Currently viewing the tag: "research"

There’s been a fair amount of discussion of the new/proposed autism criteria around the web, and particularly on tumblr. I’m glad we’re finally talking about them, since my original opinion on them was that they were fine. Not great, not terrible, probably not going to exclude anyone, and just sort of…meh.

A few people on tumblr have rightfully pointed out that the criteria are actually moving even further away from the lived experience of autism towards useless constructs of what autistic behaviour does/should look like according to allistic researchers. This is hugely problematic, if for no other reason than it’s scientifically unsound. Accordingly, I’ve been thinking about what I would prefer criteria to look like. This is what I have so far. All constructive criticism and commentary is very much welcome, since I think that the diagnostic criteria for autism should be autistic-defined as a broad group–we’re effectively deciding who gets to be in our group with us.

Apologies for the wonky formatting. WordPress was not happy with my beautiful tiered bullets.

A. Differences in perception (at least 3)
1. Sensory defensiveness (ie, complaints or avoidance of any of the following: loud noises or places, bright lights, textures (food or object/clothing), tastes, smells, touch)
2. Sensory seeking (ie, stims or stimming behaviour such as rocking, flapping, finger flicking, hair twirling, spinning objects, etc or actively desiring any of the following: deep pressure or touch, vestibular sensation [swings, spinning in any context, etc], specific smells, tastes, or textures)
3. Auditory processing difficulties
4. Unusual, awkward, or delayed motor skills, or asymmetry between gross and fine motor skills (ie, clumsy but with strong fine motor skills, good gross motor skills with poor hand-writing or table skills)
5. A reduced or lack of conscious awareness and/or use of allistic (not autistic) nonverbal behaviour and communication such as facial expression, gesture, and posture.
This criterion should not exclude persons who have learnt to read or otherwise comprehend nonverbal behaviour by rote learning, particularly adults. Intentional learning to overcome an inherent difficulty in comprehension is supportive of this criterion. It should also not exclude persons who have been taught to use nonverbals to be less visibly different. In such cases, internal report of difficulty should take precedence over apparent behaviour.

B. Differences in cognition (at least 3, one of which must be 1 or 2)
1. Difficulty in beginning or ending (at least 1):
-Perseverative thoughts or behaviours
-Needing prompts (visual, verbal, hand-over-hand, etc) to begin or finish a task
-Difficulties planning complex activities
-Catatonia
-Difficulty switching between activities
-Lack of apparent startle response
2. Difficulty in using language (at least 1):
-Problems with pronoun use that are developmentally inappropriate
-A reduced or lack of awareness of tone in self (ie, speaks in a monotone, childish, or otherwise unusual manner) and/or others (ie, does not perceive sarcasm or follow implied prompts, responds to rhetorical statements and questions in earnest)
-A reduced or lack of awareness of volume (ie, speaks too loud or too quietly for the situation)
-No functional language use
-Echolalia
-Mutism in some or all situations
3. At least one special interest in a topic that is unusual for any combination of intensity (ie, does not want to learn/talk about anything else, collects all information about the topic) or subject matter (ie, unusual, obscure, or not considered age appropriate). Topics may be age appropriate and/or common (such as a popular television show or book), but the intensity of interest and/or specific behaviour (such as collecting or organising information as the primary focus) should be taken into account.
4. Asymmetry of cognitive skills
5. Talents in pattern recognition, including music, mathematics, specific language structures, puzzles, and art.
6. A tendency to focus on details instead of the broader picture, across contexts.

C. These differences cause impairment and/or distress in at least one context (ie, school, work, home), which may be variable over time.
D. Symptoms should be present in early childhood, but may not be noticable until social demands outpace compensatory skills, at any age

I always mean to blog more than I actually do. So consider this a new year’s list of things I would like to explore, maybe not now, but definitely at some point:

  • learning Auslan. I’d love to work on another language, and Auslan seems like it would have both practical benefits and potential long-term academic benefits.
  • study what research there is for auditory processing issues and autism (see above long-term academic benefits)
  • study what research there is for gender and queerness in autism
  • begin designing a reliable screening tool for autistic adults
  • write more scientific critiques of existing research. This is something I’ve always meant to do and never managed to get around to it. I think the exercise would be good for my brain.
  • write more book reviews. There are a lot of books I read and love, and I never talk about them.

