Grammar Corrections and Other Ways to Say, "I Love You."

 

On Other People's Grammar:

   I so often fall short of my own grammatical goals, Inevitably, I'll publish this with errors, and go back and correct later, or not. Sometimes I want others to know it happens to me too, so I leave it. It's just that it often comes up between friends on the Autism Spectrum. Accuracy in grammar appears, to my experience, to be a shared interest among many of us keeping in mind that, "If you've met one Autistic person, you've met one Autistic person, and yes, I do say, "Autistic person" as well as, "Person with Autism." That particular wording, and reasons behind it belong to the Autistic person saying it, as far as I'm concerned, and I don't mind if you disagree in the least. How grand! I'm o.k./you're o.k., as it were. 

  

   On to the topic, right after this completely irrelevant painting. :) 

"Seascape in Blue" 2012
6x6" Oil on Canvas.

   For me, It depends on my perception of the friendship, but some of these relationships are too tender for me to offer my fallible ideas of correctness. Sometimes accuracy is imperfect when it takes away from the value of a moment or breaks the heart of a dear friend. I may see your grammar error, but it doesn't always matter to me. I, for instance have eyebrows that don't match. Most of my friends graciously overlook it in favor of whatever else they may like about me. Weirdos. Similarly, Eye Donut Kare If U Mizpell a wErd (I do not care if you mispell a word), if I am perceptive enough to see it's coming from your heart. If I'm not or it isn't, I've no problem simply leaving. Why torture eachother?

    If I think your goal is to be accurate and you've asked me to edit, I'll be happy to red pencil your commas. I don't do it for free indefinitely. Just like painting or tutorials. I value me. :)

   If you are many, but not all Autistic people, I might point out the error out of sheer mercy, because I know my own errors bother me, and if you're like me, you would probably appreciate the help from a like minded person who would never point it out for the purpose of harm, but out of compassion. Autistic people are generally very kind and helpful.

    I've learned a lot of people like my kindness, but are not so big on my (Questionable) grammatical skills. I'm not here to edit the world. Sometimes my best contribution is to enjoy it even if I don't like the extra spice of a misplaced participle. It's not my thing, and my eyebrows may not be theirs. If they can afford me lenience, I too can offer it, even if we both may be getting on one another's last nerve. I'm tough. I've survived worse, and I like the people I like.

     I do have an extensive list of what's important to me in any kind of relationship. I love book learnin' and grammar that is socially acceptable according to the Encyclopedia Britannica crowd (You sexy bunch!), but it's far, far down the list of what matters to me personally. If you're kind, I don't care how you talk or write. If you're unkind, be gone or fuck off -whatever phraseology you prefer.

    I've become more flexible, and let it not go without saying (as always) not all Autistic people are alike. I am able to bend more than some just like Neurotypicals. I'm also perhaps more aware of how my actions impact others than some are. I think this is learned in me, resulting from experience having had people tell me they were upset over me trying to help them by correcting their grammar. It doesn't have to make sense to me in order for me to understand, they, for whatever reason, don't like it. I, therefore, don't do it with that person.

   I don't like sweet potatoes, and it's kind when you don't give them to me anyway. Similarly, you may not like grammatical correction, and respecting your tastes, I wont give them to you. We shall keep our respective grammar and sweet potatoes to ourselves out of compassion. I'm still authentically me. I just don't share that facet of myself with that person. There are things about you I'd rather not know too. 

  Further, finding that skill of mine had monetary value, I've become less likely to dole out editorial flare, such as it is, with just anyone. I am not here to earn your accolades, degrees or paychecks. I have had people, "Want me for my brain," and I'm talking to you, Autistic people and anyone with a particular skill(s): 

You are valuable and worthy of respect as a whole human being. 

You are valuable and worthy of respect as a whole human being. 

You are valuable and worthy of respect as a whole human being. 

(No need to, "Read that again," which is gaslighting whether or not I think you want or warrant an edit.)

    If I think someone is being intentionally antagonistic, I'm not likely to respond, because they've bored me. This is difficult, as I also don't respond when I've nothing to add to your observation as well. Often, I feel you've said it better than I cud. [sic] :D Sometimes, it's because I want you to shine. If I could, I'd go back and draw a Yellow highlight over your words. Many are far smarter than I am and have insights I might never have had. Sometimes, it's that I'm accustomed to you enjoying the last word, and I'm happy to allow it. I enjoy it when you, "Win." I'm serious about that, it's fun for me. Sometimes, I've had a trusted friend point out the person was trying to be mean. It's disconcerting, as I wonder what is bothering them, but it's also fun, because (LOL!) I didn't get it, therefore, it didn't work. I get amused, and lacking theory of mind, I assume the, "Mean" person trying to hurt me is in on the game, and we'll try it again sometime. I really want others to succeed in whatever their goals are. I believe in you! I think you're smart enough to know that it's a game too. I mean, you created the game. I wouldn't have thought of it, but it's brilliant. What a great idea! Bravo! We shall play cat and mouse purely for entertainment purposes, and I'll be gentle, I promise. 

    My preference for grammatical correctness is a lot like a dick and religion. I'm not going to shove it down your throat. Sometimes correctness is imperfect, and I find the sweetness of exactitude in a little tenderness. Often, I let a lot slide in order to hit the right spot that expresses my care for another, be it through editing, asking them to clarify their aim, or simply enjoying the person as they are just as I would have them enjoy me. They, after all are certainly letting a lot slide about me. For the most part, Autistic or Neurotypical, I believe we're on the same team

On Asking:

     I cannot always intuit what a conversation calls for from me. I have to ask, and if it doesn't occur to me, others have to ask me for what they need. In fact, it's every so much more effective, if they tell me what they need. 

