Funkonovo/Allison's autism Blog

The light spectrum ranging from Ultraviolet (invisible to the naked eye) to visible to Infared (also invisible to the naked eye).  Google Image Search I'm going to go out on a limb here. This "What's your superpower?" question has become quite popular. "What superpower do you wish you had?" One response by some autistic adults has been "Autism is my superpower." I cringe, because I, being autistic, see my autism as anything but. I am disgusted by how there is little tolerance for a middle ground or common sense these days. I suppose if you went to college, are gainfully employed, don't have SPD so severe you can't go out into public without help, are married and even have kids, you will view your autism through mostly rose colored glasses. I say mostly, because I DON'T want to undermine the fact you do struggle to do what non-autistic people do with less or no effort each day. If you drive, own a home, have friends, lov...

Purple and red were the colors I chose the day the classical music played through an old, slightly warped and scratchy sounding record player. Peaks and valleys gave way to holes in the paper made by too much pressure from my hands. Us six-year-olds were asked to draw how we "saw" the music. Sight wasn't the first sense that came to mind. It was my hearing. I used the crayons to illustrate the stabbing pain I felt physically in my ears that wound up in my shutting down, hands over my ears and face down on the desk, near tears. I had a kind first grade teacher who had something many other teachers lacked: common sense. She genuinely cared for her students. Noting my condition, she asked to see my paper. "Oh my!" she said, asking for the paper. She later called my parents, not to complain, but to tell them that something was wrong and that she was concerned. The matter wasn't discussed further. I wasn't blamed or shamed by my teacher or parents. If ...

I posted a side by side picture of myself on my FB page. One has me with no glasses, smiling into the camera. Another has me with glasses on and smiling, but my gaze is off. I wanted to show through photography the rediculousness of telling someone "they don't look autistic" or that they must fit the stereotype when they aren't making eye contact, but making ever effort to be plesant. That isn't hard to do in nature. I think the media created a stereotype at least over the past two decades that an autistic person must be white, male distant, apathetic and having a persistant, off gaze all of the time. I do have a slightly lazy right eye. When I am stressed or very tired, the eye does move off center. That is also my migraine eye. Sometimes, my ever buzzing mind distracts me right before a picture is taken. The smartphones can be hard to see exactly where the lens is, especially if I want a picture taken sans glasses. Sometimes, in the case of the selfie or gro...

Concept: colors, lines, and squiggles with the word "Static" written in the middle I drew this using a simple doodle app. The wild squiggles and different colors represent the different sensory chaos coming from all around and bunching, clogging my filterless brain. I screenshotted this, so pardon the advertising.

Chapter 4: Future Vision: My sensory friendly housing wish list I compiled a wish list regarding housing that takes into account the special need of the ASD individual with   life-limiting   sensory processing disorder (SPD). First, I state why, for me , living in an "anything goes" neighborhood (where most people live) is unhealthy and unsafe. -Randomness; lack of routine and predictability as faced in most typical living environments. - Chance for harm: victimization due to natural gullibility (lack of “street smarts”). - Lack of adequate transportation due to not being able to drive a car or tolerate the sensory overload of public transportation.   - Staying inside, isolated from the community due to auditory and visual sensory overload. - High blood pressure due to pervasive environmental stressors like traffic, dogs, and children playing. and underlying depression that paves the way for other health problems like heart dis...

Chapter 3: Does autism get easier as you age? Based on my   personal experience:   somewhat yes and mostly no. Yes,   some   of my sensory sensitivities become tolerable. For me, this meant being able to go from screaming and covering my eyes every time a flash fired on a camera to being able to endure purple pupils following a photograph. By my preteen years, I was able to handle the doorbell ringing instead of freaking out by both the startle and the noise. What a relief it was that my mother could play the organ at mid-volume in the den next to my bedroom and I could handle it with my door closed. Being forewarned, I could even tolerate the vacuum being turned on and even being in the same room. But by the time I turned 14, I began to notice increasing sensitivity to other sounds   already too loud , especially when accompanied by   startle. I began to experience more meltdowns more frequently and much lower overall frustration tolerance. ...