Maybe the solution is to try to blog at least weekly; when I set this goal I usually can keep it for a month or two before forgetting. I’ll just have to try. Consider this more of a note to self than a note to anyone else.

ETA: Additional note to self: link between pvwml and autism or loss of language. Potential neurological marker?

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I have a massively awesome idea for a DM Cornish/Half Continent fansite.

I have the means (ish) to create it.

I have the desire to do it; in fact, it is fast eating up a lot of my headspace in a dangerously compulsive sort of way. Actually, the Half Continent in general has, I must acknowledge, reached a level of obsession only known to autistics and 12 year old girls.

What I’m lacking is the spoons. I’ll need to learn new coding programs to create what I want to create, and then there will be a lot of data imput into those programs. I know I have a strange mix of ability within one specific executive function (perseverance or grit)–for short-term projects, I’m okay, and I’m one of the most persistent people I know for long-term goals. There’s even a research study that I participated in, with people I know to corroborate my answers, that noted I have more grit than most people my age (I blame autism, as with so many things). But medium-term stuff…eh…I kind of have a history of terrible failure. Like this one time where I tried to write a master’s dissertation. Ha.

So I have this history of not being great at doing medium-term projects. Based on my completely fabricated estimates, this would be one such thing. The only thing worse than not giving into my compulsions and starting this project would be not finishing. And so, I procrastinate, which makes the compulsion part worse, but puts off my fear of self-caused failure. But procrastination also provides some measure of stress relief I don’t get during my work week (update: still like hell), so it’s a coping mechanism, too.

Basically, living in my head sucks right now and I would like $10,000 so I can quit my job and move immediately to Melbourne. Please.

I’ve been thinking about inertia and perseveration lately. I thought I’d been thinking about depression and my own early signs of a life-long sprint from black clouds, but apparently the part of my brain that ruminates without my knowledge was busy at work on something altogether separate.

I’ve talked about inertia before–I should probably start using a tag for it and the other things I mention regularly. And I’ve talked about perseveration, and how I think it’s a useful, adaptive process in working through executive function difficulties (see the link to rumination).

A quick recap: inertia is the tendency to keep doing what you’re doing rather than change paths (with a nod to Newtonian physics for the basic concept), and perseveration is going over something endlessly, either because it provides comfort, stimulation, or a solution to a problem or otherwise fills some need.

I think they are the same thing, or facets of a larger single thing. And I think that thing is at the heart of difficulties in choice making in autism spectrum disorders and at least partially to do with why concrete plans are necessary. I’m not sure if it is part of the larger executive function or a related but separate thing.

Inertia has negative connotations, at least for me. Inertia is continuing to do something that isn’t really great for me (like not eat or not sleep) because it is easier than the alternative (procuring food or getting ready for bed–which usually entails saying goodbye to Kitty, something I loathe). Inertia means staying in bad jobs because it is easier than finding new ones. Inertia means multiple degrees in a field which doesn’t hold a career or major interest to me, because considering a change took too much thought and spoons to be done at a pace that would have allowed me to change.

Perseveration has a mixed connotation. Perseveration is going over and over songs until I know them by heart and can sing them pitch, tone, and word perfectly. Perseveration is almost always thinking about one of the few topics I am especially interested in, like autism or MBT. Perseveration is the way my brain works to process complex information by letting it tumble around and then finding notable, interesting things in what that information sticks to inside my head. Perseveration is eating the same food for three, four, five days in a row all. the. time.

Both are the inability to change topics or actions without a strong desire to do so. That desire can be internally or externally motivated, emotionally or physically motivated.

