I was debating whether or not to share. But it’s close to the end of the month and really, I think I should. I don’t know who will really care but at least I got it off my chest. The first part seems more about bullying than autism, or rather, the consequences of being different.
Growing up, I was always different. I had friends around the neighborhood and I was always pretty social. My friends and I would spend a lot of time in the woods building “cabins”. Really, just leaning sticks against a tree and crawling inside. Amongst my friends I didn’t feel different. I felt like a kid. As we got older, we’d explore more and venture further into the woods. Never got lost. I saw an actual mountain lion. Well, it’s tail and ass running away from us. I do have fond memories of growing up in my neighborhood. There was one kid that didn’t like me for some reason, no idea why. I don’t think there even was a reason. I did find out later that his home life wasn’t that great.
Elementary school was mostly normal. There were these two cute girls in class and one day they came up to me and asked me which one of them I “liked”. I was flattered and surprised. I pointed to the one and they walked away giggling. It was much later when I realized why.
In third grade I had some kind of eye irritation, not pink eye, where I got a crusty build up in my eyelashes (I don’t remember what it was but I wasn’t really old enough to understand anyway). My third grade teacher wouldn’t let the other kids play with me at recess because “he has a disease.” (She had no idea either.) Of course, I was marked as diseased for the rest of the year.
The older I got the more I was bullied, called a nerd, even by my bus driver. One time, another student gave me a pencil they found because it had my last name on it. It wasn’t mine but it was cool. In shop class, the actual owner of the pencil (whose last name was not mine) reclaimed ownership. Being without pencil in wood shop, I asked my teacher to borrow one. When he asked where mine was I said took mine. Rather than getting a pencil, I got mocked by my teacher, “boo-hoo, he took my pencil.”
Throughout high school I stuck mainly with my friends when I could. Many of the bullies would do stupid pranks or try to trip me or anything else for a laugh though in the end they were mostly harmless (subjective I know). During 7th grade home room I sat next to two boys and one girl who made home room miserable. At the end of the year, the girl signed my yearbook. “Sorry for picking on you so much, but that’s what makes homeroom fun!” Yeah, um, thanks for the reminder of your bullying every time I open this book for the rest of my life.
One kid though baited me into an argument which resulted in challenging me to a fight. I accepted.
After school, we met in the back parking lot. We fought. I got my ass kicked, though I did get in some good licks of my own. After that fight that kid left me alone. However, others then came out of the woodwork. “You think you’re tough now?” The bullying didn’t really stop.
The kid from my neighborhood. He was ruthless. Of all the bullying, his was deliberately violent. Any chance he got, I’d get shoved, punched, kicked, whatever. And not in a just screwing around way you might do for a laugh. This was like if I retaliated I’d end up in a hospital, literally.
So, I had friends but I certainly wasn’t popular. I didn’t think I was really different, or I didn’t know to notice. I’m not sure where the bullying came from but it is what it is. I got excellent grades in Math and Science, not so much in basically everything else. After high school I didn’t know what I wanted to do, so I drifted for a few years. The bullying stopped because, no school. I was happier.
As I was getting older I started recognizing some quirks about myself that I didn’t really understand. I started working as a stock boy in a grocery store. Over night, we’d unload the truck and stock the shelves until morning. One night I was stocking spaghetti sauce. Oddly, we had a larger number of cases of this specific brand. I had been told during training, if I have a few extra items, just stick them on the shelf some where that they fit. I stuck every single jar from every single case on that shelf.
The next day, I was called in for an evening shift. Usually, when you get called in for an evening shift, you did something wrong. Those cases were supposed to be for an end cap display for a sale that was starting that week. Oops. I mean I noticed that there was more than usual. It never occurred to me that I should ask why. I did not get fired.
Another incident at that same store, they just had a crew come in and strip and refinish all the floors removing all the scuff marks from carts and shining them up like brand new. Finally, we could bring the stock out and start filling the shelves. The first cart I grabbed had a stuck wheel. The location of the stock was clean on the other side of the store. I pushed that cart, stuck wheel and all across the entire back of the store, leaving this huge scuff mark in the perfectly refinished floor. I did not get fired. It also never occurred to me that maybe I should leave that one in the stock room and load up a working cart. The next week a different company was in fixing the wheels on all the carts.
At another job, I worked in a galvanizing plant. Mostly I boxed parts, cleaned up, moved stuff around with a forklift, etc. A funny thing about these forklifts, if you drive them off the pavement, they tend to sink in the dirt because of their weight. It would happen occasionally when taking trash to the dumpster because sometimes the dumpster would get set back a little too far after the garbage company emptied it. To un-stick the forklift, you’d grab the other forklift, wrap a chain between them and pull it out. One time, a coworker got stuck and I happened to be around. He needed some help but when I went for the other forklift, it was being used. So, I did what any normal person might do. I grabbed our work truck, a small Chevy S-10 pickup. Backed that thing up to the forklift, wrapped the chain around the back bumper, and proceeded to pull the bumper off when trying to get the forklift out. I did not get fired.
