So, I’ve written all this about autism. You’ve read it, and I’ve had some lovely comments on it. But, the question is if Autism Speaks doesn’t really care about those with autism, who does? We’re not talking individuals here. There’s a lot of individuals in the world who do care. There’s those that understand it, and accept it. There’s those who don’t understand it, but are doing their best to accept it. And there’s another group that doesn’t understand it or accept it. And there’s Autism Speaks, who thinks they understand but they don’t accept it. So who does?

Forgive me, overseas readers, because I’m going to focus on MY experience with the people that really do seem to care – Autism NZ. How do I know they care? Well, I’ve worked closely with them. They’ve helped me perfect my CV, given me suggestions for my career, and best of all, you can tell they really care about it. Why? Because a good chunk of their employees are on the autism spectrum. One employee I worked with told me that when she was younger, she used to always look angry, even when she was having fun, and part of her masking was learning to smile. Something that takes an effort for me. Even when I can’t stop myself from smiling, my cheek muscles will start to ache.

Up where Autism NZ is based in Morningside, there is a poster stuck up there, which should make anyone with autism feel just a tiny bit better about it. It lists the many, many benefits that come with autism. It’s just like anything in the world – it has just as many benefits as it has drawbacks, with total honesty, an eye for details and no need to be judgmental. Hans Asperger once said “It seems that for success in science or art, a dash of autism is essential”, and Autism NZ clearly wants us to know that we are a bunch of future successes.

So thank you, Autism NZ. Thank you for restoring the faith in myself that I need. Keep on helping every child, teenager and adult that is coming to grips with the autism spectrum, because the help you give is, no doubt, the kind that proves you care.

Learning to fit in, or “mask”, as is the usual word, is like learning a new skill. Let’s compare autism to things that a lot of people can do, but a minority can’t. Can you snap your fingers? Can you curl your tongue? Can you whistle? Most people can do it without thinking. I can’t do any of those things. Okay, so a lot of people can’t whistle, but I’ve had people try to teach me how to snap my fingers. And most people I know can curl their tongues.

People with autism always feel that way. I don’t know how many people with autism can snap their fingers, curl their tongues and whistle. For all I know, I’m the only one who can’t. But a lot of us have things that we have to think about first that just come naturally to you allistic people. For us, it’s like learning a new skill, rather than just doing something instinctively.

Let’s take this example. Yesterday, I went ten-pin bowling. Whenever I go, I always have to have the barriers up, because heaven knows how many gutter balls I would bowl without them. I usually take advantage of them, bouncing my ball off them so it will end up in the middle by the end. However, my opponent suggested I use the arrows to throw straight. I tried following this advice, and it didn’t work. The ball still moved on an angle – it started in the middle, and ended on the right. The time after, I tried throwing from the far left. The ball still moved to the right, but on a smaller angle, so it reached the middle instead. After following this advice, I got two strikes and overall played much better, but still, I had to keep my mind on it all the time to avoid lapsing into my old style of bowling. See what happened? I improved, but didn’t get perfect. That’s what it’s like with autism. We can learn to fit in, and improve our social skills, but we have to think about it all the time.

It’s a tiring procedure. It does get a little bit easier, but it’s still not a social cue that we can recognize, like it is to you. It’s a skill. As humans, I think most of us love to learn. And we always are learning. So next time someone tells you they have autism and you didn’t even suspect it for a minute, you may finally be able to understand how much learning this person has done to appear so allistic. We’re happy to learn how to fit in, but it’s not an easy journey.

Musician Emilie Autumn once stated “I’ve constantly had journalists asking what’s wrong with me, but never once has anyone asked what’s not wrong with me.” She has bipolar disorder, meaning without treatment, her moods are too high and too low. Well, autism is not bipolar disorder. There’s no treatment. But if someone asks a person with autism what’s wrong with them, there is nothing wrong with telling them that there’s something wrong with THEIR thinking. I’ve stressed before that autism isn’t a good thing, but nor is it a bad thing. There’s good and bad things about it. So we’re going to talk about what’s right with autism.

The first thing that’s right with autism? I’ve discussed how we see what you don’t. You don’t see the airport tickets have the wrong time or place, but we do. You don’t see the tip of the umbrella sticking out of the boot when it’s raining, but we do. You don’t see the first flower on the cherry tree, but we do. And that’s why we point those things out to you. We don’t want you inconvenienced, drenched, or missing out at all. Sure, you should extend that courtesy to us and not leave us out of social invitations if we want them, but we’re happy to share what you’re missing out on either way.

