Just rambling...

[KBoy]

It is a great story Bobbi, like I have said before..."We live adventurous lives, we just don't do it every minute of every day."
Tell your tale BobbiSueEllen, it's a pretty good one.

 

[Deleted member 69668]

Moscow, Idaho?

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[BobbiSueEllen]

So, spent a chunk of the morning rehashing the history of autism: its etymology, study, all that...

So far, I understand that autism, as we know it, was first touched-upon by an Austrian researcher, Dr. Paul Eugen Bleuler, who also concocted the word "autism", from the Greek auto ("self") and -ism ("of the")...which could be seen as classic introversion. Now, that, in itself, could be misconstrued, by virtue of base-word definition, as "selfishness", which I suppose some people with autism could be seen as by the Muggle world, but it runs deeper: if any selfishness is indeed detected or perceived, it's only a symptom of the underlying condition now widely known as autism. Indeed, people with autism can be seen as selfish, inasmuch as the solitude our condition provides us...but back to the etymology. These were the two best words Bleuler could conjure as a descriptive of the psychiatric condition he was studying, well before another Austrian named Asperger touched upon it, with his own historically-tragic footprint. Both Asperger & Bleuler were also eugenists...Bleuler far-less-fatally so.

But out of this all, today, we have autism. Never before has so much attention been paid to it, with novelty, triviality and social hot-potato-ing keeping the curtain ever lower to the stage to hinder a full, realistic view to those piqued by it. Psychiatric convention still trifles with and tosses it about like a Rubik's Cube in 1980 (or a primate before a monolith); much of common society flippantly, arrogantly toys with it, in equally-ignorant talk to make themselves sound 'educated' or 'worldly', like a toddler playing with Daddy's newfound gun; Hollywood stilts and stereotypes it for ratings and cash; the rest of us laboriously wade through the swamp of it all to try and understand it.

More often than not, popular culture harms more than it helps. Another axiom of history.

We are a people who prefer solitude in a world of constant collision of souls...and the occasional conflict such collision results in. The price of peace is not always vigilance. And on that note, we as 'auties' forge on, finding our own unique places and paths in a world which came with no instruction book. In the end, all is the same; all goes to its fate the same. Until then...we struggle in our own way.

 

[BobbiSueEllen]

And now...a little fun, to the tune of "Polly Wolly Doodle"...with feeling! Shall we sing?

Mommy really makes me wiggle
With a tickle an' a giggle,
Goin' toddle-waddle-crinkle all the day;
It's a chore to change my diaper
'Cuz I'm really very hyper,
Goin' toddle-waddle-crinkle all the day.

An' I'm runnin' down the hall
An' I'm bouncin' off the walls,
I'm a-waddlin' so ya best get out' the way!
For I'm off to seek adventure
'Fore I end up needin' dentures,
Goin' toddle-waddle-crinkle all the day

All day long, I love to waddle
With my teddy an' a bottle ,
Goin' toddle-waddle-crinkle all the day;
In a t-shirt an' a diaper,
An' it's how I pay the piper,
Goin' toddle-waddle-crinkle all the day.

In my high-chair with a bib,
'Cuz I can't eat in my crib,
So it's time to eat my lunch and then I play!
Then I'm toddlin' on the double
For to find myself some trouble,
Goin' toddle-waddle-crinkle all the day.

Love to patter an' to scamper
In a t-shirt an' a Pampers,
Goin' toddle-waddle-crinkle all the day;
They're all snuggy on my bottom
And that's why my Mommy got 'em,
Goin' toddle-waddle-crinkle all the day.

Now I'm sittin' on the rug,
An' I'm snuggy as a bug,
And the TV's playin' cartoons all the day!
Got a binky an' a blankie,
Gonna lay down and I thank ye,
Goin' toddle-waddle-crinkle all the...Zzzzz...

 

[BobbiSueEllen]

Okay, as promised...Hairy Face-an'...

The Case of the Fuzzy Solar Flare​

August 3, 2012: I was alone in my apartment in Snohomish, Washington, with some money to burn, just before midnight. I got up, warmed up the Nissan, got out of Snohomish onto SR9 going north to Arlington to hit up the Walmart there. It was a clear, beautiful, very warm night. I decided to leave because TV reception was bonkers, as was radio reception...and the silence was unbearable. I got what I wanted at Walmart, back onto SR9 south...and I admit, I was doing about 70 on a bare highway.