 

    Failing to say what we need is a problem not limited to Autistic/Neurotypical interactions. In fact it is the source of many a failure of marriages, friendships and the loss of many sweet familial relationships. Not everything can be solved by saying what we need, but it does a lot toward whittling down the amount of effort it takes to enjoy the company of another human being in all areas of life. 

   To my way of seeing, among the cisgendered, this problem seems more pronounced among Neurotypical females who being perhaps more aware of the subtlety of expression in Neurotypical males as well as what's been socially acceptable for their own behaviors and desires, may be unfairly burdened with unreasonable repercussions, real or feared of, for simply saying, "I want...." I have less of a problem with it due to Autism which makes me less impressed by the judgements of others, but I'm not at all immune. I've had to grow the bravery to ask too, and I admire anyone with the courage to confront those fears regardless of Neurological identification or gender identification. It's not easy, but it pays in dividends. As well put, "Ask and ye shall receive." If it's a true need, and they continually couldn't care less, perhaps reevaluate why you're asking that person. You may need something they simply don't have in store. I've seen this problem in terms of compassion. If they don't have it, and I need it, I can ask all day, and will never receive it. Further, the way they have of expressing even an abundance of compassion, may not be they type with which I feel safe.

 

    We, each of us, don't fit all other humans. We also don't *not fit all other humans. :) We are perfectly different individuals just like the next person.

   If I realize my own humanness, I must certainly realize it in others. I'm not sure friendship or any kind of love exists without necessary error. Where does love get to exercise, if you are but a reflection of fallible me? Although often beyond my reach, the willingness to embrace a dash of chaos like an error in grammar may be the perfect order. 

I'm a delightful mess, and so are you. How wonderful! 

tinajonesart

Anita, the singing cashier: My Ongoing Understanding of Neurotypicals

I didn't want to bother her. She and two others were standing, waiting at the entrances to their checkout lanes, but I'd already turned in the direction of her aisle, before I noticed she looked a little labored to be standing, and she'd done caught me with the dreaded.....eye contact.. I was stuck. 

   She turned to go the short way to her register to meet me, but someone was blocking her with one of those riding carts. "I'll just go this way," she said, and Anita (so her tag said) went hobbling.

I felt like such a terrible person, until I heard it, "Do, do, doo, do, ...Do, dado-do..." I don't know the tune, but she was, "Do, da,doo-ing" possibly the most pleasant bit of Scat singing I've heard. I was putting my things on the counter when she made it to the register, and I, smiling, said, "It was worth the trip, just for the song." People filed in behind me, and she smiled at my comment, and raised the volume and her smile, whereupon I began, my subtlest of jigs, mostly the shoulders and head...a little arm and hand hula action - nothing overboard. 

 Ah, she sang along, and it was beautiful, and I happily paid for the lettuce and cheese. I took the bags from the carousel, and put them in my cart saying, "I think I got them all." She answered playfully, white hair sparkling and lilt in her voice, "Let's give it the traditional twirl and see!" and she spun the carousel while I spun a hand in the air to flourish with a wave, and bid good evening with a shared giggle and thanks for the song...

Should you find yourself in the aisle of Anita, the singing cashier, I recommend dancing along. She knows her stuff! :)

tina jones

Meditation Experiencing Wonder

Some may remember that my son taught me it was o.k. to watch a trail of ants. I'd spent so much energy, like most people, being ever present, ever ready, ever busy, and he was the one that helped me be still. I'd been practicing meditation for a year before his birth, but it wasn't until he was five that I got it.
  We were sitting on lawn chairs next to a tree, and I was hypervigilant as always. He was engrossed in a trail of ants, and I smiled, because I used to watch them daily as a child. There was an ant mound behind the garage, and I go see what they were up to. It was a peaceful time in often very chaotic days.
   In loving, accepting and celebrating my beautiful son, I had to accept much about me, and if he relaxed by watching ants, then it was o.k. for me to relax too. I can't tell you the weight that lifted from my shoulders. He brought me home..to me.
  Of interest to me is I thought I didn't have time for meditation. I had so much to do. What I found was that taking even two minutes to be still, made me more effective in the rest of the day. I got more done, and was happier and more serene doing it. I felt very selfish to take this time for me, yet I found that the more I meditated, the more I was able to care for others, and the more I was able to participate in their wants and needs. Instead of the me against the world feelings I had, I became someone who could add to the lives of others while adding to my own. Negative feelings lessened, and more and more I saw beauty everywhere, even....in me.
  Meditation has been an integral part of my daily practice of self care since the age of 23. There are many forms, some involving breathing techniques, focus on one thing, emptying the mind, reading or visualizations. Sometimes meditation is done in our movements like walking, being fully present and noticing details, sometimes it's letting each thought and moment pass. Sometimes it's mantras, repeating a phrase that soothes, other times it's opening the mind to beauty. I used to teach meditation in a treatment center for alcoholism and drug abuse, and I enjoyed it greatly.
    This meditation is on beauty in the ordinary, stillness and the willingness to experience wonder and awe. Meditation is much more about letting it happen than trying. You can't do it wrong. smiles. In this one, all that is required is listening. It's ok if the mind wanders, simply return gently. If you feel sleepy, it may be your mind telling you, "I need more rest." We fight to be super aware a lot of the time. This time is for you.

