Reading the Research: Physical Health and Social Skills

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 talks about the ramifications of poor social skills, which you'll recognize as a major hallmark of autism.  The research here shows that poor social skills are linked to poorer mental and physical health.  Social skills are measured for this study as four different skills: the ability to provide emotional support to others, the ability to share personal information with others, the ability to stand up to unreasonable requests from others, and the ability to introduce yourself to others and get to know them.  Speaking as someone with sub-par social skills, that seems like a reasonable set of measurements, at least if we're only measuring skills rather than emotional perceptiveness and responsiveness. 

It's been known already that poor social skills were linked to poorer mental health, specifically depression and anxiety.  This study is unusual in that it also links poorer physical health to the problem.  The key to the worse physical health appears to be the associated loneliness and stress that comes with the poor social skills.  Because people who don't interact as well or as successfully tend to experience more loneliness and more stress in their lives, the associated problems are also ramped up. 

This is all patently obvious to me, and perhaps to you as well.  Perhaps the major reason autism is comorbid (associated) with depression and anxiety is nothing more than this same effect, amped up because of how differently we experience the world.  Fortunately for me, one of my saving graces that got me through high school and college seems to be that I can handle a great deal of stress.  Or could, anyway.  Bets are off now that we've been fuddling with my brain, I suppose.

The article candidly notes that most people with poor social skills don't know they have poor social skills, since social awareness is tied into those social skills.  I like to think, at this point, that between my diagnosis and my oversensitivity to various things, that I at least have somewhat of an awareness of when I've messed up an interaction.  Sometimes it's more than 15 minutes after the fact, but, y'know... 

It's not all bad news, anyway.  Social skills are skills, not innate talents.  They can be learned.  That's harder for people with autism, but it's still doable.  You can have social skills classes, counseling/therapy, or even just attend group events to get lots of practice in.  The head researcher strongly suggests that parents make sure to get their kids into such group events, like summer camps, sports programs, church groups, etc.  I would add "public school" or "supportive and diverse private school" to that list, personally.  My public school experiences were mostly uncaring and unhelpful, but what they did do was give me a lot of contact with people.  Post-elementary school, that was a good thing, not a bad thing. 

I recognize the necessity of home schooling for some kids on the spectrum, when the school environment literally can't be tailored to be a good place for the child to learn.  If any amount of noise is enough to set your kid off, or the lights in the classroom drive them nuts and the bulbs can't be changed, or your kid learns in a way that is so far different from what the school system offers, then homeschooling is definitely your best way to go. 

But that should be only done in those special cases, in my opinion.  Schooling in the school system involves literal hours of contact with your peers, every day, that are just... gone, if you take away school.  You can't balance that out with occasional after school activities and cute little groups that only meet for an hour per day, or less.  You just can't. 

I'd love to blame my weight problems on this loneliness/stress effect this study mentions, but I'm not sure I can.  My social life is a bit limited, but I do have a spouse, and we haven't killed each other yet.  I do think my stress level is still a lot higher than the average person's, so maybe that's part of the reason I can't seem to lose weight?  But hopefully the days of that are numbered.  I'm exercising at a full fledged gym two days a week now, and that means I can build more muscle and get longer quality exercise without annoying my neighbors with lots of jumping.  Here's hoping!

Book Review: Iris Grace

Iris Grace: How Thula the Cat Saved a Little Girl and Her Family is a "my family's story with raising an autistic child" type book.  I've read at least a dozen books in the same category at this point, some better than others.  Of all of them, this one was probably the most fun to read.

Iris Grace, for those not familiar (like me before I read this book), is a autistic child artist with remarkable talents in impressionistic and watercolor art.  Her story has become something of an international success, and her work is kind of gorgeous.  You can find the official website for her work and story here.

