Embracing the Best Parts of Being an Aspie
By Kenneth Whyman
Editor's note: The opinions expressed herein are those of the author exclusively.
By Kenneth Whyman
Editor's note: The opinions expressed herein are those of the author exclusively.
I was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome only seven years ago, well after my childhood years. My mother always suspected something, and took me everywhere to find out what was different about me. The closest answers she could get was ADHD from a pediatrician, and very inclusive sleep-deprived EEG results from Barrow Neurological Institute in Phoenix where I've lived practically my whole life.
I always was very bright. I learned spoken language ahead of the curve, I was good at math from very young, but I always was clumsy. I never did learn to write in cursive. The only reason my handwriting looked good was when I drew the letters. I still to this day must pay attention to my body, or I will rock in place or pace the room. I have a high affinity for computers, and I hand-build them from parts or repair broken ones as a hobby. I can't stand being around a ton of people unless I'm doing something I enjoy, like music. I gravitate towards music like nothing else. Band was a safe place for me, and karaoke was a fun hobby for a time after I got out of school. I can still see the starry sky overhead from band camp way back in 1994, my senior year. I still remember every nuance of music I played in band, especially one piece from an honor band I was a part of. In a way, I have embraced the best parts of being an Aspie without knowing it at first, from music, to computers, to math and science.
My brain is still hungry to learn more, even as it struggles for composure in a social world I cannot understand. Coping with many voices at once is the most stressful thing I can try. There are times I want to curl up into a ball, but then I remember how I got this far already. I gather myself using transcendental meditation or my music, and I get back to the business at hand. It still isn't easy at times, but what can you do?
The hardest part about being an adult with autism is that we are invisible. The most that anyone suspects unless I speak up is that I'm "weird." Even after I say what I am, people usually don't understand. Some think autism is just a kid's thing, and that we outgrow it. If anything, autism becomes more ingrained as we grow older, unless we learn ways to cope and adapt while still young. I have spent many hours with a psychologist to understand myself, and I still have much work to do.
Parents, speak out like my mom did, and get your child the help they need. Children, learn to speak out for yourself for when you are older. Adults, seek after the help for yourself and don't be afraid of what you are. Get informed about what autism is and how it affects us, even the invisible adults walking among you. As for my life, I wouldn't trade it for anything, even with autism as part of it. I wouldn't be the same without it.
I always was very bright. I learned spoken language ahead of the curve, I was good at math from very young, but I always was clumsy. I never did learn to write in cursive. The only reason my handwriting looked good was when I drew the letters. I still to this day must pay attention to my body, or I will rock in place or pace the room. I have a high affinity for computers, and I hand-build them from parts or repair broken ones as a hobby. I can't stand being around a ton of people unless I'm doing something I enjoy, like music. I gravitate towards music like nothing else. Band was a safe place for me, and karaoke was a fun hobby for a time after I got out of school. I can still see the starry sky overhead from band camp way back in 1994, my senior year. I still remember every nuance of music I played in band, especially one piece from an honor band I was a part of. In a way, I have embraced the best parts of being an Aspie without knowing it at first, from music, to computers, to math and science.
My brain is still hungry to learn more, even as it struggles for composure in a social world I cannot understand. Coping with many voices at once is the most stressful thing I can try. There are times I want to curl up into a ball, but then I remember how I got this far already. I gather myself using transcendental meditation or my music, and I get back to the business at hand. It still isn't easy at times, but what can you do?
The hardest part about being an adult with autism is that we are invisible. The most that anyone suspects unless I speak up is that I'm "weird." Even after I say what I am, people usually don't understand. Some think autism is just a kid's thing, and that we outgrow it. If anything, autism becomes more ingrained as we grow older, unless we learn ways to cope and adapt while still young. I have spent many hours with a psychologist to understand myself, and I still have much work to do.
Parents, speak out like my mom did, and get your child the help they need. Children, learn to speak out for yourself for when you are older. Adults, seek after the help for yourself and don't be afraid of what you are. Get informed about what autism is and how it affects us, even the invisible adults walking among you. As for my life, I wouldn't trade it for anything, even with autism as part of it. I wouldn't be the same without it.
If you have a story you wish to share about your personal experience with autism, please send it to
editors@autismspeaks.org.
Autism Speaks reserves the right to edit contributions for space, style and content. Because of the volume of submissions, not all can be published on the site.
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