The Random Ramblings of an Autistic Guy

Having anxiety and autism is a double-sided blade. Everyday, I spend a lot of time and energy trying to act "normal"; trying to remember the proper greetings, eye contact, don't stim, remember that joke you heard on tv, the unwritten social rules that everyone knows except me. It's exhausting, but usually I have a pretty good grip on things, and most people don't know I'm autistic unless I tell them. But then the anxiety comes, and you reach a point where you have to decide whether you spend all your energy acting normal, or from not having an anxiety attack. And slowly, your battery depletes into emergency power from trying to do both. So you use what's left to hold off the anxiety, because for those of you who have never experienced an anxiety attack, I can't even begin to describe the terror. All the symptoms and characteristics of autism I was trying to hide creeps out. I start stimming more, and repeating phrases. I can't hold back talkin

A superhero, literally everyone knows is the Hulk; well I'm here to say that I'm the real life version of him. No I don't turn into a giant green monster, but it sure does feel like it. Everyday, I'm like Bruce Banner, mild-mannered, nerdy, and, I'll say it, pretty darn smart. But then my anxiety takes over and I transform into the Hulk; a completely different person who I can't control. Hulk has his strengths; he's super strong for one. And anxiety is good too, we needed it in caveman times for our fight or flight response. Like anxiety, Hulk often comes out when he's least wanted. A visual example is in Thor: Ragnarok, about 1hr and 14min in. Thor is trying to start a ship, but Hulk comes in and begins wrecking things. Frantic, Thor manages to pull up a video log of Natasha (Black Widow)- who is one of the few people who can calm Hulk and get him to return to Bruce. Hulk sees this video, as does Bruce, and Bruce wants to come back. Hulk begins hi

I suffered from Selective Mutism when I was younger. I know technically you can’t be diagnosed with Selective Mutism if you’re on the Autism Spectrum; however my doctor did. Selective Mutism is an anxiety disorder, where you physically can not speak. Or for some people they can only speak to certain people. But have no communication difficulties elsewhere (like at home). If you’ve ever seen the show The Big Bang Theory, there’s a character on there who can’t speak when he’s around women. And can only whisper into the ear of a close friend. I find the portrayal quite accurate to how I was. I would freeze up as soon as I was in the situation. Most cases are in kids and they usually outgrow it; I didn’t develop it until I was in High School. I can still vividly remember the first time it happened. I was taking a test in the guidance office (quiet area); this was first thing in the morning, and I hadn’t needed to talk to anyone. The guidance counselor comes out and starts a casual c

It's okay to ask for help. I don't know why I struggle with it, actually I dont struggle, I refuse it. I could have a broken foot, carrying armfuls of grocery bags, trying to open a door, while my crutches are falling from my grasp, and still not ask for help. People see the scene before them, and rush to help. I guarantee 90% of people would (at least the Canadians would). But what if you're metaphorically doing all that in your head; anxiety, depression, OCD, etc. You're struggling, you need help, but no one can see it until it's too late. Why don't we ask for help? For me it's a combination of shame, fear, stubbornness, and failed past results. I don't know what to say; how do you ask for help? I worry how people will react, do to bad experiences in the past; and I feel guilty, because I'm taking them away from something they're doing. I should be able to handle it alone. When I was a kid, (I have autism which isn't the main poin

People say suicide is a selfish act; obviously they've never been there. In the moment, it's the exact opposite; dying would be the least selfish thing you could do. At that point, you feel like a burden, everyone has to suffer dealing with you. The world will be a better place, your family will have an easier life. Depression twists your thoughts and reality, creating this alternate universe in your mind. If you've never experienced the crippling darkness, you don't get to judge me. Spend a few hours in my mind, and I'm sure you would want out too. It wasn't about want to die persay, but about ending the emotional and physical pain. And dying seemed like the only way to make the pain stop. It was about escaping unbearable pain when I couldn’t see any other option. You're tired. Tired of fighting, tired of the pain. Tired of trying and failing. Death is the ultimate sleep. It wasn't because I didn't have help. I had family, doctors, and therapist