From reading this book, I would gauge that Iris would qualify as at least "moderately affected" by ASD, which is to say, she has (or had) a lot of barriers to learning to speak, learning how to relax, filtering out excessive noise, dealing with new people, etc.  So this is not just another "my kid with Asperger's/High Functioning Autism, and our trip through finding what worked."  The book describes Iris' difficulties in detail, and they were extensive.  I suspect if you asked my parents, they would tell you I didn't have nearly as hard of a time when I was growing up.

Onto the book.  First and foremost, I should point out that the marketing and title is a little disingenuous.  While Thula the cat was definitely an important addition to Iris' development and growth, I personally feel the biggest asset to Iris' successful development was her parents  The cat, if the book is accurate, is an amazingly sensitive, helpful, responsive therapeutic companion, beyond the ken of most cats.  It genuinely cares about Iris, has some of the loyal, hard working traits of a dog, and acts as a service animal.  That is a great thing for someone on the autism spectrum.

That said... having a comforting and loyal animal helper is good, but it's not going to teach you social skills, bring you opportunities to try new things, or develop friendships.  Those things, her parents had to provide.  And provide they did, often by trial and error, and with lots of careful observation, creativity, resources, and patience.  From art supplies to animal companionship to carefully-tailored home-schooling, her parents stretched themselves to their emotional limits and beyond, nurturing their daughter's creativity and interests.

But I suppose the book probably wouldn't have sold as well if it had been titled, "Iris Grace: How We Leveraged Our Abundant Love, Patience, Time and Resources to Bring Up a Talented Artist."  That would be a more accurate title, given the contents of the book.  The family in question is definitely on the "well off" side of things.  That fact shouldn't cheapen their efforts in any way, because it's not like they ignored their child and hired help to get around her barriers and disabilities.  Both parents were very much involved in Iris' life, personally acting as her teachers, caretakers, therapists, etc.  I point out the fact of their wealthiness, however, because if both parents had been working full time jobs outside the house, I suspect Iris' artistic skills would never have developed, or reached such a wide international audience.  She would have simply joined the ranks of autistic children relegated to being called, "disobedient, non-communicative problem children."

Looking at the gorgeous and complex interplay of colors in the artwork peppered throughout the book, that would have been a sad loss.  Which makes me wonder what talents lie in other non-verbal or low-verbal autistic children and adults, which we're deprived of right now, due to lack of time, understanding, and resources.

Among the things Iris' parents did right was spending a lot of time trying to get into her world, rather than insisting Iris immediately engage their world and assuming that was the only correct way to be a person.  Her mother describes experiencing the world through watching Iris engage with it, especially their garden and other outdoor areas.

In addition, they individually tailored her education and social experiences.  To the best of my understanding, when looking for a good school system for their kids, most parents simply toss all their kids into the best school system they can find, and call it good.  But Iris' difficulties with clothes meant that none of the schools in the area would work.   The school uniform was required, they said, and assured the parents that any difficulties would be handled.  Uncertain that this was a good plan her parents took it upon themselves to homeschool her, wracking their brains to align her interests (cats, outdoors, art, etc) with the required subjects for an education (math, science, reading, writing, etc).  When there was no social group (children's club) that would meet Iris' growing social needs, they made one themselves and hosted it at their own home.

They also didn't try to push Iris too hard at once.  They did put her into new situations and try new things, but they were always ready to call it quits if it proved too difficult.  There was always a place for her to go and relax, or items of comfort to help her cope with the uncertainties and unpredictability of life.  This is very important for people on the spectrum.  We always need a Square One, a safe place or person to rely on.  Sometimes we need a lot of Square Ones, depending on how complex our lives are. 

In an ideal world, every autistic child would have this level of care and attention paid to their needs and interests. I hope that some day this will be the case.  In the meantime, it's heartening to read this story of parents that faced the trials of having an autistic child together, gave it their all, and found that in the end, their child faced her difficulties and surpassed their expectations. 

