a massive red flag, and wrong to boot.

This book has tons of those massive red flags.  A personally irritating example is in the section about taking an interest in other people.  The book opines that autistic people are not interested in others, which is a problem because that behavior is expected.  It then says, "Can we rewire the brain to insert an interest in people?  No, unfortunately, there is no way to hardwire in social thinking."  And then talks about how you can train autistic people to fake interest in others so the social expectation is fulfilled.

So, excuse me?  I'm an autistic person with a general interest in everyone and everything, including other people.  I have had that interest since I was young, and have only gotten better at expressing it as I aged.  I wasn't aware that I apparently don't exist, thanks for that heads up (sarcasm).

Speaking of ways I don't exist, there were a couple mentions of gender talks and dating.  While I absolutely agree it's important to discuss these things, the assumption the book makes, that autistic children will be cisgender (either male OR female, both, transgender, or none of the above) and only care about straight dating (never mind all the gay and bi folks), is woefully shortsighted.  Autistic people often find ourselves in gender minorities.  I myself am agender, which puts me in the transgender category...  and apparently again, I don't exist.  Talk about LGBTQIA issues, for Pete's sake.  It is 2020 and sex and gender are way more complicated than, "did you check what's in their pants?"

And speaking of things that are outdated...  This whole book, while published in 2009, seems to be stuck in the 90s.  Paper and pencil solutions are stressed.  Phone skills and analog clock-reading skills are pointed out as important.  Look, I get that not every person has a smartphone, but these days, even under the poverty line, it's the vast majority.  Children these days are more likely to use a smartphone for organizational solutions, text far more than call, and use their cell phones for clocks rather than squint at a clock with hands.

There's a time and place for paper-and-pencil solutions, or whiteboards, or what have you.  But the issue of smartphones was basically entirely ignored throughout the book, and that strikes me as a staggering oversight.  Particularly when talking about bullying.  The book focuses only on in-person bullying, but cyberbullying is now quite common and badly needs addressing in great detail.

My last criticism is that the book seems steeped heavily in the ableist "autism separate from child" mentality.  The fallacy in Autism $peaks' publicity stuff is that the autism can somehow be peeled away from a person, "freeing" the normal human underneath, or some such nonsense.  This shows up in various points in the book, but the one that irked me enough to note it down was on page 163: "Unlike more severe autism, Asperger's syndrome is surmountable to a degree."

Hi, it's me again, the twice-nonexistent autistic human!  My autism is not a chronic disease.  I have learned to function in your bullshit neurotypical society, but that does not mean I have somehow "overcome" my neurology.  I am still autistic, and I will still be autistic even if I solve all my health problems and function at my very best.  Please don't imply my existence is something to be "surmounted," and if I just try hard enough I'll be "normal."  Yikes.

This is probably the most blistering review I've written and opted to publish, and I think the book bothered me because it got many things right but missed the mark in so many important ways.  The authors spent hundreds of hours around autistic kids, but it's like they never spoke to autistic adults or even heard of neurodiversity at all.  I hate to belabor the obvious, but like... maybe do that before you publish your book next time?

Read This Book If

You're the parent of an autistic child, and your kid fits neatly into the subtype of autism I've described above.  Most likely, they will not, because autistic people vary quite a lot in our characteristics.  You can still read this book, but it has a lot of problems, not the least of which is that the information would have been most useful in the 90s, and has not been updated for the age of smartphones, cyberbullying, and social media.  There were also major issues with ableism and sweeping stereotypes, which I really did not appreciate.

Reading the Research: Development and Limitations

Welcome back to Reading the Research, where I trawl the Internet to find noteworthy research on autism and related subjects, then discuss it in brief with bits from my own life, research, and observations.

Today's article is part of why it's never wise (and often cruel) to put children into boxes like "low functioning autism."

It's always an odd feeling to read obvious information being merely speculated at, or worse, puzzled over, in scientific research.  This study done by the University of California showed changes in the "autism severity" as children aged from age 3 to age 6.  Some improved, to the point of not even qualifying for an autism diagnosis anymore.  Some struggled even harder as they aged.  More than half stayed about the same.

