A Label Doesn't Change The Child

Jean Myles, www.MommyToTwoBoys.blogspot.com, shares her story with me and my readers via an email interview. Thank you, Jean.

1. When was your three year old diagnosed?


Jaylen was diagnosed at 18 months.


2. Receiving a diagnosis at such a young age is great. Are you receiving Early Intervention services?


At 18 months Jaylen was getting a specialist to the house once a week and we quickly realized it wasn't enough. So he began ABA - DTT five days a week for an hour and a half. Then when he turned 3 he started an integrated PreK program run by special ed certified teachers where he also receives Speech, OT, and PT.


3. If so, can you explain what they are to my readers?


Oops, just did that above :)


4. Would you mind telling my readers a little bit about your child?


Jaylen was completely non verbal until 2, but now has a vast vocabulary, almost above age level. He still has some issues answering questions, and has instant and delayed echolalia at times.

He is very hyperactive, especially when there is a change in routine or he is overstimulated. He used to have very little eye contact and rarely responded to his name, but now does both more often than not.

Jaylen has emotional problems, mostly anxiety and cries often when frustrated or not sure of something. He also has very little empathy and can not "read" people. He used to have up to ten 30 minute or longer tantrums per day, but know has only 1 or 2 a week.

Sensory issues have become worse over time. He likes to squeeze into tight places, use a weighted blanket, and carry heavy objects.

He has difficulty playing with toys appropriately and to this point has no idea how to interact with other children other than to chase them and repeat what they say. However, he is getting good at turn taking games at home.

Jaylen is very bright, some of his teachers have even mentioned the term savant to me. Numbers, shapes, and letters are his favorite thing and he can easily become consumed in any activity involving them.


5. What has been the biggest help for you in obtaining information about autism, therapies and treatments?


The biggest help for us was his first placement. His coordinator, teachers, and therapists at his ABA school were just amazing. They were so involved in Jaylen's development. Since leaving that placement I have found several websites and mom's groups online that really help. A few books have also been helpful in reading about treatments and tips.


6. What has been your family's reaction to your child being diagnosed with autism?


The first day we were told something wrong was very tough to hear. Being a former teacher though, my husband and I both knew something wasn't right. But hearing it from someone else was hard to handle. The label didn't change him though. He is still the same kid, our same little boy, just now we know what is wrong and work hard to help him the best we can.

Autism Mom Says Anything Is Possible

This is Lisa Weafer's story, in her words. It really touched me, and I am honored to share it with my readers.

My son was diagnosed with Autism at about 2 ¾ years of age. I remember the day well. The Behavioral Psychiatrist told me that Kyle would definitely plateau in his development, probably would never say more than 2 or 3 words and that we should be prepared for that. I took a slow, deep breath, and said, “Thank you very much, but as Kyle’s mom, I have to prove you wrong”. That was 16 years ago, and Kyle is almost 19, a senior in high school and having an incredible year. This was the year he decided to play football and turn out for the wrestling team, activities that my husband and I thought we would never see.

Life with Kyle has certainly had its share of challenges. He has days where his OCD is in overdrive, rituals and obsessions are being played out to the max, and to add to that he has always been a “tactically defensive” child. He never liked being touched, loud noises were painful, wearing clothing with sleeves, long pants, denim were definitely out, and one of the biggest challenges of all: getting Kyle to wear shoes and socks. To this day, clothing is still an issue. It has always been difficult for Kyle to transition to appropriate seasonal clothing for the fall and winter months. He has what we refer to as a “uniform” that includes Kansas State football jerseys or t-shirts, gray jersey shorts and Adidas flip flops. Never mind that it is 20 degrees outside with snow flurries. By now, people are used to seeing him dressed in his “uniform” but early on, we got a lot of strange looks, and comments and criticisms were a plenty as you can imagine. We always joke and tell him that he is going to have to retire in Key West, where he can walk on the beach in his bare feet and swimsuit and not have to worry about wearing shoes or cold weather clothing!