Read This Book If

You like uplifting stories, want a good example of how to work with an autistic child successfully, or love a good "people and animals are better together" story.  This is a very optimistic book, and an insightfully descriptive one.  Very approachable, very easy to understand.  Throughout the book are pictures of Iris as she grew, cute little illustrations, and prints of some of Iris' artistic work, which is gorgeous.  A delightful change of pace from the dreary pessimism and weakness-focused stories that usually grace my library's shelves. 

Legwork and Life, week of 11/22/17

I feel somewhat ill today because of my period, but that's about the only bad thing to report this week.  Actually, I'm expecting this bout of annoyance with my birth sex to be shorter and less painful than usual due to my new exercise schedule, which will be, at minimum, 2 days a week with at least 45 minutes of sustained exercise.  This is due entirely to my parents, who both exercise religiously and like to see me.  Their new home, the retirement complex I mentioned awhile ago, has an attached gym.  It's not the fanciest, most up-to-date exercise area I've ever seen, but the equipment seems to be serviceable, which is all you really need.

Anyway, I've reinstated my habit of using a recumbent bicycle for half an hour or so, while reading a book or playing a video game or fiddling with my Rubik's cube.  I tend to tack on 10-15 minutes of exercise on the elliptical machine after that, then a couple of the strength training machines.  This is more or less one of the exercise patterns I developed back in college, when I had a gym within a 5 minute walk of where I lived.  I really miss having that, honestly...

Last week I mentioned being on the fence about what to do for my graduating hairdresser/beauty student/person-friend.  She's leaving Grand Rapids for her dream job in Chicago, which is awesome for her and sad for me.  We sort've became friends over the last few months, and she's responsible for my hair being all blue and short and such.  I'd been kicking around the idea of making her graduation a little more graduation-y.  I guess the only celebration they do at the school is people saying goodbye to you when you clock out for the last time.  No cake.  No celebration.  No party.

That's boring and dumb, so I bought a chocolate cake, a trio of balloons, and a card.  I don't feel the best and would rather stay in and be miserable where it's warm and cozy, but she's only graduating once, so I'm just going to have to take painkillers and suck it up.  I'm not really sure how it's going to go, since the entire invitation was, "I graduate at 8pm on ________, you're welcome to come if you'd like!"  But I figure at minimum, I can congratulate her, give her a hug, hand her the cake, card, and balloons, and tell her to make the world her oyster.  Some of her family will also be there, so I'm figuring they'll probably want to go off and do family stuff, and I won't be invited.  Which is fine, particularly considering my state of pain/illness. 

In other food-related news, Thanksgiving is coming.  Conveniently for me, my parents are now 5 minutes away from where I live, so we're getting together and dragging Grandma over and having a nice family meal.  Chris and I will be responsible for making fancy-ish green beans, and riced potatoes (not mashed because Mom and Chris both have issues with dairy).  Chris is also thinking about making some of his rosemary bread, which is quite good, and we'll probably bring a dish of unsweetened applesauce as well.

Meanwhile, Mom and Dad are going to handle the turkey, pies, appetizers, cranberry sauce, and a different vegetable or something like that.  I think we're mostly going to try not to eat until we all go into food comas, but it's Thanksgiving, having an abundance of food is traditional.  It should be a nice meal, though, since Mom and Dad have managed to unpack and put away enough stuff to make room for people milling around and such.  And they have couches and plenty of chairs and such, unlike our place.  Also unlike our place, their apartment complex has elevators, which makes it much more friendly for my grandmother to visit.

All told, I'm looking forward to it. I just need to make sure the blog doesn't fall by the wayside in all the food preparations... 

Reading the Research: School Experiences

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 research article is one of those advancements of science that makes me say "Well, DUH" to my computer, and wish science was a little bit faster about coming to these conclusions.  The study examines the effects of negative and positive school experiences by reviewing 17 previous studies on the subject.  In psychology and some other fields, this is called a meta-analysis.  It's an important tool for presenting and summarizing the current direction of a subject.