I am not an artist, nor am I a writer. But I found relief as I drew this, and as I write this. It doesn’t matter if anyone reads this, for I feel better just putting it out there. I have an anxiety disorder (as well as a handful of other issues) every day it feels like I’m spinning a wheel of misfortune. Never knowing what anxiety symptoms I will have; making my anxiety harder to plan for and deal with. One day I could stutter, and feel a tightness in my chest. The next day I’m throwing up anything I eat. I could be hyped up, that I’m bouncing around like a pinball; running into things and tripping over my own two feet. No two days are the same for me. I’ve tried developing coping strategies, but when your opponent is a monster spinning a random wheel, the odds are stacked against you. There are some symptoms easier to deal with than others. Tics are preferred; well at least the lesser ones (biting my cheek, lifting my head up, or yawning). Half shoul

When my anxiety spikes I start to suffer from tics— a sudden, repetitive, non-rhythmic movement involving a distinct muscle group- like an eye twitch. I wouldn't call a tic involuntary persay, (they're definitely not wanted) maybe semi-voluntary. Let me try to explain. You know that feeling when you get an itch, that you have to scratch it. The longer you don't, the worst it itches; until you finally give in to that sweet relief. A tic is similar to that. I can feel it coming, and can try to hold it back; until the feeling is too much. (I find holding it in makes the tic more violent than just getting it over with) Over the years I've gone through a number of different tics, some less noticeable than others, some more painful than others. I've gone through tapping my leg, swatting myself in the face, opening and closing my hand, a kind of half shoulder shrug thing (that's still my main one), looking up (that's my secondary one), flicking my tongue, the

The problem is my brain doesn't instantly see the 'constructive' part of constructive criticism. It automatically senses the criticism, and puts up walls to protect from it. It feels like an attack, that I'm a bad person. Some suggestions make me think that I’m not competent without help, that I’m not smart enough, that somehow I’m not good enough, that I don’t measure up to the others. Obviously it's irrational, but in the moment my brain is in red alert, Deathcon 5. 99% of the time their comments are relevant and helpful. But it takes me a bit to get there. I have to dissect the comment; calming my brain to start. It's not a sock from Monster's Inc! Once I get my system back in order, I can figure out what they are suggesting, and how I can implement it. And it also depends on who is saying it. If two people say the same thing, my reactions can be different. If I trust them, my walls may only go up partly; whereas if they're a jerkface, my walls are

When I was a kid, social cliques and the like were simple. At recess you played with whoever you wanted, depending on what you wanted to do that day. Sports with the boys, or pretend with the girls; I'm generalizing a bit for clarity sake. Boys and girls did mix back and forth, but more boys played sports and vice versa. The boys would play sports; kickball, soccer, 4 square, basketball, etc. I wasn't the best athlete, nor was I the worst. But sports had rules, and a structure; it made sense. Even if we made up our own versions of the game, there were rules you had to follow. The girls would play pretend. House, Princesses, a tv show, etc. Unlike the autistic stereotype, I actually have an overactive imagination. There were rules, well more like guidelines; everyone had a role, and it fit in the situation. I was usually a non-human character; a dog, dragon, whatever. Humans are confusing. That's how recess would go, it made sense, and majority of people got along. The

Society deems having high functioning Autism as, in layman's terms, how well you pass as "normal". Now, I put normal in quotations, because what really is normal? We live in a world filled with so many interesting and different cultures, that what's "normal" to someone in America, is abnormal somewhere in Asia. Even in the same country, city; families have different "normal". Going beyond the parents (1 Mum, 1 Dad; 2 Dads; Step Parents, etc.) I remember classmates being picked up by their parents after school; they would swear and disrespect them without consequence. If my siblings or I tried saying some of those things that our peers did, our parents would knock our heads off! Maybe not literally, but we would be in trouble. A lot of trouble. When I think of the word normal. What comes to mind is, I believe, Einstein's quote, "Everyone is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life be

