Autism

Stop Drinking All The Tea *Thoughts About Autism

20140721-040253.jpg

I have known about scripting for three years. My fiancé first told me about it because of some of the kids he’s worked with. He was told it was a sort of escape or place an autistic will go to get away. And to not let it go too far because interrupting a script can lead to meltdown.

AHHH! People!

This is why learning about autism from NON-autistics *Neorotypicals* is so backwards. We’re getting neorotypical evaluations and therapies for people who’s minds are wired completely different than the majority rule. We’re being naive, stubborn, and dishonest with ourselves if we think the answer to helping people on the spectrum lies in our way of thinking, and from our experience of living. We’re being ignorant, and naive in thinking the majority get’s superiority over final say of a minority.

I’m so ready for therapies to be developed by people on the spectrum. Hindering the voices of autistics is perpetuating so much false information, not always on purpose. But sometimes the intent doesn’t matter, not when it leads to oppression, and furthers suffering. At some point society is going to have to face that the Neorotypicals don’t have all the answers, and simply can’t.

Asking someone who does not live on the spectrum what it’s like, is like wanting to know what coffee tastes like, and making tea believing it will give you enough simulation to know.

From the video below, I learned JUST now, after three years of believing I already knew, what scripting really is. And I’d been misinformed.

The fact that my fiancé was trained by “autism experts” and taught about scripting, and given misinformation is a great example for why we need to do everything we can to encourage and empower autistic voices.

This young lady, is saying scripting is actually an autistic coming out in their own way to engage or express themself, not to avoid reality.

Hmm, yeah… I would probably meltdown down too actually, if I was trying to interact/express myself/ or engage with the people in my environment, and made to stop. It would probably feel like being told “What you are saying has no value, so be quiet” when to an autistic individual who participates in scripting, this choice script could have been selected for a variety of reasons, and has a purpose, and applies in some context to their current environment, mood, etc.

My fiancé has been taught in his special training courses that scripting was like going to another world as to avoid this one.

Living in another world, and trying to engage in the existing one: Those are two VERY different things.

I could write a book on 30 years personal experience living as a bipolar, and you would be able to retell my story, and understand me better for it. But until you’ve truly experienced my life. You will never know it better than me.

I talk about autism a lot. And I do take opportunities to be informative. But I’m never going to pretend like my voice should be heard over the people actually living it. And one of the key points I’m zooming in on more and more, when people ask me questions is to say, you know what? This is how I understand it, but the most accurate way to learn about autism is to simply ask someone living with autism, read a blog, watch youtube videos, books, documentaries made by autistics. Information is everywhere.

It’s time to hand over the microphone and let autistics speak for themselves.

It’s time to encourage our friends to go to the source for insight. It’s time to let go of being the expert. It’s time share, like, comment, on social media pages and posts by autistics. If they are able to be a voice it is our job to support that and help spread the Truth.

And if you’re an adult, or young adult it’s time to seek out autistic friends and turn those articles, and campaigns, and statistics into human beings we actually care about. We are veering towards a future where autism will be prominent in every community. And it’s time to start learning about each other on a personal level now.

Don’t let autism become the next civil rights movement. When will we learn and take the initiative? When will we learn from history, as it’s been shown over and over to do extensive damage to any growing population of minorities.

It’s time to take interest in neorodiversity because this will affect you someday, if it doesn’t already. Let it be an open, positive, honest, exciting experience. Let an autistic person tell you things about their realities to help you better understand, and better want to further support for their right to a voice.

Let it change your perspective. Welcoming new and different personalities in your life will inspire you, I promise.

 

 

Standard
Poetry

YOLO in Hell

 

YOLO in Hell | DavsArt

 

Shout YOLO from beyond the grave, before realizing that you’re dead.

If YOLO turns from teenybopper slang into a horrific realization of truth, you know you’re in hell.

