Are They Autistic? – Reggie Abbot (Twelve Forever) – Part 1

Hello everybody, this is George Harvey (aka The Autistic Blogger). Welcome to another instalment of Are They Autistic?: the series where I look at characters from various forms of media and analyse whether I think they’re on the spectrum or not.

Today we’ll be looking at Regina “Reggie” Abbot, the main character of the Netflix animated series Twelve Forever. It’s a series I’ve been interested in seeing for a while now but never got around to it. Either because I couldn’t find the time to or because I didn’t have a Netflix account. However, the series has stayed on my mind because parts of the trailer intrigued me about Reggie’s character. Let me explain.

From what I could tell, Reggie is a preteen girl struggling with the reality that she’s growing up. She’s embarrassed to get a bra for her birthday, feels awkward going clothes shopping, and shows no interest in things like makeup or beauty magazines – much to her mother’s disappointment. Furthermore, Reggie seems determined to stay a child no matter what. She spends her time drawing pictures and making costumes; she paints her face black and white, claiming to be a “dead skunk bride“, and has a collection of stuffed animals and action figures. In her own words, she describes herself as “some weird loser who’s loud and awkward and still plays with toys.” 

As you can imagine, Reggie’s desire to stay young causes problems in her social life; she has few friends who share her interests, and it even puts her at odds with her family. Moreover, the situation causes her stress. She knows growing up is inevitable. But she’s worried it’ll mean giving up everything she loves and condemning herself to a life of boredom and misery. Nobody wants that. But it feels like there’s nothing she can do about it. The world is bearing down on her.

One day, Reggie gets so frustrated that she can’t bear reality anymore. She wants to go someplace where she can just be herself. “Where everyone’s cool, and no one ever tells [her] to grow up.” Amazingly, she gets her wish. Through the power of her desires – and a magical key – Reggie and her friends (Todd and Esther) can visit the world of Endless: an island full of bizarre creatures and neverending fun. They’re also granted superpowers, which come in handy when protecting the island from threats such as the Butt Witch. It’s the perfect place for Reggie to escape her worries and live out her fantasies. But it also allows her time to work through her growing pains and resolve conflicts with her friends. Maybe then she’ll learn getting older isn’t as dull and depressing as it seems.

So you might be wondering why I’ve chosen this series and character, specifically. After all, dealing with maturity is a relatable story we’ve heard many times before. Even the addition of a fantasy world easing us through the transition is nothing new – think of classic novels like Peter Pan or Alice in Wonderland. However, I couldn’t help drawing comparisons between Reggie and myself. It’s a little farfetched to say so, but I think her behaviour is similar to someone with Autism. Let me give you some examples.

Firstly, there’s Reggie’s reluctance to change. As mentioned before, getting older is never easy; it comes with many new challenges and experiences. For people with Autism, though, these changes are especially harsh. Understanding the world around us can be difficult, given how differently our minds process information. Because of that, we tend to fixate on whatever we find familiar or amusing. We take comfort in these things because they’re simple to understand, and we know the rules. However, when stepping out of these comfort zones, we know our disabilities will sometimes make new experiences longer and harder to learn. Plus, there’s no guarantee we’ll succeed in them as well as most people. Usually, that’s not the case, and we manage just fine or even better. But it doesn’t make the learning period any less stressful or scary. Consequently, we’re more hesitant to commit to it and often default to what we know.

In Reggie’s case, it’s similar. The thought of becoming a young adult is off-putting to her because it’s entirely different from the life she’s always known. I couldn’t tell from the trailer if she has trouble understanding the world. But her childish antics are more extreme for someone her age – even by some Autistic standards. I’ve already given a few examples above. However, we’re also shown a comparison with Reggie’s brother, Dustin; he’s adjusted to being a teenager much better than his sister – who he now sees as an annoying pest. With so much changing in her life, Reggie takes comfort in the remnants of her childhood. They’re reminders of times when everything was fun and familiar. Maybe she acts the way she does because she doesn’t want to grow up. Or perhaps something inside her is affecting her confidence, which makes moving on too emotionally demanding.

There’s also the fact that Reggie has specific interests. Having a different perspective of the world means Autistic people are sometimes fascinated by the most unusual things. For example, Maud Pie and Mud Briar (Friendship is Magic) are interested in rocks and sticks, respectively. Haruhi Suzumiya (The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya) is drawn to anything not remotely normal. I’m someone who watches a show about colourful talking ponies that’s aimed primarily at young girls. And Reggie loves toys and being creative. For an outsider looking in, these things are strange or irrelevant to obsess over. Thus it often creates distance between them and the Autistic person. We see this with Reggie’s mother trying to get her daughter interested in fashion. However, anything can be fascinating if you take the time to understand what makes them so uniquely appealing. The problem is finding people who share that passion for something so specific. Or a least know why you love it so much. Most people usually gravitate to what’s popular with everyone, and that’s that.

Out of everything I took from Twelve Forever‘s trailer, though, the most intriguing part was when Reggie’s mother explains that her daughter “locks herself in her room for hours, making up stories and living in her own little world.” Hearing these words, I couldn’t help thinking back to my preteen days. I’ve expressed it before, but when I was younger, I always thought about my favourite TV shows, games and characters. I’d relive them inside my head, even at the most inopportune times. I then started coming up with my own stories and ideas, which led me to want to pursue a career in creative writing. Could it be that Reggie is also at this stage? Could she unknowingly be setting herself up to make a living off her passions? It’s entirely possible. After all, parts of Endless are created from her imagination, drawings and toys. Not to mention “living in their own world” is a common way of describing Autistic behaviour. This similarity with me was the most convincing evidence I had thus far.

So you might think I have a solid case for proving that Reggie is Autistic. However, keep in mind everything I’ve mentioned so far comes from my impressions of the trailer – and a few short clips on YouTube. You also have to remember that Autism is several different conditions working together. And they can affect people in different ways. For example, I have a girlfriend who’s also on the spectrum. But unlike me, she doesn’t have Asperger’s Syndrome. So whereas I find it difficult to talk in most social situations, she can talk for hours about almost anything non-stop. 

Just because there are similarities between Reggie and me doesn’t mean we’re both Autistic. The only way I’d know for sure is if I watched the series for myself. Did it confirm or disprove any of my theories? Find out in Part 2 (Are They Autistic? – Reggie Abbot (Twelve Forever) – Part 2 | The Autistic Blogger (wordpress.com)).

Image courtesy of: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt8009622/?ref_=tt_mv_close

Are They Autistic? – Renee (Pixar’s Loop)

Hello everybody, this is George Harvey (aka The Autistic Blogger). Welcome to another instalment of Are They Autistic?: the series where I look at characters from various forms of media and analyse whether I think they’re on the spectrum or not.

Today I decided to try something a little bit different. Instead of a character from a book or TV series, I’ll be analysing one from a short film. Specifically: Renee from Disney Pixar’s Loop (2020). Also, my reasons for choosing her are somewhat different too. Usually, when selecting characters for this series, I prefer those who haven’t been confirmed to be Autistic. The reason is it gives me more leeway to observe their behaviours and make assessments of my own. In Renee’s case, she is confirmed to have Autism. But it’s not the kind I usually analyse. Let me explain.

What’s important to remember about Autism is that it’s not one condition but several neurological ones acting together. Also, these combinations affect different people to varying degrees. Hence why there’s a spectrum. True, there are minor cases where a person only has repetitive behaviours or learning difficulties. Or milder cases (like mine) where it’s hard to process information and socialise. But then there are higher forms. In these cases, people struggle to develop basic motor skills where even speech is difficult. I may not have this form myself. But I have witnessed firsthand how severe it can be when visiting special needs schools. It gave me a newfound appreciation for the personal carers who’re committed to helping such people.

Going back to Renee, she’s advertised as a non-verbal Autistic character. I was keen to see how well-handled her condition would be in this short. After all, it’s one thing to claim a character is highly Autistic; it’s another to portray them as such – there have been misinterpretations before. That being said, I was confident in the studio behind this story. Why? Because it’s Pixar. Yes, the company responsible for innovating mainstream computer animation has also produced multiple short films over the years. Whether it’s their classics like Luxo Jr. (1986), award-winners like Bao (2018), or visual masterpieces like Piper (2016), they always make sure to research the subject thoroughly before putting pen to paper. With this in mind, I knew they wouldn’t take a topic like Autism lightly. So let’s take a look.

As the short begins, we’re immediately introduced to Renee. She’s sitting in a canoe at a campground, listening to a ringtone on her phone. Other kids have already gone paddling ahead, but Renee is too fixated on playing the sound over and over again.

