Let’s face it. An argument takes on a life of its own. It is a verbal joust without rules, order, or logic. At their worst, arguments can be about “winning”, putting others down, and getting revenge. At their best, negative emotion fuels negative emotion as the initial trigger for the argument is shoved aside by anger, frustration, and impatience.

What happens when you replace the word argument with debate? The emotionality of the interaction is completely drained and replaced with rules and structure. A podium allows for uninterrupted speech. A topic is provided beforehand, affording each side time to construct their thoughts into cogent arguments and counterarguments. Emotion is for emphasis but is not necessarily effective or desired.

Let’s take a mom and an Aspie. Our Aspie has failed to brush her teeth after four reminders because the latest installment of Pokemon is far more interesting. Our mom has a long day ahead of her and little sleep and just needs our Aspie to brush her teeth, so they can leave for school.

Brush your teeth.

BRUSH your teeth.

BRUSH YOUR teeth.

BRUSH YOUR TEETH.

When this shift occurs, from problem-solving, from logical, practical thinking, to emotionally laden speech, we lose our Aspie. We bombard her/him with tone of voice, facial expressions, postures, emotive language, and gestures that simply

Shut

An

Aspie

Down.

Brushing anything is farthest from our Aspie’s mind as she tries to make sense of the emotion. Her mind whizzes, she panics, and she has no idea what to do. As she tries to make sense of the emotion, her mom continues to expect that task to be completed. A full-on argument ensues, and our Aspie’s ability to problem-solve, to think rationally – a typical cognitive strength for Aspies – is replaced with a Flight or Flight reaction (depending on the day).

When the dust settles, and the teeth are brushed, our Aspie cannot be left to pick up the pieces, attempting to understand both the problem and the emotion. We need to have a conversation with her, asking her: How can we avoid this next time? How can I communicate better?

Parenting an Aspie is a cerebral task, a constant one at that. By no means am I saying you can parent a neurotypical child easily or mindlessly but they can make sense and learn from your emotions. Your Aspie cannot. You will parent an NT with your gut and an Aspie with your brain. Your Aspie needs you calm, logical, and with your emotions in check.

Asperger’s Disorder, a lovable, socially awkward and at times misunderstood part of the autism spectrum, died in May 2013 due to complications related to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition. Asperger’s endured a prolonged battle with ivory-tower hypocrisy and finally succumbed to the paranoid fears of misdiagnosis-motivated endemics and the resultant raging cost of medical expenses. Asperger’s Disorder, known by aliases Asperger Syndrome or Asperger’s, was 19.

Asperger’s Disorder was surrounded by his family, including his brother, Autistic Disorder. 

A beloved icon to some and a controversial figure to others, Asperger’s had deep roots in the most powerful, creative and brilliant minds of our society. With spots in many popular television shows, Asperger’s became the official poster-child for the autism spectrum family.

From 1994 to 2013, Asperger’s was alleged to be responsible for spearheading a dramatic increase in autism spectrum disorders. While naysayers argued that Asperger’s was PC for “freak” or a bail-out for the “weirdo quirky” ones, Aspies clung to their diagnosis with pride and conviction.

Asperger’s is survived by Autistic Disorder, Autism Spectrum Disorder, Sensory Integration Disorder, Childhood Disintegrative Disorder, and Temper Dysregulation Disorder. Asperger’s had recently celebrated graduation from high school and was pursuing courses at the local community college while living at home. Although he aspired to attend the local major university, he knew had many adaptive skills to gain, including juggling a part-time job and maintaining his personal hygiene.

Memorials will be held at upcoming Star Wars conventions, technology summits, E3, LegoLand, Comic Con, LARP gatherings at local colleges, and Magic, YuGiOh, and Pokemon gaming rooms in coffee shops.

I have fallen off the face of the blogging Earth for the last I don’t even know how long. I’ve had messages about my health and vitality, as though my silence has suggested that I have disconnected from breathing or working with individuals with ASD. Far from the truth. From the past six months I have been too busy to write anything beyond immediate, work-related items. That’s a nice way of saying I’ve been tired, and, if you’ve read my blog with any regularity, you know that I like to write when passionate, which is usually not when tired.

Over the past three months, I have had a recurring question, theme, concern presented to me: The changes in the DSM-IV-TR that will remove the diagnosis of Asperger’s Disorder in favor of a broader term, yet more diagnostically restrictive diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder. I have written on this topic long, long, long ago. So, why do I return to this topic? Well, to be honest, because about 75% of my clients have Asperger’s Disorder. And, this question KEEPS PLAGUING ME: What does this mean for my child?