My Meditation on Experiencing Wonder: A Trail of Ants
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxQS4RyoWic&feature=youtu.be




tina jones

Why I think Jesus had Asperger's (Humor)

As a child, he was brighter than most adults, went to a church once and taught them. (patient with others and no sense of any age/authority connection)

He was smart enough to know it takes water in order to make wine. (precocious)

He did things like treading water, just to mess with people. (Fantastically obtuse sense of humor)

He left a regular job to spend his life walking around. (didn't fit within social norms/expectations)

Went to church again to whip a few people who weren't behaving by the rules. (Loved rules/No sense of Social Hierarchies)

He made up his own rules sometimes. ( black and white thinking)

He suffered bullies in life, yet didn't let anyone bully others. (times of immense selflessness)

He was very choosy about close friendships, and those he let hang out with him were some of the coolest weird people around. (Just flat out interesting with an interest in very interesting people)

 He took time to decompress alone, for some of us it's a few hours or a few days. He took 40 days. (committed to what was good for him)

  He spent his vacation, not at Disney or some other loud place with a bunch of people, but in the dessert. He didn't even go to Vegas. (got his strength and  renewal from time alone)

  He brilliantly boiled down several rules to no brainers, like love people and love God. Ok so it wasn't Einstein, but credit where credit is due. ( smart kid)

   He kept talking about the same stuff his whole life. (preservation)

His special interest was bringing dead people back to life. (We've all got our quirks.)

  He wore comfort clothing, and wasn't into pretense. (sensitive to textures, maybe?)

  He didn't particularly care what other people thought. (obsessed with his own interests to the exclusion of other things)

  He was not a crowd follower. (Individuality, lack of herd mentality)

When some lady even touched the hem of his garment, by golly, he knew it. (tactile sensitivity)

He believed we were all equal. (No sense of social hierarchy)

   Many of these could be applied to Budda, Lao Tsu, Mohammad, Moses, Mother Theresa, Ghandi, and some of our current spiritual gurus, like Niel Donald Walsche, Dr. Wayne Dyer or Deepok Chopra, our poets and often to our grandmothers, grandfathers and our children...every now and then even us.
   Many people work a lifetime toward equality, and many struggle a lifetime to embrace that we are all One.
    Some day, I hope all will see themselves in the eyes of others, that no one is below or above anyone. That some were born with simple ideas like unity of all, and some were born with greatness, and that it is the everyday person among us who, in their actions of love and tolerance, is creating a better world in everything they do.

tina jones
  

Celebrating One Year of Blogging!

Today is the day! It's been one whole year!
I Thank You All for the support, the tears and laughs through this past year. I look at the thoughtful comments and statistics page, and see people from all over the world are reading. I had no idea that would happen, and I often wonder what I have to offer you. I'm a painter from a little town in Kentucky, U.S. I have Autism, I'm 14 years clean and sober, and I'm a cancer survivor. There have been more failures than successes in this life, and I would not change a single thing...... Don't you see? My life wasn't supposed to be this good. smiles. Thank you!
 I hope that you've found reason to smile, seen the value in simply being you, and have had opportunity to be still now and then. I hope you've had cause to see beauty in life, moments of gratitude and a few laughs. I hope you've seen the acceptance and love we all look for in your own eyes, and I hope you've had the chance to love others just because it feels good to be the love that you are.
  I don't know where we're going in the comming year, but as long as people like you are beside me, I'm ready. smiles. So, here's to more paintings, more decadance, more insights into a world of my often misunderstanding, more passion, more gratitude, and another precious day at a time to simply be.

   Toward friendships, old and new, I can only give you what I have. Here are some photo steps of my latest portrait. A video featuring these photos, and much more can be seen at my youtube channel here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQDwRcr1Wxo

Canvas in grey (black an white gesso) Grid in White Charcoal. Laying in features in Black Acrylic.

Using Black with much medium, laying in shadows.

Shadows on the whites of the eyes and contour.

White brings out facial topography, indicates moisture in the eyes and on the lips.

"Conchi"
portrait of a friend
16x20"
Acrylic on Canvas

 Many blessings, and in this moment..... live! smiles.
tina jones

Being the Help We Seek: for Caregivers and Autistic People

"Perhaps they never will" Don McLean
  Those words resonate through my being ever time I talk to a parent of an Autistic child. They are trying as hard as possible to get people to listen, and in their trying...sometimes they can't hear the children with Autism. For the children who may not be as eloquent as others and for those who can't speak, it is left to us as ASD adults to share what we hear and feel, how we experience the care of those around us. In this way we can build bridges of understanding, and hopefully unite those with Autism and those who loves us. Then, perhaps progress can begin.
    Following is how I've experienced the pain of caregivers in different areas of my life, be they parents, spouses, friends, coworkers...etc.
  To the Caregivers: Though your love knows no bounds, and though you sacrifice, please know that even an ASD child may be totally mute, they hear every word you say. They see every time you hurt yourself by not getting the help you need in favor of desperately trying to help them.
  Somewhere along the line it's gotten backwards. Families are becoming depressed, sometimes neurotic and if you've seen the news lately, some have been suicidal and a few have committed homicide. Please, do not think you're exempt. I do not believe than any one can be a 24hr a day caregiver and not experience at least times of being emotionally unstable. Even therapists who work 8 hr days are required to get therapy. Though you love so deeply, please know that there is no more effective way to harm a child than to harm his mother or father or other caregiver. To love us, you must, must, must take care of you first.
  All too often the focus gets put so much on our Autism that sometimes very ill caregivers have gone past the emergency stage in needing help for themselves. You cannot give what you haven't got. You cannot help us without helping yourselves first.
   I realize there is little time. I realize this sounds like the utmost in selfishness, but if you don't take care of you, I will be reading your story in the obituaries. It may be suicide or any number of physical illnesses born of your stress, worry and sacrifice that will take you, and that would be sad for me and the many you may not realize that love and need you to take care of you.
   I know how many have turned to Autism organizations, and I know they are asking for extra dollars, when you haven't seen the site of an extra dollar in years. I know you've given your time to them, and I know they've used you to raise extra money for themselves and for research that is doing nothing to help you in this emergency moment.
    If you so much as think in terms of ending your life or someone else's, please contact a mental health professional! If you have a plan to end your life or someone else's, get someone to bring you directly to the hospital. If you are convinced you want to do it, and it is the only choice, why not wait a day and give the people a chance to come up with a better solution? Admit it may be possible that you might not know everything, you may not have seen all of the options. Let someone else try.