I approached the overpass which crossed US2 and another set of lights were ahead of me...a 4x4 Ford truck. I was doing 65 then, smoothly. It didn't look like anything but an ordinary 4-door 4x4...but after we eclipsed, the truck turned around, followed at speed, hit the gumballs inside the front grille. Since when did Johnny Law start using 4x4s here? Okay, over I went, on with my Sweet Smile, window down, asking "Is there a problem, officer?"

The officer, a good 50 years old & tall, was a WaSP: Washington State Patrol, Smokey hat, Elvis Prim uniform and all. Not good; they never issue warnings...just tickets. They even enforced 'helmet laws', despite the fact Washington had no helmet laws. Fascists.

"Yep, you were going too fast. 65 in a 55."

"I'm not one to counter you, but it couldn't be; my speedometer indicated 57 and is accurate. I was just going by the speedo."

Coldly: "Well, my radar got you at 65."

"Well, if that truly is the case, I'm sorry. I can have the speedo looked at tomorrow."

Blankly: "I gotta write you up. I need your (paperwork)."

"Okay...I understand". Not really...I was never good at hubris. F. And I got the ticket: $146! Jize...made my politesse, got back onto SR9 and did the last 3 miles home. Just went straight to bed. It was 1:30 am on 4 August now.

Once I got up, during dishes, I asked: how can I discredit the radar? They're not perfect...and 20 minutes later, as I was clearing out the fridge...it hit. The epiphany leading to a plan! Heck, Angela Lansbury's Ms. Fletcher would wake up during her sleep with her epiphanies...here I was, scraping lettuce out of the crisper. Aristocracy and pauperdom. Believe it.

Online I went: For the next 90 minutes, I went all over the internet, in a t-shirt & shorts in an oppressively-hot section of the Victorian house I was living in, asking "Can solar flares affect speed radar?" Several sites, including NASA, said "Yes" (remember, this was in 2012)! Now...I screen-shot all the data, printed it up, URLs and all. Off to another part of NASA, regarding sunspot activity for the past 24. Yep, there was my time in zulu...Dang! An X3 solar flare all day yesterday...and still going! I printed all off, put it in a folder, printed up a subpoena for the officer (name, badge number, hat size and all), went straight to the courthouse annex in Monroe--lawfully, of course!--had the clerk fine a contested hearing and register the subpoena.

That was set, then she said "Just go out to Lewis, take a right, cross the tracks, take a right on Main, it's number (whatever). You can serve the secretary there, you don't need to serve the officer directly". And with a sincere "thank you", I was off. Minutes later, I parked at WSP, got out, went in, served the secretary, easy-as-pie. And I was gone. 14 days to go...

The Waiting is the hardest part. Wait...didn't someone sing that once? But The Day came. I was nervous, sure, which isn't a bad thing. It's better to be nervous than overconfident. Got there on time, listened in on others' cases; of course, my case was last. Judge called my name. "Present, Your Honor!" He said "Come Forward"...I did. He then called the State Trooper's name...called it three times, loudly. Nothing, After a pause, the judge said "It appears the Trooper isn't present, so you win your case by default". My wallet was so happy, it was doing somersaults in my pocket.

But the gavel didn't drop yet. I sensed something more...

"I see you have a folder with you; since you're the last case today, entertain me. What defense did you have planned?"

"If it pleases the court, Your Honor...", I began, trying to sound like Perry Mason, "I have in this folder data compiled from the internet, from the official NASA website, with two issues addressed: one, is traffic radar susceptible to X-class solar flares, to which NASA replied 'emphatically yes'; two, during the time of the stop, was there solar flare activity, to which NASA again replied "yes, there was X3-class solar flare activity at the time. This was further evidenced by the fact that just prior to the stop, I had been experiencing considerable radio and TV interference that night which made listening or viewing very impractical. I have it assembled here for your review, if it pleases Your Honor". Even Raymond Burr would've lifted an eyebrow and issued an impressed smirk.

The judge took the file, opened it, perused ...hmmm...frequent brow-raising, an impressed look. I maintained my cool, said nothing. After 90 seconds, the judge closed the file. "You compiled quite a comprehensive, impressive batch of data here. This doesn't affect my verdict...but I'll say off-the-record that had the officer been here, this data still would've won you the case. Congratulations on your victory".

