Wife of the above

Walking around the city I live next to I wandered into a fairly large cemetery that has been there since the mid 19th century, but I didn’t realise it was there.

It was early in the morning and it struck me that it’s a good place for an Autistic person to go for some peace, because people typically won’t go there to have loud parties and even bored teenagers might avoid a cemetery.

As I tried to find some of the oldest graves and noted people buried in the 1870s, where the stones were readable due to the use of metallic lettering. The dates give me a sense of time, and I wonder what the surrounding area was like in 1870. For one thing the large “box” stores on one boundary would not have been there, or most of the surrounding suburban estates.

While I was interested in some of the patterns of lichens and weathering, I noticed something about the way in which spouses are mentioned, and here’s one example.

Emma’s lettering seems to be a different colour

The phrase stood out – “wife of the above”. My feminist sense had been sharpened this week by reading an article about ingrained sexism around touch here – perhaps something to comment on another time, but the main point is that it made me feel somewhat sickened.

Here in front of me was another baked in element of sexism. In death these women have the main distinguishing feature of having been a man’s wife. Perhaps there was a bit to say about Emma’s 13 years after George died. Even modern epitaphs keep describing women as having been a great mother or “nan” and I passed one or two of those.

Another woman called Bithiah had her own gravestone, and even then she had been described as being somebody’s wife on her death in 1911. On another stone a woman named Mary was described as the “Tenderly loved and true hearted wife of” a navy commander – with his name prominently below and it didn’t seem like this is his grave as well. I can’t help thinking how this makes her also a higher status “wife-of-navy-commander”.

Why couldn’t gravestones say something else about these women’s lives? Perhaps they loved to play the piano or grow flowers. Yet here they are – “wife of the above”.

Observations while walking

I tend to notice details – this is the first time I’ve composed a post where I share some of things I notice, where I have taken a quick picture of something to note the observation.

I walked around a place called Woolbeding common in the area where I live, just a few miles from home. It is an old heathland area where woodlands were cleared for grazing (at least according to the sign I saw in the car park). For me it looks like thinned out woodland with a carpet of heather and bracken.

This looks like a fairly old barn, but I may be wrong. It seems like part of walls were repaired and the roof has been replaced, but the stonework and narrow slits for light suggest it could be over a hundred years old. I thought there was something pleasing about its presence.
A low stone wall surrounding grazing land, covered in mossy growth.
An oak tree off the path had fallen over, pulling its roots out of the ground. The tree is still alive but parts are rotting an colonised by moss and lichen. Had I looked closer I may have seen a load of beetles or woodlice.
This was quite an interesting shot to capture on a mere smartphone, by forcing the auto focusing lens to sit on a close subject. It’s a matter of luck whether the focus holds when you take the shot. You can see the lichen and moss are competing – or just coexisting – on the same bit of branch.
I love reflections on water, even if it’s “just” a muddy puddle.
A long, winding path that traces across the South Downs passes through the area, named the Serpent Trail because it has the shape of a huge snake. I noticed there were two stones each side of the path with snakes lying upon oak leaves.
Perhaps these were cast in concrete using a mould? Algae and moss colonised the pores in the stone.
Long shadows over a single track road to some houses, thanks to the sun being low down in the sky.
I passed some impressive bracket fungi living in the folds of a venerable oak tree.
I tried to tweak the colour in this photo to convey how it actually seemed at the time. It was approaching 4pm and the sun’s light had started to redden, and it was highlighting all the Silver Birches. It felt warm and golden.

I can forget how details reach out to me, and even when I do take photos I can forget to look at them. Preparing some images for this post made me reflect on what I notice and how it can be a sort of “grounding” when the world of people is too much.

Conflict of (intense) interest

I liked the title I came up with for this, yet I started with using the qualifier “special”. After I briefly searched for other references for “autistic special interest” I found it must have come from a non-autistic source. Cynthia Kim wrote a post about it, starting off with

First, I need to say that I hate the phrase “special interest.” It sounds demeaning or patronizing. All I can think of is a doddering old great aunt looking over my shoulder at my stamp collection and saying, “well, isn’t that special.”

In some cases I think it’s referred to like every autistic person has a particular “special interest”, and that’s usually something related to obsessive cataloguing of something, or absorbing information for its own sake just to annoy others with endless monologues.

A better way of looking at it, for me, is that I’m compelled to go into more detail than a typical person might on any subject, and there are far fewer wider, peripheral interests, or interests that are seen as typical so they don’t seem like interests at all. These are things like cooking, home improvement, clothing and appearance, jogging, cycling. I have a fairly tenuous connection to conventional interests like these, and they will often be so uninteresting that I could be accused of not looking after myself if I’m wearing faded clothes that are coming apart.

I don’t even know if any of the literature on intense interests in autistic people really does more than look at interests that cause conventional people to consider it “odd”.