YOLO

A place where novelty acronym colloquialism rules the land, and hardcover books get cut up and made into decorative art. Books have been replaced with modern magic eight balls that tell you if you’re a hippy or jock after five generic question quiz… and somehow you secretly believe it’s true. You like the pretty pictures of the flowers in their hair. You got the hippie. You read nutrition labels on at the grocery store. So it must be true. But nobody reads leather bound books in hell.

YOLO

Where they make sexy bras for four year old girls, and all the baby boy clothes are blue and have footballs and trucks printed on the front. Because in hell your gender has everything to do with your genitals and nothing to do with your soul, there are no souls in hell.

YOLO

Where hierachy begins in the pockets of those who climbed a human ladder, stepping on the backs and the shoulders of whoever’s lever would bring them closer to the top, crushing finger bones into dust, and loyalty into a piece of human flesh stuck between the treads on the bottom of those thousand dollar shoes.

YOLO

Where accepting differences is dangerous because we don’t have the love in us to connect with others who do not share our ideologies. Our taste in music, style, religion, politics. Social status depends on equity in possessions, rather than equity of love. There is no love in hell

YOLO

Where who you are, and what you think comes from everything you’ve ever known. Your shoes match your belt because you read that in Style magazine. Lavender is the trending color, all the malls feature lavender, and so do you. Nobody does the robot anymore, because nobody does the robot anymore. There is no pure identity in hell, everyone is made up of influences from other already existing influences. There are no individuals in hell.

YOLO!

YOLO! YOLO! YOLO! I shout as I click my seven dollar and fifty-eight cent gold shoes three times in a row.

But nothing changes.

Y O L O ! This time shouting with desperation. Pulling at my hair in hysteria, as the realization slithers up my back like a snake.

Nothing’s changing.

YOLO! I cry.

~s.davenport 07/15/14

Standard
Mental Health, Thoughts

Bullshit!

20140708-000527.jpg

BULLSHIT!

Everything that has ever happened to us, stays in us. And if we never go back and heal the scars, or if we do. It will affect the choices we make, I promise.

Abuse, dysfunction, breeds, as does positivity and love. Your personal chemical make up affects your everyday decisions.

Blaming does nothing for anyone.

But accepting that our past ((does)) affect us today, is the only way to begin attempting to right what’s wrong inside of us.

Why are girls who were molested more likely to be sexually active at a younger age? Why are the statistics of men that abuse saying that a higher percentage of these men were abused themselves?

Yes we are responsible for our actions, and… unless we’re billionaires, we’re held to consequence.

But to say that our current choices don’t stem from a deeper place, subconscious memories, triggers, trauma, or the opposite, is like walking through a busy airport using an empty paper towel role as your view finder.

We are not a fresh piece of paper when we wake up in the morning. We are books written, in my case over the course of 32 years. We’ve been written all over, by ourselves, and everyone we have ever known. And whatever the words read, affect everything we do.

It’s not blaming to say, “When I was trying to learn the basics of math, my old step dad would sit down with me and my homework, berate and verbally abuse me when I asked questions, or couldn’t understand a concept.” Today, 20+ years later, numbers are a trigger for me, and cause me to freeze up. Hmm, no wonder I always CHOSE to use a calculator before counting back change as a waitress.

That is a simplistic example. But it’s good enough for what’s written on this rigid, inflexible, simplistic piece of paper featured above. It’s currently being passed around so righteously on the internet. Disguised as positive thinking. “It’s easy! Just choose to pull up you’re bootstraps!”

Uh, how about you take off your Wellingtons and walk around for a while, some people were born and raised barefoot.

Where’s the empathy, compassion, understanding? We go so much deeper. People have reasons behind their everyday choices. And a lot of times they are so buried within us that we have no idea what they are.

Also, would you say this to an un-medicated schizophrenic? Or an autistic child having a meltdown in the grocery store because of sensory overstimulation?

People are human, not robots. We’re diverse physically, mentally, and genetically. And life haunts us, and it surely does affect the choices we make.

