Stimming is not just a coping mechanism

I see this defense of stimming a lot:

  • It’s wrong to train autistic people not to stim
  • They use it to compensate for overload
  • Or to focus
  • Or to compensate for other problems
  • Or to express distress

All of this is true. But it also misses the point. Stimming isn’t just a coping mechanism. It’s much more than that. Stimming is a positive part of autistic experience, not an unfortunate-but-functionally-important thing we have to do.

Imagine if facial expressions and tones of voice were considered wrong, and someone defended them this way:

  • It is wrong to teach children to adopt a flat affect
  • Children need to be able to frown
  • Children need to be able to indicate through the tone of their voice that something is wrong
  • Children need to be able to cry. That’s a way of coping with pain and overload

All of those things are true. But if that’s all defenders of tone and facial expression said, it would be horribly misleading. Body language and tones are more than that, and they are good.

Stimming is like that too.

  • Stimming is not just necessary. It is also natural, and good
  • Flapping in response to a nice texture is not fundamentally different from smiling in response to the smell of a flower
  • Rocking in response to someone saying something offensive is not fundamentally different from frowning in response to a slur
  • It is ok for autistic people to have autistic body language

Speaking up is hard

In just about every group conflict I’ve witnessed or participated in, I’ve seen some version of this happen:

  • Some people will speak up about something
  • There will be a conversation that gets heated
  • Someone else will be very uncomfortable with the fact that conflict is happening (despite somewhat sympathizing with the people who are speaking up)
  • And they will say something like, “Wow, I don’t like this tone. Can we all try to respect each other a bit more?”

And I think part of this is that people who aren’t speaking up really often have no idea how hard it is. It looks much easier than it is.

It’s hard, and it’s scary, to say something that you know will result in conflict. It’s hard to phrase things well, it’s hard and sometimes impossible to stand your ground in a way that makes everyone feel respected. Especially if you don’t have a lot of practice.

It’s possible that people who are speaking up really are being inappropriately or counterproductively disrespectful. That is a real thing that actually happens. But it’s also possible that people are doing the best they can, because speaking up is really hard and there’s often no way to do it which won’t be at least somewhat painful or awkward.

If you’re not in the habit of speaking up about anything other than the tone used by others when they speak up, it’s entirely possible that tone isn’t the real problem. It’s possible that the problem is that you haven’t learned through experience how hard it is to speak up, and how complicated of a skill it is to learn.

That is not always the problem, but it’s usually a possibility worth considering in that kind of situation.

Telling your story without being a self-narrating zoo exhibit

When you are an unusual person, especially if you are disabled, people will often tell you that they “want to hear your story”.
Often, it’s not really your story that they want to hear. Often they have a story in mind that they want, and they want it to come out of your mouth in order to validate their theories about people like you.
Often, what they really want is for you to be a self-narrating zoo exhibit, and satisfy their curiosity without inserting your opinions or having boundaries.
Maybe they want to hear from institution residents who don’t want to leave, so they can decide that institutions really are the best place for people with disabilities. Maybe they want to hear a story that allows them to feel pity for you and bask in their lack of disability. Or any number of other things.
These are ways people use their versions of our stories to take away our power; we can use our real stories to get our power back.
Telling your story doesn’t have to mean telling creepy people what they want to hear. It can mean telling the truth, even when others want to lie.
Telling your story can mean bearing witness. It can mean saying “No, it doesn’t work that way. I was there. I saw.” It can mean saying “I’ve seen people do these things that you say we can never do.” Or “I’ve been there. It was wrong. And it’s also wrong when people do it to you.”
It can mean saying: “I remember watching someone die because others decided to withhold medical treatment, food, and water. I wish I’d been able to save him.”
Or: “Don’t think that my life is pitiable or inspiring. I do meaningful things. We all do. And do you know how amazing it is when the light hits a rock just the right way?”
We don’t have to tell the stories they want us to tell. We can tell the truth. And there is power in the truth, and there is power in the truth backed up by stories about things you have witnessed or been part of personally.
It takes practice to learn to tell the truth in the face of pressure to be an inspiring self-narrating zoo exhibit. It can be terrifying. It can also be very, very hard to resist prompts to say the things other people clearly want you to say.
It takes practice, and in practicing you will probably not entirely succeed right away. Even with practice, you might still inadvertently tell the story others want you to tell rather than the story you believe some of the time. That’s ok. None of us are perfect, and it gets easier over time.
Short version: Sometimes when people say “tell us your story”, what they really mean is “tell us what we want to hear.” But telling your real story can be a powerful way to tell the truth.