Within the first 30 seconds, the animation establishes a common Autistic trait. When you’re on the spectrum, it’s easy to focus on just one thing rather than everything around you – it’s less stressful that way. As an audience, we can see the other kids paddling away in the distance. But when looking through Renee’s eyes, they’re almost out of focus. All that’s clear to her is the phone and the sound it makes. There are other indications of her condition, as well. She doesn’t look at people when they approach her; she retracts if they get too close and makes loud groans to show her displeasure. Even her facial expressions are realistic, with her glassy eyes and limp smile. Director Erica Milsom knew she had to get Renee’s character across to the audience quickly. And with everything that’s presented visually, it’s clear Renee is Autistic without anyone needing to say it.

However, the short isn’t really about discovering Renee’s condition. Instead, it wants to teach viewers about its effects and how best to interact with someone who has it. To do this, they pair Renee with someone who’s her opposite.

Back on the riverbank, a boy named Marcus arrives. He’s running late and eager to catch up. But the camp counsellor asks him to go with Renee today. He’s somewhat reluctant at first because of her reputation, but the counsellor assures him she likes canoeing too. He also gives Renee some reassurance before pushing them off.

Two things are highlighted in this scene for me. First off, Marcus probably doesn’t know about Renee’s Autism. The way he describes her as “that girl who doesn’t talk” is evidence of this. As such, the audience identifies with him as someone who’s learning about the condition for the first time – maybe like they are. The other point is with the camp councillor. He’s actively trying to encourage better interactions among his campers. It’s mentioned, for example, that he usually goes with Renee in the canoe – implying the other kids keep their distance. However, he knows that’s not the way forward. Although he’s aware putting her with someone else will make her uneasy – because making the slightest change to an Autistic person’s routine can do that – he wants to ease her out of her comfort zone. That way, she’ll be more willing to try new experiences. He also wants Marcus to get along with different kinds of people. It’s a learning experience for both kids.

Out on the lake, things are challenging for Marcus and Renee. At first, Marcus tries speaking to her like any other teenager. But he quickly realises that’s not going to work. She’s too focused on something ahead, keeps listening to her ringtone and doesn’t take notice of him. But it’s not because she’s ignoring him; it’s how her mind processes what’s around her.

As I alluded to before, there are times when we’re shown Renee’s point of view directly through her eyes. Whenever that happens, almost everything we see becomes light and blurry. It emphasises how Renee struggles to focus on anything that isn’t at the centre of her attention. She prefers to concentrate on things she’s familiar with and for everything else to be quiet. 

That being said, there are also moments when she’s overly sensitive to her surroundings. For example, as Marcus tries speaking again, his voice sounds like a distant echo to Renee. She’s still fixated on something else, so his words aren’t processed very well. Meanwhile, sounds such as Marcus knocking his paddle or sniffing are magnified in volume. To almost any other person, these sounds would barely register. But for Renee, they’re so sudden and unexpected that it shocks her attention to them. It’s usually louder and scarier noises that set her off.

I can think of one other time I’ve seen something that displays an Autistic person’s perspective so efficiently. Several years ago, I attended an Autism Awareness convention in London. While there, a tech company showed me a video program they’d made on a virtual reality headset. Watching the video, you’re looking through the eyes of a boy who’s at a regular shopping centre with his mum. The mother tells you to wait while she does something at a counter. There’s nothing unusual about that. But then things start to happen around you. Footsteps, ringing mobiles, people talking; all these everyday sounds are made much louder in the video, and you can even see the vibrations emanating off them. Eventually, you’re being overwhelmed by so many sounds you can’t help looking around at where they’re all coming from. By this point, the mother has returned and is trying to ask you what’s wrong. But you barely notice her because you’re still trying to locate all the sounds. Soon it becomes too much to bear, and the footage blacks out. For anyone who’s not highly Autistic, this video shows exactly what kind of stress those people experience almost every day.

Now, to be clear, although Renee finds it hard to process what people say, that doesn’t mean she can’t understand them at all. She does, for example, register when Marcus asks her what she wants to do. It seems she wants to tell him something but can’t express it in words. So instead, she looks around, groaning and breathing heavily, as if trying to find some other way of letting him know.

Assuming Renee can’t think of anything, Marcus decides they’ll do a quick paddle around and then get her back to camp. She seems fine with what he says at first. But then he starts talking too fast and spinning the canoe in a circle. The movement freaks her out, and she begins physically rocking the boat from side to side – almost tipping them over. Marcus understands and stops to try and calm Renee down. He suggests taking her back to camp. But that only sets her off rocking the canoe again. It’s not what she wants. 

As the scene progresses, we can see Marcus is getting more frustrated. It’s understandable why. He has no idea how Renee will react to anything he says or does, and it might end up being dangerous. Even so, he manages to stay calm and asks her what she wants again. Once more, his voice sounds like an echo to Renee. She doesn’t even look at him when he speaks because she’s anticipating another noise to happen somewhere. She does, however, pick up on something he says: if she wants to do something specific, she’s got to help him out.

That’s when Renee gets an idea. She shows Marcus a ‘poop’ emoji on her phone. He’s confused at first, but then he notices some portable outhouses on a nearby riverbank. Renee somewhat gestures at them too, and he realises that’s where she wants to head. Smiling, he begins slowly paddling over.

I want to say, at this point, how much I admire the short for highlighting technology as a means of communication; many video programs and applications are being made nowadays to help Autistic people develop life skills. Going back to the time I visited a special needs school, there was a boy there who was just as non-verbal as Renee. To help him communicate, the care workers gave him an iPad with an application that spoke simple sentences. All he had to do was remember the right combination of buttons they’d taught him, and he could let them know how he was feeling or what he wanted at any given time. It was a simple repetitive action that helped make all the difference.

Repetitiveness is also shown in Renee. As she and Marcus approach the riverbank, they pass by some water reeds. Renee reaches out because she likes how they feel on her skin. It’s then Marcus realises she never wanted to use the restrooms at all. Renee only wanted to go through the reeds and used the emoji to clue him in on the direction. After passing through them several times, Renee starts listening to her ringtone over and over again. Seeing how much she enjoys it, Marcus has an idea. 

It’s clear by now the ringtone is a source of comfort for Renee. Unlike many other sounds, it’s one she has control over and likes hearing. It’s similar to me in a way. When working on long articles like this one, I sometimes have to stop for a few minutes and watch short videos online. It gives me a brief moment of entertainment, so I’m not overwhelmed by the workload and can reset my focus. Other people listen to music or play games for similar results. Everyone needs something they’re familiar with to guide them along.

Marcus paddles the canoe inside a large sewer pipe. The confined space echoes the sound of Renee’s ringtone, which seems to please her. Marcus admits he likes it in there, too: “[it’s] a good place to be when there’s too much other stuff happening out there.” 

So perhaps Marcus does understand Renee a little. This dialogue implies he knows what it’s like to be overwhelmed by problems in the outside world. He thinks it might be an idea if they stay there a while, so Renee doesn’t have to deal with sensory overload.

Suddenly there’s a problem. Renee hears the sound of a speedboat approaching outside. Terrified of the monstrous noise being amplified within the pipe, she frantically paddles for the exit. Marcus doesn’t seem to understand and tries fighting against it. He steers them clear of the oncoming boat, but the force of his paddling knocks them both ashore with the canoe. He demands to know why Renee did that. But Renee has gone into a complete meltdown. She cries out in fear and rage, refuses to let Marcus touch her, and even throws her phone in the water by accident. She then hides under the canoe, still crying and trying to block out everything around her.

I respect the short for not shying away from this drama; sometimes, no matter how cautious you are, an Autistic person will have emotional breakdowns. And they will be challenging to deal with because you don’t know how that person will act in their state. However, when they do occur, it’s essential to stay calm and work out the cause of stress so you can put them at ease.

Marcus immediately realises his mistake. But rather than do anything that might worsen the situation, he leaves Renee to calm down. A long time passes, and she still hasn’t come out. So he sits down to talk to her. He admits that she’s an “intense” person to deal with at times. But he “messed up” by shouting at her. He doesn’t always know what to do – not like their councillor – but he understands he needs to be patient. 

I love how Marcus is honest in this scene; of course, he wouldn’t know what to do in this situation; it’s a first-time experience for him. And someone like Renee would intimidate him at first; he isn’t familiar with how her condition makes her behave. But the experience is meant to be a realistic one for the audience. It’s something they can learn from along with Marcus. 

Eventually, Renee comes out and plays with the water reed that Marcus left her. Marcus copies the sound of her ringtone, and she repeats it back to him. It’s then that she finally looks at him and gives him a half-smile. With everything calm now, and the sun beginning to set, they both get back in the canoe and paddle towards camp. In a post-credits scene, it’s revealed they’ve stayed in contact and occasionally go canoeing together still.

