A Code of Ethics to Protect Autistic Bloggers?

Just a question that has floated in my mind, a question that came from the need of many autistic bloggers to protect their privacy and anonymity.

We don’t naturally collaborate well or have a sense of cohesion as the non-autistic seem to form so I would really like some input/feedback .

In the light of the recent discord within the autistic Twitter community I realised that even if individual autistic bloggers gave permission for their blogs to be recommended reading for non-autistics working in the field of autism there remains a further problem:

the problem is this: what happens to the privacy and anonymity of those who submitted comments to posts?

Another problem is that our autistic space could be jeopardised by infiltration/ invasion by non-autistic agendas.

Anyone else concerned about this?

I know it took me a lot of perseverance to find the autistic community I needed  to contact and I appreciate how hard all those years stranded alone before I tried  Twitter ( still have only very basic ability) and then to try  to use WordPress ( with the help of others) . I really value this community I worked hard and long to find , I’m not sure that those who have entry presented to them on a platter would have the same respect.

Some of us, in fact many of us,  for a variety of reasons use nom de plumes  to preserve our anonymity thus enabling us to discuss  issues that may be sensitive.

Any constructive thoughts appreciated.

A Code of Ethics to protect Autistic bloggers?

Would/could it work?

Access selective or carte blanche  presented to non-autistics?

 

I acknowledge that I may be a bit too idealistic  but better to bring up the topic than ignore it and even worse to endorse a potentially divisive and dangerous action.

” Time for a Kit-Kat”!

I’m sitting on amber and slowing down for the red light.

There are too many things left undone that need attention.

So I’m retiring from blog activity for a while to tend the gardens, literal and metaphorical , the gardens that have been ignored for too long and need weeding,  replenishing, nurturing with sunshine and  rain.

New blossoms will open up in due course and add to the colour and balance of life as an autistic.

Addressing the Elephant.

After a week of ” socialising” I’m a wreck… so why in the hell did I do it?

Spent time with life-long friend… away together  sharing accomodation.

Me I’m a recluse so not used to speaking… so it all poured out, interests, autism and associated conditions … felt so much of a ” kill joy”… so many dietary and mobility issues.

Instead of just feeling like I’d ruined another’s holiday I spoke out about my self blame and I guess my fear at losing a friend may have surfaced. Crunch!

My home isolation and her inability for self time at her home…. Crunched.  Acknowledging it to each -other, acknowledging each other, smoothed out the sharpness of Crunch.

Articulating, acknowledging the elephant allowed us to caress it to ask it to sit with us, to ” be” with us as we listened to its silent witnessing we realised that we were at home being at times not at home with each other.  Being real! More so than ever before.

Three spoon drained days… ended  well with a wave from the long distance bus.

OK! That may seem, as it was for me , exhausting but there was no time to recover. It was one of those ” it never rains but it pours” situations.

Another long time friend from the city had commitments in nearby towns. A great opportunity time and location -wise to ” catch up” so I’d invited her to stay the nights in between.

Don’t know about you but when I’m a wreck I become a blithering mess… but before that stage, whilst I still have some sense of lucidity I launched into common interests … sounds fine … excitedly speaking at the pace of a bullet….

Aware of it but not knowing how to get out of my self woven spider web… i ground down to gibberish… to admitting my brain had ceased up… not  even able to answer  simple questions like ” would you like some watermelon?”

Witnessing my web weaving at a frenetic pace I became self reflective… to announce my ” intensity” my inability to  “stop”… to do those social etiquette things..to take appropriately timed turns…..

Confessing that nowadays I’m not able to communicate with speech to most people… only those with whom I share common interests… I pegged out on the imaginary clothesline my autism… frailties and self perceived strengths.

In each scenario I revealed the elephant in the room.. and through sharing my awareness of my autism and how it impacted  upon my friend/s and myself…

Autism lost its label status/quality and my autistic traits pegged out without shame, manifested in the reality of  “being”…

What now?  Rest … Rest… and much more… seclusion….and what of the next encounters with these friends?

It will be easier to openly self monitor both my energy levels and my dominance of speak time… I won’t need to fumble in a hidden panic hopefully I’ll openly care for self and in doing so care for my friends.

 

 

 

Authentic Presence!

What in the hell does that mean in this crazy plastic society?

EIGHTY YEARS

Grey -haired-ladies

Grace the white weatherboards:

inconspicuously

triumphing  eighty years

in unassuming suburbs

of yesterday’s Melbourne.

 

A no-nonesense-down-to-earth

warmth of times bygone and now

with a dignity unknown

to those of more prestigious

past and present.

 

It is the homeliness,

the relaxed conversation

fast disappearing  from pit-stop houses

lining deserted streets

in the rambling scrambling

flurry of heart-attack -pace.

 

A strong -aged beauty

anchors mann-abandoned homes;

to nurse a dying son or requiem

prematurely the broken candle,

warm with memories that gently

caress lives drained by death.

 

Time’s wisdom graces

the white weatherboards

supporting waiting generations;

progressively unlinked  to those of their age,

communicating an epoch that fades

into  a solitary  past life.

 

Grey -haired-ladies!

Will you grace our lives

with relaxed conversation, soothing

the aches of our pit-stop-lives,

anchoring us with earthy humanity

before we decay in deserted streets?

                            

Removing the Door

p1030341Perspectives on the Freeze Response as I experienced it when violated Trigger Response…abuse/violation. This piece refers to a rape situation many years ago…so difficult to write that word… rape.

There will be no description of the physical assault, I do not wish to relive that experience but to witness it for what it was to me and my response.

This all happened as a result of my naivety, my trusting nature  when offered a safe place to sleep  for the night in a city where all accomodation was filled by displaced people. Displaced  a few years before by an earthquake.

I was woken by a man I’d never seen and knew instinctively that there was no possibility of ” flight or fight”. I guess I detached myself, my inner and emotional self from the scene.  What happened was inevitable. Emotionally I froze, cut myself off from engaging in any way with what was happening and that included ” fear”. Fear happens when confronted with the unknown and not dealing with the reality of the ‘now”. That “now’ was happening and with no where to run  and no one to alert there was no point in fighting.  That could result in further affliction.

May be things that happened in my childhood  spoke to me  and I  recognised  my powerlessness.  Things that related to various forms of abuse by people who were supposed to be trusted. Trusted by the family.

Once that part of the ordeal was over I matter of factly prepared myself to leave that premisses.  I walked into the hallway with backpack on, heard a bath running, no towel seen just a doily type thing and then the man sharpening a huge knife, not a kitchen knife, and silly me wondered why he would be doing this early in the morning. Was he preparing his breakfast?

It was only much later that I realised the enormity of his plans.

He saw me quietly standing there still in a frozen emotional state. I was calm and ready to leave. He put away his knife and backed his car into the porch , opened the door, told me to get in and lie low on the back seat. Some kilometres later he stopped his car, told me to get out and then drove off.

I cannot remember how I managed to get anywhere from there that part is still unclear. Somehow I was safe.

My  autistic naivety may have  led me into this dangerous situation but my autistic freeze response saved my life. I’m sure that the man expected some dramatic scene that I did not give him and this may have calmed him,  he may have known  by then that I’d not be calling out ” rape” or reporting him to the authorities.

It was  quite sometime later that I  made awful sense of that bath and knife.

My freezing had saved me but also saved him from committing a further crime.