Higher! Go higher!

I'm an adult who loves playground swings. I always have. For a kid who was afraid of just about anything (from needles to zoo animals), I conquered the swings. My awkward long legs let me soar higher than all the other kids. Queen of the Swings, that was me.

I still soar on playground swings every time the opportunity presents itself. Years of practicing my swinging stride allow me to be sky high in virtually no time. I'm free up there. My mind is completely blank. It's the one time when my mind isn't racing, when I'm not worrying about things I have to do, or reading too much into the littlest things. When I'm on the swings, the gears in my mind stop turning. I am fully in the moment, and I never want it to end. I never want to come down from that high place in the sky; I never want to come down from the high of the adrenaline rush. I can see myself just going up, up up...

Higher! Go higher! For the other kids, it was a dare, a challenge. For me, that push to go higher was a necessity. I needed to fly higher, farther from the world below and closer to somewhere new. Somewhere special. A place where I could be myself and love myself without anxiety or pressure or teasing. As an adult, I know that I can't logically go higher; my sight line is already far above the bar (and, hello, gravity). Even knowing this, something about the swings still forces me to push. That need to soar and escape is undeniable.

With each playground communion, I feel closer to something great, something wonderful. The swings allow me to have a private and intimate moment with myself. I find myself simply breathing and feeling the air around me, examining how it feels to be in my body. I can shut everything out and enjoy the simplicity of the experience: no noise, no distractions, no racing thoughts...just bliss.

The Force is with all of us.

Back in November, blogger and adoptive mother Carrie Goldman found herself consoling a bullied child. With the rash of teen LGBT suicides, one might not be surprised. However, Carrie's daughter, Katie, was not a teenager being bullied for her sexuality. Katie, an adorable first-grader, was being bullied for having a Star Wars water bottle. Hoping to give her daughter some words of encouragement that weren't strictly parental, Carrie invited her readers to leave comments on her blog reminding Katie that being different is okay and that Star Wars is in no way "just for boys." The response to Katie's story was so overwhelming that Carrie had to shut down comment posting on that post and redirect her readers elsewhere to hare their stories.

As with most blog-related causes these days, this one was granted a day of observance on Facebook. So welcome, friends, to Support Star Wars And Geek Pride For Katie Day. Today, anyone who wants to support Katie is encouraged to show geek pride in any way they can and, at the request of Katie's parents, donate toys to a charity. Today, I am proudly participating by wearing one of my two Star Wars t-shirts (I may change halfway through the day, JUST FOR FUNSIES!).

I also want to participate by sharing a letter to Katie, as I feel Katie and I endured similar experiences as children.

So hello, Katie. My name is Kait and I love Star Wars. I've loved everything about the Star Wars universe since I was a very little girl. The characters, the creatures, the grand adventures, it's all so much fun! When most girls my age were memorizing the lyrics to popular songs on the radio, I was memorizing the number of the trash compactor that Luke, Han, Leia, and Chewbacca jumped into to escape Imperial Stromtroopers (if memory serves me correctly, it is 32638something7). Because of this, I had a hard time making friends and connecting with the other girls in my class.

I don't remember the kind of direct teasing that you have experienced, but I do remember feeling very out of place. No one wanted to talk about how brave Luke Skywalker was. No one appreciated the Yoda puppet that my parents topped our Christmas tree with. It was very lonely to be a Star Wars fan and a 10-year-old girl. What I want you to know is that even though I felt lonely as a kid, that loneliness did go away. By junior high, I had made friends with boys who liked Star Wars almost as much as I did. This must seem like a long time to wait, so my advice is this: don't wait. Don't put off happiness. Don't try to change who you are to please your classmates. I guarantee that if other kids can't appreciate you the way you are, they are going to make really lame friends. If you want to carry around a Star Wars water bottle, do it with pride! You are so blessed to have a unique personality and wonderful, supportive parents who allow that personality to thrive.

Katie, I wish that I could meet you and give you the biggest hug and show you all the of the Star Wars stuff that I have collected in my life. I want to tell you that to me, you're like a real-life Yoda: an amazing inspiration in an unexpectedly small package. I want you to know that as girls, we can be girly and geeky. But most importantly, I want you to know that being true to yourself is the most important skill you can ever have. It's a skill that no bully can ever take away and I hope that someday you realize how impressive a human being you are to say you had that skill as a first-grader.