  To us Autistics: Society has so far not done a lot to help us. I'm with you there. Monstrous amounts of money are being raised in the name of Autism, and you're not seeing any of it effect your life. Families are trying and either getting more on your nerves daily or breaking your heart as you watch them hurting themselves. We aren't doing it to them, and we can't save them, but we can help!
   Let me recap. Society isn't helping, families can't do any more than they are doing. Looks pretty bleak, doesn't it? No.
  What we, all of society including those who love an Autistic person, and Autistic people themselves have been doing is NOT working.  I am going to flip everything and shine the light in another direction. Ready?
  You, the person with Autism may be the light at the end of the tunnel. Help is desperately needed. As an autistic person, I have things to offer. I can't do everything, but I can do some things, and some very well.  I may be the one that calls the authorities on my own family if they get nuts and start talking suicide. I may have to be the one to say, "Mom/Dad, Sister, Brother, if you don't get help, you cannot help me." I may be the one to have to walk away to save myself if they refuse to get help too.
   It may well be the Autistic people who are going to save the lives of our families and loved ones and even ourselves. Help is needed and someone has got to step up. Yes, us. Others can try to make us scapegoats for their problems, but we can refuse to take that responsibility, and see that we are not responsible for every emotion other human beings have. We can call them on the fallacy every time someone says, "You MAKE me feel.." We're not gods who'd have that kind of control. We can't make anyone do anything. We can let others have their own feelings. We can never act perfectly enough to force another person to be content. We're just not that powerful.
   This is just bare beginnings of thought, but we are going to need tools and resources to help our NT families. I suggest emergency numbers. They've got them for us, and we need them for them. This is life and death. If we know an NT person has someone that they confide in, we need that number too. We need all contact information of anyone and anything that supports them, and we need to be able to make those calls. This could be family, churches, any group or individual they (not we) find comfort in. Write a short list of information to give including the care giver's name, the address and phone number where you can be reached. Have a script! Even something like, "Jane is in trouble and needs you!" will help.
   NT's often need some kind of therapy, and they often don't get it. As we've progressed, we've watched them deteriorate. It's not our us or our Autism, but they don't know that yet. Here are a few things that may help. I went searching the net for programs specifically for them to help them get to the root of their problem and get through it to some measure of hope and happiness. (WE need them to be happy and whole!) Therapy is great and it costs money. They will have to be desperate, I mean totally desperate to even consider what I'm going to write, but if they are fortunate enough to be at the bottom there may be some hope. If they're not done fighting, I am sorry. We will have to hope they'll learn to let go soon. (They will see "fighting as a good thing" as in fighting for your care, but I am talking about a destructive fighting drive to "help" right up to and through suicide. Of course, that is never "help."
  I'm a long term member of a 12 step group, and there are many different kinds out there. I saw yesterday that these steps have been rewritten for caregivers. It may help, if they are willing.
http://qualityofliferecoverystep1.blogspot.com/2011/03/step-one-in-depth-description-and.html?showComment=1313911530212#c1876700069169191367
   Neither I nor anyone else is going to make money off of this. It is a matter of my very life to pass on what has been so freely given to me.
  Again, hope begins after they let go. Other, longer standing 12 step programs are Emotions Anonymous and Alanon Family Groups. The three I've mentioned would be the most helpful.
     Certainly, if a caregiver drinks or takes too many pills to cope, there is Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous. All of these help people find a way to be content regardless of their circumstances. All use the same 12 steps, and every last one is free.
  None of these care what religion (if any) people are, how much money they have, what color they are, or if they are male or female. First names only are used, and no one even needs to know that they talked to anyone there or even went to their meetings. It's "anonymous." Frankly, I think these steps should be taught as problem solving strategies in early school, and that anyone could benefit, but they just won't work for a person, until that person has collapsed of all ideas of their own on how they are going to fix, control and manage people, places and things.

    I have to tell you, you can't force them to get help. You may have to watch them go through more pain. There is no greater force on the planet against health and sanity than the determined martyr. Let these resources be there should they reach out for help. You've seen them.
      These are just options. I don't care where people get help be they Autistic or Neurotypical.     It does not matter where a person gets help. If it works, it works! If you know of people or groups that have been supportive, share them with those you care about. Share them with other families who need help, and if you get any help, just keep paying it forward. Your very life may depend on it. Mine does, and it's working out beautifully. My aim is to build bridges of understanding, and help us see through each other's eyes. We all love, we just don't always know how.
  You're saying, "But I can't help my family! I'm the one with Autism who needs help!" I hear you..
   I heard a story a very long time ago, and I don't know the author, but it helped me.
   There were a bunch of people at a very long table. A feast as they'd never seen was laid out and they were starving. You see, they had no elbows. They picked up the food, and try as they might they could not get it to their mouths to feed themselves.
   The same table was laid out in another room, and all of the people there had no elbows either. In this room, however everyone was eating, and they were happy. Each person picked up the food and instead of trying to feed themselves, they fed another.
   Everyone needs help sometimes, and sometimes we get to be the one who gives it.
tina jones

Public Appearance: Hair 101

 These are the times I enter the world of the not always typical, neurotypicals or those who are not Autistic. These recounts of my encounters are for amusement purposes. For those who can, enjoy the links in blue. You may need to click the "back" button on your browser to return here.

