Skip to main content

Questioning the current autism spectrum model

Color wheel. Concept: autism spectrum redefined.
Can an autistic person be both high and low functioning?
Is this even the right question to ask?
I've heard the term "high-functioning" and "low-functioning" used for autism for nearly two decades, when I was first diagnosed.
I am not offended by the terms, but confused by them.
What is in question? IQ? EQ? verbal and social skills? How about coping with co-morbids and sensory processing disorder?
The autism spectrum is often seen as linear, with "low functioning" being at one end and "high functioning" being at the other.
This is one dimensional and I think, misleading.
My IQ has been tested in adulthood twice. Each time, I scored 110, considered a B+ grade. Intellectually, I could say I'm high-functioning.
I can speak, though I sometimes have to stop and think about what I have to say or wind up repeating words while I try and think about what ones I want to use. I do well with writing/typing. It is premeditated. No one is waiting on my response. I can communicate on a deeper, philosophical and emotional level. I could say that I am "high functioning" verbally and moderately functioning with communication.
When it comes to sensory processing disorder, I don't know. I don't have many issues with sight, smell, or taste. I have a little trouble with spatial ability, especially in tight spaces or 90 degree angles. That means I bump into a lot of stuff.
Most of what I call "severe" comes from my auditory processing. I am hearing sounds louder than most.
In early grade school, the people that gave the hearing tests to kids remarked at how I could hear both high and low pitch sounds at very low volume. I screamed when the scratchy records were played. I have hated classical music all of my life due to the sudden changes in pitch and volume. I cannot be around small kids crying. I often played on the edges of the playground as a girl. I couldn't handle the doorbell until I  was in my tween years. Dogs barking, neighborhood fireworks, car horns all caused extreme startle (moro reflex) and automatic, violent meltdowns.
My auditory processing worsened in my teens along with my body's ability to regulate hot and cold. The only sound that became manageable was the doorbell.
 Sensory speaking, the auditory part excludes me from so much of what life entails: socialization, employment, worship and community service, that I would not be exaggerating to call myself "low functioning" when it comes to sensory processing.
I do not drive a car due to the fact my mind cannot process too much stimuli at one time.
I have always been a slow learner. Repetition was and is the only key to retaining information. Yet, I wouldn't qualify as "intellectually disabled" or "low functioning" because I do eventually get the concept-unless it's algebra or physics.
I think the answer isn't the labels. It is a problem in how we perceive the one-dimensional, linear model. It is outdated.


Popular posts from this blog

On the fringe: autism and family gatherings

Child covering ears Family gatherings are noisey. There are a myriad of voices that range in pitch and volume. There is that one person who laughs so loud that tears well in my eyes. Boys yell and bang on the piano. Someone is taking a photo with flash. Greeting people is part of being polite, even when you are already in sensory overload. Perfumes and colognes combine and foods from the kitchen circulate. Men yell at the football game and women laugh at something funny.  All this is taken in at the door. There is a long way to wade through before I can put my coat in a quiet bedroom. I have to remember to smile and say "hello" as well as accept hugs. There are a few cousins who cannot stand my presence, though, at age 5, I don't know what I could have possibly done to upset them. I am asked, "Why do you plug your ears?" I am told repeatedly that nobody wants me here. I am the only one who isn't part of a group. Sometimes, I get bullied. A parent ...

To the dad who removed his crying toddler from the waiting room

Young female child crying First of all, thank you VERY MUCH for your thoughtfulness in choosing to remove your crying toddler from the OB/GYN waiting room. I am sure it was boring for your daughter to wait on top of being sick. I could hear the mucus rattle when she coughed. Being patient for a toddler is hard on a good day, but far harder when you are sick. My autistic brain can remember back to when I was a toddler. I was about to go in for my yearly exam. I had a meltdown earlier in the week and was dreading the pain and pressure that always comes from having a metal speculum inserted into my vagina. I have a very good doctor who is both practical and patient, but it is still a very uncomfortable experience. Not having to figure out how to run out of the office, possibly punch myself in the head or knock something over was a HUGE relief. I was able to remain seated and chew my stim pendant, filling out my paperwork (I wish they could just e-mail it-very stressful as I am ...

The Onion in the Petunia Patch Part Three

Young adulthood-present I attempted suicide when I was 17, six months before graduation. I was hospitalized for the first of what would be over 20 spanning from 1997-2006. More bullying and much more blame came from what was supposed to be a place of healing. I was told how spoiled I was, what a con-artist I was; manipulative (as if plugging my ears and screaming at the loud toddler visiting was my way of wanting to “get” something from someone-other than quiet). There were more suicide attempts. In 1998, I saw the next in a series of psychiatrists/psychologists. This man diagnosed me, wearily, with “autistic tendencies”. I was 19. I went on to getting into trouble with the law and almost being imprisoned. I firmly believe if it hadn't been for my mom’s nursing sense and persevering spirit, I would have gone to jail and would not be here today. I questioned God. I began to wonder if He really did exist. I decided that He did, but that He hated me, even was bullying me. How s...