It is amazing, with all of the challenges that Kyle has faced, that he would approach his dad before his senior year of high school and say “I play football.” My husband and I were thrilled, but we knew that we were about to face an enormous hurdle: what to do about the fact that football is a contact sport, the crowd noise level might be enough to send him into orbit, and most of all the clothing and shoe issue. To make a very long story short, it took many, many weeks of tantrums, social stories and sensory integration techniques to work through the issues, but eventually he did, shoes and all! Once he made up his mind to play football, it was if he knew he was going to have to come through on his end of the deal, that being able to work hard and get through his tactile and sensory issues.

One of the main things that I would like others to learn about Kyle’s story is that anything is possible. If I had listened to that doctor 16 years ago I can honestly tell you that Kyle’s progress would not be at the level that it is now. We have been fortunate that throughout preschool, elementary middle and high school, Kyle has had nothing but wonderful teachers that have embraced him, worked patiently with him, and have helped him to become the confident young man that he is today. Kyle is truly “living the dream” and so are we. I am so proud of all of his accomplishments.



Thank you,



Lisa Weafer

Proud Parent Of A Person With Autism Part II

The second part of my interview with Karen Nichols.

Wow! Thank you for sharing. I have a couple of questions, if you don't mind.

1. What kinds of therapies have tried? Which ones do you feel have been successful and which ones haven't? At school, my son uses visual aids to keep him focused. Each year, at his IEP, we make sure to let the teachers and ALL STAFF, from the lunch ladies, to the secretaries, to the custodians know that Matthew is Autistic, and he's ok with it. He doesn't like hugs, he doesn't enjoy jokes, and if he is solitary, let him have his moment. Earlier in his education, he had "sensory diet", which helped alot. We now have him enrolled in Band and Art, and this has very nicely taken place of his sensory diet. We give Matthew explicit instructions as to what to do if his day isn't working out, and work very closely with his team to ensure that school is a positive environment for him.

Matthew loves to be scratched. We allowed his para-pro to scratch him during sensory diet on his arms, legs, and back. It soothes him and relaxes him. We still do this to this day. It eases him to sleep every night.

We talk to Matthew constantly about drug and alcohol use, since he is becoming closer to the age where peer pressure may involve such things. Autistic children are very "black and white" about rules, and, hopefully, we can keep him from substance abuse. I fear that if he were to use drugs or alcohol, we may lose him and his brilliant mind. We tried a gluten-free diet, and, because Matthew is such a picky eater, it failed miserably. He also has Sensory Integration Disorder, and eating foods that he doesn't LOVE simply is torture to him.

2. (Hard one here) What is your opinion of vaccines? In Matthew's case, I don't believe that vaccinations had any role in his Autism. He was a different child from the start. I believe that Matthew's Autism is genetic. However, I did not and will not have my children vaccinated against the H1N1 virus, I don't trust it. I think that there truly may be a connection between vaccinations and Autism, and I believe that we should all have a choice in this matter.

3. Are there any therapies that you absolutely would not try with your son and why? I will not medicate my son. He is Autistic, and that's never going to change. Matthew is a Human Being with Autism, and we are not raising a child. We are raising an Adult Human Being with Autism. He may do things differently, he may act differently, but, truly, what is "normal"? My husband and I are delighted with our Autistic Son, and wouldn't want him any other way. Matthew tells people, "I have Awesome-Tism. It makes me really great at math" Medicating him and taking away his Autism would be a handicap. When he becomes an adult, he will need to understand and live with his Autism.

4. What kind of support system do you have?(Once or twice a year, my parents will take my kids for the weekend and my husband is great for taking the kids and giving me time to myself) Matthew spends part of his summer break with his Nana and Papa in Arkansas, and he looks forward to this every year. His biological father has him every other weekend, and they have big adventures together. I have surrounded my family with a team of professionals who adore and understand my son, as well as my friends and family. I can pick up a phone and have someone to talk to at any time. Truly, I have silently cried an ocean of tears over my Matthew. At first, they were sorrow, frustration, exhaustion, anger. Now they are joy, pride, adoration, understanding, and gratitude.