I have major and transitory interests, where the transitory interests can be just as intense as my long running ones, but may only appear once or occasionally.

The major interests have been around for a long time, and will return as near obsessions when I don’t particularly want to do anything else for weeks. These aren’t necessarily consistent, and I am usually frustrated when they drop away for some reason.

Music (listening and creating) has been there as long as I can remember, as well as computing and video games. Yet either of these can drop out entirely for weeks or months. Dropping out of trying to play or create music causes me the most disappointment because I feel I keep repeating the same learning process because the lapse has led to knowledge being buried in a less accessible part of memory.

Transitory ones sprout up and lead to temporary consuming interests that tend to disrupt the major ones that I would have preferred to maintain regularly without being hijacked.

Usually when I do have a consuming interest, whatever it is, it is enjoyable, but retrospectively I’ll look at lost time for interests where I have an ambition to improve and feel annoyed that something random dropped in. It can seem depressing that focus is elusive, and it’s something I’ve always experienced.

So many things look tantalising or interesting.

Japanese calligraphy became appealing at one point when I attempted to learn some Japanese – after an intense Anime watching phase. It was a good activity for clearing the mind, but the materials are currently idle on a shelf. 

At another point I was so consumed with learning woodwork that I acquired many tools and ended up turning my kitchen into a workshop. I don’t recommend using a bench grinder in the kitchen to sharpen chisels, but any interest in having a clear kitchen had been overridden, even if I found it inconvenient.

I once got a textbook on Geology out of the library and read it through in a few days, but I was hardly interested in much else for the duration.

Learning can be immensely enjoyable but I have ended up in states where I’m compulsively reading to “get something out of the way” so I can leave it an move on to something I actually wanted to do. My brain has stopped comprehending what I’m reading and I’m scanning words. It’s possible the meaning went in to surface later, but the immediate experience is not enjoyable.

It’s similar to compulsively working “in the zone” to solve a problem but you’ve actually spent a long time going in circles when a break would have allowed you to hit on the right solution.

When I get distracted by one interest for days and it pushes out most of everything else I end up weary of it and wish I had balanced it with something else. It’s possible I’m getting better at seeing when compulsion has taken over as I get older, but I am no more organised or consistent.

I never forget that I want to keep writing for this blog, and I’ll note things down fairly regularly, but if I’ve become engrossed by a video game it will seem almost impossible to even plan to spend 5 minutes doing any writing. Writing this now is not by any sort of plan, it’s just happening at this point.

What I might be talking about is the difference between what is an enjoyable hobby and a creative ambition. Music wants to turn into something where I can see some result, like having actually finished a piece, and simply playing about doesn’t seem satisfying enough. This can be counterproductive and lead to motivation disappearing.

What’s in play is some executive function and organisation problems, hyperfocus leading to getting stuck in a loop, and demand avoidance thwarting any kind of plan, because I have no idea if I can do the thing I want to do at a time I’ve allocated.

There’s no obvious answer for me, but the best thing I’ve identified is having my living space oriented towards my interest, so my music equipment is prominent in the living room so there is a minimal barrier to at least playing on the keyboard. I have guitars that were shut away in a cupboard, but they are now always available to pick up.

This could work for other things I want to do – if I wanted to resume calligraphy it might be possible to leave that out on a table. The ideal seems to be to have a huge room where everything can be started without a load of set up time or planning.

I’m wondering if that’s what other people with similar struggles to me have done.

Dehumanising Autistic people in academia

An article here from The Autistic Advocate looking at dehumanising language used by people who are supposedly trying to help us, yet it looks like we’re being studied like advanced primates.

The main purpose of the article is to publish a letter by Dr. Sophie Vivian, who wrote a letter to Kings College London attempting to counter the dehumanising language she found in old research that is still studied in relation to Autism.

Dr Vivian has often been horrified by the way that her Lecturers and the course material dismissed, stygmatised and dehumanised the very people they were studying and at points, whilst offering definitions of what makes Humans, Humans, actively excluded groups of people (including Autistic people) because of what they considered deficits, often based on very outdated and antiquated notions, that have long since been moved on from and re-understood.

People such as her can hopefully make some difference to how things are expressed, but the reference to where all the money goes is revealing, as that shows who the research may be actually for.

Most of the government money is funnelled into biology research, which I suspect is “cool” and high profile, leads to expensive equipment acquisition and I’d be surprised if there weren’t some pharmaceutical companies in there searching for new drugs to sell as “treatment”.

Support services are relatively unexciting and won’t lead to awards or status within academia.

This likely isn’t an aspect of academic research unique to the study of Autism. Even if money comes from “public” funds it is quite likely that private interests are pulling the strings…

How are you?