The tone of the research seems politely puzzled about this fact.  It isn't complicated.  The fact is, as children age, their brains develop.  Autistic people don't always develop at the same pace as our neurotypical counterparts.  So the demands and skills required for, say, preschool or kindergarten might not have developed in us by the time we're old enough to be placed there.  Which leads to concerns and diagnoses and extra help.  

Given time, some children's brains develop and begin to catch up with the demands placed on them.  Others may fall further behind, as the demands increase but their brains aren't given sufficient support and time to develop.  This information is neither brain surgery nor rocket science.  It's merely observation and firsthand/secondhand knowledge from other autistic people and parents.  

I do think it's foolish to assume that just because a person no longer meets the criteria for ASD, that they're going to be perfectly neurotypical from now on.  That's not how brains work, and it's especially not the lived experience of many girls on the autism spectrum.  We don't become normal, we simply learn to appear normal.  The differences remain, and the struggles continue.  They're just not as obvious.  

Finally, to the original point I raised.  We are, none of us, bound to our fates.  IQ is not an overall measure of success in life (or even overall intelligence), but merely a measure of how well a person will thrive in a typical school setting.  Peoples' brains do develop and change.  People continue to learn until they day they die.  Nonspeaking autistic people communicate, they just don't do so in convenient words.  

Putting someone in a box (or an institution) and saying, "oh well, they'll never develop past age 6 mentally and there's no point trying to communicate with them or help them learn," is to deny their basic humanity.  Particularly at a young age, when brains are still in full swing of development, this is flatly wrong.

I'm not saying every autistic child can grow up to be fully verbal and successful in any school, and then whatever type of work they want.  But I am saying that if you take someone's word that your loved one can't improve and learn, you're making it impossible for them to do so.  I hope it goes without saying that you should never do that.  Boxes are for moving objects, not for keeping people in.  

(Pst! If you like seeing the latest autism-relevant research, visit my Twitter, which has links and brief comments on studies that were interesting, but didn't get a whole Reading the Research article about them.)

Making an Apology: Balancing Objectivity and Subjectivity

In the last year or so, I've been learning one of those Hidden Curriculum things I'm fairly certain most neurotypical people take for granted.  That is, how to handle people, their emotions, and their subjective experiences balanced against your own subjective experience and your best understanding of what actually happened.

People seem to vary on this, but I personally believe there is one true objective reality.  The truth, so to speak.  However, humans are mostly too limited to be able to see it, blinded as we are by our cultures, prejudices, and personal experiences.

For every event that happens, there is, I feel, an objective account of what happened.  But then there's also the subjective experience of each person involved in that event.  A simple conversation between myself and my spouse has three parts, then:

• What actually happened (the exact words exchanged and the objective situation)
• My subjective experience and emotions in the conversation (my emotions and feelings during the conversation)
• His subjective experience and emotions in the conversation (his emotions and feelings during the conversation)

Dirty Dishes

An example of this might be a quick interaction between my spouse and myself regarding a kitchen sink full of dirty dishes.  It is my spouse's job to put dirty dishes into the dishwasher and run the dishwasher when it's full.  I use this particular example because it's come up more than a few times, but also because typically when it does come up, it's usually an isolated incident of "life was very busy, things were missed."

The objective facts of the situation are this: the sink is full of dirty dishes, there is room in the dishwasher for them, and this situation has been true for a couple days.  It is my spouse's chore to handle that situation, ideally without letting any build up of dirty dishes happen, ever.  Objectively, then, my spouse is at fault.

When I bring up the subject to my spouse, I may be upset or even angry that the situation has sat for that long.  This is because the sink being full is like a poke in the eye every time I walk past it, plus there's the smell, plus I can't use that side of the sink.  It is also not my job to police my spouse and remind him to do his chores all the time, and I may be frustrated that he still hasn't gotten to it.  The situation, therefore, is subjectively upsetting to me, and I may use harsher language than necessary to request that my spouse do his chore and pay better attention next time.  Objectively, it is reasonable for me to be upset in this situation; we had an agreement that he would do this chore in a timely manner, and because he didn't, I suffered those metaphorical pokes in the eye every time I went into the kitchen.