  I love venturing to thrift shops, and finding odd items. At times, however I'm the odd item someone's looking for. I was inspecting a most interesting bow curve on an assembly of wood and string with no purpose other than to study the beauty of the curve. In my own world and pleasantly so, I heard a man's cheerful voice say, "That just may be a keeper." I said I didn't know what it was, and I turned it over trying to decipher the French on the back. He said, "Ah, it's a fire starter," and at that point I saw the pictorial instructions on the back, and laughed slightly for not realizing the pictures were there.
   Slight laughs do strange things to some men. His voice changed, "Mmm...I just love strawberry blonde hair," into something reminiscent of Barry White's "Can't Get Enough of Your Love Baby."
  I turned toward the sound only to find him reaching (no really) reaching for my hair! I leaned a step back gently (like any cobra would), and gave him by best, "What are you thinking?!!" stare with attendant, "Do you realize you are attempting to TOUCH me?!!!"  He pulled back his hand such as one might if fingers had been bitten off.
   I liked that part, until I noticed the plastic temporary hospital band on his wrist. His face, though not green was a lack of pink closer to chalk yellow than blue. He was walking around, apparently not in pain, trying to feel my hair, and perhaps still medicated. I try to be gentle in these situations, not that keeping or stealing a hospital bracelet is going to have much of an effect on me.
  I'm not one to have any fear of dead silences and often enjoy them, but seeing his trance, I figured I must have been inadvertently backlit. I don't know how that can happen in fluorescent lighting, but it occurs more often that one might expect..or so it seems.  I thought to speak, "My mother gave it to me." I feined a smile. At that time, his voice turned to a soprano giggle. and he said, "Oh yeah! Your mother must have given it to you," oddly, since I'd just said that. He turned quickly, and screwed up his face as he was turning away in a harrumph that sounded like, Bon Jovi's, "You Give Love a Bad Name."
   I hope he was no further wounded, and that he made it safely home. What I learned: On the right drugs, hair can make people really friendly. Yikes!
tina jones

Autism: My story as a parent, My gift

The bully in my childhood was a parent. Jump ahead to when I was a parent. I thought myself dammaged goods. I'd look at my son and think, "How in the world could the universe give a child who needed so much to someone who was so incapable?"
 I had an attitude of martyrdom. I stayed awake for days and nights on end and was out of whatever mind I had. I am on the spectrum myself. I cried then stopped crying for years. I shut down and became whatever my children needed. My son was starting fires before age five. He'd excape the house middle of the night. I make the mistake of falling asleep, and he got the locked, and chained door open enough at the bottom that he got out. A neighbor found him sitting in the highway playing. Images of my baby as roadkill horrified me. I knew another autiistic kid who'd gone to an institution where he was abused. My son was at his father's two days on the weekends when I worked the only time I could doing two 16 shour shifts, and those weekends where when I had the most sleep. Otherwise I had only respit care for 2 hours twice a week, so I could go to the grocery store. My life was protecting him. I took pills to keep me awake, pills to make me sleep when I  had to. I was a nutcase.
   My job downsized, the money ran out in a few months that I'd saved and I fell asleep one night. My son started a fire that took our home, and nearly took our lives. I woke to hear my daughter screaming from where she stood in front of a wall of black and red fire, and I could hear my son, emotionally innappropriatly expressing as always, laughing in fear on the other side of the blackness. I know to get low to the floor, I know to run from fire, but that was my child. I ran blind into the flames, and physically ran into him. I grabbed him, and ran toward my daughter's voice, where I grabbed her arm, carried him and pulled her opening the back door and shoving her out, no steps to the ground. I ran with my 80 pound five year old son and my daughter in tow. When we got past the end of the trailor the ac exploded.
   We should, by all laws of nature have died, all of us. I gave up, and I agreed to send him to the institution to save his life and my daughter's as I no longer cared about mine. It was then his father stepped in, and gave my children a home. I had no insurance, so I stayed with a friend then lived in my car a few weeks until I went to stay with my mother. I missed my children so badly, but at their father's there was family who helped taked care of them. Services were available in their state from Easter Seals, Social Services and MHMR that were not available for Autism in my state at the time. My son was also able to start school early there. In short time I realized that my absolute pride at insisting I take care of my children, and unwavering rule that a mother must do this no matter what, they must live with her, nearly killed the children I wanted so much to take care of, and cruelty of all cruelties those children had been watching me die slowy for a very long time.
   As my son began to grow and flourish in his new environment of support, and as my daughter grew to know more peace, and as the time I spent with them was time when we all were better rested and safe, I began to see that the Universe was right. My son was the perfect child for me, and I wasn't given him because he needed me. It was because I needed him. I had been abused for many autistic traits. One of them was when I'd go off in my own world at over stimulation and stare at nothingness.
    My son and I were sitting outside one day, and I saw him staring at a tree. Long past trying to get him into my world and having developed the compassion, curiosity and wonder of getting into his world, I decided to join him and stare too. It was a nice mental break. I found he was watching a trail of ants. It was so, so ,so peaceful. Nothing to do, just being. My son taught me how to meditate in this way. He taught this frantic, desperate mom that stillness is an absolute need for me and all of us. He taught me that play is not negotiable. We die without it. He taught me that social rules like how to act in public or when to sleep are of no importance. He taught me that happiness is what we're here for!
    I started stopping the pats on the back when people would call me a hero, because pedestals are hard for me. They set up expectations that no human can live up to. The hero was my son. In starting that fire, he saved my life. I got off all of the pills. I stopped trying to be superhuman, and I was forced to let him go to grow. He saved all of our lives.
    Since then, he teaches me that we are adequate and the perfect family for eachother all of us. We're still learning, but I am so grateful for the children I have, adults now. smiles. We have all grown up together through this. Now, when I remember those times when I thought of taking my own life, so someone, anyone would help my children, I am still humbled that help came from the last person I'd have expected it from....the five year old son of mine who loved us all enough to end the illusion that I had to try to do it on my own. He says he owes me his life, but no...That's not it. I owe him mine. 17 years have passed since then. Every heartbeat, joy and tear, everything I know about being a mom, all comes from my children.  I have been gifted beyond measure!
   If you think I had courage, step into my children's shoes. Their courage and strength and insistance on joy and peace in life gave me courage enough to go for an evaluation early this year. My children teach me to take care of their Mom.  They give me the courage to live and live life fully every day of it.
   There is hope for all. It's not hope that our children will one day be like us. I'd have been sadistic to hope my children would have been like me,  the nonsleeping, sorrowful, self absorbed, self pitying, martyr of a woman I was back then, not to mention self medicated. What kind of monster would want that for their children?
    No, there is hope that Autism will be seen as a way of being that while challenging can have it's own beauty and peace, that no parent is perfect, that we are not alone, and that we might see that sometimes the answers we look for everywhere else are right in front of us. Take time to be still, ask for help everywhere and accept it no matter where it comes from.
   What sometimes looks like the source of the problem, just may be the light at the end of the tunnel.
tina jones.

