Autism Journey Quotes

Life-transforming ideas have always come to me through books.” - Bell Hooks

People with autism lack theory of mind but not empathy, while people with psychopathy lack empathy but not theory of mind. Without empathy you can still have sympathy, though—the ability to retrieve emotional memories, including those that can predict what painful event is probably about to befall another person, and the will to help that person.

People want so desperately to fit in that they forget what makes them stand out. Be loud. Take up space. Our differences are our strengths.

My journey will hopefully help others. Laughter is the best medicine. Be strong.

Life, they say, is about the journey, not the destination. Well, whoever they are, they are very clearly neurotypical. For spectrum minds, too much choice will halt you in your steps. Waypoints and destinations are the only indications of trajectory.

Animals Make Us Human: Creating the Best Life for Animals (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2009) and Animals in Translation: Using the Mysteries of Autism to Decode Animal Behavior (Mariner Books, 2006).

learning in adulthood that you have been secretly nursing a disability all your life is quite the world-shattering experience. Adjusting your self-concept is a long process. It can involve mourning, rage, embarrassment, and dozens upon dozens of “wait, that was an Autism thing?” revelations. Though many of us come to see Autistic identity as a net positive in our lives, accepting our limitations is an equally important part of the journey. The clearer we are with ourselves about where we excel and where we need help, the more likely we are to eke out an existence that’s richly interdependent, sustainable, and meaningful.

I'm always going to have struggles, but with hard work, determination, and the support of others (as well as faith), instead of having a life I have no control over, I can have the life I've always dreamed of!" -David Petrovic

Do you find yourself unable to focus in social situations because your mind is distracted by the minutia of these interactions?” he begins. ​I’m too busy thinking about the way someone’s bone structure works when saying these words to actually respond to them, but my therapist takes that as a yes.

Much later I would see this kind of behavior with gorillas in captivity. They had nervous tics similar, if not identical, to mine: hair plucking, picking at scabs, scratching, rocking, chewing on themselves, and other repetitive and self-stimulating behaviors. One gorilla spun in tight, fast circles. Another bobbed her head up and down.

I hope that this book will be my way of helping to clear the fog of mystery surrounding autism. And in passing on my personal story I hope to include with it the best and most valuable of what I have learned along the way both as a mother and in my two decades working as a paediatrician. I also hope it will encourage healthcare professionals to be advocates for families who patiently and willingly endure battles every day for the sake of their children. My book describes a wide range of resources and therapies that can help families of children with special needs and autism

Although there are no set methods to test for psychiatric disorders like psychopathy, we can determine some facets of a patient’s mental state by studying his brain with imaging techniques like PET (positron emission tomography) and fMRI (functional magnetic resonance imaging) scanning, as well as genetics, behavioral and psychometric testing, and other pieces of information gathered from a full medical and psychiatric workup. Taken together, these tests can reveal symptoms that might indicate a psychiatric disorder. Since psychiatric disorders are often characterized by more than one symptom, a patient will be diagnosed based on the number and severity of various symptoms. For most disorders, a diagnosis is also classified on a sliding scale—more often called a spectrum—that indicates whether the patient’s case is mild, moderate, or severe. The most common spectrum associated with such disorders is the autism spectrum. At the low end are delayed language learning and narrow interests, and at the high end are strongly repetitive behaviors and an inability to communicate.

MY PROCESS I got bullied quite a bit as a kid, so I learned how to take a punch and how to put up a good fight. God used that. I am not afraid of spiritual “violence” or of facing spiritual fights. My Dad was drafted during Vietnam and I grew up an Army brat, moving around frequently. God used that. I am very spiritually mobile, adaptable, and flexible. My parents used to hand me a Bible and make me go look up what I did wrong. God used that, as well. I knew the Word before I knew the Lord, so studying Scripture is not intimidating to me. I was admitted into a learning enrichment program in junior high. They taught me critical thinking skills, logic, and Greek Mythology. God used that, too. In seventh grade I was in school band and choir. God used that. At 14, before I even got saved, a youth pastor at my parents’ church taught me to play guitar. God used that. My best buddies in school were a druggie, a Jewish kid, and an Irish soccer player. God used that. I broke my back my senior year and had to take theatre instead of wrestling. God used that. I used to sleep on the couch outside of the Dean’s office between classes. God used that. My parents sent me to a Christian college for a semester in hopes of getting me saved. God used that. I majored in art, advertising, astronomy, pre-med, and finally English. God used all of that. I made a woman I loved get an abortion. God used (and redeemed) that. I got my teaching certification. I got plugged into a group of sincere Christian young adults. I took courses for ministry credentials. I worked as an autism therapist. I taught emotionally disabled kids. And God used each of those things. I married a pastor’s daughter. God really used that. Are you getting the picture? San Antonio led me to Houston, Houston led me to El Paso, El Paso led me to Fort Leonard Wood, Fort Leonard Wood led me back to San Antonio, which led me to Austin, then to Kentucky, then to Belton, then to Maryland, to Pennsylvania, to Dallas, to Alabama, which led me to Fort Worth. With thousands of smaller journeys in between. The reason that I am able to do the things that I do today is because of the process that God walked me through yesterday. Our lives are cumulative. No day stands alone. Each builds upon the foundation of the last—just like a stairway, each layer bringing us closer to Him. God uses each experience, each lesson, each relationship, even our traumas and tragedies as steps in the process of becoming the people He made us to be. They are steps in the process of achieving the destinies that He has encoded into the weave of each of our lives. We are journeymen, finding the way home. What is the value of the journey? If the journey makes us who we are, then the journey is priceless.

