-
These are the quotes that really resonated with me from “What My Adult Autism Diagnosis Finally Explained” By Mary H.K. Choi in The Cut www.thecut.com/article/m…
working from adjacent rooms in our New York apartment. Anyone spying on us from the building across the street would have found us each equally absorbed at our desks. Seemingly content.
But according to Sam, there was a tone to our separateness that was disquieting. A year into the pandemic, he began to point out that, for several months straight, I’d refuse every entreaty for a stroll or a lunch out on a sunny day, even when I wasn’t on deadline. He couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, he said, but it felt as though I were avoiding him.
What I didn’t admit was that I was lying. Often, I’d find myself listening through the wall for his movements, emerging for the bathroom or a snack only when I knew I wouldn’t run into him.
And in the same way that I missed Sam but also didn’t want him around, I loved my friends but didn’t particularly want to spend time with them. I couldn’t stand the gnawing suspicion that everyone was humoring me. Or mad at me. Or shooting one another knowing looks because I was overstaying my welcome or not staying long enough. I reasoned that this was how I had friends but was never invited to their gatherings. By my late 30s, I’d concluded I was simply bad at people. I was also indescribably lonely.
The ASD evaluation, conducted over Zoom, consisted of four psychometric tests — questionnaires that screened for both autistic traits and the propensity to hide them. That was followed by a 75-minute interview, a sprawling conversation covering everything from my childhood to my lifelong fixation on snacks. The whole thing took less than three hours. Later that day, a four-letter and PDF. Made out to someone named Amanda.
The whiplash was constant, the code-switching dizzying. I was besieged by a conviction that I was always in trouble, a pervasive dread that I would never instinctively know how anything worked, so I would have to memorize it. Except with Korean church folk, my parents were private, mistrustful, and didn’t like drawing attention to themselves. They didn’t speak English, so I became adept at forging my mother’s signature on dispatches from school and never told them about parent-teacher conferences. I couldn’t bear exposing them to potentially patronizing situations that I would then have to translate. To save their faces as well as mine, I had to learn the rules and learn them well.
I moved to New York at 22. As an adult, I began reading personal essays by Asian Americans who’d been singled out for toting smelly lunches to cafeterias peopled by milk-slugging tweens who subsisted on bologna. Or articles about tiger moms and han, a particularly Korean cultural phenomenon that centers on ineffable anguish and rage resulting from repeated hostile occupation and invasion.
But even in New York, the place where I believed I would forge my own identity and begin my real life, I couldn’t shake this compulsion to keep preparing. Practicing. Stockpiling information about other people’s behavior like cookies on a browser. In time, I developed systems to make it through any scenario. Mental folders filled with scripts, permutations of outcomes, things I’d observed friends and colleagues and strangers do.
For years, I sought out booze, weed, sugar, binge eating, caffeine, other people (especially of the unavailable, intense variety) — anything to distract me from the purgatorial torment of my efforts. It was reassuring, even thrilling, to be directly responsible for the pain and shame, even as the substances heightened the sense of peril, the mania, the self-centered paranoia. But by my 40s, I’d found 12-step, meditation, medication, several modalities of therapy, and heroic doses of psilocybin under the care of trauma therapists. I learned more about the nature of addiction as well as how to navigate a whole array of other issues I was tackling — CPTSD, ADHD, ED (eating disorder, not the other one), workaholism, dissociative tendencies, rage, a history of sexual assault, and racial trauma.
Still, I was mystified by this niggling, needling conviction that, in all this self-interrogation, I’d missed something. That one day someone would publicly point out some glaring defect of mine that had been obvious to everyone all along. And that I was the one in the dark.
ASD is a spectrum, but there is often a presumption that the spectrum is a linear gradient from mild to severe. In fact, the disorder is not a spectrum but spectra, a solar system of sprawling constellations in 3-D that differs from one person to the next. Within autistic communities, they say, “If you’ve met one person with ASD, you’ve met one person with ASD.”
For Sam, the diagnosis altered everything because it framing of our relationship changed. I learned about pathological demand avoidance, a pattern of behavior that is still up for debate in the ASD world but that for me represented a seismic OS update. It explained why I would unfailingly refuse to do something when asked, and why a demand or request would trigger an overwhelming sense of panic and certitude that I would only disappoint the person asking. This was me when Sam knocked on my door.
