Reading the Research: Facial Expressions Aren\’t Just Moods

Posted on by Realistic Autistic
Welcome back to Reading the Research, where I trawl the Internet to find noteworthy research on autism and related subjects, then discuss it in brief with bits from my own life, research, and observations.

Today\’s article explains an important facet of nonverbal communication: the main reason for facial expressions.  We\’re taught, traditionally, that one\’s face expresses one\’s mood at the time of making the expression.   But as far as I can recall, that\’s all I was taught.  Happy faces mean the person is happy.  Sad and angry faces mean the same. 

The fact is, that\’s the smallest portion of what a facial expression is used for.  The vast majority of its use is to influence others.  Our expressions do the talking.  If you\’re walking around a grocery store scowling, you may be personally indicating to yourself that you\’re in a bad mood (but you could also be frustrated, constipated or in pain)… but you\’re also broadcasting to everyone around you that you should be left alone.  Or a person may be utterly miserable due to life circumstances or current pain level, but when asked about their favorite subject, or put into a situation where they\’re required to smile to be polite, they will smile- not because they\’re feeling better, but because the subject matter or situation merits it.

The article also makes an example of the \”disgust\” face.  If used only in the internal sense, meaning to project our moods, we would only use this face to express having an upset stomach or smelling something gross.  But the article points out that we also use the same expression to express a dislike for whatever music happens to be playing, to let other people know we don\’t like that type of music.  I suppose I always kind of thought one led to the other… but perhaps a better example would be the absence of such an expression.  In polite company, even if you don\’t like the music, you\’re usually better off keeping your opinions to yourself.  So while you might hate polka, the host loves it and instead of making a disgusted face, you would school your face to polite stillness or a faint smile, to specifically NOT indicate you hate your host\’s musical choices.  This facial expression choice, then, is a form of white/polite lie. 

The article also points out that people smile more at funny videos when they\’re watching them with friends- even if the friends are at a remote location watching at the same time.  I think, in retrospect, I may have noticed this effect.  Things that people said were funny often just…weren\’t, much, to me when I checked them out later.   But I assumed it\’s because I didn\’t have as developed a sense of humor as most people, or a different sense of humor.  I watch most of the media I consume alone, and it\’s a pretty rare piece of work that can make me smile regularly.  I have a few webcomics that can do it, and I treasure them all the more for that… but I guess perhaps the fault is not specifically mine. 

The quote from the main researcher at the end of the article seems spot on, too.  \”When we are with others, we\’re always checking to see how they are reacting, and they make faces when we see them looking for our reactions.\”  I think most NT people automatically learn to do this somehow.  And I\’ve read a book that purports to teach you how to teach autistic people to do this.  To its credit, it at least did it in a fun way, making a game out of it for the autistic child, rather than making it drudgery.  Speaking from personal experience, it\’s drudgery for most of your life, so you can at least make it fun to start with.

But that actually brings up the question as to how I learned this skill.  When I was reading this article, I stopped and went, \”Wow, this is totally correct, but why didn\’t I already know this consciously?\”  Nobody taught me in the most direct sense, using any method.  I also wasn\’t exceptionally observant as a child.  Most of my memories revolve around internal (personal) thoughts and observations, rather than external (thinking about others) ones.  My best guess is that I learned it very slowly, over the course of years, by haphazard observation.

The first piece of the learning is already somewhat stated above: by wearing your emotions on your face, you\’re broadcasting them, and people will react to them.  I\’m pretty sure that\’s exactly what happened, and I must\’ve taken notice.  I was likely taught, as everyone else is, that facial expressions are how you display emotions.  So that was what I did… and people did react to it.  That likely taught me, without somehow directly teaching me, that people use your face as an information point for how to act in a situation.  Learning NOT to display those emotions was probably harder, and probably required someone (likely my mother) to say something like: \”Well, even though you feel that way, you shouldn\’t look like it if you\’re going to be in polite company.\”  I have a pathological tendency towards bluntness and honesty, so this inversion probably took a lot of time to learn.

That seems like most of this concept, though: either displaying an emotion or not doing so, depending on how you\’re feeling or wanting the interaction to go. 

