Autism and Me by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

I recently came across an article online about what stimming looks like in teens and adults who are undiagnosed as being on the spectrum.

One of the actions they mentioned was an obsession with certain textures and “rubbing” or caressing these materials incessantly. Yeah, I do that. I have done so for as long as I can’t remember when I started. Konnie will back me up on this.

But another one was twirling their hair around their fingers or running their fingers through their hair. And boy did that bring back memories!

In my late teens, I resorted to doing my homework in my bedroom, rather than at the kitchen table with everyone else, because my stepmother was constantly on my case about playing with my hair. She found it annoying, and among other things, she insisted I wasn’t concentrating because I was playing with my hair, and that I wasn’t even trying to stop.

First off, I’d like to point out that this article clearly pointed out that people on the spectrum “stim” more often when they are stressed. The more stress they feel, the more they “stim.” In other words, I found doing my homework stressful, but having my stepmother harping and complaining about my “stimming” actions was just making it worse.

Mind you this was over forty years ago, back in the dark ages when medical professionals instead that Autism only affected boys. Non-verbal boys. Ergo I couldn’t be Autistic.

Second off, around that same time, I overheard my father complaining about how long it took me to do the dishes. He insisted it took me twice as long to do the same amount of dishes as it took my fellow teenaged siblings. My stepmother had countered that at least when I do dishes, she knows they are clean.

I have to admit she had a valid point. I can clearly remember one time when I went into the kitchen to get a drink while my brother was doing the dishes. I grabbed a glass he’d just put in the drain, inspected it, and put it back in his sink full of dirty dishes then I picked up the next one, and repeated the process, much to his annoyance.

I might add that back then I was in the habit of always checking the dishes for cleanliness before using them because far too often I’d found obvious bits of food still stuck to them. Our stepmother tended to do the same, but she was also known to ask, “Have you checked them?” when any of us were setting the table for dinner.

But the point of the matter was that I noticed without her asking. I always checked. In fact, I checked the dishes I’d washed before I put them in the drain. I was, and still am, a bit obsessive about ensuring the dishes are clean. Newsflash, my attention to detail is also a symptom of being on the spectrum!

So, my stepmother groused about one symptom I have and defended another one. I hate to break it to her, but she can’t have it both ways.

On the other hand, I learned that these days medical professionals who once said Autistics were non-verbal are now saying that an early sign of being on the spectrum is delayed speech. Yeah, got that one too.

Though back then my delayed speech was attributed to, number one, an inherent family issue of ear problems including earwax build-up and ear infections, and number two, I’m a twin and as such when we were little, we did what is termed “twin speak” which is talking in our own made-up language.

Konnie and I both ended up taking some speech therapy during school when we were younger, and I honestly still avoid using some words verbally because I have so much difficulty pronouncing them.

In other words, speech delays are common in our family to the point that Konnie was able to get her kids early intervention just by advocating that it was an inherent problem.

Her youngest, who was diagnosed in grade school, had been getting speech and physical therapy since he was a toddler, because of his speech delay.

I remember once Konnie commenting on how he needed so much more help than any of her other kids. As in he was “delayed” in more areas than just speech. When he was officially diagnosed, it all suddenly made sense.

At any rate, it is a good thing that nowadays medical professionals recognize that not all people on the spectrum are non-verbal boys.

Though finally knowing this about me, only makes it easier because at least now I know why I do these things.

Anyway, happy writing everyone!

Of Fleeting Ideas and Memory Aids by Konnie Enos

About the time I wrote my last post I came up with an idea for this post. Every time I thought about it, I came up with a few lines to start it, but I couldn’t write them down. Since it was always clear to me what I wanted to write about, I wasn’t concerned.

So yesterday, I realized I had to get it written and I opened Word to do so.

Do you want to know what happened?

My idea had flown. I can not even remember what it was or remember the lines. So, I tried my usual tricks to stimulate my muse.