So stay strong, stay true to yourself, and remember that The Force will be with you. Always.

30 Things To Do Before I Turn 30-- #2

This post is weeks overdue. I apologize, being a full-time student doesn't leave a whole lot of time for blogging.

It does, however, occasionally provide me with free weekends to cross something off my bucket list. A few weeks ago, my dad got me my birthday gift: a tattoo.

I've been toying with the idea of getting a tattoo for about five years. I can remember exactly when the idea popped into my head. I was visiting my cousin on a spontaneous post-breakup trip to Chicago when I thought that a Star Wars tattoo on my lower back would be really cool. If I had money on me, it's entirely possible that I would have gotten it that weekend. Being broke and afraid of pointy needles, the dream was put on hold until the necessary funds (and cajones) came into my life.

Fast forward to September 2010. After reading my bucket list post, my dad informed me that he would get me tattoo for me birthday so I could cross something off my list. With the financial backingand backing and the guarantee of a hand to hold, I was ready!

So what design would I brand into my flesh? After careful deliberation, I chose this:

This is an insignia on the shoulder armor of the biggest BAMF in the Star Wars universe: Boba Fett.

Why this? The reasoning behind getting a Star Wars tattoo was two-fold. Firstly, I love the films. Being an awkward, nerdy kid, the original trilogy was a huge part of my childhood (and included a hard-core crush on Luke Skywalker in the fourth grade). I feel that by putting a Star Wars image on my body, I am saying, "No matter how much makeup I have on or how chic and sophisticated I may look, I am still just a nerdy girl at heart. Nothing can change that." Of all the images I could have chosen, I chose Boba Fett's because I hope that the bad ass attitude that The Fett possesses will help me be a strong, ballsy woman.

Secondly, a Star Wars tattoo is my way of thanking my parents. My parents raised me on Star Wars, Monty Python, and the entire 1980s Eddie Murphy film canon. I like to think that because of the awesome stuff my parents exposed me to an early age, I turned into a totally unique and awesome adult. Sure, I was a weird kid whose interests were far different than her peers, but that pales in comparison to the life I have now. I proudly wear this tattoo as a thank you and an inspiration.

So that's my tattoo story. The experience was far less painful than I had imagined it would be and I can definitely see myself getting another one in the future.




This is easily the most unattractive photo of me EVER.



A work in progress...

Is it wrong that I thought my bloody "bandage" was so cool?

The finished product.

National Coming Out Day-- My Own "Coming Out" Story

For those of you not in the know, today is National Coming Out Day, or as I'll be abbreviating it for the purposes of brevity (REDUNDANT), NCOD.  The purpose of NCOD is to provide nation-wide love and support for anyone who has spent far too long living in fear of publicly identifying as LGBTQ.  There's a spirit of, "We're all in this together," whether you're just now coming out, have already come out, or identify as a straight ally.

Now, I don't want to underscore the LGBT community in any way, but I know I'm not alone in what I'd like to do today.  The Beautiful Kind used today as an opportunity to come out--as herself.  After four years of anonymous sex blogging, Kendra has revealed her real name as well as her beautiful face.  Kudos, Kendra!  You are inspiration to me and you make me feel comfortable doing what I am about to do.

Today, I am coming out.  My coming out has nothing to do with sexuality.  What I want to talk about is something a few people in my life know about, but I feel that today is the day that I can embrace it and let everyone know who I am.

Today, I am coming out...as an autistic adult.

I have an autism-spectrum disorder called Asperger Syndrome.  Asperger Syndrome is characterized by:

• Difficulties in social interactions
• Repetitive patterns of behavior
• Intensely obsessive interests/hobbies
• Limited empathy
• Body tics, such as hand flapping, or twisting
• Sensitivity to excess stimuli (especially auditory)

I was always a "weird kid."  I was frighteningly smart, I didn't know how to relate to other kids my age, and, when excited or lost in thought, I was overcome by intense hand flapping.  (My hand flapping was actually so convulsive that my first grade teacher wondered if I had a form of epilepsy.)  I was never tested for an autism-spectrum disorder, so I spent twenty years of my life sitting on my hands, feeling confused and uncomfortable in group conversations, developing interests that none of my peers shared, and never telling my parents/family members that I loved them.