And that’s Disney Pixar’s Loop. In summary, it does an excellent job of representing non-verbal Autistic people. Not to mention what first interactions with them could be like for others. The plot may not have much of a set-up, and the ending is a little ambiguous. But Renee’s condition is always at the forefront of the story. Whether it’s her facial expressions, her unique point of view or her emotional outbursts, the animators did everything they could to make sure Renee was portrayed accurately – which isn’t surprising considering they consulted the Autistic Self Advocacy Network (ASAN). Even if I went into this not knowing about Renee’s condition, it would still be clear to me that she’s on the spectrum.

So yes, it goes without saying that I believe Renee is highly Autistic. However, I also can’t stress how appealing this 8-minute short is. My descriptions don’t even begin to do it justice. So, if you have Disney+ and ever get a spare moment, definitely watch it for yourselves. You might find it teaches empathy in ways you never could’ve imagined.

That’s all I have to say. If you have any questions, please leave me a comment below. And, until next time, stay tuned.

PS. I am still recovering from having Covid 19, but I think I’m past the worst of it. Also, I’d like to give a special thank you to Wendy Jones. She commented on my last post and asked if I’d like my blog to be included on her list of resources, which she provides to parents to help share Autism with their children. I’m always happy to share my work with others.

Image courtesy of: https://thewaltdisneycompany.com/pixar-sparkshort-loop-promotes-autism-acceptance-celebrates-difference-and-helps-inspire-change/

My Little Pony: Lesson Zero and Autism (Part 2)

(Continued from Part 1: https://georgeharvey2015.wordpress.com/2016/10/22/my-little-pony-lesson-zero-and-autism-part-1/)

From here onwards, the episode focuses on Twilight trying to cope with the stress of potentially missing her deadline. Many people go through this situation, of course. But it’s important to note how Twilight is reacting. And why. Because she thinks very highly of Celestia, she feels it’s necessary to push herself – if she’s not perfect, it’s not meeting her tutor’s standards. I had this same problem in university. Because I took Creative Writing at Greenwich, one of London’s top colleges, every assignment felt like it had to be precise or else I’d fail my course. This goes back to what I said before about problems feeling bigger than they actually are. No one expects perfection – not even royalty. But if you’re used to being a model pupil, it’s easy to stress over small details and imagine all the negative outcomes.

Thinking she’ll be sent back to magic kindergarten if she fails, Twilight decides to find a friendship problem and solve it by the end of the day. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have much luck. Every time she runs into one of her friends they look like they’re in trouble. But it turns out to be a misunderstanding, leaving her crushed.

Yes, Twilight is actually hoping her friends are suffering so she’ll have something to fix and write about. When you’re stressing over a deadline, it’s hard to concern yourself with anything else.

With no friendship problems in sight, Twilight curls up on a park bench trying to comfort herself. However, the pressure is clearly getting her. She’s stroking her tail, her mane is frazzled, she starts crying and arguing with herself (Gollum-style.) She even has hallucinations of younger ponies (fillies) laughing at her.

You might think this behaviour is a bit exaggerated or comical. But I can tell you, from personal experience, that it’s realistic. There were times in university when I’d curl up in fear. Or I’d cry and talk to my reflection. Sometimes I even had nervous twitches that made me throw up in the morning. The point is, stress can cause you to act the way Twilight does. And I’m glad Meghan McCarthy and the animators gave us such an accurate portrayal here.

Spike tells Twilight she needs to calm down because he’s worried about her. He suggests they go to the picnic so she can relax. But Twilight sees this as another chance to find a friendship problem.

Again, this is realistic behaviour from Twilight. When you have short deadlines, it feels like you can’t afford to take breaks. If you do, you’ll just have less time to finish your tasks, which makes the situation more stressful.

Arriving at the picnic, Twilight tells her friends she desperately needs their help. They seem eager to lend a hoof until she explains she’s late for an assignment. At which point, they brush off the problem and go back to their picnic. Twilight insists her whole life depends on this. But her friends just say she’s getting all worked up over nothing – some even laugh and call her a drama queen. This infuriates Twilight, and she runs off in frustration.

This is a very pivotal moment in the episode. Not only does it affect everything that happens afterwards, but it ultimately leads us to the moral of the story.

Also, this situation is something I feel very personal about.

To be fair, Twilight’s friends aren’t being hurtful on purpose – they do show regret after she runs off. But if I were in her position, I’d be mad too. There have been times when I’ve gone to people for help, and all they’ve done is tell me my problems aren’t worth stressing over. I  do understand why they say this. But it doesn’t do anything to help me, and I almost hate them for it.

It’s the same with Twilight.

Yes, she is overreacting – that much is obvious. But she wouldn’t be panicking if she didn’t feel she had a reason to. Her friends don’t see what’s so stressful because they’re not the ones with the problem. So they think the obvious solution is to stop worrying about it. But this is the worst thing you can say to somebody in Twilight’s predicament.

People do prefer not to feel negative emotions. But they can’t stop feeling how they are just because someone tells them to. If you were punched in the face, you wouldn’t forgive the person who did it just because they said it was a joke. You wouldn’t immediately cheer up if you were told your mother died. And you wouldn’t stop worrying about something just because another person said they would. Telling someone they’re overreacting, without offering a proper solution to their problem, just makes that person think you’re being insensitive. Or worse, poking fun at their misery. This is the sort of thing that ruins relationships.

Twilight’s friends don’t realise the severity of their actions – or lack of them. And it’s what leads us to the episode’s climax.

We cut back to Twilight, who’s watching the sun set from her bedroom. By this point, her mind has officially snapped, and she’s descending into madness.

Seriously, go on YouTube, type Crazy Twilight Sparkle and click the first video that comes up. This scene alone proves why My Little Pony isn’t just for girls anymore.

With seemingly no other option, Twilight decides if she can’t find a friendship problem, she’ll make one.

I’ve been through this scenario once too often; the pressure of meeting a deadline can be so overwhelming you resort to taking shortcuts. The stress means you can’t think straight and you’re so focused on finishing the task you don’t care if it’s done well or not.

Twilight goes outside, with a sadistic grin on her face (see image link below), and comes across Applebloom, Sweetiebelle and Scootaloo (the Cutie Mark Crusaders). She shows the fillies her Smarty Pants doll and gives it to them, hoping they’ll fight over it. When they don’t, she casts a “Want It/Need It” spell, which forces them to fight. Twilight tries to teach the girls about sharing but quickly realises the spell is too powerful. Then more ponies fall under her spell until nearly everyone in Ponyville is fighting over the doll. Twilight finds her friends and admits she messed up, just as the sun sets over the horizon.

By the way, I should mention the sun has been setting in a rather unique way. Along with a ‘ticking’ windmill, it’s been jolting across the sky like the hours on a clock face. I love how the animators did this because it emphasises how Twilight is feeling about her time pressure.

Just when it looks like things can’t get any worse, a voice cries out “TWILIGHT SPARKLE!” It’s Princess Celestia. She casts a spell which removes the enchantment from the doll, returning every pony to normal. She then approaches Twilight and says to meet her in the library. Believing she knows what this means, Twilight says a sad goodbye to her friends and walks away – it’s only then they realise how big Twilight’s problem might’ve been.

However, it turns out Celestia isn’t mad. She tells Twilight she’s a wonderful student, and she doesn’t need to get a letter from her every week to know that.

This is further proof that Twilight set the letter deadline herself. She was just pushing herself, unnecessarily, to impress her teacher.

Suddenly, Twilight’s friends burst in and beg Celestia not to punish her. They insist it was their fault for what happened because they didn’t take Twilight’s feelings seriously before. If they did, they could’ve done more to help her, and she wouldn’t have caused all the chaos.

I’m so glad Megan McCarthy included this scene. The episode could’ve ended with Twilight learning her lesson, and that would’ve been enough. But she makes it clear that Twilight wasn’t the only pony at fault. Her friends share equal blame for not taking the right course of action. To quote a line from an old Sonic Underground episode: “You’re part of the problem if you’re not helping solve them.”

Celestia seems impressed that every pony has learnt from the day’s experience. So she makes a deal with them. She’ll forget the fiasco if, from now on, all six of them write her letters on their lessons of friendship – when, and only when, they discover them.

This solution is perfect for two reasons: A) it takes some much-needed pressure off of Twilight, and B) it solves a problem many critics had with the first season. You see, because Twilight was the only pony who could write Celestia letters, she had to be shoehorned into every single episode – even when she wasn’t the primary focus. With this new set-up, however, the writers could keep the spotlight on other characters, without squeezing Twilight in if they didn’t need her.

Before Celestia leaves, Twilight finds out it was Spike who told her she was in trouble and needed some guidance.

I love how Spike was written in this episode. He’s the only character (other than Celestia) who did the right thing. Twilight was too busy panicking to contact the one pony who could’ve assured her nothing was wrong. So, like a true friend, he did it for her. It’s better to express your fears to the person you’re answering to rather than worrying about what they might say or think.