I found some headlines and stories to read hoping it would stimulate an idea. And it worked. I read one story that got me thinking but by the time I’d opened Word the idea was gone, again.

By then it was late last night. My head was pounding for lack of sleep and therefore wasn’t functioning. Yawning and fighting to keep my eyes open is not the best way to try to write. I gave in and curled up to get some sleep, knowing I’d have to wake up early to get my post written.

Now, normally when I lay down to sleep, I can crash right away. I don’t toss and turn. I was already fighting sleep so once I was comfortable, I started dozing off. I could feel my body shutting off to the point only my brain was still sluggishly working.

Do you know what happened?

An idea for my post popped into my head. When I was already so out of it that I couldn’t move. Not to mention it was past midnight and I wasn’t going to get enough sleep as it was.

Of course, that was my last thought before sleep completely overtook me and I remembered nothing more until I woke up for my nightly trip to the bathroom. As usual, just a quick trip and then back to bed but it was long enough for that idea to cross my mind.

I was tired enough to ignore it and crash again. I was back to sleep in no time and remembered nothing more until my alarm went off this morning.

Lately, when my morning alarm went off, I just turn it off and go back to sleep. For at least another hour, if not longer. This morning I had enough sense to realize I couldn’t do this.

I got up and pulled out my computer dreading looking at a blank page and not being able to remember any idea. I also knew I wasn’t fully functioning. I hadn’t gotten enough sleep.

How do I know this?

Because I still have that headache, I’m yawning, and I’m fighting to keep my eyes open long enough to type a few words.

Now I’m sure everyone has heard of ways to keep ideas fresh until you can set down to write them out. Most notably, keep a notebook and pen handy so you have something to write ideas down with when you can’t set down at your computer to write. Something I hadn’t done.

There is also the advice to keep your notebook and pen on your nightstand so you can write those ideas that come to you when you’re too asleep to move down first thing in the morning before you forget them.

Getting your computer out and immediately opening it and your word program is just as helpful at remembering ideas.

Yes, my idea was to write about how I lost one idea for a post by not writing anything down every time I thought about it over the last couple of weeks but got and kept another idea by my sleep-deprived mind’s last-second ramblings. All because this time I wrote it down as soon as I could, which in this case was first thing in the morning.

 I am not recommending sleep-deprived typing. It just makes the headache worse.

Instead, make sure you are getting enough sleep, but do consider ways to retain your ideas. The always handy notebook works if you have time to write when the ideas come. Though if you’re like me they come when you can’t write them down. Like when you’re driving or keeping food from burning. You know, urgent things, like paying bills on time.

I did think about having a voice recorder handy for these times. However, I find it awkward to talk through my ramblings when there are other people around to hear me. I do not live alone. It could work if you live alone though.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Of Karens and Chads by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

Lately, I’ve read a lot online about entitled people and some of the stuff they’ve done, and it gets me wondering why I haven’t encountered more of such people. I have encountered one, but as I ignored him, there wasn’t a big scene.

It started out quite simple. The store where I do my grocery shopping has clearly marked entrance and exit doors. The thing is the exit doors are closer to the service desk where the electric charts are kept, which means I have to traipse into the store to get a chart.

Now that’s a pretty long trek for me, but by veering toward the exit doors, I cut off enough feet of distance that I can just barely make it to the carts. Now I have done this numerous times with no problems, except this once.

Here I was skirting past a swarm exiting the store when some man said, “This is the exit, idiot!”

As I already said, I ignored that judgmental prick and kept going. Of course, that fool doesn’t know me, knows nothing about me, and like I said, he was a judgmental prick. Enough said.

But why, for instance, haven’t I had one of these self-entitled fools accost me, someone who is very much ambulatory, for parking in handicap parking? Or better yet, someone complaining about me having handicapped plates.

