I Am Weird And I Am Wonderful

The rainbow infinity symbol, taken from the website for Brainwave Watch.

 Today I’ll talk about something non-political for a change. You can call it a detox day like they do on the VoteDEM subreddit, or you can just call it a break. In any case, here’s a bit of positivity to spice up your day.

For those of you who may not know, I am on the autism spectrum. Although I was diagnosed at a relatively young age due to being a reserved toddler who would only speak when I needed something, it wasn’t until I was maybe 9 or 10 years old that I found out there was a word for people like me. I remember looking at the health forms for my summer day camp and seeing the word “autism” there, and I freaked out. Looking at it now, having had a classroom aide for all of elementary school up to that point, as well as occupational and speech therapy from a young age, I should have realized I was different from most of the other children.

The sensory “cuddle swing” taken from an Autism Products website. My mother can’t remember exactly what it was for, just that I loved it.

There had to be a reason why I was so hyper-focused on specific topics, why I always felt socially awkward when compared to the other students. Why I often repeated words others had said as a vocal stim (which is apparently called echolalia). At the time, and even now as an adult, I adore rocking chairs. Perhaps those things are weird. 

Now, it just so happens that I have a younger sister, who we will call M. She is possibly my best friend in the world, even if we don’t get to talk to one another as often as we once did. Over the summer I had a conversation with my sister about autism over dinner. She told me, with an abundant smile on her face, that if there’s a genetic component, she probably has some of it too. Given that she loved wolves and sled dogs endlessly as a child, and still probably does to some extent, some of my autistic genes may have rubbed off on her. For what it’s worth, my sister was never diagnosed as being on the spectrum; I am the only such person in my family. Within the confines of the “neurospicy” terminology, if my sister is a banana pepper, perhaps I am a jalapeño. 

Fan art of Balto and Jenna taken from Google Images. Balto was long one of my sister’s banana-pepper special interests.

There’s another reason I mention my sister. A few months ago, when we were both at my childhood home and my sister had invited her friend over, I got to speak to this friend. It’s a conversation I am not likely to forget anytime soon. We were talking about transportation; in my case, I’ve got airline routes as my major hyperfixation. This friend of my sister’s, who I am going to call E, mentioned that she and one of her friends in Germany had the same type of autism where they were obsessed with trains, at which point I took the opportunity to mention that I, too, was autistic. 

E swiftly responded by asserting that she’d been able to tell in a matter of minutes. Apparently my eye contact was very fleeting, which is something I have struggled with at times. Additionally, she could tell by the way I’d launched into my preferred topic almost right away, and the vocal tone she referred to as the “Asperger’s drawl”. Yes, I know that term has fallen out of favor, but I have noticed that whenever my voice is on a recording, it sounds incredibly monotone. I also talk very fast when excited, as though I am running down a hill and trying to slow down, but just can’t.

After reflecting on that conversation for a while, I have realized two things. One, it means that I am either terrible at masking or simply do not see it as a very high priority. Honestly, I have never needed to do much masking in general, though I have to admit that I am privileged in that regard as a white man, the very sort of person whom the criteria were meant to reflect. Perhaps I’ll talk more about autism’s “white privilege problem” in another blog post in the near future. But after thinking about it more, I realized that I haven’t bothered to mask, because I don’t want to. Again, I understand that there are many situations in which it is important, even necessary, to mask. I acknowledge that I am one of the lucky ones who doesn’t need to do it as much. 

Without autism, would I be passionate enough to write a novella-length fanfiction in just sixteen calendar days? Not likely. Would I be so interested in urban planning that I’m now trying to get into graduate school for it? Not likely. Would I be able to carry on long conversations with others about countries many Americans have never heard of? Not likely. I like to think I have accepted myself for who I am, and I have won a victory over those who might claim otherwise. 

My life isn’t perfect. I don’t have as many friends in real life as maybe I should. I still beat myself up for relatively minor things, and I still live in a country that’s become a global laughing stock at best, a global pariah at worst. But with a 3.65 GPA and so many special interests, I don’t think I have too much to complain about in the grand scheme of things. Just like the fictional band from that Elton John song “Bennie And The Jets”, I am weird and I am wonderful. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.