The episode ends with everyone working together to write Celestia a letter. Twilight has learnt not to let her fears get the better of her, or let a small problem turn into something bigger. Her friends have learnt it’s important to listen to others, and consider their feelings when they come to you with a problem. Spike tries writing how great he is and how he didn’t need to learn a lesson but realises he should cross it out. Everyone laughs as the screen fades to black.

*

Overall, Lesson Zero is one of my favourite Friendship is Magic episodes. There have been better ones since it aired like Magical Mystery Cure (S3, Ep13), Slice of Life (S5, Ep9) and Crusaders of the Lost Mark (S5, Ep18). But I enjoy how relatable it is.

I don’t think I would’ve done anything differently to Twilight in this episode. In fact, one of the lessons it teaches has had a profound impact on my writing.

When I first started this blog, I tried to write something for it every week. Unfortunately, this proved too stressful because I had other things going on in my life. And I couldn’t always come up with ideas. So I decided to take Princess Celestia’s advice. Now, like Twilight and her friends, I only write when there’s a significant topic I want to discuss, and when I’m able to devote enough time and effort to it. This has allowed me to produce much better content, with the quality and high standards that my readers deserve.

I could tell you more about what Lesson Zero has done for my life. But I can’t do it justice just by talking about it. If you have Autism, or you care for somebody with the condition, then I would seriously recommend giving this episode a watch. Who’s knows, you might like it so much you end up becoming a brony/pegasister yourself, and watch all six seasons of Friendship is Magic – plus the four Equestria Girls movies.

That’s all I have to say for now. I’m sorry it’s taken me forever to finish this post – it’ll probably be a while before there’s another one – but I try to make sure I have the right blend of quality and quantity in my work. If you have any questions, please leave me a comment. I’ll be happy to answer them. And, as always, stay tuned.

(Image courtesy of http://www.brony.com/brony-facts-faq/my-little-pony-cast/)

(Twilight’s sadistic grin: http://orig11.deviantart.net/8150/f/2012/193/1/9/twilight_sparkle___crazy_by_pyschedelicskooma-d56ymme.png)

‘The A Word’ (Autism in the Media)

Hello everybody, this is George Harvey (aka The Autistic Blogger).

The views I’m about to express are specifically my own, although they may also be yours too – depending on how much you agree with me.

On March 22nd (2016), BBC One aired its first episode of a new drama series called The A Word. The story follows a dysfunctional Lake District family and their five-year-old son (Joe) who’s Autistic. From his initial diagnosis to the parents’ reactions, the series attempts to show us the effects of Autism, common misunderstandings about it and, most importantly, how to cope.

As the drama is heavily focused around my condition, I decided this would be a perfect opportunity to talk about Autism and its portrayal in the media. Like many real-word issues, there’s no better way of raising awareness than through TV, social media and other forms of mass communication. When it comes to disabilities and conditions, however, it’s important to represent them correctly. Both the benefits and set-backs should be addressed. If one mood overshadows the other, audiences could get the wrong idea about disadvantaged people and unintentionally mistreat them.

Over the years, different mediums have attempted to communicate Autism. Some better than others.

I hate Channel 4‘s The Undateables because it feels too negative. I understand the people taking part agreed to have their lives filmed. But all we’re show are the struggles they face and how disabilities prevent them finding love. There’s nothing to suggest Autism has any good points to it. In fact, people watching the show might feel worse about themselves. I know I did when I saw two grown men with Autism playing Yu-Gi-Oh cards.

The Autistic Gardener communicates things more positively. It still talks about the difficulties people face (e.g. prioritising and social communication), but it also highlights the benefits of having the condition; a creative mind, good organisation skills and perfectionism. More importantly, it shows how they use these traits to make unique contributions to the world of work. In other words, The Autistic Gardener helps Autistic people find employment – it doesn’t ruin their chances at love because their condition supposedly classifies them as Undateable.

Books and stage plays also do their part to raise awareness. Not only are there helpful guidebooks (e.g. The Asperkids Secret Book of Social Rules), but some stories allow us to see exactly what goes on in the Autistic mind. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime is a good example of this. I’ve not read the book myself. But the stage adaption really does Autism justice. The actors and visuals show us everything we need to know – without even naming the condition once.

When creating Autistic characters, it’s important to get their portrayals right or else people will take offence. Holby City recently featured a side character with Autism. I think the actor did an amazing job, because his dialogue was well-written and everything about his performance – from the way he talks to the way he behaves – feels believable. It makes me proud when the media represents Autism so accurately.

With all that being said; what are my thoughts on The A Word?

To make sure I don’t spoil the series too much, I’m only going to talk about what happens in the first episode – and maybe a bit of the second.

The episode begins with Joe walking alone, listening and singing to music on his headphones. This immediately defines his character. Throughout the series it’s made abundantly clear that Joe is obsessed with music. He refuses to talk or co-operate with anyone, unless it’s song-related.

When you’re Autistic it’s very easy to become obsessed with the things you love. They become your source of comfort and you never want to be without them. The series shows us why this can be a problem. Because Joe is so absorbed in his music, it’s nearly impossible to get his attention. That’s why he struggles to follow simple instructions and barely takes notice of the people around him.

There’s no doubt Joe’s music is an issue. Especially as his headphones are the perfect tool for blocking out reality. But one thing I really praise the series for is showing the benefits of his obsession, too. Because he listens to music all day, he’s memorised the lyrics of every song he’s ever heard. Plus, he can tell you a song’s title, the artist, who wrote it and what year it was released. Keep in mind he’s five-years-old! (I’m almost 22; I could never have this kind of encyclopaedia-like knowledge.) Furthermore, it’s mentioned that Joe does well in school and is smarter than most kids his age. These small details are essential. They make it clear to the audience that having Autism doesn’t mean you’re stupid or inferior. It just means you’re gifted in some areas and need additional help in others. Two people who don’t seem realise this are Joe’s parents (Paul and Alison Hughes).

Going back to the episode: it’s Joe’s birthday. And mum and dad are throwing him party. They try to get him involved, but it’s clear he’d rather be listening to music. He even makes a fuss whenever the stereo is turned off.

After the party, the whole family is gathered. Among them is Nicola – the partner of Paul’s brother, Eddie. She asks the parents if they think Joe’s behaviour is because he has something. Almost immediately they lash out. Paul excuses his son’s behaviour as being normal for five-year-olds. Whilst Alison is furious Nicola would suggest such a thing.

This scene is important. It highlights the most common feelings parents have when they first consider Autism: fear and denial. Paul and Alison obviously love Joe with all their hearts and want him to have the best chance in life. Just the thought of there being something wrong with him is frightening, because they know it means he won’t grow up like normal children. Worst still, they think he won’t grow up happy at all – which of course is completely wrong.

Not wanting to face the possibility of Autism, they try to continue their lives as normal. But Joe’s symptoms soon become overwhelming. Eventually, his grandad (Maurice) can’t stand the lack of action and takes Joe for a medical assessment – without Paul or Alison’s knowledge.

By the way I have to say this quickly. I just love that Christopher Eccleston plays Maurice in the series. What can I say, I’m a sucker for any actor who used to be in Doctor Who. Anyway…

The Hughes are, understandably, upset by Maurice’s actions and tell him to stay away. However, it turns out the assessment was a good thing, because it’s confirmed that Joe does have Autism. Mum and dad are still doubtful, but they listen to the doctor’s prognosis.

This might be the highlight of the whole episode for me. Everything that’s described about Autism here is very accurate. The doctor mentions how it’s not just one condition, but a series of conditions that affect different people in different ways. She also talks about prioritising, repetitive behaviour and how it’s difficult for these people to process what they hear. I felt a genuine connection to the series after this, because it sounded like she was describing me. Many other Autistic people can also relate. (If there’s any scene worth watching in the episode it’s this one.)

Following Joe’s diagnosis, the reality is almost too much for Paul and Alison. They think there’s obviously been some mistake and want to get a second opinion. Even Maurice is sceptical.

“He talks, he laughs, he looks you in the eye, he smiles; how is he Autistic? I don’t understand.”

This sums up the main problem people have with Autism. Because everybody is effected differently, it’s near-impossible to pin-down specific behaviours. They think if someone doesn’t act a certain way it’s proof they don’t have Autism – which isn’t necessarily true.

Maurice then asks if there’s a cure. To which Alison immediately (and correctly) responds: “It’s not a disease!”

The point of Autism isn’t to cure it, but to understand its effects on someone. Once you do, you’ll be able to come up with a plan – specifically tailored to that individual – which gives them the exact help and encouragement they need.

However, there’s a right and wrong way to handle Autism. And Alison, unfortunately, chooses the latter. She’s so afraid of “labelling” Joe, she thinks the best course of action is to make sure nobody else finds out about his Autism – she doesn’t even want the word mentioned in her house.