5. What is one thing that you would like to say to anyone not familiar with autism to know? Before my son was diagnosed with Autism, I knew nothing. Now, I am an advocate. Relax and enjoy your child. When you see a child misbehaving at the grocery store, rather than making comments about how "naughty" the child is, give a warm smile to the mother who is at the verge of tears. I have ended up on the floor of many, many grocery stores, rocking my son back to reality, with strangers just telling me he needs a spanking. To them I say: "I'm sorry that you are unfamiliar, but my son is Autistic."

Proud Parent of a Person With Autism

written by:
Karen Nichols, proud parent of a Person With Autism.
Her son is 10 and in the 5th grade.

Matthew was born on July 1, 1999. He had a normal delivery, and, for his first few weeks, was a delightful little guy.

As he grew, we noticed that he hated to be held, and screamed every night for at least 3 hours. It was exhausting. We figured it was Colic.

His first word was not mama or dada but "GO", and in hindsight, this meant "GET OUT OF MY FACE!" The car and grocery stores were torture for him. He screamed from the car seat, to the store, and all the way home, then continued to scream himself to sleep. My marriage collapsed. I was now a single mom. At the time, I was a Firefighter/EMT, and I knew that daycare would be out of the question for this difficult infant, so I opened my own daycare, where I could be with Matthew all the time.

Matthew's language and development faltered. I saw that my daycare children were progressing at a much more rapid rate than my own child. I dismissed this as he was the youngest, therefore the other children were speaking FOR him. He crawled everywhere, didn't take steps until 15 months of age. Few words, only words that needed to be said: "drink, treat,eat, GO"

Matthew was fascinated with his Handy Dandy Notebook, and took it everywhere he went. I bet we bought 100 Handy Dandy Notebooks in his toddler years. He hated clothing, and, even in the wintertime, preferred his diaper and nothing else. Shoes were out of the question. Still, I was oblivious. Hindsight is 20/20. The guilt that I have over this is unimaginable.

Matthew developed his own sign language, and could do simple mathematics with his fingers. His hands were his best friends, he studied his hands and counted for hours on end. He made intricate designs with his blocks and walked all around the table, studying the angles and how the shadows affected his designs. He loved trains. We lived near a train track, and when he heard the whistles blowing, we jumped in the car to watch. He would record the entire event in his notebook. He watched The Weather Channel and recorded each day's weather in a separate notebook. By the time we moved from the house, there were crayon markings on EVERY wall.

First grade was a complete disaster. Matthew hid under his desk and screamed. His teacher had 30 years under her belt, but didn't really know what to do with Matt, so she sent him to the office, where he would continue his meltdown, and return to class. Lunchtime was torture, too loud, noisy, chaotic. So, Matthew would just throw his lunch away, and sit on the playground with his notebook. At his first Parent/Teacher Conference, his teacher, Ms Doty said.."We are certain that your son is Autistic". We asked why. She said that we only had 5 minutes left of the conference. We argued that Matthew is BRILLIANT, he's not retarded. (ignorance on our part)...Conference over.

I came home to my son. He was making an intricate design, a pyramid, out of pennies, counting each one, making sure that they were all "heads up" and perfectly aligned. He is brilliant, I told myself. Autistic children sit in a corner and rock back and forth. My son is NOT Autistic. Matt cried all night, and so did I.

By the next morning, and for a solid month after, it was my duty to learn as much as I could about this thing called "Autism". I searched the internet endlessly, spoke with other moms, had Matthew tested, scaled back my daycare to just a couple of days a week, and became a First Grader. I sat next to Matthew every day in school. His teacher thought that Autism was a "fad". I went to lunch with him and opened his containers, so he could eat. I left at noon, went home, cried. Daily. By the time Matthew made it home from school, a massive meltdown would ensue, followed by a long nap. I became a warrior. NO more crying. Time to fight.