In the study, the researchers noted that self-esteem and self-perception in autistic students is linked closely with how others treat them and interact with them.  If others' attitudes and reactions were negative, the autistic students tended to internalize those negative attitudes, and feel more limited and like outcasts.  Naturally that's bad all by itself, but it also lends itself to isolating oneself and an increased chance for mental health problems.

The opposite, of course, was also true, if less common.  Positive, supportive school relationships helped the autistic students function better socially and improved their morale and self-esteem.  Which snowballs into more confidence and more practice socially, and thus a better outcome.  As such, the researchers stressed the importance of creating a culture of acceptance for all students in schools.

As a child, I attended two of every type of compulsory US school.  I had two elementary schools, two middle schools, and two high schools.  The atmospheres were different in each one.  My first elementary school was a Christian school, and I feel like the teachers really cared about their students.  Unfortunately, they didn't always understand them, and their understanding of how to help an autistic student blend well with their peers was... um... nonexistent.  And that's how I got bullied mercilessly, every day, from at least 1st grade to 3rd grade (after which we moved away).  Needless to say, I can strongly vouch for the isolating effects of peer rejection.  I learned not to like school at this age.  I also learned very early that people are terrible, and that adults couldn't be trusted to solve my problems.

My second elementary school was a public school, many states away.  We'd moved because of my dad's job, but it also gave me the chance to start over and not be a bully target.  I continued the isolating effect, however, figuring that since people were terrible, I would much prefer to be left alone.  So mostly, that's how it was.  Unfortunately, shunning my peers couldn't save me from my teachers, and my 4th grade teacher was a self-righteous bully.  It was common for her to berate me or other students in front of the whole class when we did something wrong.  And her voice carried quite well across the entire classroom and at least halfway down the hall.  She thought she was doing us a favor, from what I can recall.

The only other things of note for that school was that I was placed in the gifted program, where I think maybe the teacher cared about us a little bit (smaller class size, but sadly extra homework on top of the regular homework).  But we were only there for a couple years, as job changes hounded my childhood.

My first and second middle schools were actually part of the same public school system.  I guess they had a weird system, housing two grades in one school, and two in another.  It was a different state, again.  I still didn't fit in, and didn't want to fit in.  But because the mentality of my peers had changed, that was no longer "weird... whatever" territory.  It was now "kind of cool" territory, because everyone was now trying to fit in and figure out who they were.  So I had admirers and enemies. 

My first in-person friendships developed from a "Friendship Group" program.  The program had literally nothing to do with autism or special needs.  It had been instituted to help people who'd moved into the school system in 6th grade, the second year at this middle school.  Because almost everyone started this school in 5th grade, people that arrived in 6th grade were disadvantaged.  So this program was meant to help develop friendships for those people... though it did so by clustering them all together rather than trying to help us mix with the others.  Sort of "band of misfits, be friends" mentality, I guess.  Those friendships lasted through my first high school, though, so perhaps I shouldn't snark too much at the program's aim.

I found in middle school that the teachers were mostly apathetic again, though some did care here and there despite the meanness, pettiness, and viciousness of the kids in that age range.  And the changing attitudes of my peers were confusing.  I was acting the same as I had been, but everyone was treating me differently.  This lasted right through the second middle school.

By high school, some of the people in the school system had gotten used to me, and the "kind of cool" factor had worn off.  It was probably a positive step, thinking about it.  The "kind of cool" factor was itself isolating, to be honest, so it was better than people had started to accept me as "strange, but okay."  The in-person friends helped with that.  They more or less forced me to join the Anime club at the high school, which turned out to be a good experience. 