My spouse, on the other hand, does not experience those pokes in the eye.  In fact, he doesn't usually notice the buildup.  The situation, then, may have completely escaped him until I point it out.  Or he may have noticed it once or twice and said to himself, "I'll do that later today," and then simply forgotten.  Regardless, having the subject brought up in a harsh manner would be surprising and hurtful.

So the (suboptimal) interaction might start with me saying, "Dear, could you please take care of the sink already?" with an edge in my voice, and then not taking "not right now" for an answer, and his surprise, hurt, and dismay in response to that.  We might then need to work together to convey why I was I was so upset, and I might need to apologize for being harsh, demanding the situation be fixed immediately, and for making him feel attacked.  

The objective facts remain true, that it was his job to do the dishes.  And my upset at the situation is valid, because of the reasons I listed above and because the situation shouldn't have happened in the first place.  However, there are better ways to address the situation that don't hurt feelings, and his hurt feelings in response to my harsh words are valid.  

Learning to say: "I feel like this happened"

For most of my life, all I've cared about is the first part of the equation: the objective facts of the situation.  The second part (my subjective experience) was somewhat unavoidable, but I mainly tried to work with and focus on what actually happened, rather than anything squishier and harder to understand.  That included my own feelings and emotions.

The thing is, that's not really how people and interactions work.  You can't tell someone whose feelings you've hurt, "well that's not what I said," and expect their hurt feelings to just... magically go away.  It literally doesn't work like that in 99% of humanity.  To be successful, you have to acknowledge that others' feelings and viewpoints, while possibly inaccurate, are also valid.

It has been somewhat of a struggle to learn to say, "I feel like this happened," and "to me, this is how this happened," rather than, "this happened."  I've had a helping hand with that, which is to say that my memory doesn't seem to be as crystal clear as it used to be.  Regardless, though, even if it was still crystal clear, the fact would remain that I'm prone to error.  I have a subjective experience, with emotions that color my understanding of the truth.  My memory might not be perfect, and even if it was, if the other person understood the words differently, their perspective and feelings also matter.

So, in an argument with my spouse about how to handle chores (a common friction point in our relationship and in many others), I have to keep his emotions and subjective experience in mind during and after the conversation.  If he becomes upset, it's not productive to try to argue him out of being upset, even if I think he's being unreasonable.  

Instead, I need to address the upset.  Perhaps I've been unnecessarily harsh in choosing my words because I'm frustrated.  Or perhaps it's not even my fault and  he's upset because other stuff in life (like a job change or the stress of the coronavirus) is putting pressure on him and it's made him snappish or more prone to defensive (rather than constructive) behavior.  

Knowing the why of the upset is helpful to me, because it makes me feel like I can handle the situation better.  Regardless, though, I don't gain anything by ignoring his upset emotions.  Doing so simply prolongs the bad feelings.  Even if they seemingly go away over time, resentment can build up and poison the relationship.  Since I love my spouse and want our marriage to last, I try not to let this happen.

So I apologize as best I can, using what information I have, and try to ensure that if it was my fault, I don't repeat the error.  Sometimes it's difficult to apologize, because I feel perfectly justified in what I've said or don't feel I've done anything wrong.  However, even if that's true or the harm I did was unintentional, my spouse is upset, and that has to be addressed in order to move on.

With the upset handled, the actual incident can be handled, and my spouse will then prioritize handling his chore, and perhaps even apologize for letting it slide for so long and subjecting me to so many pokes in the metaphorical eye.

The Parts of a Good Apology

Apologizing isn't really a skill I was taught much, especially as an adult, so I've had to piece together how to do it well in my relationship. Your mileage may vary: some people value certain parts of an apology more than others.

First, set aside your anger, resentment, and frustration.  That can be really hard when emotions are overwhelming, so it can help to take a few minutes' break from the discussion before attempting an apology.

Before you start talking, take into account the other person's perspective.  Why are they upset? Did you cause the upset?  These need to be included in the apology. I like to ask for clarification if I'm unclear on points, but depending on who you're apologizing to, asking at the moment of apology may simply bring more anger.  Some people don't care why you did something, because they're blinded by being so upset.  In those cases you need to apologize first, and the person may elaborate on why they're upset in response.  You can then use that information to make a better apology directly afterwards, and a third or more if needed.  