Standard
Family, Kids, Music, Poetry

2002 | A Song For My Boy

dustinandmary

For My Boy

2002
2002
I didn’t know anything
Until I met you
2003
2003
Nothing mattered
Outside of you and me
2004
2004
I watched you grow in utter awe
I’d never known such amazement before
2005
2005
You gave my life meaning
A reason to thrive
2006
2006
We’re two peas in a pod
We’re the perfect mix
2007
2007
Being with you is like
Being in heaven
2008
2008
Anything you want to say
Baby, I can relate
2009
2009
I can’t believe your soul
Came from mine
2010
2010
Your jokes make me laugh
Your laugh makes me grin
2011
Through
’13
Your spirit lifts me
Your love’s so clean
2014
2014
You have it all going
You can be anything
2002
To infinity
You’ll always be
The world to me

xo

Happy Birthday Thomas,
Love mom

Standard
Mental Health, Thoughts

Fattractive

20140702-232728.jpg

Last year I lost 30lbs, if I would’ve stayed on track, I’d be at my goal weight right now. But instead, I gained ten back, started to go a little easier on my plus sized body. I’m still not always comfortable being fat. But when I am, I feel like I’ve done something even better than losing all the weight. I’m accepting, forgiving, and loving myself, despite my distortion of standard beauty. And I think that ultimately that may be more important. Because maybe someday I will lose the weight, but if I don’t accept myself, it won’t matter.

Also without googling I assume I made up the word: Fattractive *It’s hard to pronounce when you’re drinking wine. 1x in short shorts IDGAF. Cheers!

Standard
Mental Health

What I want to say.

What I Want To Say | DavsArt

 

I’m doing an art show. A themed exhibit. I’m going to have excerpts of my writings about mental illness hung along with my work.

I have a list compiled. And I almost want this in there more than anything. But at the same time it makes me very uneasy. How and where are my credentials for giving advice about how to treat someone with mental illness? Well, dx bipolar age 11, spent at least two years worth of inpatient mental hospitals, inpatient rehabs, outpatients, group home with roommates who were living in different realities, and I’m also a magnet to people like me. People who live with a mental illness. We most often seem to simply get each other. Our dx my differ, but we get it.

Here is what I cut out of the show, but wanted to still publish.

The dots indicate separate excerpts, but these are meant to be grouped together.

………

If our hot air balloons lift too far from the ground, you need to come to us. Enter our world, validate our feelings, even if they sound horribly out of tune. Try to sing a long. Coming at us with a push pin to pop our balloon, will most often escalate our loss of reality, leading us to raise ourselves higher and farther, away from you. Giving you little to no of a chance to bring us back down to safety, without someone kind of trauma involved.

……….

Be open to partake in a serious conversation about something you may consider nonsense, while knowing it makes perfect sense to us. Respect that. It may not be realistic, or logical, but respect that our minds are capable of creating worlds that make complete sense to us. When you dismiss our high-flown stories, often mythical, or supernatural in nature, you are dismissing our reality, ultimately us. And often paranoia magnifies any hint of distrust we may have for you.

……….

Please believe us, even if we’re claiming ownership of the Baltic Sea. Gain our trust by listening without pointing out the fallacy of our reality. Try to understand that to us, when we’re that high off the ground; what we see, think, and hear is very real. Respecting that fact might help you understand why you need to indulge us.

If we think you feel it too, or get it, or believe you are open to our world. We will likely tell you anything you want to know. Gaining our trust is the only chance you have of throwing sand bags into the unraveling wicker basket, tethered to that shoddy hot air balloon, that’s floating us away from stable ground.

Use the language of our reality to bring us back home.

………….

I say us, referring to those who are not in my category of illness. Because the stigma of mental illness puts us all in the same category. Our feelings, opinions, beliefs, according to an ignorant public, are invalid. We can be easily brushed aside because we’re “crazy.”

………..^^^^end excerpt^^^^………

 

*Let me rehash, I am not a doctor, I don’t even play one on tv. This opinion comes from my personal experience dealing with altered realities.

Standard