Chapter 12: Autism Promise
The sun filtered through Dean’s window, casting soft beams across his desk as he settled in for his weekly call with Mike. Today felt different—Dean sensed a shift in their dynamic, a deeper curiosity brewing beneath Mike’s usual light-hearted banter. As they exchanged pleasantries, Dean felt the familiar comfort of their conversations, but he also sensed that Mike was gearing up for something more serious.
“Hey, Dean,” Mike began, his voice warm yet tinged with curiosity. “I’ve been thinking a lot about your experiences lately. Can we talk a bit about autism and how it affects you? I’d love to understand it better.”
Dean paused, surprised yet grateful for the opportunity to discuss something so personal. “Sure, Mike. I’m glad you want to know more. It’s not always easy to explain, but I’ll do my best.”
Mike nodded, encouraging him to continue. “What’s something you think people misunderstand about autism?”
Dean leaned back in his chair, reflecting. “One of the biggest misconceptions is that autism is a monolith. People often think it looks the same for everyone, but it’s really a spectrum. Some individuals might have significant challenges in daily life, while others, like me, might be more high-functioning and can navigate the world more easily.”
“That makes sense,” Mike said thoughtfully. “I guess it’s like different shades of a color, right?”
“Exactly,” Dean replied, feeling a wave of appreciation for Mike’s understanding. “Each person experiences autism in unique ways. For instance, I have certain traits that help me excel in specific areas, like hyper-focusing on topics of interest.”
“Hyper-focus? What’s that like?” Mike asked, intrigued.
Dean smiled, remembering how he often got lost in his passions. “It’s when I can concentrate intensely on something that fascinates me—like history, stock market strategies, or even Castle Quest: Battle for the Crown. When I’m in that state, it’s like the world fades away, and I’m completely absorbed. I can remember details and facts with incredible clarity, almost like I’m reliving those moments as if they’re happening again.”
“Wow, that sounds powerful!” Mike said, clearly impressed. “So, you’re like a walking encyclopedia for things you love?”
“Pretty much!” Dean chuckled. “But it has its downsides, too. While I can recall experiences vividly, it can be overwhelming. Sometimes, I can also remember things that others have long forgotten, and it can be emotionally taxing to revisit those memories.”
My sensitivity to sound is heightened, which can lead to sensory overload. For example, when there are too many noises—like people talking, music playing, and even background hums—I can feel overwhelmed, almost like my brain is short-circuiting.”
“That sounds tough,” Mike replied, sympathy evident in his tone. “How do you cope with that?”
Dean took a deep breath, trying to articulate his strategies. “I’ve learned to recognize when I’m starting to feel overloaded. Sometimes, I need to step away to a quieter space to recalibrate. I’ll wear noise-canceling headphones or take a few minutes to focus on my breathing. It helps ground me.”
“Have you found that people understand this when you explain it to them?” Mike asked.
“Not always,” Dean admitted. “Some people just don’t get it. They might think I’m being difficult or antisocial, but it’s really about managing my sensory input. It’s hard for them to understand how something as simple as background noise can feel like a tidal wave.”
Mike nodded thoughtfully. “That makes a lot of sense. What about when you’re talking to people? Do you ever feel like it’s hard to express yourself?”
“Absolutely,” Dean replied. “I often have to think carefully about what I want to say before I speak. If I don’t take that moment, my words can come out jumbled or mixed up. My brain processes things differently, and sometimes it feels like I’m racing to catch up with my own thoughts.”
“I can see how that would be frustrating,” Mike said empathetically. “So, it’s not that you don’t know what you want to say; it’s just that the words take a little longer to come out?”
“Exactly,” Dean confirmed. “And it can lead to misunderstandings. People might think I’m not engaged or that I don’t have something valuable to contribute, but that’s far from the truth. I’m just processing things in my own way.”
Mike leaned back in his chair, absorbing everything Dean had shared. “It sounds like autism has both its gifts and its challenges. Would you say that’s accurate?”
“Definitely,” Dean replied, feeling a sense of relief in sharing his perspective. “There are incredible aspects, like the ability to hyper-focus and retain information, but there are also hurdles that can make everyday life challenging.”
“Have you found that people in your life appreciate those gifts?” Mike asked.
“Sometimes,” Dean said thoughtfully. “But there’s also a lot of stigma attached to autism. It’s frustrating because while I want to share my strengths, I often feel overshadowed by the misconceptions people have about my challenges.”
“I can’t imagine how difficult that must be,” Mike said, his voice sincere. “But I’m glad we’re having this conversation. It’s important for people to understand that autism is not just a list of limitations; it’s about recognizing the full spectrum of experiences.”