"Thank you, Your Honor". The gavel fell. I was dismissed so I performed a military about-face (that got pounded well into me by the US Army) and began to walk to the doors.

"Uh, Mr. (my name)?"

I turned. "Your Honor?"

"Let's hope we don't meet under these circumstances again". He then winked.

I gave a slight smile. "Of course, and thank you, Your Honor". He smiled. I was free!

I got out into the hot day, into the car, now sweating well, drove off and found a store with old-fashioned, hand-scooped ice cream. Celebration Time! Got a cone with 3 scoops of sherbet: raspberry, orange and lime. Sweet Victory. Eat that, Hamilton Burger and Lieutenant Tragg!

 

[BobbiSueEllen]

Back to rambling. And y'know, as much as I talk about autism here, it's but one of the many neurodivergences that are present here: what used to be called 'mental illness' is now 'neurodivergence', a term that, for the now, will have to suffice as it will find its own social odor before long. Thankfully, the term 'mental illness' is not only patronizing but obsolete.

I suppose one of the reasons I touch upon autism as much as I do is because it's all I know, for the lack of as much as I could know. Every day is a new discovery of something that's occupied life for 55+ years now...something that took 50 years to find out. There are, of course, other neurodivergences: depression, anxiety, schizophrenia, personality disorders, dyslexia, Down Syndrome, ADD/ADHD, so many...including, of course, autism. I often wonder, with the change of terminology ("madness", "psychiatric", "mental illness", etc.), if this is all "a rose by any other name". But to return to the subject of this paragraph, any neurodivergence can be superimposed in place of "autism".

The hardest part of this all is that, like myself, there are many of us who have not only endured the various evolutions of neurodivergence science but have endured the contrasts of treatments and attitudes toward it, too. In the early/mid '70s, the only well-known neurodivergences were Down Syndrome and brain damage, because they were so visually evident; autism and other such neurodivergences were sensed but neither known much or cared about; we all got lumped together under the word "retarded", which was a word not merely used by the average person-on-the-street (and, of course, almost always derisively) but also by school faculty (often derogatorily), the medical 'community', even media. During my school years, more-perceptive peers would declare to me "How is it that you can be so smart and yet so retarded/f***ing stupid/(insert synonym here)?"

Of course, I had no answer. Neither did they. Nobody did. It was the '70s or '80s and it merely became a moot point of rhetoric.

But others bore that stigma, too: the hyperactive, the oppositional, the slow, the 'deformed', anyone with a neurodivergence.

Then there was the '90s, the so-called "Decade of the Brain", which came and went with no progress at all, other than that "retard" word became a politically-incorrect word (about time!)...and that both Prozac and Ritalin were being crammed down our throats like Flintstones vitamins down a 10-year-old's throat in the Mighty-Whitey, Rocket-Age, Mayfield '60s. To see the R-word fall away was a welcome sight; even the advocate group ARC, which once used the word in their acronym, dropped it. That alone was a positive sign. But there were still the masses to educate...still in progress.

Now, as of recent, something changed: neurodivergence was given its name and discovered that it was its own unique spectral umbrella, much as that initially assigned to autism. Now, we're all related: Down Syndrome, schizophrenia, ADD/ADHD, dyslexia, depression, so on. We all have something in common and the gaps between camps began to narrow. And so, here we are. Only the future knows what's ahead for us all...

But we who have seen history from our youths, starting in the '50s, '60s, '70s or '80s, have seen and experienced a great deal of evolution. It's not only mind-boggling but, at times, overwhelming. And quite contrasty. We live in the new era, still trying to shirk off much of the old...especially, the memories, mostly bad. We're older now and learning that the so-called 'psychiatric community' is deferential to us older folk: we're too old to benefit from help and deemed as having learned enough coping skills on our own...or, worse yet, some 'professionals' consider it beneath their/our dignities to diagnose us who simply want an answer. It's not right. But being used to worse injustices, we do wonder when such injustices will really end. And despite the media's popular depictions, life as a neurodivergent person isn't sunbeams, green grass, flowers and hand-hearts; where they got that impression, I don't know. Wishful thinking has always been the big premise of the media. Despite it, we keep going. Neurodivergent or not, is there any other option?

