The autism spectrum, the idea that autism is a condition with symptoms changing in intensity but fundamentally being the same, is an ideology I strongly oppose. Being on the spectrum myself, I know many others like me who don’t support it either. The key issue is that autistic disorder (along with childhood disintegrative disorder) is very different from Asperger’s disorder. This is something psychologists and those with Asperger’s often find hard to admit, partly due to the stereotype that Asperger’s is mild while autistic disorder and childhood disintegrative disorder are severe.
The truth is that Asperger’s can be equally severe, but manifests very differently. It’s recognized that only Asperger’s disorder has symptoms like a lack of empathy and common sense – traits hard to measure in a test, but very clear when you spend extended time with them. These characteristics are noted in Hans Asperger’s works. As someone with autistic disorder, I both figuratively and literally can’t walk through the same door as someone with Asperger’s syndrome due to our different challenges.
The stereotyping resulting from Asperger’s symptoms now being applied to someone like myself, with autistic disorder, only makes this worse. I wish psychologists would listen, as many autistic people, including some with Asperger’s, want to move away from the autism spectrum ideology and find a better approach – one that separates autism (autistic disorder and childhood disintegrative disorder) from Asperger’s and recognizes our distinct struggles instead of promoting stereotypes. Life under the autism spectrum ideology is challenging for many of us.
My poem: Distinct realities
In a world of labels, neatly arranged,
they place us side by side, you and I.
“Cousins,” they say, “on a sliding scale” —
but their tidy theory fails to comply.
Your Asperger’s: a finely tuned piano,
each key struck with precision, grace.
My autism: a thunderous drumbeat,
reverberating through time and space.
They speak of spectrums, smooth transitions,
a rainbow bridging our experiences.
But rainbows don’t capture earthquakes,
nor explain the chasm’s vast distances.
Your words flow like a gentle stream,
clear and purposeful in their course.
Mine surge like a turbulent river,
raw, unfiltered, full of force.
In textbooks, a tidy continuum drawn,
from your foothills to my jagged peaks.
But life defies their neat gradations,
in the valleys where reality speaks.
You navigate social currents with care,
a skilled sailor on choppy seas.
I’m adrift in a storm of sensations,
struggling against the social breeze.
They claim we’re branches of one tree,
varying only in reach and height.
But we’re separate species, you and I,
distinct in essence, day and night.
Your mind: a library, well-organized,
each thought filed in its proper place.
Mine: a wild, untamed jungle,
where ideas roam in chaotic space.
Two paths diverged in a neurological wood,
and we — we took the ones less traveled by.
In the uncharted territories of the mind,
our truths bloom, unique beneath the sky.
Strength unveiled
Timeless haze