Knowing the why of a situation is very important to me when I'm being apologized to, because it gives me information about whether the person was acting as they thought I'd prefer, being thoughtless, or even whether a bit of cruelty was involved.  It clues me into how genuine the apology is, and the circumstances the apologizer was in make their actions more understandable.  It helps me understand the apologizer better.  

However, there are limits.  The problem with giving context for your actions when apologizing is that it can come off as making excuses rather than a genuine apology.  If there's too much context and not enough taking responsibility and acknowledgement of the other person's hurt and upset, the apology rings false.  Finding the right balance takes practice.  When in doubt, I typically apologize with whatever context I have and explain the why afterwards.  

When you make the apology, convey your understanding of the situation and acknowledge the other person's hurt and/or upset.  Keep in mind what you're responsible for: your words and how you said them.  But also keep in mind that an apology is far easier than finding new trusted friends or a spouse. 

Something to keep in mind is that when you apologize... You are not necessarily saying that you are wrong and the other person is right.  I may be perfectly correct and reasonable in being upset about the dirty dishes situation, but I still don't want my spouse to be upset when I bring it up.  I just want him to fix the situation and make efforts to keep it from happening again.  So my apology to him would NOT be, "I'm sorry I upset you, I shouldn't have said anything." Instead, I might say, "I'm sorry I upset you with the way I brought this issue up.  I didn't mean to make you feel attacked."  

The apology does three things: it validates my spouse's feelings and his right to have them (something we both struggle with), it lessens the amount of hurt he's experiencing, and it demonstrates that I care about him.  All these things are important to keeping a relationship healthy.  

It's been a struggle to learn this skill of balancing objective fact (as best I can recall it) and subjective realities, and I'm definitely still practicing.  However, our relationship and communication has improved as a result, and conflicts happen less and are resolved far more quickly.  We used to spend hours of misery on each conflict, sometimes even on things that weren't really important.  It's now down to minutes, and the conflicts are far smaller.  

When and Whether 

As a note: The kind of people-handling I've described here works because my spouse and I don't mess around.  We don't play emotionally abusive mind games or invent problems for attention.  When either of us brings up an issue, it is in good faith, something that is genuinely an issue.  I am very fortunate in that regard, because abusive people can and absolutely do take advantage of autistic people.  It can be hard for an autistic person to sort out what's a reasonable concern and what's unreasonable or emotional manipulation, because neurotypical people don't make sense to us in the first place.  

I don't typically need to use this kind of people handling in the rest of my life.  Random passersby and business associates either don't generate conflict or don't matter enough to care about the conflict.  In the latter cases, I typically apologize because it's the right thing to do, but I don't place a whole lot of emotional investment or energy into it.  So I mainly need this skill for handling friends and family.  

I suspect it helps to practice it with a wider variety of people, but with that wider variety also comes the potential for abusive or bad faith interactions.  I also have far less information on how, when, and why to make an apology, which means less successful interactions, even when I'm doing my best.  So it pays to take care when handling conflict with less familiar people, and weigh the possibility that the other person isn't being genuine.  

This is honestly difficult, especially since I tend to automatically take people at their word.  It's exhausting to second-guess what people tell me, which is probably why I usually don't bother these days.  My life is hard enough without having to spend my limited energy on second-and-third-guessing what people meant.  I'd rather spend my energy growing food or reading autism books and research.  

So it's only if the people are important (friends and family) or if the situation is important (job interviews or advocacy) that I usually bother these days.  Everyone else can just say what they mean.  Which is how I think everyone should act anyway. 

Doing Your Best

The last thing is that sadly, even the best apologies don't always fix everything. 

The other person needs to be willing to hear your apology and try to move past the conflict.  While that's usually the case, it isn't always.  Sometimes you simply have to do the best you can for a situation, and then move on.  I've lost a few friends in my lifetime, and whether the fault was mine, theirs, or both, it's never terribly fun.