This inability to move off a single track can make it difficult to impossible to make decisions and choices. I know that the DSM is too strictly categorized for this to ever happen, but perhaps autism should be considered partially an anxiety disorder.

I wanted to buy a computer–a laptop. I researched laptops for months, learning about screen types and the inner workings of a machine, learning about various OSes and interfaces. I learned what my price range would need to be to get something like what I wanted (a tablet with the ability to write directly on the screen). And then I didn’t do anything. I knew what I wanted, but I was absolutely paralyzed by the idea that as soon as I made a choice a better, cheaper, more awesome choice would appear and thus be unavailable to me. I finally bought my laptop only because it was on woot that day and the price was about half what I’d been prepared to pay previously. I needed that external limitation to make a decision: woot is only one item per day and there is no guarentee the item will ever turn up again, the price is drastically lower than anywhere else online, and there is a limited number of units available–but you can’t tell how many until it’s sold out. I’ve had this laptop for about two years now and I suspect I would still be dithering about getting the BEST LAPTOP EVAR had I not been constrained by this.

Having choices makes choosing extremely difficult when you tend towards this style of thinking. The more choices I have, the more likely I am to fall back into the holding pattern of inertia and just not choose. When I am hungry, I need to have explicit options rather than an open ended “what do you want?” because the latter will only lead to frustration and upset. (Kitty, in her wisdom, knew this years and years ago and tolerated my saying over and over that I hated planning meals and that it made food unappealing, and to her I apologize again for being a shit. She was completely right and knew me better than I knew myself at the time.) Having a schedule means I actually get things done. Without, I am likely to spend all day online, playing games or looking at tumblr.

Unfortunately, none of these things allows me to write coherent blog posts sometimes!

My attention span is currently at a level I would describe as “kitten.”

I’ve known for a long time that my attention is directly correlated to the interestingness of the material–this isn’t unusual for kids identified as gifted (nor the adults they grow into), or anyone on the spectrum. In fact, it was this extreme hyperfocus that first had me questioning if I might be on the spectrum as I read tales of kids and their encyclopedic knowledge of topics and saw myself. This one time, I drew the same picture with only minor variations a couple hundred times; I was nine. I suspect I could still draw it.

I’ve also known for a long time that if I’m otherwise engaged, I can pay attention to topics of less interest with some reliability. In a school setting, for example, I’m usually really strongly into one class and then have varying levels of caring about the others–just like anyone else. Because of that high interest class, though, I have this sort of carry-over attention effect making it easier to pay attention to other material that is not as engaging for me. This has led me to the conclusion that I do well in moderate to high stress environments, but yesterday I started thinking (a rare thing these days when my mind lands on a topic and only stays for a few minutes at most), and this may not be the case.

There are different kinds of stress. Google thinks there are three–acute, episodic, and chronic–but that’s not what I mean. Those factors certainly play in, but I think stress can and should be divided by what part of you it engages, not just the length. Intellectual stress would be things like heavy schoolwork, complex reading material (fiction or no), non-rote professional work, puzzle solving. Emotional stress is identifying your own and other people’s feelings, social cues, working with other people. Physical stress could be identifying sensations (like needing to pee or being hungry), things that involve physical labour, or enduring discomfort (like working in a too-cold or too-hot place). Some combination of three things creates the stress, and that can then be chronic, episodic, or acute.

By this system, I really like things that are chronically intellectually stressful, with low levels of emotional or physical stress. I don’t like to move or worry about what my body language says. That is…not how I would currently describe my life. So even while I feel stressed, worrying about money and the cat and immigration, it isn’t the sort of stress that puts me in a position to spend a lot of time thinking. Those stressors are not comfortable for me, so they use up many more spoons than the stressors I like–and because I’ve wasted those spoons, I can’t do the things I enjoy (like reading scienceblogs) which could potentially refresh my spoons.