This is the absolute worst thing she can do. When somebody is Autistic, nothing is more important than letting others know about it. Many parents don’t understand this. They think if they hide their child’s problems, their son or daughter will be able to live a normal life. Quite the opposite. They’re allowing a small issue to grow into an even bigger one.

Let’s put things into perspective.

If people don’t know a child has Autism, they’ll think he or she is acting strange on purpose and want to avoid them. Maybe even bully them. If teachers don’t know, they can’t give that child the support they need in lessons. They’ll blame bad grades on lack of effort – rather than learning difficulties – making the child feel stressed and miserable about themselves.

To put it simply, refusing to acknowledge someone’s Autism, actually prevents them from living a normal life.

On the other hand, if people are made aware of the Autism – and they’re given a proper explanation of it – it will help them to understand why the child behaves the way they do. They’ll learn to accept it and be more willing to engage with them. Plus, if the child is given support in school, they’ll learn to get better overtime and eventually not need it anymore.

Eddie tries telling Alison the first step is honesty. But she ignores him, saying he doesn’t know anything. (Newsflash mum: neither do you!)

The episode ends and the preview suggests Alison is going to handle things a lot worse; she’s thinking of home-schooling Joe and taking away his music.

So do I think The A Word is a good series? Absolutely. There are just so many things it gets right about Autism. And a lot people agree with me. The episodes have been praised numerous times on social media for their subject matter and quality acting. I don’t know if Max Vento (Joe’s actor) has Autism in real life, but his performance is right on the money.

There are many things I share in common with Joe. When he sings, he sings loudly and doesn’t consider he might be disturbing nearby people. I sort of do the same thing when I’m listening to YouTube videos. Also, Joe wanders the playground, allows the smallest things to distract him and occasionally references lines from movies like Toy Story – all things I’ve done in my life at some point.

However, there are differences between me and Joe, too. When I was younger, I never had problems making friends and I was always invited to birthday parties. I also did a lot of outrageous things, but it never got to the point where I slapped anybody or broke something in frustration. (I think Joe is portrayed as having a slightly higher form of Autism than mine.)

Another thing I love about the series is its sub-plots. We see Joe’s sister feeling like she’s invisible; Eddie and Nicola having relationship problems; Maurice getting stalked by his music instructor, etc. Each one is believable and adds something different to the drama (e.g. humour or tension). It really shows how Autism effects not only the person diagnosed, but the people around them.

In conclusion, The A Word is a beautifully crafted masterpiece and I highly recommend it to everyone. The series may not tell us everything about Autism. And Joe shouldn’t be used as a template for all Autistic children. But it’s an essential piece to watch if we aim to make this world a more inclusive place.

That’s it for this post/review. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Please remember that April is Autism Awareness Month. Do whatever you can to show your support on social media.

#EmployAutism (Ambitious about Autism)

#TheAWord (The A Word)

Be sure to check out the other material I’ve written for this blog and Autistic Blogger Reviews (https://autisticbloggerreviews.wordpress.com). If you have any questions, leave me a comment – I’ll be happy to answer them. And as always, keep an eye out for the next post. Stay tuned.

(Image courtesy of http://www.bbc.co.uk/mediacentre/latestnews/2015/the-a-word)

‘Kiki’s Delievery Service’ Review

Hello Internet, this is George Brian Harvey, otherwise know as ‘The Autistic Blogger’. Today’s post will be a review. Last time I took a look at Jacqueline Wilson’s book ‘Lily Alone’, and gave my thoughts on how well it presented issues like young carers and child neglect. This time I will be doing something similar. But instead of a book, I’ll be taking a look at a movie – more specifically an anime.
Japanese animation is one of the most creative and influential forms of media I’ve ever experienced. Ever since seeing ‘Spirited Away’ I’ve been hooked on the way they tell unique stories and express universal morals with their narratives. There’s nothing I like more than watching an English dub of a Japanese movie, or TV series, to learn valuable lessons, and get inspiration for my own writing. Here are my thoughts on one of the best movies, created by one of the best anime companies in existence. Enjoy:

Of all the Studio Ghibli films out there, this one is a personal favourite of mine. Not only is ‘Kiki’s Delivery Service’ a beautiful piece of animation with a charming and heartfelt story, but it’s messages of independence, and maturity, are very influential to people both young and old. In fact, critics consider this one of Hayao Miyazaki’s greatest works. It was the highest-grossing Japanese film of 1989 and one of only three Studio Ghibli films to receive a perfect 100% score on Rotten Tomatoes (the other two being ‘Only Yesterday’ and ‘The Tale of Princess Kaguya’). So what is it about this spin on the fantasy of witches that makes it an animated classic. Let’s start with the story.
The story is about Kiki, a 13-year-old witch, who leaves home to live alone for a year as part of her training. Along with her talking black cat Jiji, she arrives in Kiriko, a city by the sea, where she decides to stay and become the local witch. After a shaky start, she befriends a friendly baker named Osono and decides to start a flying delivery service to earn a living (since flying is all she can really to do). Along the way, she makes new friends and comes to learn more about who she is as person.
As mentioned above, the story emphasises a lot on independence and maturity, and it’s what I love most about the film. From the very beginning, we’re taken on a personal journey with Kiki, which allows us to see just how she develops from a child into adulthood. The opening has her (literally and figuratively) flying the nest, and leaving the comfort of her family and friends behind. In her early days, she struggles to find her feet, since she’s inexperienced of how the world works. But with the help of some friendly people, she’s able to find accommodation and even works a job to support herself. After that Kiki takes control of her life by starting her own business and getting to know more about the people she encounters – she even comes to like people she was initially hateful or cautious towards. There are still mistakes she makes along the way, but they’re all a part of the learning-curb, which helps her to grow as a person. The best part is, she’s not alone. In moments of self-doubt she has friends to support her every step of the way – just like somebody would in real life.
Because of the overall theme of growth and independence, ‘Kiki’s Delivery Service’ appeals to all audiences. Teenagers and adults can relate to Kiki’s experiences, because they’ve all gone through similar issues at some point in their own lives. And children can enjoy the film, whilst being taught the values of independence. In fact, that’s what makes ‘Kiki’s Delivery Service’ so great as a children’s movie: kids everywhere can learn from Kiki’s example and see her as a role model for their own personal development. There’s even a scene in the end credits where Kiki spots a little girl walking by with her mother and she’s dressed up like Kiki – broom and all. If that’s not a sign of a true role model, I don’t know what is.
Kiki is yet another example of a strong female lead in a Studio Ghibli feature. She’s relatable by how she acts like a typical teenage girl (e.g. wishing she had prettier clothes and disliking boys), but she also has a strong desire to take command of her own life and be independent without becoming rebellious. This makes her similar to other Ghibli heroines like Chihiro, San and Nausicaa (‘Spirited Away’, ‘Princess Mononoke’ and ‘Valley of the Wind’, respectively). Plus, Jiji is a lovable side-kick, who’s always a pleasure to listen to because of how funny he is.
Speaking of Jiji, he actually represents the immature side of Kiki in the film. Think about it: he’s Kiki’s one true connection to her life back home, where things were always easy for her; he’s less enthusiastic about Kiki going on her journey and even tries to discourage her from leaving home early or staying in Kiriko. Plus, although he makes snide remarks, he’s really the one person/pet Kiki can speak to at first. It’s only later that Kiki makes new friends and so needs Jiji, and the comfort of home, less and less. In fact, this is represented perfectly through a major event in the story (spoiler alert). At one point Kiki loses her ability to speak to Jiji, so he just sounds like a regular cat. In the original (Japanese) dub this loss is permanent and Kiki never understands Jiji again. Some people might find that upsetting, but since Jiji represents the immature side of Kiki, the message by the end of the film is that Kiki has matured beyond the need to speak to her cat. The English dub did change this slightly by adding a line at the end that implies Kiki is once again able to understand Jiji – they obviously wanted to keep things happy for the kids.
Another thing worth mentioning about this film is some of the actors who took part in it. Many of them have voiced characters in other Studio Ghibli films, including Pamela Adlon, Tress MacNeille and Debi Derryberry. But the most recognisable voices, in my opinion, are Kirsten Dunst as Kiki and Phil Hartman as Jiji. Sadly, this was one of Hartman’s last voice roles before his death in 1998. Along with ‘Small Soldiers’ (another movie staring Kirsten Dunst) and 1998’s ‘Buster & Chauncey’s Silent Night’, this film was dedicated to him.
In addition to the message of independence, there are a couple of other reasons I like this film, too. In several parts of the story, Kiki encounters a young, amateur painter named Ursula, who teaches her about motivation and self-confidence. She explains how there are days when she could paint all day until she “fell asleep right at [her] easel,” but other days when she couldn’t draw anything at all. She tells Kiki that whenever days like this occur, it’s important to just take a break, enjoy yourself and not think about the problem. It’s no use trying to force yourself to do better, as that will just cause you self-doubt and make you hate the thing you once loved. It’s all about finding the right inspiration. Once you’ve taken the time to discover what your purpose for working really is, you’ll come to love it even more and be able to return to it with more energy and motivation than you ever did before. I find this so enlightening as an amateur writer that whenever I get writer’s block I watch this film – and ‘Whisper of the Heart’ (1995) – to get my confidence back.
Another good thing about the story is its unique twist on the genre. Usually stories involving witches are dark tales that either have wicked women trying to cause harm to others, or misunderstood characters who are feared and hated because of what they are. In ‘Kiki’s Delivery Service’, however, it’s clear that the characters live in a world where people gladly accept the existence of witches and see them for the good people they are. This ultimately makes the story more child-friendly and keeps the focus on Kiki as a person, rather than a witch.
In conclusion, ‘Kiki’s Delivery Service’ is a Studio Ghibli film I would honestly recommend to everyone. The messages behind its narrative are some of the most influential I’ve ever experienced, and they’re something anybody can understand and relate to. With everything I’ve had to say you can tell just how passionate I am about this movie. It’s truly a masterpiece of Japanese animation that’s up there with the likes of ‘Spirited Away’ (2001) and ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’ (2004).