Messing With the Masters: Leonardo DaVinci Video

If you've been reading, you know I have a thing for Leo. This is my first effort at painting him, but I'm sure I'm not done. This is a roughly two hour work, just to show what can be done.

"Waking Leonardo"
30x40"
Acrylic on Canvas

Following is a video I made of this piece with a short commentary on the gifts of Autism.

http://youtu.be/B1w5lzqOXlk

Diagnosis: Asperger's

 I was recently formally diagnosed with Asperger's, a subset of Autism. 19 years ago, when my son was diagnosed with Severe Autism, I began asking questions, and I read Temple Grandin's first book called, "Emergence. Labeled Autistic" As I read, the denial that there was nothing different about my son, that he was only like me, began to fade. I was partially right. He was like me, and by the end of the book, I knew I had many characteristics of Autism myself.
   Being a parent takes 150% of whatever you've got, and when a special needs child is involved, there is little time, or I didn't make time, for me. It was hard and remains the most rewarding thing in my life. My son became one of my best friends, and often my teacher and my hope.
  Last year, after surviving cancer, I had a deeper sense than ever about how quickly life can be over. We don't know how much time any of us has. There was something I felt I'd left undone both for myself and for my children or any other person that might seek help one day. I wanted them to have a precedent of someone who willingly walked through the diagnosis process even with hands shaking and heart racing. My son was only two when his began. Professional diagnosis is not for everyone. It's the path I needed to take. I needed to let my son know he was not by himself in Autism.
   I began making phone calls and early this year, I found a psychologist at a local University who specialized in the diagnosis and treatment of Autism. The whole process took about four months, as part of my evaluation was part of the study of post graduate students working along side the Psychologist/Professor. I was pleased to able to take part in their education to one day help others with Autism. I met once a week for a while, then the last month or so was waiting. I'm a very patient person, and I knew inside already, so this was not a big problem for me. Any moment that I felt discouraged, I just thought about my children, and I was ok.
   There were many tests, all of which were given in a helpful spirit. I was treated with respect, tenderness and thoroughness. It was difficult, challenging and some days even fun. Some days I cried, some days it took everything I had to get out of my car and walk into the clinic,  but I kept the mental image of my brave son and daughter in my mind to let me know, I was not alone either.
   On June 14th of this year, 2011, I went to receive their findings.
 "Diagnosis: Asperger's Disorder"
    For my children, my grandchildren and their grandchildren:
You are not alone, you never have been, and you never will be. Should any fear come to you, I believe in you, and you can do what you need to do. I'm always with you.
    My son, my daughter and I used to take turns singing lines of a (perhaps silly) song together before he could talk. I heard my son singing a line softly, and he stopped when he realized I noticed. I sang the next line, and he continued. For the three of us, singing was our communication before conversation. We used it as a lullaby among others. They had such amazing voices! Barry and Eve, this one is for you.....You're my heroes! Thanks for comming into my life!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hchsGFGd24E
"Anything," smiles. Love, Mom (tina jones)