Something clicked today. I've been beating myself up over my anxiety. Trying prove I'm better than it; trying to prove I can work. Trying to accomplish 8 hours worth of work in only 4 hours. Then beating myself up when I couldn't get it done. Obsessing that if I don't finish things my boss will be mad. They'll yell at me. Be disappointed in me. Obsessing that this is my job I need to complete everything. I have to prove to myself I can do this. Losing control of my area because someone else is filling in for me. Moving everything, and leaving messes. Getting overwhelmed by the amount of things I need to get done on my list. My list, which I created myself, full of unrealistic expectations. But today I was at work, and started to panic because I don't have enough time to get my list done. (My list which had three days worth of work on it, that I wanted to complete in 4 hours) And I'm Panicking. I breathe faster, my heart races; I go non-verbal. I'

What is anxiety? Anxiety is a monster, living in my head; tormenting my brain. Suckling out my joy and rational. Anxiety is like a dementor. It makes me do things I don't want to do. Feel things I don't want to feel. I know my thoughts are irrational, I know sometimes there is no reasoning behind them. So you would think that would help, but it doesn't. I feel frustrated and angry; if I know it's irrational why can't I just stop the anxiety? But I can't. I'm not in control. The monster is controlling my brain. And people ask me how they can help. Which causes me anxiety because, why do they want to help? I literally can not wrap my head around the concept. (Is this anxiety related or autism related?) However on the other hand, I want to help them; I would do anything to help them. I worry about them obsessively. What if they get in a car accident? What if something happens to them? And if they need help, I don't know how to help them. To help me

I frequent a number of Autism Forums, facebook groups, etc. For some reason there seems like there is a war going on about political correctness; splitting down the middle.  Is it Autistic or Person with Autism. I don't care. Well no, that's a lie. But my preference is based on logic and not personal feelings. In the English language "autistic" is an adjective. (Describing word) Which in grammar, goes before a noun (person, place, thing). For example: The black dog. Annoying Sibling. The eccentric scientist. If I rearrange the order it sounds weird. The dog that is black. Sibling who is annoying. The scientist who has eccentricities. It doesn't flow right. That's why I prefer to use the word autistic. Human beings label things. It's a subconscious part of being human. Without labels we wouldn't exist (this berry is poisonous).  However, it's the social construct that prevents us from saying these labels. Don't believe me? Go hang out with a gro

I went on Google the other day, trying to search for other people’s experiences with Sensory Meltdowns. I was a bit shocked to see almost everything was about children. I think us adults on the spectrum (or with SPD) are under represented. I’m not sure if it’s because some grow out of it? Have better coping mechanisms? Or are just embarrassed to talk about. I get it, it’s humiliating. But I’m going to swallow my pride and talk about it anyway. I will disclose that the majority of the time my sensory meltdowns lead to panic attacks. So there are symptoms that overlap, or I don’t know which causes which. Things seem louder to me than to others. I also hear those tiny noises, you can’t hear unless I point them out. Usually I’m able to block these sounds by wearing earplugs. But sometimes the sounds win; or if my anxiety is higher it’s hard to regulate. During a Sensory Meltdown, I start to be unable to block out sounds. Every single noise is coming at me. Let’s say I’m in a grocery

**WARNING. This story contains possible triggers** Do you know what it’s like to be scared of your own brain? To spend each waking moment not knowing what is real or not? I do. A long time ago I suffered from Severe Depression (Which caused auditory and visual hallucinations) and Severe Anxiety and Panic Disorder Everyday was a struggle. I just wanted to lay in bed and fade away. School was a nightmare. Kids are merciless. Between the verbal/emotional, physical, and cyber bullying; nowhere was safe. I remember having panic attacks, my classmates pointing and laughing. Mocking me as I cried and shook. I remember the betrayal and hurt I felt when my “best friend” just stood there and laughed when the others picked on me. And then eventually told me she couldn’t handle my issues and wanted nothing to do with me. I spent the majority of my high school career being to scared to speak. (I suffered from Selective Mutism). Which made me the perfect target because I couldn’t ask for