throughout my life I’ve had occasions when I’ve felt a euphoric even spiritual sense of elation, and then times when my mood is in the gutter. That information in the wrong hands could look like bipolar disorder, another common misdiagnosis placed on undiagnosed autistic people. Yet they are all features of my Autism, and nothing else.

Other sounds, though quiet, would be painful to me and make me see colors, after which I would fight a metallic taste in my mouth.

Given that we seek the small and manageable, it is no surprise that many high-functioning autistic people, unable to communicate with others above the ringing swirl, shout across the canyons of reality by writing. The aesthetic wonder of cutting and tracing the lines of one’s thoughts and feelings into the steady lines of permanent letters offers the tracings of keys, the thrill of high-wire words crossing so many gaps, paintings of tiny landscapes—their horizons traced out in the mountain ranges of sentences and the strata of paragraphs. There we find a peaceful world of art and order, a land we can share.

We need to help inspire an increasingly “one-minded” approach to not only mental illness and addiction but brain diseases from autism to Alzheimer’s, bipolar disorder to traumatic brain injury, seizures to PTSD.

Time is hard for me to understand. I want everything to remain like it is right now, without change. Impossible, I know, but change is too often bad. Change is inevitable, but when it hits you in the face with such honest and emotional words it stings.

I could only be defined by my diagnosis if I allowed it, was monumental.

I think of how my husband and I plan a new vacation to take our kids on. My husband and I have it all planned out. We know the way, the cost, the activities and the outcome. But our children know none of this. They must trust us that we know what we are doing. As the parents we know the roads we will take to get there, we know where we are taking them and yet our children must trust we will bring them home safely and with good memories. Think of this autism journey in the same way. Our heavenly Father knows the way, the cost, the activities and the outcome. He even knows that we will get through this journey safely and with some happy memories!

Siege into journey.

This book depicts a life journey with autism that begins at birth and takes the individual from a place of innocence and naïvety to that of confusion, sensory overload, immense fear, gradual understanding, eventual autonomy, and ultimately to that of selfless giving and legacy projects that benefit humanity.

Having Simultanagnosia (object blindness), Prosopagnosia (face blindness) and Semantic Agnosia (meaning blindness) goes in my favour with regards to abstract art living in world full of fragmented pieces when I draw it is in real time no visual memory means no "pre-formatted" picture in my mind so I go where my hand takes it's like journey that is happening in the moment, hence why I drew these without my lenses on. When I was younger I would draw pictures by "route" which made it a appear that I had a visual memory (cobbling together things out of context and making a contextual image)

While grief is a natural part of any special needs parent's journey, it may be processed somewhat differently for the family affected by a diagnosis with a wide range of outcomes, such as autism. Every child with or without a disability is unique. And no special-needs diagnosis affects any two children the same way.

Another common narrative that we may come across in our journey towards self-acceptance is that ‘autism is a super power’, and articles online that read ‘Here are 20 super successful people with ADHD’. Although this may make some autistic ADHDers feel positive about themselves initially, it can have an unintended negative impact on others, as we can end up feeling like we can only be accepted by society as neurodivergent if we are the next Albert Einstein.

Words described real experiences, and their curves and lines left a mental trail for me to follow by sense memory, whereas numbers threw curves at me and stonewalled me with their lines, barring me from understanding them, where they came from, and where they went. Math did not describe anything to me; if people themselves were often disconnected parts—sometimes one, sometimes many—how could I hope to quantify the rest of the world? Discrete amounts had little meaning for me.

I felt like I would disappear if I were not hemmed in by the familiar and unchanging.

I felt uncomfortable from the start because I had profound problems with following sequential directions, especially when they were spoken.