When I’m stressed–in the bad, not comfortable way–my memory and attention are spotty. I need to have a constant stream of intellectual information coming in–and going out, such as via blogging–to feed my own ruminative processes. Not only do I think they are a good thing, I now think they are essential to my well-being. When I am taking in enough information to have a viable ruminative background process going, my whole mind is working in concert, concious, unconcious, and memory. Being able to ruminate this way requires a precise memory, which is the first thing to go when I’m under stress (I often have no memory of meltdowns, for example–they’re just missing or I have a handful of photograph-like images).

I have been incredibly, risably forgetful lately–and lucky Kit doesn’t mind. Things we discussed multiple times have slipped my mind as if they never were. There is no sense of loss, of having forgotten something. My memory is not recording in the first place. Even when she reminds me, often with my own words, they feel new, unseen.

We talked about it yesterday, and I think it shifted my brain into the right gear to ruminate, because it hit me this morning, how all of this is connected for me: I need intellectual stress (and preferably as little of the other kinds as possible) to function well; I know alternate sources for this when I am not in uni; when I do not get this stress I become unable to seek it out because my will to live attention span grows shorter and shorter the longer I go without; this correlates with an unusually poor memory; these things are because with information coming in, I am able to ruminate properly (like any good ruminant and/or monster), because it is an adaptive and helpful process for me rather than being a destructive way to rehash bad memories or thoughts; therefore I have to just force myself to do something brainy, because it will sort of kickstart the whole process and I will stop feeling leaden. Which is…a helpful conclusion, and hopefully writing this will have done enough kickstarting I’ll no longer feel like my brain is dribbling out my ears slowly and painfully.

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This post has multiple topics because I am too lazy to make multiple posts.

1. I run google analytics on this website. I promise, I’m not tracking you down at all, my meagre readers, but I generally find it entertaining. Originally, I got analytics because I wanted to use it with etsy, and as an after-thought maybe six weeks ago, I realized I could run it on here. Like magic.

The most interesting part of analytics is the search referral terms. The top ten search terms that get people onto my blog are:

1. alternate lexicon
2. the alternate lexicon
3. perseveration/rumination thinking style
4. “foreign service” autism
5. “the neurotypical spectrum”
6. alternatelexicon.com
7. ari ne’eman is a piece of shit
8. autism loneliness
9. feminism asperger
10. food choice perseveration

Now, I should note that “top ten” is sort of euphemistic, since only the first three have yielded multiple hits. Still. This list is pretty awesome.

1, 2, and 6 are self-explanatory, though 6 begs the question of why they googled me instead of typing it into the url bar. 3, 8, 9, and 10 are all things I am interested in and plan to write about more (I’m thinking maybe of writing about feminism and autism for blogging against disableism day). I have no beef with Ari Ne’eman, so I’m not sure how 7 gets you there (except that now I’ve typed it out, it will inevitably do so again). As for 4, I’ve thought about writing about my experience applying for the foreign service two years in a row and being rejected early in the process, but, here’s the thing: if anyone (on or off the spectrum) tries to tell you that people with autsim, as a rule, do not hold grudges, that person is a LYING LIAR. I’m still angry at the foreign service and probably will continue to be for years. One of the many reasons I’m interested in medical school is so I can be better than them (yes, I know this makes no sense), and I felt an overwhelming sense of loss this spring when I realized I was not taking the exam this year. It’s really for the best if I don’t write about it.

2. There are a lot of cool places I like to go to that, for whatever reason, I have utterly failed to add to my links sidebar. Please check them out while I get to remodelling (see 3, below).

FWD/Forward, a blog about feminism and disability.

Hyperbole and a Half, written by someone named Ali, too, except she spells it wrong. Her blog is awesome enough to forgive that.

Hezabelle, my dear friend Heather’s awesomeness.

The princess of denial, my other dear friend Sarah’s awesomeness.

Both blogs my girlfriend has made and sort of totally failed to keep up with (there’s Kate Miller-Heidke on one of them!).

It appears that Derailing for Dummies (a must read) is no longer online, but there’s a reconstruction.