It’s a phrase that people say all the time, and answer with the standard response of their choice with varying levels of apparent honesty. Good enough, ok, fine, very well, fantastic. The response is usually related to the person’s personality.

It sounds very simple, but this question is often highly grating to autistic people on a fundamental level. Those in the neuromajority will uncritically accept this conventional exchange of words and accept it’s “just what you do” – despite knowing that the question is not asked expecting an honest answer.

I’m one of the autistics who will always be annoyed by it, and I realise there are two main reasons.

I’m wired for literal meanings, and a lifetime of dealing with people generally not saying what they mean has left me confused and eventually cynical. The “How are you?” social handshake is sitting at the bottom of that edifice of misdirection. My mind just asks why this convention is maintained when it is completely redundant in terms of information, and adds nothing beyond “hello”.

As a compromise between actually describing how I am at length or saying something short but technically untrue I might say “tired” or “ok” if I’m close enough. I’m never quite sure if my evasions or failing to come back with “and you?” come off as vaguely rude.

Perhaps at its mildest it’s a chore like cleaning the kitchen – vaguely unpleasant but generally necessary, and resulting in less satisfaction than having a clean kitchen afterwards.

There is likely and element of these rituals having to be negotiated in a state of severe spoon (energy) deprivation and there is something more pressing in mind than dealing with a verbal handshake.

Will it always be resisted internally or can I learn to say something like “good enough” without thinking about it every time? I don’t know, but for the time being – unless someone asks me the question and I know they really want to know – it will keep setting off a short moment of conflict where I wonder about saying something real or not.

Thoughts on the possibility of reducing inertia or friction

I’m talking about Executive Function problems or Demand Avoidance on some level.

While I don’t fit the PDA profile in terms of having aggressive reaction to demands, a certain amount of friction will discourage me from acting on reminders for attempting to form habits to help with organisation.

I’ll say something about my attempt to use the Bullet Journal technique, which I came across recently. It’s described here – and similar to many other organisational systems, it has quotes talking about it changing your life. These statements are off putting when you struggle to implement even a basic habit of any system, but I won’t get diverted from the main point…

The basic part of this is writing down any information that comes to you, by hand, in a notebook. The second element is actually looking at the notebook. Even with these apparently simple things, I have problems immediately.

With writing in the notebook, there is the problem of whether the book is nearby and if I’ve actually got a pen. In some cases I’ll have to go and find the notebook and find a pen. Yes, I could arrange things so the notebook has a pen attached and it’s in an accessible place, but the friction could be enough to sabotage the entire operation of Writing A Thing Down. When it came to actually looking what I’d written, I set a reminder. The problem was that again I might not be near the notebook and I kept dismissing the reminder, and then the reminder became like a nagging demand.

It’s a common thing I come back to with any life hack – it sounds good, but how the hell to I get myself to do it? Many times before I’ve come upon the friction which seems so intense when I’m trying to get myself from being primarily reactive and unreliable with things I’d like to do, to being more disciplined and actually getting a few Things done.

Returning to the notebook, the logistical physical issue of it not being possible to materialise the notebook in my hand has made Writing A Thing Down unreliable and not leading to Progress.

After thinking this through, I realise that a key factor I’m looking for is small friction reducing improvements that remove tiny psychological barriers. Software on computers or phones can have the same awkward barriers, make it a pain to record information or not give me the right view that allows me to make sense of the information or act on it.

One of the best things I’ve actually come across was in the Mac OS Calendar – a certain update allowed you to just type sentences to enter an appointment. This bypasses the need to fiddle with multiple data entry fields to describe the event, set the times and the reminders. Just today I was annoyed by the iPhone’s less slick entry method, where I have to fiddle with controls to get to a date a few months in the future. This can be enough to discourage me from putting a basic calendar entry in.

What I’ve also just discovered is that an app called Todoist, which was referenced on Zen Habits recently, has a similar data entry system, where you can write a short sentence to set up a task and set the time you want to do it, or if it’s a repeating task. Combined with the fact that I’m more likely to have my phone handy this might be a small breakthrough.

For some time I’ve thought there must be a way to create an app that does things exactly the right way for an Autistic person and this is one of those features. My theory is that finding these friction reducing techniques could be the thing we’re looking for – not whether we can make ourselves Do The Thing, but what exactly is making it hard, or demanding, without reverting to negative thoughts like “I should just be able to do it” or “everybody else seems to be able to make themselves go through lists of tasks” etc.

I imagine someone else can say these barriers I talk of are “silly”, but I have to not discount anything that might be hiding in the lower levels of “mind code” that are not considered in most organisational systems.


Thoughts on Identity First Language

I started referring to myself as an Autistic person some time before I even knew there was a convention with disability for referring to those with disabilities as “persons with X”.

I think it just seemed to make sense to me. I have also seen how an autistic friend struggling with her difficulties used to talk about how “her autism” affected her and this was affecting her self-esteem.