Also, how well do you focus? How many times can you enjoy a movie or a TV show or a book that you’ve read before? Many people can’t sit through something they’ve already seen. But if you have autism, it’s easy to come back just a week after one read and enjoy it again. It’s not a liking for repitition for everyone. It’s just that we do sometimes find the same jokes funny twice, enjoy picking out the stuff we missed the first time, and have a liking for rediscovering the magic we saw the first time. It’s great when you are in need of something interesting and you don’t have to immediately start buying or borrowing. There’s a book I lent to a friend years ago and never got back, and I miss it, even though I’ know the story by heart.

There’s a lot more things that are right with autism, but I’d be here all day if I wanted to list them all. So, those with autism, don’t be afraid to admit what’s right with you, and those without, don’t be afraid to accept it. Instead of asking “How does autism make people different?”, you can ask “How are allistics different from those on the spectrum?”

One of the lesser considered traits of autism is the centralised interests. This basically just means that an interest is at an obsessive level. Not all people with autism have this, although many savants did become famous because of their abilities to focus for such a long time. So, the question remains, what does it feel like?

The first thing you have to learn about people with autism is that not all of them are going to have this interest in just one area. The area might also change as they grow up, like mine. It’s common for anyone to adore Spongebob at an early age, and then as an adult, be more into BoJack Horseman (neither of these are my kind of show, but I know a lot of children and adults who like both). When I was about ten, I started doing my best to learn everything I could find about Disney’s products and evolving process, but at thirteen, I was obsessed with Studio Ghibli (and not just Miyazaki’s works, either, although I have only found one Takahata film I loved…RIP). It seems like now, children’s literature is my special interest.

So here’s how the interest works for me. I often do research on my old childhood favourites to see how I can get more out of them as an adult. They help inspire my own writing. I can recite some of the ones aimed at younger kids. Right now, there is a book sitting beside me called “1001 Books You Must Read Before You Grow Up”, containing many of my favourite childhood authors, like Jacqueline Wilson, Roald Dahl, Judy Blume and even including authors reviewing their own favourites,like Philip Pullman. I have not read all of the books recommended, but I’ve learned a lot of about them, and many of them I read when I was well outside the age target. That’s how special children’s literature is to me.

One last thing. To drive the point home that it’s not a savant’s interest but still one that can bring a lot of joy, I want to see if you can cast your mind back. Can you recite the next line from a famous picture book series: “In an old house in Paris that was covered in vines…”

Any psychologist will tell you that an elevated sensory system is a classic feature of autism. That basically means that a sound is louder to us, colours are brighter, the feel of an object is more pressing, smells are much more overwhelming, and tastes are more intense. This feature begs the question of what percentage of people with autism have this, how much it affects each of them (some may be able to swallow their feelings while others have visible meltdowns when there’s too much stimuli), how it is useful, and what may explain other, less prominent features of autism.

So how many people have such a high chance of sensory overload? We don’t really know the answer, because there’s a lot of differences. Some people with autism are hypo-sensitive, able to block out stimuli completely. Then there are those who are both – some stimuli they can’t block out, but others they can completely. For me, if someone’s fidgeting next to me for no reason, I need to look away from them completely to not concentrate on it, and it often annoys me. There’s no reason they ought to stop, so cutting myself off from the stimuli (changing my line of sight) is the only option.

How is this hyper-sensitivity useful? Well, for one thing, if something’s burning, you can bet someone with this sensitivity will be the first to notice, as long as this extends to the nerves in their nose. They will recognize the smell of burning immediately. When I’ve had popcorn, I can still smell it in the kitchen after an hour, even though the popcorn’s been eaten in the living area and was there longer than it was in the kitchen. Similarly, it’s one of the things that enables us to notice little details – little details that are crucial. Sounds, sights – things that others might not catch.

Finally, does this sensitivity actually explain a lot of other features of autism? I think it does. For example, take my blog on the Diet of Autism. Why do we like plain food and like it to be separated from each other food type? It’s because the flavour is amplified. We get a lot more out of plain food than most people do – at least, for those of us who have hyper-sensitive tastebuds. I, myself, like the taste of plain popcorn, although I wouldn’t say no to putting melted butter on it. It also does explain some stimming. It’s a way of coping with stimuli overload, as well as a way to stimulate someone’s sense of touch. Sometimes, I find myself smoothing out the creases of the jeans I’m wearing, over and over. Why? Because my hands like to have something to hold onto, touch, or move.

Anyway, that’s what I see, and I hope you see what I’m saying too. Whether you see this hyper-sensitivity through autistic eyes or neurotypical eyes, it’s in your line of sight.

