Tag Archives: autistic adult

far from heaven

I’m an Autistic Adult… and I’m in Purgatory

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far from heavenI’m 18. I graduated high school last July. I’m “high functioning” enough to be able to take care of my brother and myself when my mom is on night shift on the ambulance. I can dress myself (although not according to society’s “fashion” standards), I keep up with hygiene, sleep and wake on a self-imposed schedule, participate in online communities, cook for myself, help out around the house, and manage my own bank account. No, I haven’t learned how to drive yet. No, I haven’t applied for college. No, I don’t yet have a job but I’m looking for one. It really has to be something quiet and not too overwhelming, though, because there are currently no resources or tools for me to learn how to manage all the challenges I now face in the adult world.

Autism awareness and diagnoses have risen dramatically… for young children. In elementary school my brother had access to all sorts of special accommodations and therapies. Unfortunately, being a girl, I actually didn’t receive a diagnosis until I was 17, because autism presents very differently in girls.

From infancy throughout the schooling years, interventions are readily available. But what happens when you turn 18? Where are the resources? Who teaches us how to interview for jobs? Buy a car without getting ripped off? Balance a checkbook? Pick the right auto insurance? Do taxes? Grocery shop and plan meals? Go on a date? Figure out the best cell phone plan? Find friends?

Society seems to think one magically “grows out of autism” once they reach adulthood, especially if you’re considered “high functioning.” My symptoms are seen as “not really severe” so I don’t qualify for any kind of adult support…

… yet I’m not entirely sure how qualified and ready I am to “adult” right now. Of course my mom works with me on some of these things, I don’t want to make it sound like she’s not parenting me and teaching me about life. But being a young adult with autism, trying to figure out the next steps to life presents with far more struggles than simple social skills deficits.

What is “High Functioning Autism?”

According to LoveToKnow.com, the term high functioning autism, or HFA, is used to describe individuals who meet the criteria for a diagnosis of autism, yet show no cognitive delays, and are able to speak, read, and write, as well as have IQ scores of average or above. Those with HFA do suffer difficulties in communication, language, and social interaction typical of autism, as well as repetitive behaviors and narrow interests associated with the disorder. Abstract language concepts, such as irony and humor may well be beyond the comprehension of adults with high functioning autism.

While with the right support we can manage independent and successful careers, marriages, and social lives, it can still be difficult to blend into the mainstream world. Crowds, even small ones, can activate sensory overload for me and make me shut down. Fluorescent lights, smells, or certain combinations of sounds make my nervous system crawl with pain and discomfort. I have extreme anxiety dealing with the public.

Social awkwardness and communication issues can make me highly misunderstood and even considered rude. Inability to maintain eye contact during conversation can cost a job interview or friendship, as it is often misinterpreted as dishonest or lacking interest. Maybe I pass an interview and secure a decent job, but the challenges don’t stop there. Workplace camaraderie is terra incognita for many high functioning autistic adults. Small talk and sarcastic humor go over my head, and I’ve been known to not have a filter when it comes to appropriate thoughts to verbalize in conversation. Don’t even get me started on not understanding body language or non-verbal cues and facial expressions.

I’ve been accused of being odd, serious, quiet and aloof, when really I’m severely over-analyzing a simple response to “How are you?”

Being high functioning, I often feel that even the autism community discounts my struggles, as my deficits are compared to the hardships faced by the profoundly disabled. So I feel isolated from mainstream society, yet have trouble finding resources for my issues. Less severe symptoms mean I am denied applications for medical and psychological assistance.

I applaud all the awareness and resources put forth in general when it comes to autism, but there is a long road ahead of us still.

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For tips on recognizing adults with autism on the scene of a crime, fire, medical call or disaster, check out this article, Trix Are for Kids, Autism is Not (Only)!

image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

Autism Tips for Emergency Responders: Adult Meltdowns

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image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

Often when I begin one of my autism training classes for public safety professionals I have to quickly debunk the myth that autism is a “kid” thing. Especially when we talk about meltdowns.