It’s intuitive that I’m an Autistic person and “autism” is fundamental to who I am and how I process the world. Internally if you separate the autism and connect it to all your difficulties, you set up an unresolvable tension in your own sense of self.

When Autism has been adopted by those who actually are Autistic, it ceases to be the original term indicating a disability. Autism is not a disability as such, but it is a difference that can be hard for non-autistics to understand. I can see that putting autism in a “Person with autism” context means that whoever you apply it to cannot accept themselves as Autistic properly.

So that’s why I would continue to use this way of referring to myself and suggest it is a better way of using language. Autistic people really need to be able to move beyond thinking of autism as a “problem”, and it does not help to have an inappropriate convention imposed from a “difficult condition” context.

Did diagnosis affect masking?

Although I was diagnosed as autistic a few years ago, there has definitely been a delay in me accepting that entirely and effectively holding on to that “high functioning” impression that made me feel less “disabled”.

People I was able to mention my diagnosis to were keen to point out how “well” I was doing. Only recently have I picked up enough information to know this was unhelpful because for years I have been partly holding on to that illusion of “coping” that appeared to separate me from other autistic people I knew of.

I attended a couple of support groups where I didn’t feel like I quite identified with other autistic people there because I was thinking of how “capable” I was. Most of them didn’t have jobs or had fairly menial ones. Were they actually like me? I was doing pretty “well” wasn’t I?

A major mistake at that time was not trying very hard to find other autistic people via the internet, and even autistic forums didn’t seem to grab me particularly. I knew about social media but hadn’t made the leap to connecting autism to that. I wonder if I was so weighed down by carrying on in my situation I wasn’t able to connect the dots.

I was too invested in “fixing” my approach to NT connections using the knowledge of what I found difficult.

The main point here is that without a firm encouragement from someone to say – go and search for #ActuallyAutistic on Twitter and Facebook, join some groups and these ones are good – I was stuck for a long time without any additional information and resonance with other experiences. I was still trying to internally work it all out just because I was used to having to do that.

I had to lose most of my investment in the NT world before I really stopped masking. In fact, recently as I’ve hit 40 I think my body has given up and won’t allow me to attempt masking on top of coping with sensory overload.

So I think diagnosis can only significantly affect masking in the short term if you have a frame of reference and find the right people rather than trying to get “advice” from the wrong people, usually the people readily accessible in your life. If someone isn’t right there guiding you, it’s a bit of a blind scrabble to figure out what you do next.

I may be repeating myself but it does seem odd that you can hang on to that idea of attempting normality even if it hasn’t been working and continues not to work for some years, even after you know you’re autistic.

MNDSGN – words with autistic resonance?

Thanks to watching a video of a live stream Agony Autie posted I was pointed at an interesting musician going by the name of MNDSGN, additionally intrigued as she mused on whether he was autistic given the words to his songs. Not only did I love the music, given that it was a combination of all the sounds I used to like from 80s funk an soul, but the words started getting to me as well. This is unusual for me as I generally avoid music with lyrics, partly because concentrating on words and music simultaneously is a bit of a problem.

The song she “stim dances” to is Lather from the album Body Wash

For each song, I’ll quote some words and put some thoughts afterwards.


Sometimes you’re thinking
What planet am I really on
Sometimes it ain’t clear
What vibrations that really are
You try your best to keep it moving
Dreaming about the day you quit losing your mind
It might be sooner than later

That doesn’t need too much interpretation as autism has been compared to being from the “wrong planet” many times. But the line about losing your mind also resonates.

Cosmic Perspective

All along you thought you belong
You’d have thought after coming from so far
That you could find a place that can call home
But you still can’t find the right way

All along you thought this was the truth
Accepted this life without proof
Somewhere along the lines
You lost your way

This is like feeling life isn’t quite working. You’ve taken what the world is supposed to be at face value. You’ve tried to be what the world seems to want you to be but nobody has explained why it’s supposed to work that way.

Use Ya Mnd (Twentyfourseven)

You gotta use your mind

You gotta love your mind

You ain’t gotta be a fool again

Not many words in this song, but means two things simultaneously. Autistic people have to use their rational processing constantly to figure out and adapt to the world, so we are forced to constantly analyse behaviour minutely moment to moment.

What the song also seems to say something about is caring for your mind – mental health.

Also, it’s using your mind to avoid being used (made a fool of). You don’t have to be fooled again. No!


Everything about your vibe
If we could see
Expression on your face
It’s so vague

It’s so hard to read even one little thing in your expression
It’s so vague
We need just a little clarity

This one is more self-explanatory.

I may be more receptive to songs that touch on feelings of isolation or confusion with life after having made some emotional connection with words here. But as is the case with good poetry, it’s better if it’s not too specific and can apply in different contexts.