Autistic children more prone to say extreme things?
Are those things really so extreme??
I remember a similar situation.
As a teenager, I had a tough relationship with my cousin. She was very socially skillful, but not very prosocial. One of those people who could get anything she wanted by flashing a smile and some leg, and used it ruthlessly, wantonly, without caring who she hurt. She was aware-- she didn't care.
I wrote in a private journal entry that I "wished someone would take a meat cleaver to her face." It was a metaphor. I never wanted someone to literally chop up the features on the front of her head with a big, sharp knife. That's-- horrid. That shouldn't happen to anybody.
I wanted to see the charming, wonderful, widely beloved, worshipped, and desired girl exposed for the manipulative little b***h she was at 16.
Well, needless to say, I got the cops called on me. I got packed off to the doctor. My aunt was in tears because I was 19 and they couldn't have me forcibly put away for years and years and years.
My father never had the same relationship with them again. I didn't speak to them for about five years. We get along well now-- I figured out what they saw and I hope they figured out their error. We don't talk about it.
I learned, for a few years anyway, to restrict myself to using only very literal language. I laughed maniacally when I read that high-functioning autistics, though we develop speech normally, tend to speak and to interpret things very literally and do not use or understand figurative language. :upsidedown:
_________________
"Alas, our dried voices when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless, as wind in dry grass, or rats' feet over broken glass in our dry cellar." --TS Eliot, "The Hollow Men"
I remember a similar situation.
As a teenager, I had a tough relationship with my cousin. She was very socially skillful, but not very prosocial. One of those people who could get anything she wanted by flashing a smile and some leg, and used it ruthlessly, wantonly, without caring who she hurt. She was aware-- she didn't care.
I wrote in a private journal entry that I "wished someone would take a meat cleaver to her face." It was a metaphor. I never wanted someone to literally chop up the features on the front of her head with a big, sharp knife. That's-- horrid. That shouldn't happen to anybody.
I wanted to see the charming, wonderful, widely beloved, worshipped, and desired girl exposed for the manipulative little b***h she was at 16.
Well, needless to say, I got the cops called on me. I got packed off to the doctor. My aunt was in tears because I was 19 and they couldn't have me forcibly put away for years and years and years.
My father never had the same relationship with them again. I didn't speak to them for about five years. We get along well now-- I figured out what they saw and I hope they figured out their error. We don't talk about it.
I learned, for a few years anyway, to restrict myself to using only very literal language. I laughed maniacally when I read that high-functioning autistics, though we develop speech normally, tend to speak and to interpret things very literally and do not use or understand figurative language. :upsidedown:
I assume from reading your story that your journal entry was not 'private'
I remember a similar situation.
As a teenager, I had a tough relationship with my cousin. She was very socially skillful, but not very prosocial. One of those people who could get anything she wanted by flashing a smile and some leg, and used it ruthlessly, wantonly, without caring who she hurt. She was aware-- she didn't care.
I wrote in a private journal entry that I "wished someone would take a meat cleaver to her face." It was a metaphor. I never wanted someone to literally chop up the features on the front of her head with a big, sharp knife. That's-- horrid. That shouldn't happen to anybody.
I wanted to see the charming, wonderful, widely beloved, worshipped, and desired girl exposed for the manipulative little b***h she was at 16.
Well, needless to say, I got the cops called on me. I got packed off to the doctor. My aunt was in tears because I was 19 and they couldn't have me forcibly put away for years and years and years.
My father never had the same relationship with them again. I didn't speak to them for about five years. We get along well now-- I figured out what they saw and I hope they figured out their error. We don't talk about it.
I learned, for a few years anyway, to restrict myself to using only very literal language. I laughed maniacally when I read that high-functioning autistics, though we develop speech normally, tend to speak and to interpret things very literally and do not use or understand figurative language. :upsidedown:
I assume from reading your story that your journal entry was not 'private'
Eh-- it was supposed to be. It was written in a spiral-bound notebook that I carried with me and never let anyone read. It was labeled as a place for private thoughts with a polite request to please leave it alone. I got sick one day and didn't realize I'd left it at home; they pounced on the opportunity like wolves on a pot roast.
_________________
"Alas, our dried voices when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless, as wind in dry grass, or rats' feet over broken glass in our dry cellar." --TS Eliot, "The Hollow Men"
I remember a similar situation.
As a teenager, I had a tough relationship with my cousin. She was very socially skillful, but not very prosocial. One of those people who could get anything she wanted by flashing a smile and some leg, and used it ruthlessly, wantonly, without caring who she hurt. She was aware-- she didn't care.
I wrote in a private journal entry that I "wished someone would take a meat cleaver to her face." It was a metaphor. I never wanted someone to literally chop up the features on the front of her head with a big, sharp knife. That's-- horrid. That shouldn't happen to anybody.
I wanted to see the charming, wonderful, widely beloved, worshipped, and desired girl exposed for the manipulative little b***h she was at 16.
Well, needless to say, I got the cops called on me. I got packed off to the doctor. My aunt was in tears because I was 19 and they couldn't have me forcibly put away for years and years and years.
My father never had the same relationship with them again. I didn't speak to them for about five years. We get along well now-- I figured out what they saw and I hope they figured out their error. We don't talk about it.
I learned, for a few years anyway, to restrict myself to using only very literal language. I laughed maniacally when I read that high-functioning autistics, though we develop speech normally, tend to speak and to interpret things very literally and do not use or understand figurative language. :upsidedown:
I assume from reading your story that your journal entry was not 'private'
Eh-- it was supposed to be. It was written in a spiral-bound notebook that I carried with me and never let anyone read. It was labeled as a place for private thoughts with a polite request to please leave it alone. I got sick one day and didn't realize I'd left it at home; they pounced on the opportunity like wolves on a pot roast.
Did you have a history of violent behavior? if not I find it a little hard to believe your aunt would have had the cops take you in based on an entry in a private journal?
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