If you enjoyed this review, then please check out some of the other things I’ve written for this blog. Leave me a comment to let me know what you think, or ask any questions. And keep an eye out for the next post Plus, you can follow the link below to my Amazon page to see some of the other things I’ve reviewed over the years. I hope you enjoy them. Stay tuned.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/pdp/profile/A2AR00PMKLC1TG/ref=cm_cr_dp_pdp

(Image courtesy of: http://collider.com/shimizu-takashi-kikis-delivery-service/)

Autism and Challenges

Life is challenging. Anyone will tell you that. It’s full of fears, choices and tasks that will ultimately decide whether you have a life that’s truly worthwhile. To reach your full potential you have to face these challenges head-on and complete them to the best of your ability. Most people find this hard – even the most confident among us – but those who have Autism struggle more because of the additional restraints placed on them by their condition, e.g. short attention, social anxieties and other stresses. I can’t speak for everyone who has Autism, since its effects vary depending on the person. However, these are just some of the challenges I’ve had to face in my Autistic life.

For as far back as I can remember, I’ve always had trouble paying attention. Whether I’m in lessons, sitting with friends or family, working on a checkout, or in any other situation that requires me to listen, I find it difficult to stay focused. The reason for this is I have what I call ‘mind fantasies’. Whenever a situation feels boring – or at least doesn’t feel very interesting to me – I like to remember things that do interest me (e.g. wrestling, anime, TV shows, movies, games, etc.) so my mind doesn’t fall asleep. I often find myself replaying different scenes or stories in my head, and it distracts me from what I’m supposed to be listening to. The result is I end up missing important details, or people think I’m being rude and unsociable – which is never my intention. To help this problem, I had TA (teaching assistant) support throughout most of my time in school. They helped me to stay focused in lessons and repeated information to me that I may’ve missed. Over the years I put more effort into listening myself, until eventually I felt I didn’t need support, and I was able to engage and make conversation with people on my own. My ‘mind fantasies’ do still affect me to this day, however, and sometimes I can only speak to people about their interests if they share some of mine.

One of my greatest challenges in primary school was reading and writing; I found reading boring and writing strenuous. I disliked them both so much that I only read simple books from the library and my TAs had to show me where to write down to in my text books. However, as time would go on, my Autism and ‘mind fantasies’ helped me to not only overcome these challenges, but turn them into something I enjoyed. I found that I liked coming up with stories in my head and wanted to write them down for other people to enjoy. In secondary school, this ambition lead to me wanting to become an author. Then in college, I discovered I could use my experiences with Autism to further my writing skills and raise awareness of my condition – like I’m doing here now. Plus, I read all sorts of material these days to get a better idea of what I want to write. It’s amazing how the things I hated most as a child, ended up being what I did for a living. My problem now is actually being a perfectionist and writing too much.

Another difficult challenge I’ve faced is starting at a new school or college/university. Being in a new environment, is difficult for most people, because they’re unfamiliar with everything and everyone. For me though, it’s about more than just leaving things behind and replacing them with new ones (e.g. friends). Having Autism means I like to keep everything organised, so I often live my life like a routine. Week in and week out, I feel that if I stick to this routine then I’ll know all I need to about life and can easily live through it. But with life comes changes, and every time a change is made to my routine it throws me out of my comfort zone. Adjusting to small changes is hard enough, so whenever a major change occurs, and I have to come up with a completely new routine, it literally feels like I’m starting life all over again – a life where I have to become a new person, without any of the comfort I’m used to. Sometimes changing who you are can be for the better. But if you’re not happy with the person you’ve become then what’s the point? Over the years I’ve learnt it’s important to keep something of your old self, and old life, so the transition into a new environment, like school or college can feel less stressful. When I left primary school I still had my sister, ‘mind fantasies’ and TA support, so I was bringing something of my old life to secondary school. Plus, there was a room (the spectrum base/centre) where I was able to meet new friends who shared my interests. These small things helped me to adjust to the new environment and I soon had a new routine in place. The transition into college was similar. I started a Facebook account, so I’d stay connected to the friends I made in secondary school. Plus, my new college group had only 9 other students in it and we soon became close friends. This made working easier, too, because we were able to work off each other to complete tasks.

School and college weren’t the only things that made changes to my routine. During secondary school, I was part of a drama group for two years. Like school, it was a new environment, with unfamiliar people and I had to listen to learn new skills. In a way, my Autism was both a constraint and a benefit in drama. On the one hand, I found it slightly difficult to speak and interact with other people in the group, because I didn’t know much about them. However, because they shared my love of acting, we were soon working together very well. Plus, because my Autism gave me a creative mind, I was helping everyone come up with ideas and it brought us closer together. Even listening and learning was easy in drama, because I was always interested in what I was being taught, so there was no reason for my mind to wander. Another thing I had to overcome in drama was my nerves; my Autism makes me uneasy in big or important situations, and when I get nervous, I GET nervous. But getting up on stage and performing was easy once I swallowed my fear. I was used to acting out scenes from my favourite TV shows, movies, etc, because of my ‘mind fantasies’. So doing it in front of people was almost no different. Fear never goes away, but it’s possible to contain it when you’re doing something you love and know well.

Another scary new experience for me was learning to drive. Before going to drama, I was nervous to even use public transport on my own, let alone get behind the wheel of a vehicle by myself. I knew driving required a lot of attention: if you’re not 100% focused the mistakes you make can potentially be fatal. I wasn’t sure if my ‘mind fantasies’ would distract me, so I put off taking lessons until after I finished secondary school. When I eventually did start learning, my instructor was friendly and I warmed up to her very well. Soon I became quite the capable driver, but my Autism did still cause me troubles. I never got distracted or caused an accident, like I feared, but sometimes I did forget things, which resulted in several close calls. I would always let these mistakes get to me too much and the rest of the lesson wouldn’t go so well. Things didn’t help either with the pressures of university distracting me, too. However, my driving instructor never gave up on me. She told me to keep trying not matter how many times I came up short. So, after taking a break to finish my course, I returned to driving with more determination. It took me six tries, but I was finally able to get my licence. My challenge now is driving new routes unsupervised, which is still a little scary.

One of the biggest challenges I’m faced with today is finding paid work. In the past I’ve always had help finding opportunities: my mum allowed me to work in her school as an assistant helper for Year 11 work experience; my grandad let me work in a pound shop his friend owned; my aunt’s husband worked as a manager in ASDA, and he helped me and my sister get jobs there. When it comes to applying for things myself I find it incredibly nerve-wracking. I often have no idea where to start looking for jobs and even when I do I find the process of applying for them long and stressful. Plus, there’s all the uncertainty about whether the job is right for you or how much of your life it will take up – sometimes I’ve applied for things and half-hoped my application wouldn’t be successful. However, I know how important experience is when it comes to being a professional writer. With the support of my family, I’ve successfully applied for several roles, such as a volunteer library Book-Picker, a Student Ambassador and – most recently – a Youth Patron for ‘Ambitious about Autism’. My next stage is to find something in full-time employment. I know it will be hard, but it’s also valuable to the next stage of my life.

In conclusion, there are times when people with Autism need help to achieve things, but it helps us to grow and eventually become more independent. What we do in life can be amazing. Albert Einstein was autistic and he was one of the greatest scientists who ever lived, Satoshi Tajiri was autistic and he invented the Pokemon franchise. I’m autistic and I hope someday to be a novelist. Life is challenging – especially when you have Autism – but the rewards are great if you overcome your limitations.