3. I want a new theme. HALP. I’m okay messing with it a bit to get what I want–I did with this them (and sort of broke it in the process, whatever). Does anyone have an opinion on any of these?

Paper
Airmail
Look Booster
Magatheme

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Fair warning: there’s a lot of links in this post, and they’re not there to be pretty.

There’s been some discussion on ScienceBlogs of Jonah Lehrer’s recent piece for the NYTimes, a review of depression and rumination and some mildly interesting thoughts on why rumination may confer an evolutionary advantage, thus preserving depression through evolution. Like most evolutionary psych theories, I think this is sort of pretty much bunk–a trait just doesn’t have to kill you off before you reproduce to be kept in the gene pool. Hell, even if it does kill you off, if your sibling has that gene but not expressed in the same manner and they reproduce, the gene can be passed on without issues. A really interesting book about genetics and disease states that I would highly reccomend is Survival of the Sickest.

That drifted off topic pretty quickly.

Okay, so the article is about rumination in depression and how it serves an essential function: for people with reactive depressions (that is, depression because something in their life sucks, like a pet or close friend or family member dying or being diagnosed with a serious illness or losing a job, as opposed to depression strictly caused by a chemical imbalance), the process of rumination helps alleviate the depression itself. Rumination is going over and over and over a scenario or comment or anything in in the past repeatedly. People who tend to be ruminative thinkers are more likely to be depressed, though it’s not completely clear if this is because ruminative thought processes lead to depression (otherwise known as dwelling on shitty stuff in life) or if people who are depressed turn to rumination.

I think it’s pretty simple to draw a parallel here to perseveration, or doing/thinking/saying something over and over again. It is also important to note that a large number of people on the autism spectrum do struggle with depression and/or anxiety. I would like to suggest that the broader thinking style is perseverative, and rumination (focus on events in the past) and worry (focus on events in the future) are just two subtypes of this broader thinking style. It doesn’t occur in just people on the autism spectrum: people with ADD (especially the inattentive/not hyperactive types) and people with ocd experience it, too. It seems that the broader neurodiverse community has at least a passing familiarity with this so-called autistic trait that we tend to assume must be unique to us as a group. Hell, even neurotypical people perseverate (though because they’re NT we kindly don’t label it as if it’s something bad or wrong or symptomatic).

So rumination allows (at least some) people who are depressed to focus and solve whatever problem it is that is causing their depression. People who are on the spectrum or otherwise neurodiverse use perseveration in much the same way at least some of the time–and sometimes, perhaps, it traps us into a negative thinking pattern which results in depression. Perhaps we are more inclined to perseveration/rumination/what have you being our thinking style overall. While not being able to turn off this compulsive drive can lead to problems, I think it’s certainly true that it can also lead to victories. We likely would not have some of our scientific achievements without people who perseverated the crap out of their topic of choice. On a more personal level, perseveration allows me to work through my thoughts and sort them into a coherent form that I can easily access and share with others. Yes, it can trap me into nonfuctional routines, food choices, or thinking patterns, but it is also rewarding. Perseveration taught me to draw well (I wonder if my parents still have any of the literally hundreds of variations I did of a single girl copied out of a book my dad had), probably had a part in my extreme early literacy, produced some of my best fiction writing. Perseverative thinking produced this blog post.

I don’t think we necessarily need to have an evolutionary explanation for why rumination (and as suggested by the article, depression) happens. Like many traits found within the non-neurotypical portion of neurodiversity, I think a tendency to be ruminative is just a part of the broader human experience. This makes labelling it a problem within the non-NT part of the population pretty obnoxious, though: because it is our primary thinking style rather than an accessory thinking style, we suddenly have problematic thinking. It is important to separate out the thinking style (perseverative) from the problems that can result. My way of thinking isn’t a problem. My choice of topics of what to think about (inasmuch as they are a choice) can be.

I’m not sure how to write a good transition here, so just go with me.