I’ve seen stories where people leave nasty notes or other not-so-nice surprises for people that are parked in handicapped parking, usually without a placard or plate, but sometimes with, because they think the person isn’t handicapped. After all, they can walk. I saw one video where the “Karen” berated a healthy woman for parking in handicap parking, with handicap plates, when she clearly didn’t need them. She wouldn’t even listen to the woman, then the woman’s kid opened the side door to their van and asked his mother if everything was okay. The kid aged 9 or 10 at a guess, was in a wheelchair, making it very clear the healthy mother needed handicapped parking.

And let’s be clear, you can’t get the placards or plate just by asking for them. Your doctor has to fill out a form explaining your need to get them. Therefore, because I can only manage to walk less than 20 feet without assistance, I qualify.

Though even that hasn’t stopped some. I read a story about a young woman who, from the description given, has a severe case of EDS. She can put just about any joint out of place just by moving. She’s only 22, quite young, but clearly, she needs assistance.

Well, one day she was shopping in a grocery store and this older woman accosted her, insisting she was too young to be handicapped and that she should leave the electric charts for those who need them. Not only does this “Karen” berate the poor girl, but she actually pulled her off the chart and threw her to the floor!

I swear, if that had been my niece with severe EDS, I’d have strangled that woman! Do you have any idea how much damage could have been done to that poor girl by that woman’s actions?

And really, how can you be too young to be handicapped? What about those who are born with handicaps?

Another one I read was about an older man with major health issues, he can manage to walk with the aid of a walker, but if he fell, he’d need a ton of help getting up. He was entering a Walmart wearing a green vest with lots of patches and stuff indicating he’s a vet, and this imbecile mistook him for a Walmart employee (he was wearing a vest after all {insert eye roll here]) and his walker for a wheelchair! She forcibly took his walker from him, sending him to the floor in the process, so her teenaged daughter who was wearing a walking boot could ride in the wheelchair because she was “handicapped”.

Long story short, the man needed an ambulance, and the police were called too, but the woman refused to concede that he was a fellow customer and that she stole his walker. Right up until they lifted the seat on the walker to reveal his wallet and prescriptions in it.  She was arrested for assault and theft.

But they keep coming. I’ve seen tons where a so-called Karen insists a fellow customer is an employee because they saw that person help someone else!

Ye Gads! Since when do only employees help out people who need it?

I’ve asked loads of people to help me! Politely, of course. But then I’d be polite asking an employee because everyone deserves respect.

Anyway, happy writing everyone.

Of Worst-Case Scenarios and Simple Fixes by Konnie Enos

Last night, earlier than I usually think about going to bed, I decided I was tired, and it was time to sleep, and THEN I remembered my post. I looked at the time. I still had a couple of hours I could write it, or I could just get up in the morning and do it.

So, I took a moment to debate the issue. If I did it last night, I’d have a couple of hours to write and set up my post, but if I didn’t get that all completed, I’d have time this morning to finish. If I waited until morning, I’d only have a couple of hours to get it all done. Well, a couple of hours is plenty of time, if I have an idea of what I’m going to write about.

This brought up the next issue of what would I write about.

Well. Umm. Let’s see. Umm.

I then realized I needed sleep because my brain was not functioning, probably because I was hot. If you know me at all, you know I don’t function well when I’m hot. I’ve been known to throw up if I can’t cool down fast enough.

Jerry also was not pleased with the indoor temps. Most of us assumed it was because Melinda and I had taken the time to cook dinner yesterday which involved having something on the stove most of the day and the oven on for about half an hour. Jerry was insisting we could not do this in the heat. I was wondering how he expected to eat if we didn’t cook.

But then, because the temperature didn’t come down after we turned everything off, he went and checked the AC. It wasn’t even on.

Why?

That has not been ascertained for sure, but Jerry assumed it had overheated trying to keep the house cool yesterday. When it still wasn’t functioning this morning, he insisted it would take a small fortune to get it working again.