I hate my answer.

I don’t know.

Sure, I could hypothesize.

But, will IDEA catch up? I don’t know. I doubt it. It was “just” reauthorized in 2006. In cyberworld, that’s centuries ago. In the legal world, that’s yesterday. For parents with kids with ASD, it’s forever.

Will insurance companies finally do something? Sometime before I die, perhaps. Might be quicker than the reauthorization of IDEA. Maybe someone should take me out. Just trying to expedite things.

If the hope is to stem the tide of increasing diagnostic numbers, not sure it will work. If the hope is to further complicate and bifurcate the ASD community, its focus, treatment, understanding, clarity, awareness, acceptance…. oh, I’m sorry, I have a point…. then, MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

Yes, the criteria need revamping. We just “borrowed” from Autistic Disorder to explain Asperger’s. Not the smartest idea, but the diagnoses did get rolling.

But, we fought for Asperger’s and now we are going to kill it after 18 years? I’ve had pants, pets, and pairs of scissors longer than that. And, why are we killing it? It’s imperfect, but Hans Asperger had identified something different than Autistic Disorder. Autism is NOT Asperger’s. Yes, they are on the same spectrum, but they are not the same.

If you want my opinion, and I know you don’t, we would replace PDD-NOS with autism spectrum disorder, keep and revamp Asperger’s Disorder, and refine Autistic Disorder.

The APA didn’t ask me. though. Or any of my parents or clients about the loss of Asperger’s. It’s like ripping a bandaid off scraping the surface with sandpaper.

You know how your iPhone has an auto-correct button, and sometimes it works and sometimes it fails miserably? (Mind you, I don’t really know this. I have a very unsophisticated mobile.) Well, oddly, that is exactly the experience of an Aspie.  Aspies notice many things an NTs brain seamlessly autocorrects, without ever reaching a level of consciousness or concern. But, they don’t just notice, they are impacted by these seemingly smaller differences that, in their mind, appears zeppelin-like. Take Cody, for instance, it’s not uncommon for him to start 99.9% of his sentences with, “Well, actually….” or “You mean….” or “That’s wrong….” or some other permutation of “You” + “Incorrect” + Grammar/Fact/Punctuation. These are the good moments, really, because there are times when he is stuck in thought, unable to think, act, move due to the processing of some inconsistency in his brain. Cody and I have spent countless hours developing ways for him to: 1. Not make these comments, or 2. Offer these comments more appropriately. We have spent more time, though, discussing impact — why these comments negatively impact his conversational partner despite his intentions to be helpful. Helpful. It is not uncommon for Cody to offer, “I wouldn’t want them to think that. If they did, they could get it wrong on the test. Or, they could share it with someone else who could believe them.” Auto-corrections to divert catastrophic outcomes.

There is an automatic response, a guttural reaction to his corrections — a sense of rudeness at best, egocentricism and narcissism at worst but more typically. Really, these are all synonyms for the omnipresent deficit of perspective-taking, the ability to understand the ways in which our thoughts and actions impact the thoughts and feelings of others. So, there is it, right — remedy the perspective-taking, build the alternative skills, watch the correcting reduce, and the misunderstandings fade away. If you read my blog with any regularity, you have a hunch I dislike and distrust this conclusion.

If we really understand and respect the rationale for the hyper-correctness — beyond the literalism, the rule-following — we see that there is an on-going search for meaning. Inconsistencies alter the very fabric of what a situation, statement, interaction mean. NTs look for inconsistencies to place a judgment, to push that inconsistency back into the hole where it belongs, to belittle it, to ostracize it, to make it change. (Mind you, not every NT is as pejorative as this portrayal.) Aspies are different. They look for differences to learn, to assimilate, to expand their understanding of a situation. There is an inherent irony that they often utter their sightings, usually for further clarification, only to turn the focus on them. NTs quietly stare, ruminate, and escape the label of impropriety. But our thoughts, our reasons for spotting the differences we see are far less altruistic than the Aspie who seeks not to judge, but to learn.