Improving the Autistic Future

Posted on by Realistic Autistic
The transition between high school and adult life is almost inevitably a difficult one for autistic people and their families.  The question of college, trade school, or job is a difficult one for neurotypical young adults, and when you mix in autism, it becomes exponentially more complicated.

The assumed pathway, at the time I was growing up, was that you went from high school to college.  That was what was expected, and it was what I did.  But many autistic people who do this find they are ill-prepared for that transition.  A lot of those people return home, feeling like massive failures as people, and like their lives are ruined forever.

Why does this happen?  Well… Part of it is that our schools aren\’t teaching us the day-to-day skills necessary for being a functional adult.  Things like what laws your country has, how money works, how to vote and register to vote, and how to make a budget.  Have a well-made song that covers this subject admirably.  I have no idea if the performer here is autistic or neurodiverse in any way, but he\’s absolutely right.

Something he doesn\’t cover, by the way, is the loss of art, music, technical, and theater programs in favor of ever-more academics and sports.  Though by the video, I\’d bet he\’d have an earful about it.  The point of school is to give you broad base, required and everyday knowledge and introduce you to all sorts of interesting subjects so you can choose for yourself what things you want to study or make a career out of.  Removing these programs ensures that the only path forward autistic (and neurotypical) people will see is college.

What\’s the problem with that?  Well, not everyone needs or wants to go to college, first and foremost.  Continuing your education is excellent, but if you love cars and excel at taking apart and putting together engines and machines, you hardly need to go to 4 year college to find out you\’ll make a great car repair person.  The fact is, not all special interests align with a college education, and no one should be forced to shoulder the lifetime of debt that comes with that education.

This is particularly true of people on the spectrum whose opportunities are more limited due to communication difficulties, chronic health problems, intellectual disabilities, and other factors.  Just because these people don\’t care to go to a standard 4 year college, or wouldn\’t be able to get through it, doesn\’t mean they can\’t have happy lives. It\’s just that our definition of a happy life may look a lot different than \”high school -> college -> marriage -> house -> kids.\”  Deviating from this pattern seems incomprehensible to many parents, but why should it be?  Autistic people can have strong interests and derive a lot of joy from them.  Why can\’t we have lives based around those?  It\’s certainly possible, as this article by one happily surprised parent shows.

I read somewhere that \”the grand essentials for happiness are: something to do, something to love, and something to hope for.\”  I think this is probably true, assuming basic needs (food, water, shelter, etc) are met.  Maybe a bit simplistic, but it seems accurate enough.  Without something to do, you feel like you\’re wasting your life.

A job can fill this criterion, assuming it\’s not actively making your miserable.  But it doesn\’t need to be a paying job if that\’s not feasible: volunteer work is also a way to use one\’s efforts, and sadly, it\’s the most accessible work for autistic people.  But it can lead to paying work, also.  The volunteer may do such a good job, and make it known that they would like to be hired, that the organization chooses to hire them.  Volunteer work also lets you learn new skills that you might otherwise not have ever picked up, which can then be applied to other parts of your life, or even other jobs.

The something to love is a bit harder.  \”Something\” does not need to be a significant other, or a romantic partner.  It can be your family, for example, or a group of friends.  It can also be a pet.  Support animals are popping up more and more as ADA-sheltered accommodations.  The responsibility of supporting an animal can also be good for peoples\’ wellbeing.  They\’re a lot less complicated than people, and often much less judgemental.  Your cat does not care if you\’re autistic, and your dog loves you regardless of whether you look and act \”normal.\”  Other kinds of animals can be helpful in this way, too.

I\’m not sure if I\’d term my childhood pet corn snake as a support animal.  I do hear snakes can be affectionate, but I don\’t think mine was.  Dogs are much better at being lovable, and cats too, somewhat.  I\’ve also heard of pet rats being affectionate, as well as ferrets, hedgehogs, and of course birds (especially parrots and macaws).  Any of these animals could serve an autistic person or person with other disabilities well, by providing a friendly, non-judgemental companion for us to talk to and be with.