It’s one of the known facts even among those who are unfamiliar with autism that many of us are more solitary than the average human. There have been studies of islolation and the effects can range from irritability and paranoia to hallucinations. But someone with autism is less likely to feel those symptoms over the same amount of time as a neurotypical, because, well, they like to be alone. At least, that’s what someone might think. But our relationship with social interaction and our peers is actually far more complicated.

In a book on autism, there were three groups defined within the autistic community. The first group was the group that actually did prefer to be solitary. They generally did not initiate or encourage any form of social interaction. People in this position are those that allow the people who think people with autism don’t want to make friends to justify their views. Even then, it’s not a good idea to ignore these people entirely. They don’t need to make friends, but they do need to learn how to interact when it’s absolutely necessary.

The second group is more complicated. They don’t usually initiate social interaction, and often they are seen as “shy”. However, if someone does make overtures to them, they’re more likely to start talking and making an effort. This group isn’t sure of what to say to people, but if someone gets the ball rolling, they will take an opportunity.

The third group is the most social. They will initiate and carry on a conversation, sometimes to a higher degree than is necessary. They are open and friendly, but, like many of their peers, more awkward than the average neurotypical. This can turn people off, but trust me, if someone with autism wants to be your friend, there’s no point in not letting them.

However, just to be clear, these groups are not clear-cut. Some of them can change by mood, and I’ve been in all of them. If you were to choose a “default” group for me, it would be the third one. However, in a social situation where I don’t know the people, I tend to fall into the second one. If I feel annoyed, angry or hurt, you will likely see me as the first.

What I mean to say in this piece of prose is that just because we’re quiet doesn’t mean we don’t like people. We do. We like people. Many of us avoid you because you don’t like us. If we like you, couldn’t you give us more of a chance? Maybe, just maybe, you’ll like us back.

One of the worst parts of autism is the stigma. What’s your first thought when you hear that word? Meltdowns, shut downs, staring off into space, hand flapping? Chances are, one of those classic Hollywood traits is what you think of. That, or you think of Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man.

Well, imagine you’re an employer. You have a person who seems perfect for your job. They’re bright, enthusiastic, smart, qualified and have terrific references and a neat detailed CV with previous jobs they’ve done well in – but they haven’t stayed. This person confesses that they are on the autism spectrum. They may seem good now, but what will the employer think of when choosing the person for the job? The one who’s well qualified but has autism – or the neurotypical person who doesn’t have as much professional experience?

Imagine if an employer did that because of something else! You have cancer? Oh dear, we can’t hire you in case you come out of remission and miss work in hospital! You have epilepsy? Oh dear, we can’t hire you in case your medication stops working for no reason! You have a wheelchair? Oh dear, we can’t hire you in case you need to get up the stairs in a different building! My point is, if you function at a level high enough to be able to do the job well and have all the right qualifications, an employer should hire you. And if they don’t, well, there’s a problem. But there is one industry where they won’t discriminate against disabilities, be they physical, medical, mental or behavioural.

This is the disability industry. Support work, tech work, reception work – if you have enough skill to do one of these jobs, then the world is open. I already have a job in support work, helping a young lady with an intellectual disability. She’s also a wonderful swimmer, and wants to work as a swim coach, a job which she’d be perfect for – but will her disability cause the employers to say no? I also, earlier this year, applied for a job with a girl who had moderate autism – she was verbal, but very awkward and hated being stared and needed special objects to feel comfortable. I didn’t take the job in the end, but it was nothing to do with disability discrimination, as the girl’s mother shared a story with me where a similar job interview happened to her.

Disabilities don’t make you disabled – that means unable. We are able. But if the disability industry is the only group that will hire you for that, well, we’ll have to work around it. There’s lots of work, with people, with communication, with designing. You have abilities, and they attract work. You can only use those abilities with the disability sector? Well, okay. What do those employers get who refused to hire you? The skills that you’re now using to help others who are about to be in your shoes.

You’ve probably heard of picky eaters. However, every picky eater you’ve been told is one is probably a child. It’s just a phase, their parents say. They’ll grow out of it. Well, sometimes, your tastebuds grow out of some things, but as someone on the autism spectrum, some of us just don’t manage it. It’s not that we don’t want to eat healthy food, it’s that our gag reflex says no. We don’t want to be sick when we’re forced to eat something we don’t like. It just happens. So, I will now introduce you to the varied, different world in the Diet Of Autism.

There can be extremes or things you don’t understand when you meet the Diet Of Autism. Sometimes, you can’t eat something because it’s a wrong colour. A friend of mine in particular had a time where she refused to eat corn, because bright yellow triggered her fear. Some of us don’t like shapes, sizes or colours of food, and if that sensation makes us feel scared or repulsed, it’s simple. Why should we eat something we’re afraid of? Would you eat poisoned cake if you knew it had poison in it? I didn’t think so.