To me, doing my best for a situation means:

• Apologizing to the best of my ability, 
• making right what parts of the situation I can (like replacing an item I broke), 
• reflecting on my part in the situation so I can avoid repeating it in the future, and
• forgiving myself.

When I've done those things, I can lift my head and say, "I did my best, and if you can't forgive me, that's on you."  I can then move on without regrets about myself and how I handled the situation.  

At the end of the day, I have to live with myself.  Doing my best in as many situations as I can is one way I make that existence tolerable, or even something to be proud of.  

Reading the Research: Fairer IQ Tests

Welcome back to Reading the Research, where I trawl the Internet to find noteworthy research on autism and related subjects, then discuss it in brief with bits from my own life, research, and observations.

Today's article is an improvement on IQ tests, which may help serve autistic people and other neurodiverse humans better.  

Before I get started on the meat of this development, a quick reminder is necessary.  The most popular IQ test, the Stanford-Binet Intelligence Scales, was invented in 1916 to measure, roughly, how good a child would be at learning typical school subjects in a typical school setting.  Essentially, what this test measures is book smarts.  

While the culture overall has decided this is the only kind of intelligence there is, if you ask most autistic people, we can tell you it's not.  I, for example, score well on IQ tests, but struggle with identifying emotions in strangers.  Autistic people may also struggle with organization, planning, and other things that fall under the heading of Executive Functioning.  While pop culture may not consider these skills "intelligence," you can bet autistic people are called "stupid" when we have a hard time with them.  

As it happens, there are tons of kinds of intelligence, and most of them are not covered in IQ tests.  Interpersonal intelligence is a struggle point for me, but you won't find a score for it in a typical IQ test.  Musical intelligence, like how well you can match tones, stay on key, and keep a rhythm, isn't touched by IQ tests.  Spatial intelligence, which includes physical coordination and benefits athletes especially, certainly isn't tested or covered by IQ tests.  

Long story short: IQ tests are an extremely restrictive measure of one very limited form of intelligence.  

So, what does this slightly truncated version of an IQ test mean?  Well, mostly, it means fairer testing for people with shorter attention spans and/or difficulty sitting still and focusing.  It's hard enough for autistic people to be in strange surroundings with strange noises and strange people.  On top of that, the typical version of this test takes two hours, which is a long time for even neurotypical children.  Reducing the length of time while still keeping the usefulness and validity of the test means that your results are going to be a better reflection of the child's abilities.  

In short, prior versions of this test may have wrongly told us that autistic children were below average when they aren't.  Decisions like "this child belongs in special education 100% of the time" may have been made as a result, when that was not in the child's best interests.  

A better, more accurate test means better results, means better decisions on the child's education.

(Pst! If you like seeing the latest autism-relevant research, visit my Twitter, which has links and brief comments on studies that were interesting, but didn't get a whole Reading the Research article about them.)

Worth Your Read: Finding a Good SLP (and other support personnel)

http://www.thinkingautismguide.com/2020/05/finding-right-speech-language.html

It can be really hard to quantify what makes for a good therapist.  Most typically, I've stumbled, blindly, through finding my professional supports.  That haphazard discovery process seems all too common in families with autistic people, unfortunately.  Whether it's Medicaid assigning you people or picking blindly off a list of qualified individuals that are covered by your insurance, there's a lot of trial and error involved in finding good support for yourself and/or your kids. 

That's why people often rely so heavily on recommendations- whether that's from parents at parent support groups, or directly from autistic individuals.  If you aren't already, I strongly suggest you get hooked into the local autism community. 

It's not always possible to get those recommendations, or even if you do get them, the recommended people may not be available to serve you, or turn out to be as good as you were hoping. 

That's why I was pleased to see this guide to selecting a Speech-Language Pathologist.  While it is very specifically geared for that type of support service (and includes a guide to why an SLP is such a good investment), many of the recommendations translate effortlessly into helping you select a good therapist, home care professional, peer mentor, and even primary care practitioner. 

I can't stress how important it is to have a supportive care team that listens to your concerns and works with you.  With these criteria in hand, you can choose safe and effective professionals and support staff that will help you or your loved one be a happier, healthier, more successful version of themself, not abuse them in pursuit of some imagined standard of normalcy.