“Don’t let people get to you”

I don’t know about you, but I’ve experienced this a lot:

  • I’ll talk about someone being mean or bigoted towards me.
  • And someone will say something like “Don’t let them get to you”, or
  • “Don’t ever let people get under your skin like that, they’re not worth it”

And in my experience, that always makes me feel worse. This is what I eventually figured out about it:

Things hurt.

It’s not your fault that it hurts when people are awful to you.

It’s not your fault you care what people think of you sometimes. (Everyone does.)

Having connections to others matters. And when people we’re connected to are mean, it hurts.

Self esteem talk can end up being yet another stick to beat you with, and that’s not right either.

Being hurt by mean people doesn’t mean you’re failing. It’s not possible to be completely invulnerable at all times. When someone’s shooting arrows at you, it’s not your fault for failing to make armor fast enough to stop them.

You’re ok. They’re mean.

“You’re not willing to accept criticism!”

Accepting criticism is important. Everyone’s wrong about something, and it’s important to be open to the possibility that you’re wrong about things. If you’re never persuaded by something someone says that you need to change your actions in some way, something is going seriously wrong.

But sometimes, when people say that you’re not open to criticism, what they really mean is that they’re angry because you don’t agree with them. Or that you’re refusing to change in a way that you want them to change. And sometimes, you will be entirely correct to disagree with them and to refuse to change.

For example:

  • “You’re a terrible writer and should not ever write anything ever again” is not criticism you should listen to
  • “If you’d just try a gluten free organic diet, you’d be cured” is not worthwhile criticism
  • “No one is ableist, you’re just imagining it because you want to feel special” is not worthwhile criticism

And there’s any number of other examples, many of which are far more complex and subjective. Everyone gets criticized in ways that it’s completely ok to reject.

And sometimes, it’s ok not to want criticism, even if there’s nothing inherently wrong with the criticism, eg:

  • It’s ok to make art without wanting to go through an art school style critique
  • It’s ok to write a story, post it somewhere, and decide not to read the comments about it
  • It’s ok not to want to discuss the problematic aspects of a show you like
  • It’s ok to not want your father’s input on who you should date

It’s possible to be insufficiently open to criticism, but that doesn’t mean everyone who accuses you of that is right. No one is, or should be, open to all forms of criticism from all people.

Sometimes people who criticize you are wrong. Sometimes they’re so wrong that they’re not worth listening to. Particularly when they’re saying the same thing over and over that you’ve long since considered and rejected.

It’s important to be open to criticism some of the time from some people. It’s also important to be selective about who and what you listen to, and when. You do not owe everyone who thinks that you are wrong your unconditional attention.

People might not understand your body language

Body language that comes naturally to some autistic people can be completely invisible to most neurotypical people.

For example, many autistic people respond to questions by nodding their head very slightly. It can feel like a bigger movement than it actually is, and sometimes people don’t notice it. If you’re nodding and people are ignoring you, it might just be that they don’t understand your body language.

Similarly, neurotypical people don’t usually understand the range of things that flapping and various forms of stimming can mean. They tend to read it as distress or as annoying behavior. They don’t usually understand it as body language. Since they lack the skill to understand body language correctly, it can be worth telling them things explicitly.

For instance, if someone doesn’t understand the kind of flapping that means hello, it might be worth saying hello with your voice when you want to greet them.

Sometimes neurotypical people intentionally ignore autistic body language, but sometimes they just don’t understand it.

The basic problem with social skills education

Human interaction is really, really complicated.

No one understands it all the way.