It wasn't until I was 21 and my mother read an article about Jenny McCarthy's son.  The part of the article that got to the both of us was that her son would play with his toys by lining them up and just looking at them excitedly.  I was catapulted back to my childhood.  I could see myself lining up small toys in a perfect line on my kitchen table.  After setting them up, I would sit back and imagine scenarios for them in my head, occasionally moving them slightly.  This is how I played.  What my parents saw was different.  They saw their daughter lining up toys perfectly and then staring at them, wildly flapping her hands.  The moving of the toys that I mentioned?  Each toy would make a quarter-turn before I would stop and continue the flapping.  Reading that article, my entire childhood made sense.  I never understood why I was the way I was; I just assumed I was weird.  But now there was a concrete cause for my awkwardness and weirdness.  There wasn't something wrong with me.  My peculiarities could be explained.  I cannot even describe the comfort and relief I have felt by being able to know that I am an Aspy.

Since my autism went unnoticed until adulthood, adolescence forced a lot of my quirks to be hidden.  I became aware of my hand flapping and made a conscious effort to hide it and control it when around others.  I got better at pretending I had social schools, mimicking what other girls my age did (to an extent).  I was still an abnormal kid, but I found a way to make it work for me.  A person who meets me now and learns of my condition is usually in disbelief.  I'm fairly high-functioning, so I understand that it can be a little hard to believe.

As high-functioning as I may be (going to school, living on my own for a time), I still have difficulties.  I have hid behind these difficulties, never telling people about them unless it was absolutely necessary.  Today, I'm gonna lay everything out here.

I still have intense difficulties with social interactions.  I second-guess everything I say.  I don't know how to engage in small talk or chit-chat.  Even though I can dole out sarcasm and teasing, I have difficulties seeing these things in others (I tend to take them seriously unless I am told that someone is joking).  Maintaining eye contact is incredibly uncomfortable for me.  My gaze can drift up or down or to the side while talking, all outside my control.  If I am overwhelmed or tired, I may not look someone in the eye at all.  I become extremely embarrassed if someone points out that my eye contact is wonky.

I have auditory sensitivity.  Squeaky or shrill noises make me physically uncomfortable.  Public places a variety of loud noises cause me to shut down socially and retreat into my own head.  Overstimulation can cause me to either become distant or have an actual panic attack.  Alone time is a necessity in my life.

My empathy has improved since I was a child.  I now give hugs to family members.  I cry when mourning a death.  I can attempt to understood other people's feelings if I can imagine myself in their situation.  However, sometimes I find it difficult to empathize with feelings I do not understand or rationalize.  The only family member I can say "I love you" to is my sister.

Change is really scary.  Like, "throw-my-entire-day-off" scary.  Before anything, a social outing, for example.  I plan and envision everything.  What time I will begin to get ready, where we will go, what we will do, how I will interact with people, etc.  If something small, like the location, changes, I.am.THROWN.  I panic, cry, and have to start my planning all over again.  Because of this, I am rarely spontaneous. 

Despite my difficulties, I like to think that my Asperger Syndrome has some benefits.  Not having natural social skills, I spent most of my adolescence and college years studying others and how they communicate.  Because of this, I have been able to identify poor communication skills and can now avoid these behaviors.  My people-watching has actually provided me with mature communication skills that help me have healthier relationships than most of my peers.  I approach everything analytically, which I feel can help me in giving advice.  Instead of responding with emotions, I am able to give advice that is rooted in calm, rational logic.

Living with Asperger Syndrome is a daily struggle and at the end of a long, busy day, I am exhausted.  However, I am am grateful to be living like this.  Being an Aspy makes me a unique and interesting individual.  Despite my struggles, I enjoy looking at the world through a different kind of lens.

So today, I am done hiding behind autism.  I will no longer assume that a stigma will be attached to me or that people will treat me differently.  Autism is nothing to be ashamed of or afraid of.  By opening up about this, I hope to increase awareness, understanding, and education about autism-spectrum disorders and to remind people that autism doesn't look as "different" as one might think. 

If you want more information about autism, I would actually recommend visiting a bookstore rather than searching the internet.  Want to ask me a question about my experiences?  Feel free.

I AM PROUD TO BE AN ASPY. <3