The Diet Of Autism also has the common rule of keeping things separate. No, we don’t want the casserole gravy coating our mashed potatoes, thank you very much. No, can you please put the mint sauce on the side so I can eat my slow-cooked lamb plain? We don’t like foods touching each other. I, personally, have grown out of this, but I still don’t really like eating applesauce on pork or mint sauce on lamb. And even more, many people with autism will not be happy to have the boiled egg touching the bacon and making the shell greasy, or the buttery carrots touching the fillet and wiping butter over the breadcrumbs.

The number one rule that seems to be common with the Diet of Autism is simple. We want simple food. We don’t want fancy gourmet with a million flavours, we like plain. This isn’t a major requirement, but almost every child with autism will express a delight in plain foods early on. Plain rice, plain potatoes, plain pasta, plain bread. Even now, I love just buttered toast with nothing else on it (although I like Vegemite too), or cupcakes with no icing. I do like tandoori sauce with my lamb chops and soy sauce with my dumplings, but I could live without them.

So, there you have it, the Diet Of Autism. Maybe you don’t understand our affinity for different foods, our intentions to eat each thing separately or our love for the plain and unsauced, but you don’t have to understand it. You just have to accept it. We accept that you love your applesauce on pork and your mix inside spring rolls (although I do love those too). It’s time the feeling went both ways.

Legend? More like myth. We can’t even be sure that Einstein did have autism. Delayed language and being a savant can be two features of autism, but they don’t have to be. It’s the same as how dyslexia isn’t a sign of slowness – any educator will tell you that dyslexic people commonly have above-average intelligence, even more so if it takes a long time to diagnose them because they seem too smart to have any learning disabilities.

So today, I bring to you all, a few myths that have become legends in the world of autism.

“Everyone is a little bit autistic”. NO. Just because it’s a spectrum doesn’t automatically put you on it. If you’re off the spectrum, you’re off, and it’s actually almost offensive to insist you and the rest of the population are on it to the community that actually does populate the spectrum. Maybe there’s a few things we can do that you can’t because of that spectrum, but there’s also things you do that we can’t. And isn’t that true of everyone in the world? You neurotypicals are not on the spectrum, and you don’t need to be. We’re on the spectrum because we have to be. We’re all made perfect – don’t try to change it.

“You can cure autism”. This is the worst myth you can say, because autism isn’t an illness. It’s a different way the brain develops. I remember, one person with a disorder that similarly, was incurable, put it this way: “I have this quirk”. Our quirk is a differently wired brain with differences that are seen as both deficiencies and unusually high proficiencies. Do you want to wipe out our personalities? No? Then don’t suggest there’s a cure for it. And that goes for you too, Mr President (although I know he won’t read this).

The third myth and the one I will end on, is this one: “Autism is not a good thing.” I’m not saying autism is a good thing. And it’s not a myth most people know of, because, well, we don’t call it a bad thing. But it’s not good or bad. It’s there, and we have to deal with it. It can do good, it can do bad. But so the legend goes, once there was a man in prison, and he had autism. And once there was a beauty queen, and she had autism too. And of course, once there was an extremely successful movie director who had his own dark cartoony style. His name was Tim Burton, and he had autism.

Some parts of autism are myths. But some people born with autism are legends.

So what’s the problem with autism? If we can do all these great things that neurotypicals can do, why do we have to fight so hard to be appreciated?

Here’s the answer. Because you don’t appreciate us. Almost every person with mild or undiagnosed autism will have at least one story about the time they were bullied constantly. School is a dangerous playground, and I’m not talking about the equipment. Walking around people your own age and creating a foundation to set your life’s work on is like a rehearsal for real life. And in rehearsals, people forget their lines or aren’t sure where to move, and not all the cast members get along. And sometimes, the rehearsal is one you’re not supposed to be in.

Ever felt like you’re in the wrong play? Well, that’s what it feels like to be autistic. It’s like every time you step on stage and say a line, everyone’s ready to snap at you and say “You’re getting kicked out of the play. If you’re lucky, we’ll let you help out backstage!” What can you say to that? It’s not just the cast and the cast agent. Even the set designer is thinking secretly that you’re asking for it. No one asks to be bullied, shoved into the background, have your foot crushed, be imitated, mocked, have your stuff stolen – but every person with autism has it happen to them.

Why should we put up with it when neurotypicals don’t have to? Well, we shouldn’t. The real world isn’t much better. Everyone tries to be nice, but we’re still the outcasts. Our only way out is to own ourselves. “Yes, Mr/Ms Bully, I’m not you. Bye now.” Then walk away. Their contribution to your life can wait until you’re out of high school.