If you know Jerry at all, you know he is a supreme pessimist. Whenever something doesn’t work as it is supposed to, he insists it is never simple, easy, or inexpensive to fix. Ever. He always goes for the most extreme problem which would be the hardest or most expensive to fix.

Now there is one thing I’ve learned about things and how they function. Most of the time when something is not working, the fix is something easy, supremely simple, and most importantly, not expensive if it even costs any money at all.

This realization came to me when I was in my twenties and on a date with a young man whose car stopped functioning while we were trying to get to where we were going. He did just as Jerry would have and panicked about the extreme expense of fixing the major issue, he thought it was. (This was close to 40 years ago so don’t ask me what he was thinking the issue was.)

Well, I couldn’t even drive back then so I knew next to nothing about cars but when he opened his hood, I could see a part of it from where I was sitting in the front seat. I looked at the big, round black things front and center and flashed back to my mom once having some sort of issue with a car and the answer had been in that big round black thing. I somehow knew that was the problem. (Yes, I know it’s the air filter now.)

I pointed it out to my date, but he insisted that could not be causing the problem. So, he decided he had to get to a shop. It took some time to limp into the nearest one because his car would not go over 30 mph.

Now my guess was a simple clogged air filter.

Anyway, my date finally gets to a mechanic, and the very first thing the competent mechanic checks is the air filter. One unnecessary mechanic bill and an inexpensive air filter later we are back on the road and able to complete our date.

So, what has this got to do with our AC?

Someway, somehow the AC had been turned off. Simply flip the switch back to on and it’s working fine again. Thankfully.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

COVID and Me by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

If you haven’t heard already, I have COVID. Or at least I am still COVID positive. I feel fine. In fact, I am starting to feel like my old self, even if I am still in isolation because I haven’t as yet received a negative result when tested.

So, the timeline for all this is that on the evening of June 29^th, I had heartburn so bad I was coughing. On the morning of June 30^th, I considered calling in sick because I was coughing so much, but by the time I needed to leave for work, I had everything in control, and I figured it was fine.

Wrong!

By the end of my shift, I went home and took some cough syrup. By Friday morning, July 1^st, I knew I was sick. I had to call my friend at the visitors’ center and tell her I couldn’t make it. By Saturday morning, my oxygen levels were dropping and temp rising.

Now keep in mind this was a holiday weekend. I did try to contact some friends for help, but all I got was voice mail. I finally decided to drive myself to the emergency room.

I let the staff know what I did know about my condition, from my oxygen levels and temp to the fact that I was coughing up phlegm. (Having a nurse for a stepmother, I know that anything other than clear spelled a problem.)

I had hoped at this point, that it was just a chest cold, after all, I got all the vaccines and I’d been COVID-free all this time. At one point, Konnie panicked because for a while there my humble little hometown was the hotbed of COVID activity in the area.

I kept reassuring her that all my friends avoided me when they were sick. They are fully aware I’m high risk. My age, my heart condition, and my asthma individually put me there. To be honest, I’m lucky I’ve lasted this long. I have a friend who has suffered through three different variants.

So, I took myself to the hospital, tested positive, and was admitted.

Great. I have a cat. A cat that needed to be fed. And I hadn’t as yet managed to contact anyone for assistance.

Then there was the problem of informing my two closest family members, both of whom tend to panic. Konnie is at least sensible enough that I could call her directly and let her know. Her panic was mild in comparison to my sister-in-law. I knew I couldn’t call her. I called our shared home health aide.

Bre is a good kid, and very nice. She told Shirley, and she also retrieved my spare keys from my neighbor and fed Patches, on her own time mind you. Great kid actually, because tending my cat is something she isn’t supposed to do. But she wasn’t on the clock, and she volunteered.

She also managed to calm Shirley down which is the best part of contacting her.

The worst part was because of all the vulnerable clients she has, she can’t come back here until I’m COVID negative.