The “disease” that some parents don’t want their kids to “catch”

Ass-burgers, Asp-burgers, AUH-spbergers

A crutch, an excuse, an “out”

Cure-able, reproachable, defamatory

The “geek syndrome”

Something to be taken lightly

Just diagnosed in males

A social disorder

Your uncle who didn’t hold a job, was a recluse, and collected toy helicopters

A diagnosis for everyone who is socially awkward

In need of change, eradication, alteration, or fixing

So unrecognizable that we are incapable of seeing ourselves

Think about a bookstore. There are hundreds of sections and sub-sections. Photography. Test prep. History. Crosswords. Literature. Children’s literature. Black history. Civil war. Nature. Cooking. Dieting. Self-help. What section do you frequent? I recently began exploring to the photography section, as I have purchased a DSLR and am learning the craft slowly but surely. I noticed the section before, but I never picked up a book, flipped through its pages, or considered learning. Was I interested? Maybe from a pure state of curiosity. Did I need to look in that section? Nope. Didn’t own a camera. What’s more, it’s a complicated endeavor. As a matter of fact, everything is a complicated endeavor with pages and pages of information read on topics both large and small. ASD is no different — a huge topic, with millions of voices, and a lot to learn. So, what tips the scales in the direction of wanting to know more?

Quite frankly I believe it is need. A teacher has a student with AS placed in her classroom. A camp counselor has a camper with autism in his camp group. A parent has a child diagnosed with ASD. Suddenly, this unknown entity becomes pertinent enough to warrant, even necessitate exploration and fact-gathering. Recently, I was asked to serve as an expert witness for a case in which an adult with AS was hit by a train. The lawyer said it best: “I’d heard of it but never thought much about it until now.” So, how do we make ASD not just visible with a puzzle piece but visible with a significant impact that warrants explanation?

I know, and Tony Attwood has documented, that individuals with AS tend to use graphic language. Blood, guts, boogers, vomit. I think it relates to their visual strengths, as these words intensify their (and the listener’s) ability to imagine what is happening. NTs use these words for effect, for emphasis, for attention, purposes that are variations on the theme of storytelling.

Aspies use these words initially as echolalia. A video game, a movie, a peer, a parent, a sibling utters “I’m gonna kill you if you…” and the phrase resonates, perhaps with a special interest (i.e. video games, Civil War, combat, guns, the human body), perhaps because of how the words themselves sound, and perhaps due to its efficiency at producing a response. “I’m gonna kill you” immediately can mean so much — “whoa! back off” or “he means business, I better take him seriously” or “this could be dangerous”.

After the initial repetition comes the trial period. We’ve moved past novelty into the world of “Man, this really works.” The complicating factor is not knowing why it works, only seeing the end result. If someone is bullying you relentlessly and suddenly rolling around on the floor while mooing like a cow is an effective strategy, you’re likely not going to stop to analyze the rationale for its effectiveness. Well, not initially, and — what’s more — you have the power to process all of the core elements of a situation (social, nonsocial stimuli) that enable your social and environmental understanding. Our Aspies are not always so endowed. We roll and moo, they turn a phrase, it’s all the same: Mission accomplished. But, we all know it’s not that simple. The fallout indicates that the weight of the words is more than Aspies could ever fathom.

Case in point. I received a call yesterday from a local school with some of my favorite staff in the area. As the story goes, my client was unhappy with the topic of conversation in history class and used a piece of wire he found on the ground to make a pretend gun to pretend shoot at his classmate. He tells it very similarly. So, we have the same basic plot with the same basic ending, but the nuances and the subtle themes that provide the meaning to our story are far less developed. When I asked him “why” this mattered so much, his response was, “It’s mean.” Well, yes. Putting a gun to someone’s head is a mean gesture, but why? “Because I might kill her? But I wouldn’t. I won’t. I’d never.” Interestingly, another group member (who has struggled with this issue himself) said, “But they don’t know that. Our conditions make us vulnerable.”

We could say case closed on this page — the boys recognize that their words carry meaning due to the fear of a threat, due to the possibility of follow through, due to what another group member cynically called “paranoia”. The boys recognize the unfortunate life lesson that Asperger’s, and other “conditions”, bring stigma, judgment, and suspicion. But, I wouldn’t be satisfied with that rendition. It would be like Twilight without Full Moon, Harry Potter without the Deathly Hallows, War without the Peace. It’s not as though they emerge from the womb toting guns, talking like sailors, and ready to take no prisoners. On the contrary, these boys cringe when another says “pissed” or “crap”. These boys apologize for hurting a bug, for breaking a Lego creation, for saying something mean to their parents. They have deeply embedded rules about right and wrong. So, how does a make-shift gun and a threatening phrase sneak past their judgment?

I’m convinced that the answer lies more within the NT world than the ASD world and things get lost in translation. I’ve been asked to verify, “He won’t kill anyone right?” In essence, he says it without intent, right? Talk about a loaded weapon…I mean, question.