Almost every rule has major exceptions. Anything stated in a clear way is going to be oversimplified in some way.

There aren’t rules so much as cultures and traditions that everyone finds their own way to work with.

The most anyone can really say most of the time is “this is sort of how it works a lot of the time” or, “this is probably going to be the case for almost everyone, if not absolutely everyone”. It’s hard to be honest about that, especially when you’re talking about an extremely important area of interaction like physical boundaries.

In addition, people will tell you all kinds of things they wish were true. One example is how people will teach kids “tell an adult” even in situations in which adults are unlikely to care about bullying. Or “tell them it hurts your feelings” because they want that to work.

Writing this blog, I understand more and more why people do things like that. It’s hard not to. But, it’s important. Everything is more complicated than I’m describing; even when I’m mostly right. (And sometimes I’m not.)

I’m saying things that I think are true, as well as I can describe them. But, don’t just believe me. And, particularly, if you think it’s more complicated than I think it is, don’t assume that I’m right and you’re wrong.

Short version: Social skills are skills, and they’re complicated and to a large extent different for everyone. All descriptions, and especially all rules, are approximations are best.

Inclusion and accessibility don’t go without saying

People don’t know that you will meet their access needs unless you tell them you will. Many people won’t, and people with disabilities can’t read your mind to figure out your intentions.

It goes a long way towards easing stress for everyone if you talk about access explicitly, rather than assuming it goes without saying that you will do the right thing.

For instance, if your store sign says “no dogs allowed” it should also say something like “except service dogs” (don’t say guide dogs specifically, because there are a lot of reasons other than blindness that some people have service animals)

  • This sends the message that you know service dogs exist
  • And that you’re not going to kick them out of the store for having a service dog
  • This does not go without saying; people with service dogs get illegally kicked out of stores all the time

Similarly, if you ban laptops/electronics, it’s important to say “except when they are needed by students with disabilities.” (and not to demand proof of diagnosis).

If you’re organizing a retreat and there is a rule against outside food, it’s important to either make an exception for people with dietary needs, or else work with people to provide them food they can eat. And to make it explicit that you will do this, because it very much does not go without saying.

If you’re advertising an event and it’s in an accessible venue (which it should be), put that information on the fliers (and make sure it’s true). That doesn’t go without saying. Many organizations whose values suggest that they should care about accessibility routinely hold events in completely inaccessible venues. No one will know that you’re doing it the right way unless you tell them.

There are any number of other examples.

Short version: Keep in mind that people with disabilities can’t read your mind, and make it explicit that you will meet access needs, especially if your statements or rules suggest that you won’t.

Sometimes things suck

Sometimes things suck.

Looking on the bright side doesn’t always help. Positive thinking doesn’t always help. Gratitude and mindfulness don’t always help. Those things help in some situations, but they’re not a universal cure that will fix everything.

Noticing that things suck isn’t what makes them suck, and pretending that things are ok will not make them better. 

Sometimes people act like it’s your fault for noticing, like if you’d just have a positive attitude, nothing would be bad. But it doesn’t work that way. Taking a positive attitude only fixes things when your attitude is the problem. Sometimes it isn’t.

Sometimes things really are that bad, and it’s ok to acknowledge that they are that bad. When things are actually bad externally, being realistic about what’s going on can make things a lot easier to manage. 

(Even if, right now, you can’t see any way to make them better.)

“Well, he throws chairs at people!”

 
 
Thing about “last resort”- people will often make brutal things to do look connected to things they are not connected to. “You pinned him to the floor?” “Well, he throws chairs at people!” failing to mention that the pinning to the floor was actually because he threw a pencil. Even if it is factually true that the kid sometimes throws chairs at people.
 
realsocialskills said: 
 
Yes, absolutely.
 
Another thing that can happen is that someone will be described as “he throws chairs at people!” even if he did that one time five years ago.
 
Or if another teacher *told* them that he threw chairs at people, and they don’t ask for details. And maybe what actually happened is that he picked up a chair one time, and they decided that meant he was going to throw it. Or he habitually throws chairs, but never actually at people.