It didn’t help any all this happened just days before my 60^th birthday. Okay, yeah, mine and Konnie’s. The difference being, even if she were COVID positive at that time (which she wasn’t), she’d still have been at home with most of her family for company.

I, on the other, have Patches.

I’ve had some pretty bad birthdays over the years, but I’d have to say this one was the worst. I was miserable. I was still miserable a week later.

I kept trying to get back to work, but all my test kept coming back positive. I retest this Friday yet again, and I hope I’ll finally be negative since I finally feel like my old self.

But at this point, I’ve missed a ton of work.

And the missed pay aside, I couldn’t have fallen sick at a worse time, right when quarterly reports are due. My boss had been looking forward to getting them done promptly for once now that she had me to help. Best laid plans and all. Life can throw some curveballs.

She on the other hand worried about me missing pay more than how far she was getting behind without me to help.

Last Friday, she decided to look into the possibility of me working from home. It took some doing and talking with her higher-ups, let alone setting up my computer with the right program but yesterday we finally got me set up to work from home. Hopefully, it will just be for this week.

Anyway, I now have plenty of fodder for a pandemic story.

Happy writing everyone!

Of Reading and Writing by Konnie Enos

I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that my youngest, Royce, has stubbornly insisted he doesn’t know how to read. This was never helped by the fact that he was functioning well below grade level in reading throughout his school years. We could never convince him that below grade level didn’t mean he couldn’t read at all.

Nor could we convince him that his ability to navigate on his tech to watch his shows and play his games indicated that he could indeed read. Let alone that his fascination with tech including using and understanding it indicated he could indeed read.

Being from a reading family, I have tried multiple times to find him something other than what’s on his screen that he would read.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten him a book on a subject he’d expressed fascination with only to have him not so much as crack it open. I mean I was trying to find what genre and style of book he would find interesting enough to read.

I know that everyone has different likes and dislikes and I have seen how finding the right genre of a book can get someone interested in reading.

Jerry is most into self-help and or spiritual-type books, so he isn’t likely to read fiction. May didn’t develop a love of reading until she found historical fiction. She particularly loves sagas that cover several generations of a family’s story. Which should have been a clue to her that the best subject for her to study would be genealogy. Once she found those classes she thrived in school and is so proud that she has been able to complete all requirements for her associate degree (this semester) and now plans to start working on her bachelor’s degree in the fall.

 Tony also will only read books in genres and on subjects that interest him.

But with Royce, I just could not seem to find the genre that would interest him.

I had noticed his fascination with anime shows, but I didn’t know how to convert that love into reading. Not even after he’d displayed his prowess at creating an entire world and tons of stories in a similar style (Grand Oracle). Now we just need to get him to write them so others can enjoy them too. But that still didn’t get him reading.

At least once I had a conversation with him about trying graphic novels, but he wasn’t receptive or otherwise didn’t act on that suggestion.

Then between sheer frustration at being unable to get him reading and just being overworked going back to school, I dropped the subject.

And maybe that’s all he needed.

Sometime after we’d discovered that he’d created the entire Grand Oracle world he started mentioning new stories he’d found and describing them to me much like he had with Grand Oracle and some of the anime shows he liked. I assumed these new ones were more anime shows.

I’m coming to realize his fascination with anime might be partly because he can find them on the internet, which he is also fascinated with.

Anyway, he’s telling me about these new shows and has even showed me a scene or two in a couple of them. I assumed they were stills from the shows he was watching.

Nope.

He either found a show he loved with only a season or two of episodes but did have online graphic novels continuing the story or he simply found such novels in a style he loved and got hooked, but now he is coming to me with “this new great story” and they aren’t shows! And he LOVES them.

The characters are drawn in the same style as anime are drawn and they tend to all be set in cultures with strong similarities to Japanese culture, where anime originated. Even the widely popular Pokémon is in the anime style. Even more interesting, the man who created Pokémon has autism. (Look him up. His name is Satoshi Tajiri.)