A much-loved and longtime worker, Lacey, dispensed gentle Christian advice to the young women around her, who were often troubled or tired. I still have an image of Lacey sitting quietly among the bustle of the dressing room and presenting such a beautiful picture; she was so serene, so accepting, and right with Christ, whom she loved more than her own breathing. She had been raised within the paradoxically freeing confines of strict morality in a black Baptist church. One may wonder how such a religious woman had come to lead a life as a career dancer. Lacey was blessed—for so she considered it—with the most enormous breasts I had ever seen. They actually prevented her from leading a normal existence. I asked her once if she felt angry that through no fault of her own she was forced to lead what many might consider an immoral life. She seemed genuinely surprised. “The Lord give me dese,” she said, as she pushed her small hands under the mountains of flesh that gave her headaches, backaches, and rashes. Lifting them up to heaven as a testament to her belief in their divine origins, she continued, “He give me dese so I could spread love. Den He give me dis job so I could get along in life.

That’s the way I’ve always been. It’s hard for me to see any situation as a whole. I feel like I’m always looking at a mass of moving parts, trying to break every tiny piece of experience down and understand it in a methodical way. It’s beautiful but it’s also difficult to interact with people because they expect me to communicate the whole machine and I’m too distracted by the cogs.

We need to find you an outlet that’s going to be healthy and sustainable.” ​I consider these words for a moment. “Like what?” I finally ask, coming up with nothing. ​“Well, you could write,” the bigfoot therapist suggests. “Something creative is a great way to let that illogical side of you come out and play.” ​“Knowing my hyperfocus I’d probably just end up writing hundreds of books expressing every corner of my personality in a deeply intricate catalog of feelings,” I offer with a scoff. ​My therapist doesn’t seem phased.

Like others who seek to be what they are not, we invariably end up with secondary problems engendered by chronic anxiety. As rage and frustration are pushed below our consciousness, we suffer depression. Somatic difficulties like stomachaches and headaches and other ailments can be chronic as a result of unrelenting anxiety and the repression of coping mechanisms while trying to fit in.

Another component of my “mystique” was my appearance: I wore leather jackets because their weight and thickness calmed me; dark glasses, sometimes even at night, because they cut out some of the stimulation to my nervous system; and heavy boots that made me feel secure and grounded as I clomped around in them. I must have looked like a perfect practiced stud with all the trimmings, when in reality I was withdrawn and armored primarily out of anxiety and confusion.

I had trouble following sequential directions, which was a problem because I was often left alone to complete complicated tasks. Most of my tasks were written down, and I did fairly well if I could do them in order. If something came up in the middle, which it often did, I would be thrown and unable to complete the remainder.

In one instance a woman was lying in my arms after hours of sex, and we were watching the sun come up, and I said, “Do you know what Plato says about forms?” She answered, “No. But I know what to say about your form.” Pushing her away to block a kiss, I said, “No, really. What do you think about the idea that there are timeless blueprints for things?” She twisted her mouth in disgust. “You’re weird,” she said.

Much like the deaf community, we autistics are building an emergent culture. We individuals, with our cultures of one, are building a culture of many.

Gorillas, like autistic people, are misunderstood. They are seen as ugly, as caricatures of fully formed humanity, as unfinished or trapped in an anachronistic world that has no value. Prejudices about what it means to be a person necessarily exclude those who are not bright on the stage of common action; those who do not welcome the glare of shining, blinding smiles, who do not lean closer to hear the roar and macramé of shouted words, who do not cut themselves and mold their flesh and spirit to fit the narrow human path, funneling upward without looking back. Autistic people can be left behind, hunted and haunted, looking through an often opaque glass.

Speech Therapy for a Child with Autism Spectrum Disorder Communication is the bridge that connects us to the world around us. For children with autism spectrum disorder (ASD), this bridge can often feel like a puzzle, with missing pieces that can make expression challenging. That’s where the power of speech therapy steps in. With the guidance of professionals, like those at the best childcare hospital in Chandigarh– Motherhood Chaitanya Hospital, let’s delve into the world of speech therapy for children with ASD, understanding its impact, approach, and the journey to unlocking communication.

Refusing to perform neurotypicality is a revolutionary act of disability justice. It’s also a radical act of self-love. But in order for Autistic people to take our masks off and show our real, authentically disabled selves to the world, we first have to feel safe enough to get reacquainted with who we really are. Developing self-trust and self-compassion is a whole journey unto itself.

But I will concede that sensory experiences can be among the most disruptive of our invisible autistic journey, causing real distress, discomfort, and confusion.

Why accept mediocrity when excellence is available?

My journey with Kareem has taught me that change starts with understanding. By challenging stigma, educating ourselves, and advocating for inclusion, we can create a world where every child feels seen and supported.