"First Kiss"
(my grandchildren)
18x24" Oil on Canvas

Autism and Asperger's: Defiant Children

I'm sharing a personal story in hopes of providing insight to parents who are having trouble getting their autistic child to cooperate in social activities including educational ones.
  I received a failing grade in physical education my Freshman year of high school. I heard terms like, "defiant, uncooperative," etc. I was never very coordinated or athletically inclined, but that wasn't the problem this time. Our physical education for that quarter was swimming.
   I went to a large high school. My mother had bought me a bikini that covered well, because at the time, one-pieces that fit on one end didn't fit the other. I could buy two-pieces in the two correct sizes. I liked the color of it. It was a dark maroon, feminine but not flashy. I was 14 years old, and had reached my adult size a few years earlier. To provide an accurate picture, I was 5'8" and by sight, completely a woman. Physically and in many intellectual ways, I could match anyone. At 14, however I was still very much a child emotionally. I had no idea how to process or respond to the reactions of others.
   From the school, once dressed in our suits, we had to traverse a grassy front lawn that was roughly 1and1/2 city blocks, then cross the highway, then walk through the public park to get to the swimming pool.
   No one seemed to have a problem with that, so I doubted my self conciousness (that is natural at that age or any) and went along. Did I mention the boy's swim class was at the same time as ours?
   I swam or tried to. I was tired and cold when we got out and wrapped a towel around myself to ward off the chills. Boys, being their normal teenage selves, teased and taunted saying that I was hiding under my towel. They wanted it off, or so they thought, and that's normal too. Well, exhausted, trying to stuff embarassment, and not willing to put up with the teasing, I put my nose in the air, dropped the towell and drug it behind me all the way across the school's front lawn. The brazen boys went mute and many had to wait a while to begin walking again. It was a very quiet walk for me.
   Nonetheless, I knew they'd arm themselves with something to say the next day, so I simply refused to dress for physical education/swimming from that point forward through the quarter of swimming. It seemed like an obvious, simple solution to me to stop the activity that scared/bothered/embarassed me. From that point, I got scolded by the teacher and stared at oddly from the other females. "What in the world could be wrong with HER?!" seemed to be their question. I thought they must be slow, and couldn't figure them out. Couldn't they see this was treated as a jiggle-show, and didn't the boy's taunting bother them. Apparently, not. They didn't seem to mind blind following, and some even seemed to enjoy the attention. That's *normal* too, I guess.
   Ready for a trip inside? I can't tolerate the feel of grass, extreme heat from walking in the sun exhausts me, I loathe being the center of attention, was actually terrified of the attention of the males, cold, the chatter and jeers along the way......SENSORY ISSUES, and the need for coping skills I simply didn't have left me unarmed.
    If your interested in experiencing something close to these feelings, on a very hot day put on a bathing suit, walk roughly 6 blocks through populated areas with extra weights of about 80 lbs strapped to your shoulders. Stuff prickly thistle in your shoes to get the full grass experience.  Get some friends to go with you, and have a few of them clang cymbols in your ears for the duration. Swim a bit while listening to the cymbols, enjoy a moment's respit for as long as you can hold your breath underwater, if you like. Get out, and have a few friends drench you with ice water. Better yet, make it acquaintences instead. Add a full marching band out of tune along with the chills on your way back. Have several of them make lude comments about your body and loudly.
    Want to do it again tomorrow?
    Whenever someone showed what appeared to be aggression, I'd go mute. It wasn't until a few years later, when three of these boys confronted me on a walk home with my younger sister, that I went off. I had to protect her. I screamed at them to get out of their car and face me, telling her to run. I'd grabbed the door of the car as if to come in after them. I'd taken all of the taunting I could, and this day it was going to end. I knew full well I couldn't beat up three boys, but at least I'd save my sister.
   Well, apparently these young men had never seen a female act quite like that, or not me anway. I was quiet, helpful and a generally mild kid. They stopped laughing, refused to leave the car, and got real....ummm...submissive. Interesting how that worked out. I wasn't taunted by them again.
   Now, let's look at it from my parent's point of view. Their daughter wouldn't dress for P.E. She must be "defiant," right?
   As a kid, I loved rules. Knowing what was wanted of me made my life easier, whenever I could figure it out. I couldn't, just could not go against the wishes of my parents....unless I had to. Often I forced myself to do things involving sensory overload just to please them, and that being untrue to myself made me very sick a lot of the time.
   When your child refuses to do something, especially when it doesn't make sense to you, be aware that there is probably a very good reason for it. Be aware that they may not even have the vocabulary to explain it to you. They may not even know, as I didn't, that this wasn't a perfectly normal situation that they just have to put up with.  Importantly,  be aware that scolding, bribing them to do it, punishing them, and rewarding them to do it, only exacerbates the state of being untrue to themselves, putting themselves in possibly dangerous situations and at the very least going through a sensory hell to please you. PAY ATTENTION to your children. They may well know more of what's going on than you do. They are handling their world to the best of their ability. They are not bad kids or defiant. They are not trying to make your life difficult. They are trying to survive.
  On the upside, you're lucky. You've got a child who will not follow the crowd when that crowd gets into things the child feels is wrong. You've got someone who can think for themselves and act on what they feel is right. You have a child with integrity. You have a child with ideas all her own, or as my adult daughter said of her own children, "If any stranger ever tried to offer them candy to get in a car, they'd tell them to go to hell, and walk on!"
   I love a defiant child, and bravo to them!
tina jones

"Perhaps They Never Will"

I've just finished the last portrait in this blog of my son. The title refers to Autism which he was diagnosed with at age 2. He's 21 now. I have many of his traits, and in hopes of conveying to him how much I understand, I paint.
  I thought it might be of interest to show the progression of my painting and style through the years, so I'm posting different works I've done of him.
  What next? smiles. Anywhere the brush leads me.
Best to all,
tina jones