If you liked this post, then feel free to check out my other pieces on this blog. Also, please check out the blog of Alex Lowery – a fellow Youth Patron – where I first uploaded this piece. His work and ambitions to raise awareness of Autism are the same as mine, and he very generously posted a link to my blog on his site, so it’s only right I post one for his (http://www.alexlowery.co.uk/). Please continue to support us both in our writing. Leave me a comment if you have any questions – I’ll be glad to answer then – and, as always, keep an eye out for the next post. Stay tuned.

Secondary School and Change (part 2)

Last week, I started talking about change and how it effected me during my early years in secondary school. This week, I will tell you about the rest.

I don’t remember the exact date, but there was one day of school that really put me on track to becoming the writer and blogger I am today.

During my early years, I had no idea what I wanted to do after leaving secondary school. I had some vague ideas about games designing, but it was never something I seriously considered doing. Then, one day, my English teacher read aloud the opening to a mystery novel. I was so intrigued by its descriptions that I wanted to try writing something like it myself. So I began the first draft of my own mystery novel once I got home. That’s when it hit me. For years, I’d had all sorts of fantasies going through my head: stories, crossovers, inventions, etc. And it was all because I had Autism. My condition made me interested in a variety of different things, which gave me a very creative mind. I realised that if I wrote down some of these fantasies, then I could make a great fiction writer. That was the day I decided to become an author.

It’s really ironic how writing ended up being the thing I wanted to do in life, as I’d always hated it in primary school. Just the thought of noting down lots of words was unbearable to me and my teachers often had to show me where to write down to in my text books. I also hated reading because I thought it was strenuous; I lied about the books I read for homework and the only ones I checked out of the library were simple ones for infants. After studying books like ‘Holes’ and ‘Kensuke’s Kingdom’, however, reading became my new passion. The creativity that went into some of their stories only fuelled my desire to write.

However, as an amateur writer my first attempts weren’t very good. My Autism made me a perfectionist to the point where I spent more time correcting what I’d written than actually finishing the story. As a result, I never completed any of my personal projects and they were all shelved. Also, my grammar skills were somewhat lacking; one of my biggest regrets in life was not taking English as one of my sixth form options.

I don’t remember much of what happened between the time I decided to become an author and sixth from. But I do remember wanting to be more independent. I already had some work experience – thanks to my family – and I was able to use public transport by myself. However, I wanted to take charge of my education, too. So in a bold move I decided to stop having TA (teaching assistant) support. This made sixth form the first time since nursery school I had no additional help in any of my lessons.

I didn’t really struggle during my first year of sixth form, because a lot of things stayed the same for me. I was still in the same school, with the same teachers and students. And although I had fewer lessons now, they were all the same, too. Plus, if things ever got too stressful, I still had the comfort of the spectrum base – a room where I could meet with friends and share my love of trading cards, games, etc. However, things took a drastic turn in my final year.

The whole school had moved to a completely new building, to go with them changing from a school to an academy. The new environment didn’t bother me, but I did find flaws in the design of the building: a) there was no area for sixth formers; and b) there was no spectrum base. Without the base I was compGrateletely lost at what to do during my break and lunch times. Since I was so used to the room, the playground didn’t feel like an option for me – how could I possibly interact with people outside when I’d spent 6 years indoors? Also, I actually liked ‘doing’ things in my spare time; I didn’t fancy wondering the playground for half an hour talking to someone about a subject I had no interest in.

It was around this time I started realising just how unsociable my Autism was making me. I was so addicted to my interests that I didn’t have any way of engaging in a conversation without bringing them up. And since very few people shared my interests, it just made talking all the more harder. Even if there had been a place to meet fellow sixth formers, I doubt I would’ve had anything to talk to them about.

With no other option, I decided to spend my break times alone. I’d sit by myself, either reading a book or playing games on my iPad. Sometimes I’d see other students sitting across from me, talking like the best of friends, and I’d feel really envious. Sometimes I desperately wanted to try talking to them and maybe make friends with them. But, I was always nervous about speaking to new people, and I feared they’d just shun me if they didn’t like what I had to say. Plus, what was the point in trying to make new friends if I was graduating in less than a year? So I just kept myself to myself and those students never took any notice of me.

Needless to say, my last year at secondary school was quite a sad and lonely time of my life. I realised that I’d missed many opportunities to make friends outside the spectrum base and I felt miserable because of it. Perhaps that was why my mum and dad had been so insistent on me not spend all my break times in that room; I really did have no way other of interacting with people, except through my interests. This wasn’t just a problem in school either. At home, I started spending a lot more time by myself and not leaving the house – since I had no friends to go out with. My mum was really concerned about this and I almost felt ashamed of myself for making her worry – especially since she’d always been there to support me through the big changes of my life.

Another person who was always there for me was my twin sister. I said in ‘part 1’ that I was grateful she’d come to the same school as me instead of enrolling somewhere else, because it gave me comfort knowing she was there. However, I couldn’t have known just how much I’d come to rely on her in later years. Whenever I got depressed or worried about something she’d always be there to give me advice and make me feel better about myself. She was the Alfred to my Batman, you could say. In fact, in my seven years at secondary school, she was probably the best friend I ever had – not that there’s anything wrong with that.

However, secondary school wasn’t all misery and isolation, for me. There were some genuinely good times I had while I was there, too: I won third prize in a school talent show with a comedy act; my lessons allowed me to develop my creativity, with media, technology and ICT projects. I created a ‘Billie Jean’ music video that was uploaded to YouTube; an assistant head called me a role model for younger students. But most importantly, I was doing better in my lessons than I ever had done I primary school; I wasn’t as easily distracted now and I took every one of my classes seriously. I’d decided to stop having TA support, because I felt I could handle things on my own and didn’t need the extra help so much anymore. And I was right.

Eventually, with hard work and determination (plus a few tears), I managed to earn the necessary qualifications I needed to qualify for a professional writing course at college. Getting into college was by far the greatest achievement I’d ever earned as a student with Autism.

How did Autism play a part in my college life? You’ll have to stay tuned to find out.

Before I finish I just want to say this in conclusion. I think that all schools (both primary and secondary) should have some kind of spectrum base, where students can eat lunch, talk, read, play games, watch DVDs, trade cards, etc. It’s a good way for students who don’t usually speak or interact with anyone to be engaging and discover new friends who share their interests. It also gives students who are anxious or have no one to play with in the playground a place of retreat. However, teachers running these bases should also encourage the students who regularly attend them to use their new communication skills in the playground as well. That way the students will know they have the comfort of the room if they need it, but won’t always seclude themselves in it to the point where the playground becomes like an alien world to them. I learnt this the hard way, but it’s good to have friends both in and out of your comfort zone.

If you liked this post, then feel free to check out my other pieces on this blog. Leave me a comment if you have any questions – I’ll be glad to answer them – and, as always, keep an eye out for the next post. Stay tuned.

Secondary School and Change (part 1)

A couple of weeks ago, I spoke about my life in primary school and how my Autism affected me while I was there. This week, I will talk about how the condition affected me in secondary school.

It’s said that one of the hardest things to deal with in life is change. We’re so used to things being a certain way all the time that when we’re faced with something new it can be difficult to accept it. This is especially true for someone with Autism. Often when people have Autism, they feel their lives follow a specific routine (hour-by-hour, every day, every week). By sticking to this routine and doing all the things they’re familiar with (in the right places and right times), they feel they understand all they need to know about life and can live through it in comfort. That’s why any kind of change to their routine – even the slightest alteration – can be sad, scary or stressful to them. Back in primary school there were times when I was heavily affected by change. I was worried when my grandparents moved to Spain, because it meant I wouldn’t see them every Thursday – or enjoy my nan’s special burgers – anymore. Also, I was miserable to learn that our class groups were being mixed up for Year 4, because we’d always been in the same ones every year until that point.

Even today, change still concerns me. I feel compelled to live a routined life and I always get nervous when trying something new. It’s as though whenever I’m faced with a big change, I lose the comfort of my old life and have to stressfully adjust to the new one.

As you can imagine, changing from primary school to secondary school was quite hard for me. But before I talk about what changed, I think it’s worth mentioning what stayed the same. As I mentioned in ‘Primary School Days’, I always had the same teaching assistants (TAs) helping me in lessons. Even though they couldn’t accompany me to my new school (for obvious reasons), I had new TAs to support me once I got there – and they were just as helpful and considerate. This meant I didn’t have to go through the stress of learning in a new environment without someone helping me. Another thing that stayed the same was my sister. Although we never shared a single class together in primary school, just knowing she was in the same school was reassuring to me. She was always my one comfort away from home and I was grateful she hadn’t enrolled in another school like she’d been planning to. These might seem like small things to be concerned about, but for someone with Autism it makes all the difference.

Let me put it another way.