Looking back at it all, it seems an average neurodivergent's experience is similar to that of Moses: after he led the Israelites out of Egypt, across the desert, across the Red Sea and into the wilds, the Israelites began acting outside of the plan given; their punishment for idolatry (I'm trying to be more illustrative than religious about this description and I hope you who's reading this can interpret this as merely a parallel story) and lack of faith was to remain in the wilds and for the first generation to pass away. Only Moses remained of that generation. And only then were they all allowed to progress onward, arrive at the Promised Land. Moses was barred, not allowed to enter. Despite any theological explanation others can give, the fact remains: Moses was not of their time. The Promised Land was for the newer Israelites, not Moses. That's how it feels having grown older in this evolution of neurodivergence. We are not of its time. That's certainly the impression given.

So, we do what we do best. We cope. Apart, together. The 'psychiatric community' may neither know or care about us...but we'll manage. Somehow. We always have, we always do, we always will. Despite our differences, our fates are both eventual...and common.

On a final note, regarding the transitional era of neurodivergence: I recently read an interview regarding a book called Mixed Blessings, about a husband and wife who had an adopted-son with autism named Ned, whereas not only they coped with their son's disorder but the backwards hubris of the so-called 'psychiatric community' of the '70s and '80s as it negatively affected them all. The book was co-written by someone many of us know: William Christopher, an actor who played Fr. Francis Mulcahy on M*A*S*H, co-authored by his wife, Barbara (who appeared once on M*A*S*H as a temporary nurse and sang "All Dressed Up and No Place to Go" with Fr. Mulcahy). In an interview, Barbara was quoted:

"Well it is a pervasive, life long neurological disorder which is incurable. It affects the person afflicted with varying degrees of problems of all kinds: language disability, communication, socialization, and sensory organization. And these basic neurological problems manifest themselves in different ways in different autistic people, there’s the full range of intelligence: there are retarded autistic people, and there are genius autistic people. I think when Mary Coleman said that about autism no longer being a diagnosis, what she meant was after you get this label of autism, there are many subgroups; there are many variations on the theme and there are many approaches. I know that Ned would be called autistic and some kid over here, who’s very different, would also be called autistic. It’s very hard to generalize."

There's no stigma here, other than our initial twinge-cringe at the R-word. Barbara can't be faulted; she meant no harm. This was November of 1988. This was the late dawn of the use of that word. What is being shown here is an illustration of part of the evolutionary stage, even history, of our era of neurodivergence perception and study. I know had the interview been done a few years later, another word would've been used instead. But to read on what Ned, and consequently Barbara & William, encountered through that era in their own way, was shocking, even when one considers their son's treatment was at UCLA. I myself spent a fair amount of time at UW. It wasn't at all fun, by any comparative, relative measure.

But we move on. We try to forgive. Even Neil Peart hit upon that concept in "Heresy":

"Do we have to be forgiving at last?
What else can we do?
Do we have to say goodbye to the past?
Yes, I guess we do."

 

[Edgewater]

As I have stated elsewhere on ADISC, my extended (fore and aft) family is well represented by the classification of Autism. The commonality allows me to see the terrible support that the mental health care system has provided over generations. When I look at the current leaders of care today, the sad majority are little more that 'Blood Suckers' as they fail to provide any means of self-support only a life time spent turning money over to them at a weekly, monthly or quarterly visit.

The point of that is; One should be happy that they are not interested in the older generation as far too many have no interest in providing tools to support one's self without them.

This new grouping term: Neurodivergence. As you said is just the next term of this new generation of leaches.

If I may steal this Tread of you're for a moment, good friend.

I work at being open and understanding of those here, within my extended family and friends regarding their individual complexities. For a reason that I cannot fully comprehend, I seem to find myself interacting with a high-number of those dealing with schizophrenia, bipolar or plagued by demons. The later group I have found to be the most difficult to interact with as they have no memory of when the cross-over occurs. At present, I have elected to cut interactions with this last group as I find them dangerous to my being. This is a hard break in my fundamental belief in the general goodness of People, in general. But for my own mental health, I have made this hard cut.

FYI: I really enjoyed your interpretation of Mose and the separation he faced and modern mental health professions and their like separation of older clients.