At dinner last night, I sat with an old friend and a new acquaintance. I listened to how we described things. “It kills me to think….” “If that doesn’t happen, I’ll have to….” “Shut up!” So, what’s the difference? I think, for now, two things (and I’m sure there are more). The first relates to delivery. We were laughing, joking, sharing, and confiding. Their was no anger, no fear, no suspicion, no concern. We sat in a large restaurant saying these things — just like most middle schools sit in a large cafeteria and say these things — without so much as raising a flag. No one gave us a side-long glance, no one called the manager, no one escorted us out. So, it could lead one to think that if you are joking and happy, these comments become okay. That was my initial thought, and I don’t entirely think it untrue but I think it’s not that simple.

The more important component is one of relationship. A relationship brings history, personal understanding, shared knowledge, and shared experiences. When I hear my friend say, “I’ll kill you if you tell her…” I know that she is not going to pick up her steak knife to stab me, push me down the stairs as we walk about of the restaurant, or try to commit vehicular homicide. As such, I laugh. She laughs. And, the new acquaintance begins to learn, to build a catalogue of how we interact. This catalogue acts as a reference guide letting her know what it “okay” and “not okay” — at their most basic levels. My friend and I have already created this catalogue but we add a new chapter and a new index entry with the new acquaintance. The relationship expands. It does not diminish due to our language. In fact, the language helps it grow.

So, why does this paradoxically simple and complex process fail to happen with Aspies? That is a loaded question that I should erase and revise so as to avoid easy, obvious, needed backlash. Interestingly, though, I would wager most NTs believe that relationships do, in fact, fail for those with ASD. I know better. I’ve seen better. I’ve seen these very boys joke with each other about “killing” and “shutting up” and “bombing” without so much as a blink of an eye, raised blood pressure, red alert. From them or from me. We have that shared history together in which we feel safe, free, and comfortable. Maybe the better question is why does it sometimes succeed, sometimes fail? Maybe it’s an Aspie-NT phenomenon, not an Aspie-Aspie/NT-NT issue. I’d like to think that the chasm between us isn’t so wide, so desolate. As a matter of fact, I know it’s not.

I go ’round and ’round with this issue. Trying to help them push past their impulsivity to utilize a more appropriate phrase, while all the while they hear the echoes of this language in the hallways, the classrooms, the locker rooms, and the lunchrooms. It seems to be simply words with friends…until spoken by an Aspie.

Case in point, I had internet installed in my new home yesterday. The gentleman, in making friendly conversation, asked me what I do for a living. Always a fun subject, I shared with him the basic premise of my job — I work with individuals with ASD. The usual, cookie-cutter response did not occur (“Oh, that’s wonderful” or “You must be patient” or “That’s so rewarding”). Instead, he said with honesty: “I just don’t get autism. What is it?”

I have had this question posed to me millions of times (and likely millions more), but yesterday it took the breath from my lungs for some reason. The immensity and gravity of the question and the import of the answer weighed on my shoulders. What did I want this man to know about individuals with ASD when he walked out of my house? What did I want him to remember? I sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. What words could I use? What perception did I want him to leave with? He must have been confused by my silence because he asked, “Well, don’t they just fly off the handle?”

There was my starting point. I wanted to know WHERE that starting point originated. Who gave him that information? Had he read it? Had someone told him? Did he know someone with ASD who is prone to rages or meltdowns? These were all past the scope of my brief window of opportunity. The time that I was afforded was equivalent to cooking — perhaps overcooking — a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

Set the timer folks, I am placing the bag in the microwave.

I shared about the social impact of ASD and how ASD can appear to be “invisible” in some ways, which brings upon scrutiny and judgment when/if they behave “differently” from the “norm”. I pontificated about strengths and about how their differences are both challenges and true blessings for our society.

The popcorn is popping fast, and I have to grab the bag before it burns. Man that three minutes went fast.

As we walked out, he said, “You know, we all have social struggles in one way, shape, or form. My dad wanted me to play sports. I’m just not that guy. I have other talents. It sounds like your clients do, too.” Yes, internet guy, they most certainly do.

What would you share in three minutes?

“Dear Parent,

Today Joe and his parents talked about Asperger’s Syndrome (AS), an autism spectrum disorder. We want to provide you some information about AS, which is often called an “invisible disorder” because the individual looks like everyone else. He’s often intelligent and witty, but he thinks, acts, and speaks very differently. Although no two people with AS are alike, we want to point out some specific traits.