I want you to imagine the most terrified you’ve ever felt. Maybe at a haunted house? Seeing a large spider? Losing your cellphone? Whatever it is, remember that feeling. How did you feel? Embrace that feeling; now triple it. I had a panic attack a few weeks ago. I honestly can’t remember the last time I had one — maybe a year ago? Of course there was a time I used to have them every day; I don’t like to talk about those times. But I’m better now. It was a high anxiety day: a lot of customers (which means crowds and noise), a busy holiday and a lot of things to get accomplished in a short amount of time. I also have anxiety working with a co-worker (which I’m working through, slowly). On this day I already had two incidents when my anxiety got too high and I had to get talked down. I’m getting better at realizing my limits and not getting embarrassed for asking for help. (Which leads to an ongoing joke of fake over-exaggeration when I do. Humor makes things easier.) For me, a panic

I'm scared. I'm worried of falling backwards. I know where my head was a long time ago, and I never want it to go there again. I'm scared of hurting someone, when I can't control myself. I'm scared I'll have another panic attack. I'm scared of passing out again. I don't want to go in an ambulance. I'm scared I won't get my anxiety under control and I won't be able to work. I'm scared everyone will get frustrated and push me away. I don't want people to worry about me. I don't like lunch. The noise, the smells. A lot of my high anxiety and attacks in the past were there. I'm worried about messing up. I'm not worried about losing my job anymore, but I'm worried I'll reach a point where I can't do it anymore. I'm scared I'll have another sensory meltdown and panic attack. They're worse than just a panic attack. I lose control and can't remember. I'm scared of my coworker. I'm w

I'm not sure what this feeling is. It's positive, I think; but it's kind of nerve racking at the same time. “What can we do to help you?” Seven little words. Seven little words, asking me. Not telling me. But I'm actually being treated as an individual, not just a problem. My entire life I was told, “This is what we're doing.” and  “That didn't work so we're doing this now.” I can't recall once, being asked what I thought. Put me in the sensory room because that's what the other Autistic kids like. I had a therapist who was dead set on that meditation was the only solution to anxiety. (And just so happened to sell CDs that I should use) It doesn't work for me. If I have to picture another babbling brooke in my lifetime; I think I may snap. In school they would take me out of class and put me in the resource room. The room where the disruptive and/or special needs kids go when their teachers need a break. So yes school, let's put me

What a Panic Attack is like for me as someone on the Autism Spectrum. I want you to imagine the most terrified you've ever felt. Maybe at a haunted house? Seeing a large spider? Losing your cellphone? Whatever it is, remember that feeling, how did you feel? Embrace that feeling; now triple it. I had a Panic Attack last week. I honestly can't remember the last time I had one; I think last year? Of course there was a time I used to have them everyday; I don't like to talk about those times. But I'm better now. It was a high anxiety day; a lot of customers (which means crowds and noise), a busy Holiday, and a lot of things to get accomplished in a short amount of time. I also have anxiety working with a coworker (which I'm working through,slowly). On this day I already had two incidents when my anxiety got too high and I had to get talked down. I'm getting better at realising my limits, and not getting embarrassed for asking for help. (Which leads to an ongoing

As a kid I would constantly come home with cuts and bruises, I couldn't explain or remember where they came from. Teachers would be suspicious of my “I don't know” answers when asked of injuries. But, I just don't feel pain the same as everyone else. In elementary school, it was a normal basketball practise. Running back and forth from basket to basket. I tripped (we joke it was over the blue line) and faceplated. The coach made me sit out for a few minutes because it was a nasty fall. I continued with practise and then walked home. My ankle hurt, like a minor sprain, and tingled a bit, but nothing major. I took a shower, and then watched TV. A couple hours later I look down and my ankle has blown up. It's 5 times the size. Scared, I call for my Mum. My parents take me to the ER, and xrays reveal a broken ankle. The next year, I get pushed, playing soccer and fall onto my hands. It kind of hurts, so I come off and we ice it. My parents are concerned after the