Being the parent of a Human Being with Special Needs is quite a charge. I realized that I could no longer be a firefighter, I mustn't put my life in jeopardy, for as long as my son is Autistic, he will always need me. I reluctantly quit the Fire Department and became a fulltime glass artist. I am 100% available to my son and to his Special Ed team.

I am now my son's Advocate. I remarried, and my husband and I understand Matthew and have nurtured him and supported him and adored him. I am pleased to say that, while Matthew continues to have speech difficulties, doesn't make eye contact, hates stores, Santa, and the Easter Bunny, he pitched for the Holt Rams baseball team this past year. He has no friends, and doesn't really want any. This past summer, he said, "MOM. For my birthday, I want some walkie-talkies". I told him, "yaknow, buddy, if you want some walkie-talkies, you're going to need to go up the street, and see if you can make some friends."

Matthew replied "Mama. You are my friend" I melted.

Brothers

It was going to be a long afternoon. Sean wanted to play basketball outside which is fine -- the weather, albeit cold, was unusually sunny. He ran to put his high tops on and grab a ball and he headed out to our neighbor’s basketball hoop. The first try, arms between his legs, the old granny-style toss, proved to be unsuccessful, the ball floating through air, touching no net, not even rim or backboard and sailing straight down in front of him. He started muttering. Second attempt was worse. It actually went over the backboard and landed in the neighbor’s June berry bush. His hands began slapping against his legs and his voice got angrier,


“Don’t watch me, Mommy. Go inside!”

“Sean, you are not going to make every basket. You have to be a big boy. No yelling.”

“ No!” he yelled, his voice edged in hysteria, “No! You go inside!”

Sean’s big brother appeared at the door, “Why is he mad?” he asked.

I walked toward him and explained that he was frustrated that he wasn’t making any baskets.

“I’ll help him,” he said and went down to the street. Sean was still angry as his brother tried to steady him, telling him to calm down and aim for the net.

I watched from the porch as each shot missed the intended net and Sean became more out of control.

“That’s enough,” I said walking to Sean and grabbing his arms and shoulders. He twisted and screamed, his body stiff as I tried to carry him into the house.

“It’s okay, Mom,” his brother said. “He’ll be fine when he makes the basket. I know. He does this.”

I dragged Sean into the house, his voice screeching, saying over and over,


“I want a new Mommy!”

All I could think was, “Good luck with that. You're stuck with the one you've got.”


Charlie came back in the house, bent down to Sean and said, “Come on, Sean. You can do this.”

I reminded Sean that he needed to be a big boy and no screaming.


“But I am frustrated,” he said, his face tear stained, even his ears were flushed red.

“I know, Sean, but you need to find a better way to deal with that. Screaming and carrying on like that isn’t going to make it any easier.”

“You stay inside, Mommy. And don‘t watch me.” his voice starting to calm, his order declared.

His brother went out with him and after the third try Sean made it. I watched secretly through the blinds and although my view of the basket was obstructed by the giant red cedar, I could see Sean’s body relax, his fists unfurl and heard no yelling -- every indication that he reached his goal.

The two brothers came back into the house, with the older brother saying,


“Good job, Sean. That was awesome. I can hardly make that shot either.” The last sentence he spoke was untrue -- he could make that shot blindfolded.

Sean was still breathless and anxious. He had built up so much anxiety over making the basket that it took him the rest of the afternoon to calm down and to lose some of his edginess.

By evening he was better, although he was tired and cranky.


“Listen to my music with me, Mommy,” he asked, toothpaste on his chin and his pajamas inside-out. I sat down on his bed while the music floated out of the CD player -- the flute and violin softening the night.

His older brother came in a few minutes later and said, “I will stay with him, Mom.”

“No, that's okay. Thank you, though." I whispered.

Then Sean piped up, “You stay with me, C?”

“Sure, Sean,” He said.