Also common in non-NTs are difficulties with executive function. This is basically the part of your brain that plans, that does a lot of abstract thinking, that allows for flexibility rather than adherence to routine, that helps keep your working memory strong. To varying degrees, most people on the spectrum seem to have some difficulties with executive function. It is also a major problem in depression for a lot of people.

What if perseveration is used to help overcome executive dysfunction?

What actually brought this to mind was an article in Real Simple, a magazine I flipped through at my mom’s house. It reminded me of information I already know, but had forgotten (ha!): there are a couple different theories of what working memory IS out there, but they all seem to agree that to move something from working memory to actual kept knowledge requires effort–repetitions, emotional involvement, word tricks.

Yes, that’s right, working memory often requires repetitive processing of information to transfer that information to long-term memory and become part of a person’s knowledge base. And that, if you are lucky enough to be non-neurotypical, is often called “perseveration.” Or rumination. If people with executive dysfunctions (spectrumites, depressed people, people with OCD, Tourette’s, ADHD, whatever) are also more likely to have ruminative thought processes, and we know that at least a little bit of rumination/perseveration can help assist along working memory (an executive function), then it seems like there should be studies on the effects of perseverative thinking in overcoming executive functioning problems for, well, everyone with executive functioning problems!

I totally see my postdoc right here, guys. Now I need to get into med school.

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Found at Autism Street originally.

I love TEDtalks; they are often enlightening, often entertaining, often interesting. This talk is by Aimee Mullins, on the nature of disability, and is well worth your 22 minutes.

In more personal news, the cat and I are back from Hotlanta and pictures will arrive shortly.

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My ability to quote Kate lyrics for titles remains unfettered and, probably, unimpressive.

I was reading a blog I quite enjoy just now, and gladly read her breakdown of a new study reporting Copy Number Variations (CNVs) in relation to autism.

I love science. That is all. Head on over there to read why this is interesting.

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Like most days at work, I’ve been hanging out on the autism hub reading; like very few days, I’m actually responding to something I read.

So, Sarah talked about self-diagnosis and the hate that seems to come with that word (or similar, like self-identifying or self-labelling). Some of what she said I found really meaningful, like:

I also know several people who have derived great personal benefits from self-identification. (Some have since been professionally diagnosed.) I am talking about people who have spent their entire lives wondering why they were different from other people, why they experienced certain difficulties. I am talking about people who have had all sorts of psychiatric diagnoses which didn’t fit, people who may have been institutionalized and spent years feeling depressed and suicidal. For many of them, self-identifying as autistic has provided significant help, self-esteem, and self-understanding.

Oh, hi, me. Yeah, I identify with that–becoming autistically obsessed with autism has given me some serious insight into how I work; it hasn’t fixed everything and made it sunshine and rainbows, but it’s at least given me a framework for my self-construction that I don’t have to patch up. I understand why I’m anxious, now. I understand why I don’t understand my friends, my family, even Kit, and why I get so frustrated. Parts of my childhood, like blind rages due to social and communicative frustrations that I could not get my head around that left others hurt (emotionally or otherwise), or how I’ve always felt most at home in print, or my lack of stranger-fear as a toddler, or even hyperlexia all fit into a sense of “this may not be normal for everyone, but it’s normal for me and these other people.” Self-identifying as autistic has helped me.

And if you’re thinking “well, those self-diagnosed people should just get a diagnosis,” then I’d point out that things really aren’t that simple for most people. Here are some common reasons why autistic people do not have official diagnoses:

1. Age. The current autism criteria did not come into being until the late 80s/early 90s, and awareness of the autism spectrum has lagged even further behind. The older an autistic person is, the more likely he/she is to be undiagnosed.

2. Money. I’m not as familiar with the countries outside of the U.S., but I do know that there are significant financial barriers to obtaining a professional evaluation and diagnosis. Insurance companies typically do not cover adult autism evaluations–and, of course, not all Americans are lucky enough to even have insurance. A comprehensive autism evaluation can cost as much as $2,000–if not even more. This is a significant expense for most people, let alone autistic people who may be unemployed or underemployed.