I finally decided to go to college. I worked small summer jobs either through a temp agency or some small store somewhere. I had been working at a convenience store one summer. Fairly easy work. A gentleman comes into the store with a lottery ticket. He asks, can you cover this pay out? I’m like, “sure, lets find out” and I happily proceed to the lottery machine and insert the ticket.
The machine starts going crazy, flashing lights, bells and spitting out a bunch of free tickets. I was startled, I had never seen it do that before. Then it stated the payout amount. Yeah, that was a winning match 3 ticket that paid out $500. We don’t keep $500 on hand. I could not undo the transaction. The ticket was now invalidated and I couldn’t reverse anything. I had to tell the guy we didn’t have the money on hand and I’d have to set aside the money throughout the day to get his winnings. He was obviously upset. “That’s why I asked you if you could cover it first.” I did not get fired.
Years later, I graduate college and start working as a Software Engineer. I love that job. I can immerse myself in code and surround myself with all the minutia, the tiny details, the algorithms, the code, make something useful and feel the endorphins rushing through my body when I see my creation come alive. It’s beautiful.
I got married. We had two awesome kids, a daughter and son. When my daughter was a toddler, able to walk and get into stuff she shouldn’t, she was fascinated with patterns. She would get jars, bottles and cans out of our kitchen cupboard and line them up on the tiles on the floor. Each one in the center of the pattern on the tile. She would get ALL her dolls and stuffed animals and lay them out in a line. Biggest to smallest, smallest to biggest. We would randomly find things throughout the house placed strategically in some sort of pattern or line. I had posted a picture of one of her creations to Facebook. A friend of mine, who has an autistic child, asked me if she might be autistic. I had never considered it. Other than being highly detail oriented like this, I did not see anything out of character for a child her age.
My son does have an Autism diagnosis. Looking back after his diagnosis, there were signs the whole way back to being an infant in the crib. We didn’t consider it at the time, but as an infant, he preferred to sleep in a very specific position. So much so, that he started getting a flat spot on his head. The pediatrician gave us some things to try to keep him from laying on that part of his head, including duct taping a rolled up towel to his back on one side to force him to lay the other way. He would still manage to maneuver himself around such that he was laying on that same spot on his head. In the end, we had to get a helmet to try and reshape his head.
As he grew into a toddler, he was not very affectionate and did not give hugs. Seemed disinterested if we hugged him. He did seem more bonded to me than my wife but he really rarely showed any emotion. He usually played alone than with other kids in daycare. He actually seemed content to be by himself into his teens.
Discipline was difficult because he simply didn’t care. Taking his favorite toy didn’t phase him. Timeouts did not phase him, rather, he just wouldn’t take them. Timeouts in his room as well. He’d just decide he didn’t want to be in there and come out.
When he was probably three or four, we took the kids to see Disney on Ice, and another time to see the Fresh Beat Band live. The entire time we were there he’d cover his ears. It was just too loud or overstimulating for him.
He’s 15 now and I’d say he was probably 11 or 12 before he got his one friend. He was content with that one friend for a while but has since met some other kids through school activities. We were really getting concerned his social skills were not developing. He’s adjusted pretty well now though he gets hyper focused on one topic and his life revolves around that topic typically for months.
I’m probably leaving a bunch of stuff out, there was so much over the years. After his diagnosis, and learning more about Autism, so many things from my life that I didn’t understand seem to make sense now.
I understand now why I put that ticket in the lottery machine before actually checking the winning numbers, posted on the wall, right behind me. My mind works in the moment. I have an inability to consider the possible effects of an action I’m taking right now. I don’t think ahead. I recognize that now and when I’m in such a situation, I can stop and think first. It doesn’t happen all the time.
I understand now why, after an award ceremony and I was congratulated by another recipient, I said “thank you” and kept walking and my wife turned to me and said “you’re supposed to congratulate him too.” I was not focused on the room, I was leaving. I wasn’t expecting a conversation. I was locked in my own mind.
I understand now why, after playing guitar in a band for years, I have no creativity of my own. I played like a machine, note for note, no improvisation. It had to be exactly the same way, every time. I need to process each individual note or cord in my head. I could never play fast solos because of this. I could never write my own music. If I had learned a cord progression wrong, it was extremely hard for me to relearn it, to correct it.
I understand now why I never really liked bars and night clubs (as a patron). Too loud and over stimulating. I’d often leave early and go home.
I understand now why I liked playing in a band in bars and night clubs. I didn’t have to interact with anyone, try to make conversation over the noisy background. I could just sink into the music by my self.
I understand now why, when in design meetings or technical discussions, I never have any questions at the end. It’s not that I know everything I need to know. I don’t know the questions until the situation comes up. I can’t anticipate that far ahead.
I’ve never been diagnosed officially. I asked my Psychologist about it but really what do I have to gain with an official diagnosis? I’m sure I am Autistic. But how do I take the test when I know how to mask the things that would normally put me on the spectrum. My Psychologist said I probably am, but at 55, what would a diagnosis really do? I think just learning about my son has taught me so much more about myself. I can understand why I am the way I am, do the things I do, and can adjust just a little bit better.