That club was filled with odd people who didn't care if you were odd so long as you weren't an irredeemable jerk.  And I wasn't: my operating procedure was to not get involved, but if someone got involved with me, to treat them fairly and even kindly unless they were a jerk.  And that was how earned the club's "Most Helpful Member" award and the snarky title "Cordbitch."  Which was their honorary way of conveying that I was the person who set up the DVD player most days.  I was also labeled "a cool freshman" due to the fact that I wasn't hyper and obnoxious, and accepted for who I was.

The acceptance of some of my peers, in a form I could understand and appreciate, was what let me finally stop shoving everyone away and start learning to be a more socially-well rounded person.  Mostly I listened, rather than interacting.  But the anime taught me some things, and my friends taught me some things, and my observations taught me some things.  Which was good, because without those things my last high school would have ruined me.

When the inevitable job change happened, I left behind a small network of friends that I'd painstakingly developed.  This was... rather unfortunate, to say the least.  More unfortunate, though, was the school in our new home.  Located in a small town, it was exclusionary, like my first middle school, but worse.  Unlike my first middle school, the teachers and school gave zero craps about whether you fit in.  And so, odd and outsider that I was, I didn't.  And after meeting the sharp ends of all their tongues, I didn't want to even try.  Who would want to be a toxic embodiment of cruelty and exclusionism?

I gave them all the middle finger, and instead found my friends (and my first boyfriend) in the other outcasts of the school system.  The rule of thumb was: "if you're not from around here, you might actually be a decent person."  It was a good rule of thumb, and worked really well.  I didn't forget my lessons, and joined the fencing club and created my own anime club.  There I met and gathered together the people worth knowing in the time that was left to me.

In the end, in my experience, the basic premise of this study holds up very well.  I didn't have peer acceptance in elementary school, nor in middle school (not really).  The seeds of it were built in middle school, and started to sprout in my first high school.  After which I almost began to start succeeding and branching out.  Moving to a new area full of horrible people throttled that progress, but didn't make me unlearn the lessons I'd already learned, and so I was able to succeed in a much more limited sense despite the rejection of my peers.

Now, imagine what my story would be like if all the schools had inclusionary policies in place, and groups for outcasts had been a normal procedure, rather than a reactionary afterthought in a single school. 

"Colorblindness", Respect, and Person-First Language

Does anyone remember, a few years back, when it was fashionable to say, "I'm color-blind" in regards to a person's skin tone, ethnicity, etc?  The idea was to convey that the speaker wasn't racist, because they didn't see the skin color and therefore didn't judge the person based on that factor.

It was also crap.  The person never stopped being able to see in color, and everyone's at least a bit racist, myself included (to my great annoyance), regardless of whether you can see.  Racism, you see, comes in a lot of different flavors.  Most racism today is not the facepalmingly obnoxious old grandfather or grandmother yelling about how those darned black people (insert your own N word here) are terrible or violent or inherently stupider or something equally incorrect.  That type of racism has become socially unacceptable, and has declined in the last couple decades.

Unfortunately, aversive racism, or implicit racism, lives on.  This refers to the tendency to avoid minority groups and unconsciously prejudge them based on stereotypes.  Notably, this type of racism exists whether the person consciously harbors ill-will towards a minority group or not.  Basically, otherwise egalitarian people can still be quite racist, based on their unconscious actions, assumptions, and expectations.

What does this all have to do with autism?  Well...  I've commented on another civil rights movement and its relevance to autism before, but for this post, it's a comparison between racism and ableism.  A really easy one, from where I'm sitting.  Ask a person in a wheelchair or mobility device whether they've been avoided or otherwise discriminated against by strangers.  Bet you'll get a really instructive answer, especially if the person has lived a few decades in that wheelchair/mobility device.

But a person in a wheelchair is just an easy example.  It's a very visible disability, and much lip service (and some actual work) has been done to make buildings and other environments more accessible for wheelchairs and other mobility devices.  For an invisible disability like autism, it's a bit harder of a sell, because we don't necessarily look disabled.