I tucked them in and said good nights and went to my room which is directly across from Sean’s room. I listened to them talk. They do not talk like brothers who are only 19 months apart. Sean talks about things that matter to him and only him,

“Who do you want to be in Monsters vs. Aliens? “

His brother plays along, “Can I be the Missing Link?”

Sean thinks it over and says, “Okay. You are the Missing Link. Is Shrek Pixar or Dreamworks?”


And then, like he always does when he goes through his litany of questions answers his own question, “Dreamworks. Yes, it is. Dreamworks.”

I am about to leave my room when I hear his older brother say kindly,


"You are a really good basketball player, Sean. Maybe someday we can play basketball together. What do you think?”

Sean doesn’t answer. There is just silence for a moment and then Sean says,


“Yellow is my favorite color.”



More silence. “I like blue. Good night, Sean,” his brother says softly.



I really wanted to hear, and for the briefest moment thought I might, Sean answer,


“Yes, I do want to play basketball. That would be fun.”


But my boys don’t have conversations like that. My older child is incredibly patient, but I couldn’t help think that sometimes he must long for the brother who can shoot hoops and talk football and tell jokes with and share stories.

My mother would say, “You never miss what you never had.”


Maybe that’s true. This is the only brother he knows -- a little brother that he has always protected and loved. They are not rivals. They hardly fight. They don’t have a lot in common. But at the end of the day, they are brothers -- and I don’t think either would be the boy he is without the other. They make each other better.


- Written by Katie Donohue Bevins, Tears of a Clown

Excerpt From Seasons Of The Soul

"Family Boston Trip"
Excerpt from Seasons of the Soul



Andrew, my 19-year-old autistic son, sat next to me as the family waited for the plane to take off from Omaha’s Eppley Airfield. We were headed for Boston. I sat next to the window while Andrew sat near the aisle.

His leg jerked up and down as he intermittently fastened and unfastened his seat belt. I tried to calm down his anxiety by telling him we soon would take off. My words, though, were in vain because within minutes Andrew darted off the plane. That was the beginning of several mishaps that occurred during our Boston trip of 2004.

My husband Paul ran after Andrew. Paul was sitting across the aisle with Brad, our oldest autistic son. I moved over next to him I wanted to make sure Brad did not get up. We did not know if Brad understood what was going on since he could not talk.

Paul caught up with Andrew. The two reboarded the plane. But the pilot made them exit the cabin to undergo a new security check because Andrew ran onto the tarmac. Minutes seemed like hours as I waited for Paul and Andrew to again reboard.
“We understand your son did not do this deliberately,” the stewardess said. “But we may have to boot the whole family off the plane.” I panicked. Paul spent too many days planning this trip for it all to come to a quick end.
My brain surged into gear! “Andrew could sit next to the window with Paul in the outside seat,” I told her. “That way, my husband could make sure Andrew would stay seated.”

Security officials agreed. Soon we took off—surprisingly only about 20 minutes late. We landed at Boston’s Logan International Airport three hours later. Then we rented a car, and I drove it to Danvers, Mass.

From there, we visited Boston’s Freedom Trail, toured Martha’s Vineyard and went on a whale watch. Although we never saw any humpback whales, we did see its related counterpart—dolphins. That made Andrew happy.

I drove the family to Plymouth, where we saw Plymouth Rock and went inside the Mayflower replica. We then proceeded to Hyannis on Cape Cod. The next day we visited several Cape Cod villages, including Orleans the home of Rock Harbor.
I parked the car and grabbed my camera. We walked over to the harbor to get a better view. I decided to take some close-up pictures. I stepped into the water. Then placed my purse on an upper rock near the shore. I just finished taking a couple of pictures when high tide came in.

The waves rose to my knees and splashed onto the ledge where I put my purse. The tide drenched my purse, including our airline boarding passes, my checkbook and the Omaha Eppley Airport’s parking stub. Paul dried out the boarding passes and the checkbook. But the flimsy, lightweight parking stub was ruined. That created a problem because without the stub, Omaha airport parking officials wanted us to pay almost triple the normal $24 weekly rate.

