This is going to be the most meta thing I have ever written. I'm engaging my special interests by writing about special interests!
What even is a special interest?
You'll probably understand my excitement a little better if you actually know what I'm talking about.
Special interests are an aspect of autism that are pathologized as "narrow, obsessive" interests, but if you step away from the autism-is-a-disease mentality for a moment, you can consider the idea of them being pretty awesome. Special interests are sort of like a favorite subject or hobby, only they are way more passionate than anything a regular person would experience.
Specia
I can tell you this with near-certainty: Everything you think you know about autism and empathy is a lie.
"Lacking empathy" oversimplifies and distorts the truth. Autistic people have a much more complicated relationship with empathy than a simple two-word phrase can describe. Some of us claim that we have too much empathy. Others say that no, we truly are deficient in empathy. Who is right?
Both sides!
Let's look at empathy deficiency first. It doesn't mean what you think it means.
When Audrey integrates a conversation function with respect to pizza, you know things just got complicated.
When empathy is hard
Empathy is hard for me. So
My feet slap the rug again and again as I bounce. Jump, jump, jump. My hands wave up and down in loose fists. Jump, jump, jump. My left arm starts swinging in big circles, around, around, around. My breathing comes heavy and rhythmic. I slow down, pacing counterclockwise. My fingers tap against my thumbs: pointer fingers, middle fingers, ring fingers, little fingers. Little fingers, ring fingers, middle fingers, pointer fingers.What is this? Just a typical 5-minute writing break.
Stimming is short for self-stimulatory behavior, or behavior designed to stimulate one of your senses. When you rub your forehead, tap your feet, or pace in circles,
"Ella no puede hablar," says the cafeteria worker. She can't talk. This is false, but the young woman has learned to point to what she wants, instead of repeating herself over and over, uselessly ejecting quiet words again and again from her sparrowlike body. Her food is always the same: pink yogurt. Fruit crepe, strawberries, banana. A muffin, if she's hungry after that.She sits down and rocks stiffly, her back hitting the soft padded booth behind her. Wham. Wham. Wham. She sits in the same enclosed corner every time; the same seat, if possible. She wears thick headphones with the song of the day on repeat. Wham. Wham. Wham.She has heard sni