Quotes from Dawn Prince-Hughes

Like others who seek to be what they are not, we invariably end up with secondary problems engendered by chronic anxiety. As rage and frustration are pushed below our consciousness, we suffer depression. Somatic difficulties like stomachaches and headaches and other ailments can be chronic as a result of unrelenting anxiety and the repression of coping mechanisms while trying to fit in.

Much later I would see this kind of behavior with gorillas in captivity. They had nervous tics similar, if not identical, to mine: hair plucking, picking at scabs, scratching, rocking, chewing on themselves, and other repetitive and self-stimulating behaviors. One gorilla spun in tight, fast circles. Another bobbed her head up and down.

I had trouble following sequential directions, which was a problem because I was often left alone to complete complicated tasks. Most of my tasks were written down, and I did fairly well if I could do them in order. If something came up in the middle, which it often did, I would be thrown and unable to complete the remainder.

Words described real experiences, and their curves and lines left a mental trail for me to follow by sense memory, whereas numbers threw curves at me and stonewalled me with their lines, barring me from understanding them, where they came from, and where they went. Math did not describe anything to me; if people themselves were often disconnected parts—sometimes one, sometimes many—how could I hope to quantify the rest of the world? Discrete amounts had little meaning for me.

I felt uncomfortable from the start because I had profound problems with following sequential directions, especially when they were spoken.

Other sounds, though quiet, would be painful to me and make me see colors, after which I would fight a metallic taste in my mouth.

Another component of my "mystique" was my appearance: I wore leather jackets because their weight and thickness calmed me; dark glasses, sometimes even at night, because they cut out some of the stimulation to my nervous system; and heavy boots that made me feel secure and grounded as I clomped around in them. I must have looked like a perfect practiced stud with all the trimmings, when in reality I was withdrawn and armored primarily out of anxiety and confusion.

I scooted around the house and looked in the window and was able to really see my family in a way that was, I guess, a lot clearer, because I had a lot less sensory input. I could look in through the window and see my family and feel closer to them than if I had been in the same room.

Much like the deaf community, we autistics are building an emergent culture. We individuals, with our cultures of one, are building a culture of many.

I felt like I would disappear if I were not hemmed in by the familiar and unchanging.

In one instance a woman was lying in my arms after hours of sex, and we were watching the sun come up, and I said, "Do you know what Plato says about forms?" She answered, "No. But I know what to say about your form." Pushing her away to block a kiss, I said, "No, really. What do you think about the idea that there are timeless blueprints for things?" She twisted her mouth in disgust. "You're weird," she said.