“But the stub was ruined when my purse got drenched during high tide,” I told the parking attendant.

“I will talk with the manager," she replied. The attendant returned about 10 minutes later, telling us the manager agreed to have us pay the usual rate. We were grateful.

Prior to that, though, the family had another problem. Brad had a grand-mal seizure while on our return flight home. “Is there anything we can do to help?” the flight attendant asked.

“I will need a wheelchair when we land,” I replied. An airport employee met us with the wheelchair. Paul took it from him. He put Brad in it, wheeling him down to the luggage area.

My husband then rented a luggage cart and placed our luggage on it. I took the wheelchair, and Paul pushed the cart. Andrew carried two suitcases. We walked toward the long-term parking lot.

The van, though, was difficult to locate because it was dark. And there was no parking stub to help us find it. We walked back and forth, locating it about 15 minutes later. Paul put Brad in the back seat and fastened his seat belt. Then he walked over to where Andrew and I stood ready to load the luggage. Paul grabbed the suitcases and put them into the trunk area. I just was relieved the whole trip was over.


About the Author: Janet Syas Nitsick is the author of the www.Christianstoryteller.com Best of Year book, Seasons of the Soul. She and her family, including two different autistic sons, were interviewed on KMTV, a local Omaha television station. Her radio interview aired on WVNE 760 am in the Springfield, Mass., area. Midwest Book Reviewer Laurel Johnson said: "This beautiful little book is .... highly recommended to parents of autistic children." Janet is a former journalist and language-arts teacher. She earned her Bachelor of Arts degree from Omaha College of Saint Mary in 1995.
www.JanetSyasNitsick.com

Diagnosed With Asperger's Syndrome

April is Autism Awareness Month and the value of awareness can’t be stated enough. My name is Aaron Likens and last year I have had a strange journey to discover that my passion in life is to raise awareness.

Raising awareness wasn’t always a priority. In fact, before I was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome in 2003 at the age of 20, I had not even really thought of the autism spectrum as anything worth thinking about. Of course all that changed once I was diagnosed.

After the diagnosis I went into a deep depression. My life, as I knew it, seemed to cease. I lost the girlfriend I had at the time and my first passion and dream, driving race cars, was becoming harder to achieve.

A year after I was diagnosed a funny thing happened. It was late at night, and my depression was at its deepest point, when I sat down and started to write. I wrote about the relationship I lost and broke it down into why my behaviors were the way they were. The next night I wrote on a different relationship that had fallen apart in spectacular fashion.

Night after night I wrote a chapter on different aspects of my life. I had no intention of writing a book, but after about 3 months of writing I started to ponder if it was good enough. My dad had been sending my materials to a lady at Autism Speaks who was reading as I was going along and she had told my dad that my writings were some of the most important, eye opening first-hand accounts of Asperger’s.

I started writing my first book in 2005 and in November of 2008 my book, “Finding Kansas: Decoding the Enigma of Asperger’s Syndrome” was released. I must admit that when it was released I was only anxious on what the sales meant for me. Just as my life changed when I was diagnosed, my life would take a turn in 2009.

I had my first book signing at a Barnes & Noble here in my hometown of Saint Louis. During the signing there were 2 sets of parents that came up, in tears, saying that their school district and doctor don’t understand. This may sound cold, but at the time I was simply thinking that these parents were at least one book sale. A classic case of lack of empathy, I know.

In the next 3 months I had 5 more signings and at each one the story that was told to me at the first signing was repeated. One parent was told, “Don’t worry about autism. He’ll grow out of it by the age of 16. They all do.” Still I was unmoved.

My dad had kept the lines of communication open with Autism Speaks and they sent me 2 tickets to the NASCAR Autism Speaks 400 held in Dover, Delaware. After the race I was going to drive up to meet the lady who first said my writings had merit.

During the race I began to truly think about what all parents had said to me at my signings. Above the roar of 43 engines I begun to understand just how wrong, and almost criminal, it is for parents’ fears to be cast aside. The quote from that one doctor roared around in my head faster and louder than any of the cars that day.