"Artist's Son" 1997
24x30
Oil on Canvas




"Baby Bear" 1999
16x20
Oil on Canvas




"Artist's Son" 2004
18x24
Oil on Canvas





"Perhaps They Never Will" 2011
(For my beautiful son)
11x14
Acrylic on Canvas



Autism: Ongoing Understanding of Neurotypicals....the *regular* folk

"On the spectrum" of Autism, such a nebulous term. I lean more toward Austism than Aspergers in spots, yet I'm presentable enough at times to recieve the brunt of social expectation. "Expectation" is a word I wish had never been invented. "Neurotypical," despite it's basic meaning of a most common neurological wiring, is another word I don't like, because I find nothing typical among either those without Autistic traits or those with them. Each human being is an individual to be celebrated for their beingness.  
    I learned about autism 19 years ago when my son was diagnosed, and that's when I learned about me. I even learned about other people....a lot. It seems a whole lot of people never bumped their heads on the floor for comfort as a child, don't chew their tongues, don't have a kneaded eraser in their purse that they can play with for comfort, flick their fingernails against their palms in an "it's gonna be alright" way, and most of them do not have a hum in their voice, nor do they keep a respectful/comfortable three foot distance from people when speaking. Most of them have no problem with grabbing your arm when speaking to you (different boundaries). A whole lot of them (believe it or not) do not see details. They seem to enjoy or ingnore  noise sometimes (ie. crowd chatter), they love fluorescent lighting (Sadistic lights/sounds are pleasant to them.). Many of them, "Think outside the box" without ever looking to see what's actually IN the box, and only vaguely know what I'm talking about when I refer them to the feeling they get at "fingernails on a chalkboard."
     Many of them are burdened with having the socially correct hair cuts, clothing (whether it's comfortable or not) and latest sayings. Idioms, or not saying what they mean are common language, and they have to have a constant translator going in their minds at all times to understand what others (who don't say what they mean), really mean. (Remember that "Who's on First?" Abbott and Costello routine? It's like that for them as best I understand it. I must admire them for this, as I could never keep up with the codes.) They have talents too. many spontaneously know what to say in drivel conversations (small talk) and have textbook body language. A lot of people even have exaggerated body and face movements and a disturbing need to peer into my eyes and worse, many get upset if I don't do it back! Weirdos! (grins)
  If there is one thing I've learned, (and I do hope there's at least one) it's that there is no greater waste of my time and energy than to try to get the world to understand me. They are not going to get it. I'd be better off telling a person born blind that the sun hurts my eyes.They may accept it or not, but they're not going to understand it, and many people get mad at or fear things they don't understand.Thus, I'd totally given up on living happily misunderstood (Yes, I got temporary gratification from it, sadly). I needed a new outlook. There is no chance of me changing them. They are probably perfectly fine just like they are. Sometimes they say that people on the spectrum don't have compassion/empathy. I do understand projection.
   The situation is for me that I live in a world mostly populated by fear of difference. It's ok with them that you're different as long you don't talk about it and can fake a reasonably good *normal.* (Another useless word to me). Many neurotypicals have a need to try to fix others. Well, I can be the one person of respit in their lives who doesn't try to change them. I can accept with love. (This often confuses them. grins.) Someone has got to understand, they can't, it's not hardwired in, they were not made this way for better or for worse, regardless of what I or anyone thinks of it, so, in the interest of me not asking a legless person to run.....
   If understanding, compassion and empathy are what I sense is missing in the world, then understanding, compassion and empathy are precisely what I need to give to the world. Ok so they don't get me, so what? I enjoy learning, so I study them. True, I feel like Jane Goodall of "Gorillas in the mist" sometimes, but I see wonderful things. They interact oddly to me with all of the small talk, touching, social status rules and other things that don't have significance to me, but they do to them. Just because a thing is not important to me, that doesn't mean it's not important whether or not I understand it. St. Francis said, "it's better to understand than be understood," and for the sake of my sanity, I agree, it's better in that it's more effective.
 I'm interested in what works.
   Not all, but some people respond well to being heard and understood. This, I do right in the middle of yearning to be accepted, by the way. I don't care who provides the understanding. I can't afford to worry about that.  It doesn't matter to me when there is a shortage of understanding who provides it, and it most certainly doesn't matter who goes first or if it's ever returned to me from them. I'm going to have understanding of them and myself either way, because whenever I take time to understand others, I learn a little more about me. I become someone I like better, and someone who is ultimately less alone
   I can't afford to care much what others think of me (another waste of my energy). What I think of them, however comes from inside of me even when faced with apparent proof positive of my own judgements. I'd much prefer the compassion of thinking "they just can't understand or are not ready" than the thought "that they are too cruel to try." I am more peaceful when I have the compassion that is so sorely needed in and for everyone. Who does not desire to be loved for who they are? This I can give.I can let go of judgements, I can accept, and I can love.
   Long ago, I was so angry at *normal* people (neurotypicals) for being different. I was doing exactly what I felt was done to me and hoping that would make a difference. It only made the problem worse. I had to learn to give in the middle of needing, to love in the middle of wanting love, to accept in the middle of feeling judged and to embrace in the middle of feeling rejected. I do not crawl, nor do I negate my own needs. I simply allow my natural compassion to fill the void in others and me.
  Somehow through "It's better to understand than be understood," I got everything I needed and more. When I'm willing to give to the need I sense in the world, my own needs are fullfilled. The compassion I have for a world who has struggles that I could not comprehend comes from perhaps not the person I show compassion to, but from someone, or something or even from the last place I thought to look: From me.
  It helps me to look at similarities, for example "stimming." I've already mentioned what I do for comfort. I've come to believe that their form of stimming is small talk. From the outside, it doesn't look productive. It often involves strange staring, *pretend* smiles, and huge body movements,  but it seems to give them some comfort. Where I chew my tongue, they jiggle their change. I have a kneaded eraser, they have good luck charms like rabbit's feet, prayer beads, etc.
   Priorities are relative too. Where I focus on doing what I can to live in a low stress environment and improving my canvas or memorizing that new tune to the last note so much that I'll listen to it thirty times in a day, they focus (like my obsessing) on competitive steps and getting ahead of someone else. Neurotypical or On the Spectrum, to me, we are all a little delightfully strange.
   Understanding, however much or little I can, is making the world I live in a more comfortable place for me. Some of the NT people, I've noticed, even calm down after a while of me trying to understand, and don't do so much small talk *stimming.* If I can't make the world a better place for me directly, I can begin by making it better for them. When the world is a better place, I am content. When I am content, the importance of differences fade, and I see the beauty in all, all, all of us.
tina