We all know change is important in life – in fact, it’s essential. But I don’t think it’s always a good idea to change yourself 100%. You might want to change for someone else’s benefit or your own – and that’s a good thing. But if you don’t like the person you’ve become after those changes then what was the point in changing to begin with? When you decide to go through with change, I think it’s important to always keep something of your old self. The slightest familiarity in your new life can prevent you from feeling overly stressed about it. That’s why, even to this day, I still find interest in the things I did when I was in primary and secondary school (e.g. trading cards, wrestling, games consoles, animes, etc). Maintaining these interests makes me feel like I’m never completely throwing away the comfort of my old life.

But back onto secondary school.

Although I had my sister and TAs, there were still major differences in my new school life. The least of which was having five different teachers, for five different lessons, in five different locations, throughout the day – not to mention five different time tables for each day of the week. This was a change I settled into well, however. My TAs were with me most of the time and moving from room to room soon became just another routine to me.

Another change – which was harder for me to deal with – was the number of friends I had. In primary school I’d been friends with almost everyone in my class. But before starting secondary school I’d moved house, and, after leaving primary school, I lost contact with all my old friends – keep in mind these were the days before Facebook and Twitter, and we didn’t have our own phones or emails yet. I did make new friends in secondary school, but I’m not sure I was ever as close to them as my old friends – we never met outside school.

The biggest change, however, was to my personality. I’ll admit that when I was in primary school, I was a little terror, who always got into trouble (see ‘Primary School Days’). But I knew how important my new lessons were, and I felt I couldn’t act that way in secondary school and expect to survive – I just couldn’t. So I devoted myself to being the best student possible. My first form tutor even told my mum I was “as good as gold.”

However, my classmates weren’t the same. Secondary school was just one big joke to them and they just liked disrupting the class by talking, laughing and not letting the teacher speak. I felt this was really unfair because I was genuinely trying to learn something and I often had to pay for their antics. I cried a lot whenever the teacher raised their voice – although they assured me their anger was never directed at me. Sometimes I’d get angry, too, and shout at my classmates for their idiocy. I used to think I was the only person who did this, but apparently there are lots of Autistic people who get this ‘Police Officer’ impulse (i.e. try to be assertive when there’s already an assertive person in the room). I later dropped the ‘Police Officer’ outbursts, but I had another problem with my classmates. Aside from my sister, there was just one other boy I knew from primary school attending my lessons. And, unfortunately, he taught others my weaknesses and insecurities. After that, bullying became an emotional, on/off problem for me until sixth form.

Fortunately I had a place of retreat. At break and lunch times there was a special (spectrum) room/centre/base where students could eat lunch, talk to each other, read, play games consoles, watch DVDs, trade cards, etc. I went there everyday and was able to enjoy myself with students who shared my interests. My parents thought I should’ve spent more time in the playground, but by this time my social anxieties were kicking in. I couldn’t speak to people unless it was about something that interested me – hence my friends in the spectrum base were so easy to talk to. I also thought it was better than just wondering the playground with fantasies in my head like I had in primary school. Later on, however, I’d have to adjust to school life without the spectrum base. Something I never quite managed to do…

As this piece is already quite long – and I don’t want to be too late posting it – I will end my secondary school story here and pick it up again either next week or the week after. When that happens, I will talk about my sixth form years and the day that changed my life forever. But before I finish I just want to say this in conclusion. Life is full of changes. You may accept them willingly or reluctantly, but the most important thing is that you’re happy with them. As long as you’re happy with who you are and what you become that’s all that matters.

If you liked this post, feel free to check out my other pieces on this blog. Leave me a comment if you have any questions – I’ll be glad to answer them – and, as always, keep an eye out for the next post. Stay tuned.

Primary School Days

One of the things I really enjoy getting the chance to do as an Autism advocate is going into schools and speaking to younger students about my experiences with the condition. I feel it’s a great way to help them understand how Autism effects other people. I also feel it’s a good way to teach them how even if they have a disability like Autism, they can still lead a happy life and achieve everything they’ve always dreamed of achieving.

I recently got the chance to visit a school, where my mum worked, and gave an assembly on what I’d achieved since primary school, despite my Autism. It was very well-received and some students even wrote me thank you letters – several of them were Autistic, too. Giving the presentation brought back a lot of memories of my early years in education.

I don’t remember when exactly my Autism first started influencing my behaviour, but I think I remember the day I was diagnosed with it. I remember my mum and dad taking me to a facility of some sorts, where I spent half an hour playing games with a lady – who I assume now was a social worker. All the while my mum and dad were watching me from another room, behind a one-way mirror. Of course I didn’t know why I was there at the tine or why my mum and dad were sitting in a room that looked like a small movie theatre (with the mirror covered). But now I know it was all set up to observe my behaviour and confirm if I had Autism or not. As I’ve said before, nothing is more important than getting an early diagnosis. I don’t know how my parents reacted to the news when they first heard it, but because they found out about my Autism early, they had a full two years to arrange things with my primary school to ensure I’d have the right support.

My earliest memories of primary school go all the way back to nursery. I even remember the names of my two teachers, Mrs Swain and Miss Dowetty. Actually, I remember the names of all my primary school teachers (with the exception of Year 4). There was Mrs Swain (nursery), Mrs Andrews (reception), Miss Barack (Year 1 and 2), Mrs Rigby (Year 3), Mr Lindsy (Year 5) and Miss Hammond (Year 6).

My Autism first started effecting my behaviour in school when I was in reception. Sometimes I was more interested in colouring something in than doing my work. Other times I would talk about things I’d seen or heard on TV, when I should’ve been having a normal conversation. And, apparently, there were times I refused to listen, because I was too busy watching a pigeon outside. These behaviours would continue until Year 6, but I learned to keep my focus in the right place as the years progressed. For instance, I kept my fantasies in my head and I don’t think I was as fascinated by pigeons after learning they all did the same things.

Nonetheless, I still needed help focusing in my lessons. From reception to Year 6 I always had a teaching assistant helping me. They’d explain the work again if there was something I missed or couldn’t understand. They’d show me how much I had to write in my text book before it was enough. And they would bring my attention back to the lesson if my mind wondered too much. I had several TAs over the years, but one I always remember having was a lady called Sue. Sue was firm but friendly with me, and she helped make my learning bearable and enjoyable. I also think it was good for me to always have her, since my Autism made changes difficult. Although I kept changing classes every year, Sue was the one thing I count on to stay the same about my learning, and it was a comfort to me. I think if a TA is assigned to an Autistic child, they should be prepared to stay with them until they graduate – they may not realise just how much the child will come to appreciate their help and be used to their help specifically.

Looking back on it now, I know I wasn’t the best behaved boy in school, particularly during my infant years. There were some pretty outrageous things I did and it often got me into trouble. Not all my bad behaviours, like spiting, scratching and pulling hair were caused by my Autism – rest assured I got over those terrible habits quickly. But there were times I did things or overreacted, because of how my mind worked. I set off the fire alarm (because I was ‘tricked’), I picked unripe apples the school were trying to grow, and the worst thing I did was run down the school corridor in an angry fit, because a video we’d been watching was turned off before the end – the result had me sent home early. So I was a little terror sometimes. They even came up with a method where, if I misbehaved, I got my name written on the board. Three names on the board meant I couldn’t play computer games when I got home.

However, I wasn’t always a bad seed. Sometimes I did really caring and generous things for others. I gave daisies to the dinner ladies who were on break time duty. Sometimes I found frogspawn, or a trapped frog, and helped return it to the pond. There was even one time I noticed a bird trapped in some bushes and asked some teachers to rescue it. So I had my good points, too.

But what I think was most important about my time in primary school was that I had friends. Sometimes it’s hard for children with Autism to make friends, but I was fortunate enough to be friends with everyone in my class. There were a few bullies now and again, but I always patched things up with them eventually. Also, I did all the normal things for a boy my age; I went to birthday parties, visited friend’s houses, played with them in the playground, etc. My Autism didn’t effect me all of the time and I was happy to have others accept me for who I was, even if I did act a bit strangely sometimes.

However, even at this early stage in my life, there were times when I just liked being alone. Sometimes I’d have a desk to myself in the classroom, and at break times I would often just wander the playground not speaking to anyone and thinking about all the fantasies in my mind. Fantasies which I still have to this day (see ‘Into My Autistic Mind’ and ‘Into My Autistic Mind 2’).

In conclusion, primary school was a very happy time in my life, even though I was bullied and misbehaved sometimes. I should note that at this time I didn’t know about my Autism. I’d never even heard of the word before. Which is why I was so happy to see so many students raise their hands in my mum’s school when I asked if they knew what Autism was. It helped me see that so many more children today are being made aware of the disability and it makes me proud to be an advocate.

What’s interesting is that I hated reading and writing in primary school. And now I’m writing and reading for a living. So many things changed for me after I left primary school. But that’s a story for another time.

If you’ve enjoyed this post, please leave me a comment and check out the other things I’ve written for this blog. As always, keep an eye out for the next post. Stay tuned.