I feel shy in these moments — like I’m really going out on a limb — but Sam is kind and receptive. He pushes off from his desk to wheel around, putting his headphones down to offer me the favored seat by the window. When I see his delight, I am delighted. And relieved.
-
Am I on the Autism Spectrum??? Anyone have a free online self-test they like? Or have resources for getting tested that won’t cost me many dollars?
-
Chocolate covered potato chips should be immediately available always
-
Does anyone know any court reporters/stenographers? Thinking I might go that route…
-
Burned popcorn last night so now all my belongings and my self smell like burnt popcorn. Rip me
-
i gotta start carrying cash with me again. i had to pay for some car work and the 3% credit card surcharge came out to almost $8!
-
My dashcam finally supports an external Bluetooth button to save clips as they happen
-
Thinking about learning stenography
-
Ugh. Oil leak on my 2004 Camry. Goodbye money
-
Okay so planning for my masters… my brain says money and stability is in cyber. And I’m not not-interested in security. But my curiosity and tech-heart lies with wearables, AR, and VR
-
Protect Medicaid Letter to reps
My name is Miguel M., and I live in New Jersey. I want to share how Medicaid has been absolutely essential in providing me access to comprehensive healthcare and vital support services that are helping me build a stable future.
Through Medicaid, I’ve been able to access crucial mental health care, including antidepressants and specialized support services. For the past 15 months, I’ve been participating in CarePlus NJ’s Supported Employment program, which Medicaid covers. This program has been transformative - my employment coach has helped me navigate both the practical and emotional challenges of returning to the workforce and pursuing higher education. Recently, I even had the opportunity to interview for CarePlus NJ’s scholarship program to support my continued education. Having access to these comprehensive support services, alongside regular healthcare like doctor’s visits and dental cleanings, has made an incredible difference in my journey.
During the pandemic, Medicaid coverage ensured I could access critical needs like Paxlovid treatment and made it convenient to get immunization boosters at local pharmacies. This comprehensive coverage has helped me maintain both my physical and mental well-being while pursuing my goals.
The proposed cuts to Medicaid would be devastating for people like me who rely on this program for essential services. If Medicaid were changed to a block grant system or if federal funding were reduced, vital support services like the Supported Employment program might become limited or unavailable. Adding work requirements would create additional barriers for people who are working to stabilize their lives and transition back into the workforce.
Medicaid isn’t just a healthcare program – it’s a lifeline that enables people like me to access mental health care, pursue employment and educational opportunities, and contribute meaningfully to our communities. Any cuts or restrictions to Medicaid would directly impact our ability to access these vital services and continue our journey toward stability and independence. I urge our representatives to protect Medicaid funding and preserve access to these essential services for all New Jerseyans who need them.
-
I took too long to poop today after church. The lights turned off on me and I couldn’t stand up and activate the motion detector to see what I was doing anymore. So I did finish via sense of touch
-
know that all the previous posts have been dictated with my voice using an iOS shortcut. I am not typing these out. It is purely with my voice.
-
I’m driving next to a blue Lamborghini and the license plate in New Jersey has a black background and white letters. What is that? I’m pretty sure it’s illegal.
-
On a morning like this morning when the temperature is under 20°F I am glad I have my leather driving gloves
-
I played steam deck too much and now I’m gonna be a little late for church
-
i think my Sony XM4s are dying??? The right cup makes a loud high pitched whistling sound when I take it off. Like the ANC is trying to generate noise to block out a sound but it is instead making a painful sound.
-
St. Denis Medical is some pretty pretty good tv comedy. “You hit the little boy doctor!”
-
Felt so good in that first round too
-
Fuck fuck fuck. Didn’t get the job.
-
Welp. Looks like I’ll be moving again for the third time in 7 months. Time to hunt for a studio
-
When’s the last time you held a laserdisc
-
I moved to an intentional community for stability but it’s chaotic + triggering past trauma. Leadership is disconnected with no clear policies, leaving safety concerns unaddressed. Advocacy feels dismissed. I’m torn between staying for affordable housing or leaving to prioritize safety + healing
-
My keeb heatmap
-
Okay so I bought some weatherstripping for our doors and it’s too thick. The door won’t close properly now. Maybe I need to buy thinner stripping.
subscribe via RSS