I know there are a lot of adults who would love to be evaluated for autism, but can’t for financial reasons. So to anyone who complains about self-diagnosis: Unless you’re willing to pay for every adult who wants an evaluation to receive one, you don’t have much room for criticism.

I’ve been struggling to get a professional diagnosis for about six months, now. I’ve outlined why I’d like it before, and if anyone really cares I could go into how I meet DSM criteria and all that crap. The first psychologist I saw was crap, and while my therapist absolutely agrees with me, she isn’t comfortable giving an “official” diagnosis due to her own training (she’s an LSCW and awesome, but I do understand her hesistation).

Unfortunately, my hope to get that taken care of ASAP is ruined by the part where I’m broke, broke, so broke. While the psychologist with whom I had been emailing has quite reasonable hourly fees, once you start to consider the testing to be done (an IQ test–hinky as they may be, I still feel sort of fond of them?–and at least one major autism inventory), plus an official write up, a reasonable hourly fee suddenly becomes “Fuck! Where am I going to get $700?” With no serious hope of reimbursement from my insurance, it’s unaffordable (see point 2 in the block quote above)–and this is an inexpensive clinician who happens to have an interest in autism, not someone trained specifically in such. I’m left frustrated and will probably ask my therapist to write me an official diagnosis either way, just so I have the paperwork for school for now.

Continuing with quoting a lot of text:

3. Professional ignorance. Professionals keep working to diagnoses autistic people at earlier and earlier ages–because we’re all doomed if we’re not diagnosed by the age of two, you know–but tend to know very little about evaluating adults. Indeed, there aren’t even any specific criteria for evaluating adults–a problem when many autistic adults learn to “pass” as neurotypical to varying degrees. And while consultation with parents or others who knew the autistic adult as a younger child can help provide corroborating evidence for a diagnosis, this isn’t always practical, for a variety of reasons. I know autistic adults–particularly women–who have had difficulties finding qualified professionals to evaluate them even in well-populated areas. How much worse might it be for autistics in sparsely populated areas?

4. Stereotypes. This is particularly an issue for women, but it’s certainly not limited to us. Talk to enough autistic adults and you’ll find tons of stories of professionals telling them they couldn’t be on the spectrum because…

-They’re female
-They can talk
-They have a job or have graduated college
-They are in a long-term relationship
-They have a friend–may sometimes be plural, but sometimes only singular
-They can make (or fake) eye contact
-They aren’t like this other autistic person known to the professional
-They are an adult! If they were really autistic, they would have been diagnosed as a kid.

The last one is particularly high on tautological “logic.”

These two really touch raw nerves for me. I live in a pretty rural area, though I’m within about 2 hours of two moderately sized metro areas (including the state capital) and within 4 for DC. Combine lack of knowledge of how adults–especially bright adults who have learned to fit in or else–present on the spectrum and especially ALL of point 4 (each and every one of those BUTS was used against me by the first psychologist), and I know personally how difficult this shit is.

And yet…

I also partly agree with some of the comments that disagree with her post (mostly because I think they aren’t speaking to the point of the post, which is institutional difficulties with obtaining a diagnosis as an adult). I think it’s disengenuous to ignore the theme of the post, but the comments also do make some valid points. For one, Stephanie Lynn Keil’s comment:

It’s hard for me to take self-diagnosed people seriously because I knew a few who self-diagnosed and when they went to the doctor to get the self-diagnosis confirmed they were told they didn’t have an ASD. So they just decided that they doctors were wrong and they were right.

Sorry, I can’t endorse this.

People don’t self-diagnose diabetes, cancer, schizophrenia, etc. If you self-diagnose yourself with diabetes and then your doctor tell you that you don’t have it you don’t go around telling everyone that your doctor is wrong and really do have it, do you?

At first glance, this seems pretty okay to me–she’s right, self-diagnosing medical issues is called hyperchondria and is not cool. Then I thought about it some more.