Anyway, Royce has now been sucked into the world of reading by his two biggest fascinations, anime, and the internet.

Having looked up some information on Pokémon, I’ve learned Satoshi Tajiri created it, but he had help from friends to transform it into the shows and games they have become. So now I’m thinking all Royce needs to get his stories out is someone to collaborate with him on creating them into graphic novel form.

So maybe after we convince him to use voice-to-text apps to get his story written out, we should work on finding an artist to help him transform it into a graphic novel.

Now back to finishing my last week of school.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Of COVID and Writing by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

This past weekend I panicked two of my relatives doing one thing, but they panicked for different reasons.

What did I do?

I ended up in the hospital with COVID.

Who panicked?

Well, for starters, my sister-in-law, who lives here in town, panicked over my being in the hospital with COVID. She was afraid I was going to die because she’s already lost friends to the disease.

The other one to panic was Konnie.

Her issue wasn’t that I had COVID but that I was in the hospital with no access to my computer and a post due in a matter of days. As her last post stated, she’s in over her head with no spare time on her hands. She categorically could not sub on my turn this week.

So, now I’m home. I’ve calmed down my sister-in-law, but Konnie is still worried about me posting. Who can blame her? I am having trouble concentrating (more so than usual) and I keep dozing off.

This leaves me with sitting at my computer for a few minutes at a time trying to write something coherent when my brain would rather make the room spin than my thoughts find their way from my gray matter to the keyboard.

You would think she could be happy I lasted this long without getting COVID.

And it wasn’t like I didn’t panic myself when the ER nurse said they were admitting me. I mean who was going to take care of Patches? And who was home on the holiday weekend to even receive my call? I mean at first, no one was answering my messages, and I was even having trouble getting my church address book to open, limiting who I could contact.

I finally got a positive response, but she insisted she had no way to get into my apartment. I reminded her my neighbors had my spare keys. I’d have just called them, but I didn’t have their number!

Everything was fine until my friend let me know Patches had meowed his voice raw before she got there. He was distraught that he couldn’t find me. Now I panicked.

In the nearly three years I’ve had Patches, I spent a whopping one weekend away from home and that was just weeks after I got him. (Don’t worry, I left him with plenty of food and water.) But since then, the longest I had been away from home in a day is around 8 hours, and most days it was between five and a half and six hours. I do only work five-hour shifts. My long days are when I have stuff like appointments or errands to do before or after work. But I always return home in time for dinner until this past Saturday, a day I normally either stay home or run just one quick errand.

The way he is acting now, he has separation anxiety, because now he panics if he wakes up and I’m not where he last saw me. Either that or he’s just worried about me, considering that for the past week he has insisted on curling up next to or on me at every turn.

Yes, he was keeping a really close eye on me; I should have realized just from his behavior something was really wrong with me.

He’s starting to calm down, but now I’m worried about how he’s going to respond when I can actually leave the house again.

On top of all this, I have been trying to tweak my query and blurb for my speculative fiction novel and edit the first book of my science fiction series. (As in actually getting it finished.) I’m adding in scenes to flesh out the story better. Or at least I was trying to. Like I said, I’m having more trouble than usual concentrating.

Does anyone have time to do a critique or two on my query and blurb? If I ever get new ones written.

I’d ask Konnie, but obviously, she doesn’t have time. Me, I have way more time than I was planning to have, too bad I can’t seem to stay awake, let alone concentrate.

And to top it all off, this has been officially the worst birthday I’ve ever had, and that is saying something when heretofore my worst birthday was the one where Dad called and instead of saying hi or asking how I was doing, he announced, “He’s taller than you.”

And that was just the icing on a dreadful day all around because my husband ended up having to work on the fourth and was supposed to get the fifth off instead. It was evening when Dad called, and still no husband.

Anyway, happy writing everyone!