At least with autism, you can definitely make an argument for the \”something to love\” being a special interest, too.   Our passions can be all-consuming, and that can be good.  It can lead to a job, or to volunteer work and meeting people.  Some parents decide their autistic children\’s passions are distracting them from the demands of life, and work to undermine them and keep their children away from them, in hopes that the interest will fade.  This is remarkably shortsighted unless the interest is directly dangerous.  It\’s better for everyone if the passion is worked into the demands of life.  Schoolwork can be phrased in terms of comic book heroes, and animals or computers or classic books made into jobs (vet tech/animal shelter volunteer, home tech support and repair services, and librarian/library volunteer, respectively). 

Something to hope for is naturally the hardest.  Peoples\’ goals vary immensely.  With the stress of raising an autistic child and running a family, I feel like parents tend to miss or overlook their children\’s goals.  Don\’t assume that a person doesn\’t have goals, just because they haven\’t communicated them to you.  A goal might be as complicated as, \”I would like to get married, have children, and live in my own home,\” or as simple as, \”I would like some privacy for an hour every day to engage in my hobbies.\”  As much as is possible, it should be a priority to help autistic people achieve our goals.  Even if those goals don\’t line up with what society (or you personally) prescribe.  Perhaps especially if that\’s the case.  We are unusual people, destined to lead unusual lives.  Help us lead to way for others to do the same. 

Legwork and Life, week of 4/4/18

Posted on by Realistic Autistic
Well, Holy Week has come and gone.  I\’m afraid I was a bit of an underachiever when it came to attending the various church services.  There\’s Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and at least two Easter services most years… and of those, I went to exactly one: I was scheduled to do sound (run microphones, attend to volume levels, etc), so I went to that service as I normally would. 

Naturally, it was fancier than usual.  More instruments, more people, and more complicated music.  My church has a habit of doing a rendition of the Hallelujah chorus each year, complete with timpanis (kettle drums), trumpets, and such.  They also invite the congregation, many of whom are musically literate, to sing along.  They provide music scores and everything. 

However, I\’m almost invariably at the sound board at Easter, for one reason or another.  So this year, like many years before it, I took my copy of the music and sang the tenor part by my lonesome, from the back.  I\’m sure it sounds kind of strange, a low but not-as-well-supported-as-a-man\’s-voice singing along with the men.  But the tenor part is kind of high, honestly, and there never seem to be enough men to sing the part.  So that was how I was allowed to learn it, years ago when I took part in a community choir for a year. 

Beyond the church service, there were a couple family events that I was invited to.  There was a Sunday brunch that went fairly well, save that I was low on energy and emotionally upset for reasons unrelated to the brunch.  It was a semiformal affair, which meant fancy clothes, which normally means discomfort.  And admittedly, my shoes were uncomfortable.  But thankfully, the rest of my outfit wasn\’t.  Back a year and a half ago, I needed a fancyish outfit that wasn\’t a dress, and one of Chris\’ aunts was kind enough to help me shop for one.  I have then proceeded to wear it pretty often, because it\’s nice-looking and formal but I don\’t hate it. The other event was another dinner, so kind of similar, but with more people. 

Other than those two things, Easter was pretty unremarkable.  There was no Easter egg hunt.  Nobody got me chocolate.  I didn\’t prank anyone\’s stuff by hiding Easter candy in it.  I used to do that last thing every year when I was in college.  I thought it was boring that I didn\’t get to have Easter egg hunts in college, so I made my own.  It had triple upsides: it was simple and low effort to do, it made the person happy, and it continued to make them happy as the year went on, because they invariably never found all the candy the first time.  So they\’d keep finding pieces of chocolate the rest of the year, especially after finals when it was time to pack their things up.  I kind of miss doing that, but it\’s not like I could sneak into some college student\’s room just to hide candy everywhere.  That would be all kinds of creepy. 

Anyway, in lieu of being given candy, I proceeded to buy my own after the holiday, when it was 50% off.  There\’s never as much selection that way, but on the bright side, I did get several pounds of candy for less than $15, so as long as I can ration it, I\’ll be good for a while. 