The disability version of racism is called ableism.  It's the prejudice of those without disabilities against those who do have them.  It's defining a person first and foremost by their disability.  It's the assumption that people with disabilities somehow deserve them.  It's stereotyping someone in a mobility device as "less capable" or "less verbal" than someone without one, without knowing that person's particular physical, mental, and emotional capabilities.  It's assuming you know what's best for someone with disabilities, without bothering to get their input. 

I had the privilege a few days ago, as I sometimes do, of sitting in on a parent support group.  It originally began as a support group for parents with older autistic children, so around transition age (16-18) and older.  Now, I strongly respect parents, especially those of special needs kids.  Raising a regular kid is hard enough.  Raising a special needs kid is at least one order of magnitude harder.  But I've noticed they tend to fall into some traps.  Such as using the word "never" when it comes to their kids.  Some examples: "He'll never live alone."  "She'll never have a job."  "He'll never get off the computer long enough to do anything else."

This makes me more than a bit agitated and frustrated.  You don't know what kind of capabilities your child has, in the end.  Every person may have different limitations and capabilities and some people may truly never have the capability to live independently, or hold a full time job, but as people grow, those capabilities also grow.  I think it's probably very easy, as a parent, to miss that growth when you're constantly stuck dealing with the kid's worst aspects and failings.  Particularly since special needs kids can develop at a much slower rate than normal children.  At almost 30, I think I might have managed to be about emotionally 20 at this point.  And cognitively, I feel about 50, at least.  Some days, a lot older and more cynical depending on the current news.

These statements, in addition to assuming these capabilities will never occur, also assume that these situations are ones the people in question want.  Many people absolutely do want to live independently, and it's assumed by American culture that this is what everyone will do.  But that's not necessarily what every person wants.  Some autistic and disabled people are happier living at home with their parents, or with their siblings, or in a group home.  For jobs, some people can hold at 40+ hour job, but others are happiest doing part time work.  And there are a lot of kinds of jobs, too.  You can't assume that because a person doesn't do well in a full time janitorial job that they won't do well in a full time farmhand position, or landscaping job, or some other type of job.  You have to work with the disabled person, trying to line up their interests to a potential job.

All too often, autistic people aren't consulted about these things.  It's a blind push toward what's assumed is "best for us" based on what the world dictates for people who aren't disabled.

Person-First Language is another example of this.  It was decided by someone, at some point, that it is disrespectful to refer to someone by their disability ("autistic") and people should instead be referred to as people, with their disabilities tacked on afterwards ("people with autism").  This was meant to promote the humanity of people with disabilities.  It was a good effort... but one that's eventually drawn flack for not really doing what it was supposed to.  For starters, the most respectful way to refer to someone is how they choose to be identified, not how you assume they want to be identified.

Longtime or extra observant readers of this blog will recognize that I usually refer to myself as "autistic" rather than "a person with autism."  This is twofold.  Firstly, because Person First Language is awkward on the tongue.  Secondly, because I blend relatively well with neurotypical people but believe strongly in promoting the welfare of all autistic people, I voluntarily put my diagnosis first.  This, I hope, humanizes all of us on the autism spectrum, by putting a face to us.

Because unfortunately, we need that visibility.  We need that humanization.  We need to be listened to when we tell people what we need.  Because people are still assuming they know what's best for us, when we can communicate what we want.  Because "colorblindness" for disabilities exists, too, with people insisting that "they don't see the disability."  And just like how pretending you don't see skin tones doesn't fix racism, ignoring disabilities doesn't fix ableism.  It merely makes it worse. 

Legwork and Life, week of 11/15/17

Well, it has certainly been a week.  I'm sleeping a bit better now, in part because I finally got a new pillow, and in part because I sprung for an electric blanket for my birthday, with the help of my mother-in-law and my grandmother.  The pillow I'd been using was well over a decade old, which I have since learned is heresy.  You're supposed to replace them every 18 months, I guess.  I went to the chiropractor on Monday and he ended up having to adjust different parts of my spine, so I'm going to guess my misaligned neck was partially because of the ancient pillow.  Oops.