Yes, I talk about the differences between a meltdown and a tantrum – which is much needed information – but meltdowns are very real occurrences for adults on the spectrum as well.

In fact, the situation can be even more complicated and dangerous when responding to a call involving an adult experiencing a meltdown, especially if they have become nonverbal in the midst of it, which is common.

Meltdowns occur most frequently in autistic children due to an overwhelming sensory environment. My co-trainer, Austin, tells me that he has developed coping methods to deal with sensory overwhelm in public places (note: the sensory issues do not go away, he’s learned to manage them or have an exit strategy). As an adult, meltdowns can also occur from sudden change, not getting understandable answers to a question or being caught off guard.

The early signs of a meltdown may include stuttering or difficulty answering questions, loss of eye contact and the ability to focus, increased stimming, and eventually a complete shutdown of speech and communication.

This is very dangerous because a person experiencing a meltdown is no longer aware of their surroundings, and they may be unable to spot danger. There is also an increased tendency to flee from the situation in attempt to retreat into safety.

Early signs are helpful to know, but the reality is, by the time we as responders are called to a scene, a meltdown will most likely be in full swing. Meltdowns typically go one of two ways: explosion or implosion. And once it starts, there’s no going back for the person experiencing it.

It’s not an emotional outburst or behavior issue, it is a physiological occurrence that must run its course. If interrupted, it will likely start all over again in a few minutes.

Approaching an adult that is unable to speak, potentially hurting themselves or others (such as head banging), trying to flee or being in an odd physical position can be very confusing to a first responder. After ruling out immediate medical threats, our tendency is to either try to apply logic to the situation or treat the person as combative and non-compliant.

As always, safety comes first! But I think understanding what meltdowns are like for those experiencing them can give us critical insight so we can help.

In an article titled “Anatomy of a Meltdown,” a woman with Asperger’s shares her experience of having a meltdown as an adult. Some of my favorite quotes from this post are:

It feels like a rubber band pulled to the snapping point.

What I don’t want to hear:

It’s okay.
(It’s not.)

You need to pull yourself together.
(I will, when I’m ready.)

Everything will be fine.
(I know.)

It feels like the end of the world. It feels like nothing will ever be right again.

Meltdowns are necessary. Cleansing. An emotional purge. A neurological reboot.

It feels like my whole body is thrumming, humming, singing, quivering. A rail just before the train arrives. A plucked string. A live wire throwing off electricity, charging the night air.

Complex speech feels impossible. There is an intense pressure in my head, suppressing the initiation of speech, suppressing the formation of language.

A shutdown is a meltdown that never reached threshold level.

Imagine running as far as you can, as fast as you can. When you stop, that feeling–the utter relief, the exhaustion, the desperate need for air, the way you gulp it in, your whole body focused on expanding and contracting your lungs–that’s what crying feels like during a meltdown.

Please don’t touch me. Don’t try to pick me up, move me, or get me to change position. Whatever position I’ve ended up in is one that’s making me feel safe.

There is emotion at the starting line, but a meltdown is a physical phenomenon: The racing heart. The shivering. The uncontrollable sobs. The urge to curl up and disappear. The head banging. The need to hide. The craving for deep pressure. The feeling of paralysis in my tongue and throat. The cold sweat.

This is so much more than someone having an emotional outburst or acting out because they don’t get their way.

We never know what we’re rolling up to on scene, and we must always do what is safe and makes the most sense with the information and tools we are given. Don’t forget to look for medical bracelets, autism-specific phone apps or alternate IDs… they can provide extremely helpful information!

I hope that this viewpoint is another tool for your toolbox to help recognize that a patient or victim may have autism, and that they may be amid a meltdown.

Someone experiencing a meltdown needs patience,  space and time if the situation allows it. It would be ideal to have a trusting friend or caregiver on scene to both provide pertinent information and be there for the recovery period, whether that’s on scene or en route to the hospital.

Over to you…

Have you experienced someone with autism having a meltdown? Were you able to help? Share your comments below!