On a less comforting note, I had some x-rays done at my chiropractic place after I was told a particular type of adjustment isn\’t supposed to hurt… and it turns out my hips are crooked.  One is higher than the other on the x-ray, and twisted around a bit, too.  The doctor seems to think this isn\’t a huge problem, but he does think it explains the pain.  So now I have stretches to do, and I have to learn to stop sleeping on my side.  I wasn\’t clear if the stretching was every day, or just after exercises… but either way I\’ll be doing it at least 5 days a week, so surely that will help.  I hope.

Other than the hip oddity, my lower back seems well spaced and lined up, though, so that\’s something to be thankful for.  I\’m not sure how well I\’m going to manage only sleeping on my back.  I managed it last night, but it was only with great effort.  It feels like my back gets \”flat\” or something, and it\’s much more comfortable to flip between sleeping on my side and sleeping on my back.  But it\’s probably a doable change… I used to sleep on my front and had to break myself of that habit because of the bad things it was doing to my neck. 

Reading the Research: A Stranger in a Strange Land

Posted on by Realistic Autistic
Welcome back to Reading the Research, where I trawl the Internet to find noteworthy research on autism and related subjects, then discuss it in brief with bits from my own life, research, and observations.

Today\’s article covers the beneficial effects of living in a foreign country.  What does this have to do with autism?  Well, one of the alternative names for autism is \”Wrong Planet Syndrome.\”  This is based on a half-joke, half astute observation that autistic people act and speak like foreigners to our home countries.  The joke is that we must, therefore, be aliens on the wrong planet.  I believe this phrase was coined by humorous autistic people, and wrongplanet.net was formed as one of the earliest gatherings of autistic people online. 

The article says that people who live for a long time abroad tend to engage in more self-reflection and reflection about life and cultures in general.  This is good, because I\’ve noticed a lot of neurotypical people seem to live unexamined lives. On my more crabby days, I sometimes say that NT people float through life, whereas I have to crawl. 

As a child, I spent a lot of time doing hard thinking about who I was and why the world is the way it is.  I still do this now, though not as often as I have less free time to commit.  I found it a highly valuable activity: by taking the time to figure out why these things existed, I gained a lot of valuable information.  For example: driving laws exist to standardize the experience of driving.  While other people can never totally be made predictable, by setting specific rules for how to handle situations, you make the flow of traffic more efficient.

Small talk is another one, but its function is less obvious.   Autistic people naturally lean toward wanting to be good at things, and tend to be very logical and literal-minded.  Therefore, talking about the weather, which is boring to most people, seems extremely pointless.  Why would you not spend the time talking about interesting animals, or laws that need changing, or even philosophy?  At least that would be novel, rather than saying for the 1438th time, \”Gee whiz, it sure is raining out there.\”  Or talking about a sports team, when many autistic people could not care less.

But sadly the point of small talk is not information or idea exchange: it\’s to convey emotional connectedness and similarity.  The words you specifically say aren\’t as important as the meaning you\’re conveying behind them, which is, roughly, \”I too experience this life in a similar way to you, and we have this thing in common.\”  For neurotypicals, this connectedness drive is more important in most cases than the drive to be good at things.  In autistic people, it\’s usually the other way around. 

Without spending time doing self-reflection, I would never have realized these things, so when the article talked about people having clearer self-images and understandings of their personal values, I thought of myself, and then of many other autistic people I\’ve met.  We have particular ways of doing things, and we like to stick to them.  We often have strong personal values and are influenced less by our respective cultures.

So I wondered, then, whether some of these effects of living abroad might explain part of why autistic people are the way we are… While I was thinking about it, I remembered that I\’ve read, multiple times in books, that it\’s often easier for autistic people to fit into other cultures.  Our lack of understanding of social norms and various personal oddities, in other cultures, are passed off as the mistakes of a foreigner, rather than the mistakes of a person with disabilities.  This is immensely freeing and helpful, as in our home cultures we are always penalized for being what we are.  Daniel Tammet, author of Born on a Blue Day, described such freeing experiences in his book.  He, a citizen of England, went to Lithuania for volunteer work.  He proceeded to learn the local language, make friends, and in general have a very life-enriching time.

In general, then, I rather wonder whether it wouldn\’t be a valuable experience for better blended, and more independent autistic people to visit other countries. Or, I guess, given the benefits outlined here, pretty much any person.