The electric blanket, though, I'm guessing is the bigger part of my better sleep.  I grew up having an electric blanket available for cold nights, and while I didn't think it was an essential part of my sleep, I have been feeling much better when I wake up since adding it and the pillow to my bed.  It's very comfy and nice for naps and being cozy, too.  Chris has an electric mattress pad, but even though heat rises, it's just not the same.  You can't wrap a mattress pad around yourself on a cold night. 

In other happy news, Monday was my wedding anniversary.  Chris took the day off of work, and we spent the entire day together.  He went with me to the chiropractic appointment, and we got dinner at a local bar that specializes in fantastic burgers and whiskey.  The meal was free, thanks to a generous friend of mine, who'd given me a substantial gift card.  So we enjoyed that.  Chris also made some rosemary bread for us that day, which was nice because the last loaf didn't survive the meal it was baked for.  He'd made another loaf the day before (Sunday).  We had friends (a younger married couple) over for dinner to celebrate our anniversary.  It was a relatively simple dinner: beef stew, rosemary bread, apple slices, and some macadamia nuts for snacking.  But it seemed to go over well, despite one of our friends being sick.

We also broke out the top layer of the wedding cake, which we had saved according to tradition.  We put it in an airtight container and froze it, keeping it in the chest freezer for the whole year.  I'd promised our friends ice cream if the cake was terrible, but to my delight, it actually had kept quite well.  It wasn't particularly dry, either.  The only major annoyance with the cake was that the frosting on the sides started falling off as it defrosted, but since the frosting with our names and the year was still intact, it was good enough. 

On Thursday last week, I went to see my hair-person for the last time.  It was just a simple haircut this time, which has left me with naturally-colored hair on the sides and blue on the top.  I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it.  But more important, my hair-person is leaving!  I am saddened.  Happy for her, but saddened for me.  She's finished her schooling, and has gotten a Real Job at a salon in Chicago.  Her dream job, in fact, so I can't even be too salty about her disappearing on me.  It sounds like she's going to have proper benefits and good tips and further training, etc. So hopefully she'll do well there.

I'm just sad for me because it's hard to find people that like me and like my quirks and eccentricities, so when I find one, as I did in her, I want to keep them nearby so I can enjoy them.  She's a pretty interesting, somewhat quirky person herself, so we developed a type of friendship.  Hard to quantify.  Anyway, it was suggested that I could drive to Michigan City and take the $6 train into Chicago, and from there navigate the city to get to her salon once she starts work there and I need a haircut.  At least for the first year, her haircut rates will be quite reasonable. 

That seems like a lot of time and effort for a haircut, but I'm considering it just so I can keep in touch with her.  I'm kind of crap at keeping up with people if I don't see them in real life.  It just doesn't occur to me to say hello and ask after them and their family.  It's not that I don't care, I just don't remember in the slew of other things I'm trying to do.  And my lack of scheduled 9-5 job means I do have some flexibility in when I do things.

She graduates next week, which is to say, she clocks out for the last time at the school and then never comes back.  I guess they don't have a graduation ceremony.  She invited me to come, if I have time, etc.  I've already picked up a card, I'm just trying to decide if a balloon and some form of chocolate cake would be a reasonably not-weird thing to do.  I know it's not like a college graduation or anything, but it's lame that they have no ceremony whatsoever.  And I'm unsure about how exactly to quantify the relationship, so balloon, card, and cake might be going overboard.  Maybe if it's a tiny cake?  Except her family's going to be there, so I should probably at least get one large enough for them to share.  Bah.  I'll figure something out.