The following day I drove to New York City to meet with the lady. We talked for a long while and she asked me if I was still passionate about auto racing. I gave a reply that was more important than hearing that I was on the autism spectrum, “Yes, I still would like to race, but it no longer is the priority. Yesterday, Jimmie Johnson won the NASCAR race, but how many lives did he change? How many families’ lives were improved because of his victory? I had the talent to win, but life has a funny way of working out. I’m in a new race now, a race to raise awareness.”

Since that day in New York I have given radio interviews and have been more vocal on raising awareness. In March I started a full time job with Touch Point Autism Services as their Community Education Specialist to raise awareness and to promote early diagnosis and early intervention.

With this month as Autism Awareness Month there is no better time to spread the word. No parent should ever be told that autism will simply “go away”. Whereas before my life was about me, whether it was trying to race or trying to sell one book, now it is to try and educate anyone and everyone on what life is like on the spectrum and that there are therapies and interventions that work wonders.

So this April is my first Autism Awareness Month that I know what my passion is. I guess you could say that, for me, the race is on.

-written by Aaron Likens
About the author: Aaron Likens is the author of “Finding Kansas: Decoding the Enigma of Asperger’s Syndrome” and serves as Community Education Specialist for Touch Point Autism Services. His website is www.findingkansas.com and his blog can be found at http://lifeontheothersideofthewall.blogspot.com
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PURGE the ASS from Asperger Syndrome

The first syllable of Asperger is pronounced ASS. And that's how Aspies all too often come across to others. We stare at people (or never make eye contact at all), use our "outside voices" inside and even yell inappropriately, stand right up close to people, get into nit-picking arguments everyone else recognizes as stupid, address people's problems very bluntly and in many other ways just plain annoy others.

Therefore, relatively few of us can get and keep jobs (much above, say, Wal-Mart cashier), make and keep friends, stay for long anywhere outside our parents' homes or get dates.

As Albert Einstein is supposed to have said, insanity means doing the same things over and over again while expecting different results.

Einstein also supposedly pointed out that we cannot hope to solve our problems at the same level of thinking we were at when we created them.

If our lives aren't going well, we need to change. NTs change all the time when they see how their behavior cause sthem problems; we're no exception.

I'm no exception. I've been fired from more jobs than I can count on my fingers. (And with some of the jobs from which I was not fired, I still won't ever darken their doors again.) Even though I have an Ivy League degree plus an MA and PhD, the large majority of the jobs I've held required no college education at all, and of the rest most were part-time without benefits.

I made my first friend and had my first date (same person) when I was 19, in my second year of college. I met my first and only girlfriend, Emily (who is now Mrs. Deutsch), when I was 29 1/2.

In the 6 1/2 years since Emily first told me I may be an Aspie, I've begun major changes in how I see others, how I know others see me and what they expect from me and how to tell when problems may arise, among other things. Now I've dedicated my life to helping fellow Aspies do the same.

The second syllable of Asperger is pronounced PURGE:

P - Perceptions. We often need to respect and accommodate others' perceptions, whether we agree with them or not.

U - Unknown unknowns. That's former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld's classic term for things that we don't even know that we don't know. Even NTs commonly misjudge themselves; pretty much by definition Aspies do it much more often - and deeply.

If someone is willing to be our social smoke detector and alert us bluntly to how we can better get along with others, we should bless them and consult them frequently.

R - Recognize common patterns. If your last three bosses treated you - and few or none of your co-workers - badly...yeah, maybe they had some attitude issues. But the odds are that your behavior provoked those issues.

Remember, even when others behave badly, you are the only person whose behavior you can control. Like any species, you adapt, migrate or die.

G - Get outside your comfort zone. That's both especially hard and especially necessary for Aspies. Work on meeting people, addressing issues tactfully or making eye contact, for example.

E - Execute the plan. Then use what you learned for the next step in your life.



- Written by Dr.Jeff Deutsch, A SPLINT