First of all, comparing diagnosis of autism (or any psychological abnormality) to diseases is NOT on–even if only for the fact that we can test reliably for things like diabetes or cancer, but we cannot for ASDs or most mental healh issues. This isn’t even to touch on the fact that comparing autism to a disease is insulting for anyone, self-diagnosed or not.

What she appears to assume is that all professionals are the same (ignoring points 3 and 4 of Sarah’s post, essentially). They aren’t. I chose to go to a psychologist who was accepted by my insurance. No other reason. I can’t afford to go outside of insurance (I could barely afford him as he was), so I didn’t have the luxury to choose a doctor with significant knowlege of autism. Additionally, it’s pretty easy to test for diabetes, but diagnosing autism is tricky in the first place and just gets harder the older the diagnosee is. There is no “Yep, you have it!” test like there is with diabetes, and the older someone undergoing evaluation is, the more likely they are to present as “normal”–kids who are more severely affected by their autism are diagnosed much younger, it’s easily visible in the average age of diagnosis gap between “autism” and “Asperger’s syndrome” (around 3 for autism, but 7 or 8 for Asperger’s). I understand and really appreciate that it can be hard to take people seriously, especially after they’ve been dismissed by a doctor, but it seems like a rejection of reality to dismiss them out of hand. Repeated doctors, perhaps? But having been told I was wrong (and given two inappropriate diagnoses that I don’t fit the criteria for–if he had been a good doctor, he’d at least have sent me away with nothing!), I can’t whole-heartedly support the belief that because a doctor said NO, it’s forever or even likely a NO.

I also liked part of the comment by Nightstorm (who makes a joke about Otherkin in the full comment, but seriously seems to be…nevermind):

Self-diagnosis has no social advantage, you can’t get governmental support SSI or any social help. So it becomes more of a personal thing which is fine. I see no problem with self-dxing as a place holder, but my big issue are the little rags who use it as a replacement for an actual diagnosis. No. It isn’t. There is no actual advantage to it. It just ends up being way for some people to fit in which for me is insulting. I didn’t pick this label, because I was lonely and I wanted a group to participate in. And the problem is, when people self-diagnosis and then act like douches, it does make us official diagnosed look bad. I can’t use the term “asperger autist’ or “has asperger syndrome” online because of the douches who abuse their label.

She’s right. There’s no social advantage to a self-diagnosis of Asperger’s…there’s really no advantage at all. It makes your friends think you’re sort of nuts (hi, Dilly!) and can cause rifts with your family. I have a hard time seeing a use for it except as the place-holder he describes, which is where I am now. On the internet, anyone can claim to have anything–anyone who has participated in a largish forum has known people to fake pregnancies, suicidal ideation, marriages, anything, whole lives. There’s no requirement for veracity. So a lot of people (hello, livejournal Asperger’s group) self-diagnosis without any real cause except that they heard it’s for socially awkward people and act like jerks and get the whole group misunderstood.

But…there are all those reasons that someone might not be able to get professionally diagnosed. I think there is an important distinction to be made between those who want an official diagnosis and those who do not (the former says, to me, that it’s not something trendy but real underlying issues, unlike the latter), and even the reasons why someone wants a diagnosis and how willing they are to accept hearing “no, sorry” (exhaustive research and education paired with self-understanding and need for supports is much more worthy than an excuse to be a jerk). I can’t dismiss all people who are self-diagnosed because I don’t know their reasons.

I’m no longer sure where I’m going with this, actually.

Edit: The awesome comments of awesomeness by Julian^Amorpha are totally worth checking out. They are too long to quote from, but involve a thorough dissection of privilege and minority group status that I feel really refutes the complaints Stephanie Lynn Weil and Nightstar both have (and that I partially sympathized with above).

I think my point is that getting a diagnosis is a fucking pain and even I, relatively privileged to be well educated, verbal, with a few friends, and a job, can’t afford it even though I desperately want it and believe it to be appropriate.

In lieu of a conclusion, I give you a kitten:

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