Woman holding head in hands Wednesday, I went for a routine psych assessment which lead to a meltdown which included me beating my head with my fists, and a walkout. It was a good thing I was already chewing my chewable, silicone necklace. Braided chewable pendant by Stimtastic What precipitated the meltdown and walk out was being yelled at (a deciBel level below screaming range and above emphasizing speech) by the doctor, who claimed in a previous appointment to know something about autism and sensory issues. I took myself off of an anti-depressant because it was making me suicidal. I was already dealing with a major depressive episode and still am. I kept and went back on the anti-depressant that I knew and trusted. I felt better in a couple of days. Better meaning non-suicidal. I never thought once of calling to discuss my decision with my doctor. It honestly never crossed my mind. For that, I am sorry . I made an unintentional e...

These are the chapters to the book I wrote. I posted the introduction a few months ago. I hope you gain something from reading. Chapter 1: My Ball of Wool: Sensory Processing Disorder and how it affects me. Imagine a sound that you absolutely cannot stand at even a low volume. Maybe it's a lawnmower, jackhammer, birds chirping, or sub woofers thumping from a passing car. Maybe it's a complex sound as in a song-THE ONE SONG YOU ABSOLUTELY CANNOT STAND TO HEAR because it brings up turbulent emotions each time you hear it or it makes you angry because it demeans women and/or minorities.  If you are more visually oriented, imagine the worst nightmare you ever dreamed, watching someone you love die, blinding strobe lights. If you are tactility inclined,  maybe it is the feel of wool or burlap being brushed against your skin.  Now imagine what ever the dreaded thing is- that it is  pervasive.  There is no escape from it. If you turn on your TV, ...

I am like an almost empty glass (there's always a little anxiety stored) when I leave home. That glass quickly fills up with sensory stimuli. I become overloaded and need to return soon or I will go into sensory overload, have a meltdown and wind up hurting myself and possibly others. At home, there isn't a constant barrage of noise. Thankfully, nobody directly around my house has kids. There are dogs next door, and I do use three different white-noise machines throughout my home to keep me as calm and functional as possible. Having autism, I feel everything around me to the extreme . I feel extremely angry with someone if they hurt my feelings (intentional or not). I have to get away to a quiet place so I won't harm them or myself. I have to get away to a place devoid of sensory stimuli to calm down and mentally unpack the stressful events to get to a place where I am rational enough to engage with the world again. That can mean hours or days. I will always need as...

Multicolored roses with autism quote by autisticaplanet

Camera lens with breaks in it. Light and sound amplification This photo had some serious Photoshop performed on it. This is what the sensory filter in my brain looks like.  I have autism and SPD (sensory processing disorder). That means my brain doesn't properly process some information, including certain auditory input. I was diagnosed with hyperacute hearing as a child and as having "autistic features" in 1998. In 2004, I was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome, now part of autism spectrum disorder. I read an interesting article on Wikipedia that explains sensory gating . My brain cannot perform this properly with sound. The "Cocktail Effect", a term used to describe how the brain filters out information it doesn't need, is pretty much absent in my brain. If I am around more than 4 people with 2 or more conversations, I feel like I am listening to 2 or more radio stations simultaneously. I use passive earmuffs and sometimes earplugs in public....

A woman on fire-Pixabay My meltdown is Echoed in my screaming Adrenaline is racing like napalm through my veins Moro reflex punching my gut over and over Reliving the sensory overload on a loop I'm drowning without being in water and I have to go to bed for 2 days Sometimes it brings red and blue flashing lights on a squad car  Handcuffs chewing into my wrists Lots of shouting and grabbing Strapped to a backboard while my skin turns purple and black Locked up, drugged up Being punished for something I cannot control It isn't a conscience choice I've made To disrupt my life or yours It so happened that A dog was barking- A child was screaming- Someone set off a firecracker- And I couldn't process the information fast enough To remain in control of my executive functioning The threat of sensory overload hangs pregnant, like a cumulonimbus cloud I need a safe place and safe people- now and until I die To successfully process what life...

Early Years Back in 1979, there was no DSM IV. There was no Asperger’s diagnosis. There were no support groups for parents. No early intervention. After all, how can anyone intervene into something that does not yet “exist”? My mother used to tell the story of playing “Music Box Dancer”, a loud & lively tune, on the organ. She was 6 months along with me. As she played, she began to feel and see violent kicking in her womb. She called my dad into the room. When she asked him what he thought, he abruptly answered, “Stop playing!” My mom, very concerned, read an article in a magazine that mentioned the “difficult child”. This was a child who was hyper-intense to their environment from day one. It was hypothesized that the problem would solve it self by the time the child was about 5 years old. This obviously was not the case, and my mom thought so after reading the article. The rest of my story more than proves the point. I was born to older parents. My dad was 52 and my mom was...