Rule-Governed: Kids with AS are literal and thrive on rules. Structure and routine make learning easier. When rules aren’t followed, something seems “wrong”, like a speeding car in a school zone. It just needs to be “fixed,” something kids with AS do without thinking. They transform into a bossy police officer, telling kids (and even adults) what to do and what not to do.

Order and Routine: Hitting, slapping, and yelling are some of the behaviors individuals with AS impulsively use to restore order in a situation. Typically violence is not intended. The individual feels anxious or frustrated and cannot always verbalize his emotions, so he attempts to return the situation to routine as soon as possible.

Sensitive: Smells, noises, and touches can trigger a “fight or flight” response. Accidental contact, like a bump, can “feel” like a hit to Joe because he does not read someone’s intent. At the same time, kids with AS struggle to modulate their own volume and control their bodies. They yell at others who are shouting, and they shove or run away from those who are too close.  If this confuses you, just imagine how confusing this is for Joe.

“Mindblind”: We take for granted how easily we can “step” into another’s shoes when needed. Individuals with AS innately lack the ability to take the perspective of another, inadvertently making them appear rude, selfish, or less intelligent. Kids with AS have to be taught not only how but when to think about others.

“Faceblind”: It is well-known that nonverbal communication is as important, if not more so, than what we say. Individuals with AS do not innately read facial expressions, tone of voice, gestures and body posture. You can just say your son or daughter’s name with a particular tone or you can “give them a look”, and they immediately “know” what you mean. Because Joe’s brain misses this information, he misses more than just what someone is saying to him, he also misses why.

Book Smart: Individuals with AS often lack common sense. This plays out most distinctly with their ability to socialize. They want friends but have no idea how to do so. Without direct instruction and countless opportunities to practice, appropriate behavior and socialization can be very challenging. They are prone to relentless bullying.

Your child has likely come home with observations about Joe that fall into one of these categories. Your initial inclination might be to tell your child to avoid or ignore Joe, after all you don’t want your son or daughter hurt. This is perfectly understandable but, unfortunately, will only exacerbate Joe’s struggles to learn how to interact. Joe is diligently working at school and at home on how to behave more appropriately. To help Joe, we ask that if your child comes home with a complaint, you respond in this manner: “Just like ________ is tough for you, ___________ is tough for Joe.” We ask you to reinforce that idea that everyone has struggles, and, unfortunately, Joe’s struggles are easier for your son or daughter.

If you would like to read more about AS, we recommend the following websites:

Autism Society of America: www.autism-society.org

ASPEN: www.aspennj.org

OASIS: www.aspergersyndrome.org“

Courtesy of: newgre.org

Know what  you get when you try to fit a square peg in a round hole? James Durbin. Or any person with Asperger’s really. I could lecture, ahem, inform you on all of the ways Aspies just don’t quite squeeze into that hole, no matter how we position and rotate and twist and turn. Mind you, that assumes our hole represents neurotypicality (and, not to mention, that the pegs want to be shoved into the holes, which they don’t). But, poor James, he doesn’t even get that. He gets people, this blogger included (Fact or Fiction: James Durbin and AS?), questioning his square peg status. He has people telling him, “No, James, you are not a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. You are a round peg trying to fit into a square hole.”

All of this because he disclosed. He pronounced a rather unfortunate word with an attempt at a sophisticated interpretation — one that’s not all that uncommon, mind you. And, then, he acted too “normal”, other than that squinting. Too much eye contact, and coordination, and appropriate facial expressions.

All of this because he preempted possible comments about his mannerisms by giving us an explanation that should have lead us to say, “Ohhhhh, now I get it” or “Good for you, James” or “What a positive example for us to point to”. But, we have to find some way to judge, right? After all, isn’t that the point of the show he is on? If James hadn’t told us, we’d wonder why he was “weird” or “squinty”. If James tells us, we doubt his authenticity, his purpose. Joseph Heller might be tempted to rename his book, James.

This Catch-22 was echoed in my office today with two male clients who have very different views on disclosure. One sees no shame. In his words, “I look normal until I talk or write. Like when I write a check and it takes forever, and others start to wonder, ‘What’s up with this guy?’” The other struggles to admit the diagnosis even to long-time friends. “It will change their view of me. I can’t control that.” James is at the crosshairs of both problems. He’s looked normal, until he hasn’t. He’s disclosed and lost control.

So what’s a square-ish round peg to do in a static world? To start, I suppose, win American Idol.