by Henk ter Heide on Wednesday June 17, 2009
Thinking about my thinking process.
- Processing abstract information
- Finding the limit of my thoughts
In my last post I wrote that I expected that post would be a little further apart in future. This one is taking even more time then I had expected.
On the up side I have figured out that my very annoying habit of talking to myself is actually a symptom of my autism.
Having a visual thinking process means that I can’t think about subjects I can’t visualize. Things like “feelings”, the word “goals”, “business deals” are to abstract to visualize.
I’m not able to think about them except by talking about them.
Accepting that this is a symptom of my autism means a few things.
- It means that I have to accept that I will never get rid of this habit.
- It means that I’ll have to accept that I can’t draw as much as I would want to. Because I can’t think visual at the same time that I’m processing abstract information.
- But it also means that I need a better understanding of this process. There must be a natural boundary. A point where I’ve solved the problem I’m working on and should go back to thinking visually. That’s what I’m working on right now.
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by Henk ter Heide on Saturday December 8, 2007
Discovering that I can deviate from a habit without being at a turning point in my life.
I might as well give up. My life is a failure.
I used to sport every Monday and Friday. But now it’s gone.
Last week I was thinking about going to the sauna. I didn’t but by the time I decided not to go it was to late to go sporting.
This Friday I had to go out to buy a new coat and next week I’ll have to go to the autism club.
That’s it. No more sport.
And if I can’t succeed at sporting twice a week then I won’t succeed in drawing and writing a blog. I might as well stop with both.
This is been going on for whole of my life. Eventually I fail at everything I ever tried. My mother is always reminding me that I’m a failure.
She’s right. But I wish that she would stop saying it.
I just caught myself going down familiar a slope.
But for the first time in my life I realized something about habits:
I’m autistic. I need my habits. I need it that everything goes the way it always goes.
But although it feels like the end of the world to deviate from a habit, it isn’t.
I’ll go on drawing and writing and although I’ll only sport ones next week the week after everything will return to normal.
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by Henk ter Heide on Saturday December 1, 2007
My problems with toilet habits turned out to be a lot bigger then I thought.
Ever since I started this blog at the beginning of this year I’ve been surprised by the amount of knowledge you need if you want to write an article about something you don’t know and how much you must understand if you want to write an article about something you don’t understand. This means that I not only have to solve problems but I also have to figure out what the problem was so I can write about it.
That seems like a lot of extra work but actually it’s a good thing.
I’ve been taught to try to find the easiest solution for problems and go for it. I’m not sure whether that is one of those things you learn by accident or that it actually does work for people who aren’t autistic.
Although this doesn’t work for me I tend to forget. I work very hard at solving a problem the hard way and then at some point I realize what caused the problem and within 30 seconds it’s gone.
A few weeks ago I wrote an article about the problems I have had all through my life with toilet habits. I told that it had come to a crisis and that I had to take some sick leave. But I had gotten a handle on things and was planning to go back to work in a few days.
Sadly I didn’t. I couldn’t.
A few minutes before I should have been picked up by the mini van to be brought to the shop in Capelle I felt some bowel movements. Not knowing what these feelings meant I called in sick again. Which turned out to be a good decision. If I had gone I would have had an other crisis.
After that I stayed at home for a few weeks. Thinking I should first learn to distinguish between the different feelings I have in my bowels.
Two weeks ago my counselor came by again.
We talk al lot about the toilet problems I had been having and he pointed me to something that I hadn’t noticed for some reason.
I was getting afraid to leave my house.
To go down town I have to cycle down a 2 kilometer long narrow road with water on both sides. When going down town I was getting afraid that I might accidentally drive into the water. Strangely enough on the way back I didn’t have this fear although I cycle down the same road.
Thinking about it some more I realized that I never had a problem with toilet habits. It always was more of a phobia and although it has something to do with toilet habits it’s more of a fear of travel. Since fear cause diarrhoea it’s an easy mistake.
The best way to deal with fobia is to face them right on. The more you think about your fear the bigger it gets. If you just deal with it usually it passes.
I went back to work last Tuesday and had two anxience days in which a took I lot of anti diarrhoea medicine and had four very frightening travel experiences.
On Thursday some one asked me what exactly scared me. Not something I wanted to talk about because I thought that my fear would increase if I thought to much.
But the opposite happened. I realized that I wasn’t afraid that I would soil myself. I was afraid of the feeling it self.
The moment I realized that the fear was gone.
BTW I read that some autistics are afraid of public toilets.
Although I never feared them I do have a problem with a lot of public toilets.
There are two types of toilets. In homes you usually find the type with a plateau on which the stool comes to rest before you flush it down.
In public places you tend to find the type with a watery hole in which the stool disappears.
I’ve always had the problem that I couldn’t feel my stool coming. I still have the problem that I can’t feel how big the stool is.
To know if the rest of my day will be “save” I have to look down. It’s quite scary when that isn’t possible.
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