Back to the hair-care thing... while I figure out what to do about haircuts, she did recommend a relatively new student to me, who could continue my inexpensive haircuts and (relatively) inexpensive dyeing sessions.  I guess she thinks this student is a reasonable enough match to my temperament.  Or... something.  I don't know how one makes those judgements.  I assume it's relatively intuitive, but I was somewhat bemused when my hair-person commented that I was talkative.  I don't really consider myself super talkative, and particularly not when the comparison field is literally hairdressers, who often seem to talk just to talk while they work. 

Finally, I was walking and talking with a friend of mine last week, and she suggested I consider holiday work.  Retail, the post office, etc, really need part time workers right now.  There'd be no benefits, but you do get paid, and she strongly suggested that it's a good way to see how well you do with regular jobs.  I haven't had a normal-person job for like five years, so the concept makes me rather anxious.  But it's not a bad idea, because you know when the holiday time is up, you're going to be done and never have to come back.  So if it's a bad job, you're not stuck there.

It's honestly not a bad idea, and Chris and I could use some extra income.  In addition, LENS has changed my brain a decent amount, to the point that it might be possible to manage a job like that.  Maybe.  My major concern is that I don't necessarily get everything done that I should be doing in a week without a part time job... I'd hate to have to stop doing this blog just to stock shelves or something at a grocery store...

Either way, I think this year is not going to be the year I try it.  I've already signed myself up for 40+ hours of work with the federal government this December, regarding research applications.  Which... I guess in theory is going to pay money.  Just, not, like... tons.  It's something, I guess.  And unfortunately kind of important.  The US government is rather busy funding tons of studies that try to discover what autism is... but not studies about what would improve the lives of people who already have it.  So as much as I am not looking forward to reading grant applications for 40+ hours... the chance to get up in peoples' faces and tell them flat out that I don't care why I'm autistic, and that I want to live better and be happier and have a social life... is kind of invaluable.  And I'm more than verbal enough to do it.

I guess maybe this year, trying to personally enlighten some researchers and other community reviewers is my part time job. 

Reading the Research: Music Therapy and Good Relationships

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 talks about what makes music therapy more successful for little children on the autism spectrum.  I was curious about this form of therapy, because my understanding of it was basically: "play music for a kid.  Good things happen."  While I like music a lot, I wasn't sure how or why that was better than an iPod with a decent selection.  I was further perplexed that one of the major organizations for autism in my area offers this therapy year-round to over a score of autistic kids.  Naturally, I was incorrect in my understanding of what music therapy is. 

Music therapy is what I personally recognize as a major part of Kindergarten, actually.  Or at least my particular upbringing.  Children don't just listen to music, they are encouraged to play it, using their voices, instruments, or other objects.  This allows for creative expression, physical activity, and reduced anxiety at the bare minimum.  I remember being encouraged to sing and play simple instruments throughout my childhood, but especially in the elementary school years, when basically no one could sing well or hold a beat anyway.

I had all that, but what I didn't have was a dedicated teacher with whom I had rapport.  And that's what this study suggests for an optimal result.  Music therapy already has good results, regardless of whether the teacher and the child develop a relationship.  But it's a better result when the therapist is emotionally and musically attuned to the child. 

Not really surprising to me, honestly.  If a child feels like an outcast or an outsider, or feels like they're  a burden or having a lot of trouble, having an extra person in their life to cheer them on and support them is bound to be beneficial.  That's the premise of the Stephen Ministries, which assigns people in hardship a personal pastoral friend to talk with and be guided by during those hard times.  Frankly, I wish more organizations had the same idea.  Just knowing someone is "on your side" and cares about you can be a major relief.

In addition, music therapy has the added bonus of exercising sensory processing, emotional attunement, cognitive regulation, and it can teach music.  Maybe I'm the only one in my generation who thinks that last one is important these days, as I think it's been shoved out of most school programs at this point in favor of even more academics, and so their precious sports programs won't have to experience budget cuts... But the remaining three are definitely important to brain development and living life, particularly for autistic people and people with intellectual disabilities.