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chaosmos
Snowy Owl
Snowy Owl

Joined: 19 Jul 2021
Gender: Female
Posts: 167
Location: Melbourne, Australia

23 Sep 2022, 5:05 pm

Hi there,

I’m looking for some advice on an issue I have.

Context - I’m a 34 year old woman, diagnosed this year with ASD and ADHD. I also have C-PTSD.

I have always been a very active human. I skateboarded for 12 years as a teen/adult, was a committed Ashtanga yoga practitioner for 8 years (practising 5-6 mornings a week) and have done lots of solo sport in my time. Lockdowns in Australia meant I basically lost my yoga practice, which for me was community, spiritual practice and physical/mental well-being.

I recently started Aikido (a type of martial arts). Aikido requires interaction and movement with others (working in pairs etc). Very unlike other physical activity I’ve done.

My issue is this: I have noticed, with any deep body work I do, I can be left feeling incredibly over stimulated, emotional, irritable, teary, exhausted, unable to relax. This happened to the extreme last night and I couldn’t sleep after my class. I had racing thoughts, playing back everything that happened in the class including movements, conversations etc. I was also restless and wired. These sensations can also happen after massage for me.

Does anyone else who is autistic, who does physical activity/body work experience this? Looking for advice and insight.

How do you manage it?
Do you have to do really low key physical activity to avoid over-stimulation.
If yes, how do you stay fit?

Thanks.



Fenn
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23 Sep 2022, 5:22 pm

I am an introvert. Covid forced to be even more introverted than was healthy or balanced for me.
I have been going for walks around the block. Sometimes when it is raining I will do stairs. I will start at the bottom of the flight of stairs and go up one stair, then down one. Then up two then down two. (and so on).
Sometimes I just take to my bed.
I am a work in progress.


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RDOS scores - Aspie score 131/200 - neurotypical score 69/200 - very likely Aspie


chaosmos
Snowy Owl
Snowy Owl

Joined: 19 Jul 2021
Gender: Female
Posts: 167
Location: Melbourne, Australia

23 Sep 2022, 6:51 pm

Fenn wrote:
I am an introvert. Covid forced to be even more introverted than was healthy or balanced for me.
I have been going for walks around the block. Sometimes when it is raining I will do stairs. I will start at the bottom of the flight of stairs and go up one stair, then down one. Then up two then down two. (and so on).
Sometimes I just take to my bed.
I am a work in progress.


Thanks for sharing Fenn



CockneyRebel
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23 Sep 2022, 10:33 pm

I can go for very long walks. The catch is that whether it's summer or winter, it has to be a sunny day in order for me to want to go for those walks. I worship the sun.


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IQ: 86 and I use all 86 of them.


chaosmos
Snowy Owl
Snowy Owl

Joined: 19 Jul 2021
Gender: Female
Posts: 167
Location: Melbourne, Australia

24 Sep 2022, 12:28 am

CockneyRebel wrote:
I can go for very long walks. The catch is that whether it's summer or winter, it has to be a sunny day in order for me to want to go for those walks. I worship the sun.


Yes, I should have mentioned that walking is fine for me. I walk everyday with my dog in the bush. I will walk in most weather, except heavy rain.

I don’t consider walking to be challenging physical activity though…



Dear_one
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Location: Where the Great Plains meet the Northern Pines

24 Sep 2022, 7:06 am

My sport and fitness maintainer is a bicycle. It is usually face time that keeps me awake, mulling over what was said or not said. If I have not had my exercise, it is worse. Sometimes, a good sprint is a great way to burn off the adrenalin from anger.

Bonus: An Aikido Story

A turning point in my life came one day on a train in the
suburbs of Tokyo. At one sleepy little station, the doors
opened and the drowsy afternoon was shattered by a
man yelling at the top of his lungs. He was a big man,
a drunk and exceedingly dirty Japanese laborer. The
laborer aimed a kick at the retreating back of an aged
grandmother. "YOU OLD WHORE;' he bellowed, "I'LL
KICK YOUR ASS!" He missed, and the old lady scuttled
safely beyond his reach. The train rattled on, the passen-
gers frozen with fear. I stood up.

I was still young back then, and in pretty good shape.
I had been putting in a solid eight hours of Aikido train-
ing every day for the past three years. I was totally
absorbed in Aikido. I couldn't practice enough. Trouble
was, my skill was yet untried in actual combat. We were
strictly enjoined from using Aikido techniques in public
unless absolute necessity demanded the protection of
other people. My teacher, the founder of Aikido, taught
us every morning that Aikido was nonviolent. "Aikido,"
he would say over and over, "is the art of reconciliation.
To use it to enhance one's ego, to dominate other peo-
ple, is to betray totally the purpose for which it is prac-
ticed. Our mission is to resolve conflict, not to generate
it." I listened to his words, of course, and even went so
far as to cross the street a few times to avoid groups of
lounging street punks who might have provided a jolly
brawl in which I might test my proficiency. In my day-
dreams, however, I longed for a legitimate situation
where I could defend the innocent by wasting the guilty.

Such a scene had now arisen. I was overjoyed. "My
prayers have been answered," I thought to myself as I
got to my feet. "This ... this ... slob is drunk and
mean and violent. He's a threat to the public order, and
he'll hurt somebody if I don't take him out. The need is
real. My ethical light is green."

Seeing me stand up, the drunk shot me a look of bleary
inspection. "AHA!" he roared, "A HAIRY FOREIGN
TWERP NEEDS A LESSON IN JAPANESE MANNERS!"
He gathered himself for his big rush at me.

A split second before he moved, somebody else shouted
"HEY!" It was loud, ear-splitting almost, but I remember
it had a strangely joyous, lilting quality to it - as though
you and a friend had been searching diligently for
something, and he had suddenly stumbled upon it.

We both stared down at this Iittle old man. He must
have been well into his seventies, this tiny gentleman,
immaculate in his kimono and hakama. He took no
notice of me but beamed delightedly at the laborer, as
though he had a most important, most welcome secret
to share.

"C'mere," the old man said in an easy vernacular,
beckoning to the drunk, "c'mere and talk with me." He
waved his hand lightly, and the big man followed as if
on a string. The drunk was confused but still belligerent.
He planted his feet in front of the little old man and
towered threateningly over him. "WHAT THE f**k DO
YOU WANT, YOU OLD FART?" he roared above the
clacking wheels.

The old man continued to beam at the laborer. There
was not a trace of fear or resentment about him. "What
you been drinkin'?" he asked lightly, his eyes sparkling
with interest.

"I BEEN DRINKIN' SAKE, GOD DAMN YOUR SCUMMY
OLD EYES!" the laborer declared loudly. "AND WHAT
BUSINESS IS IT OF YOURS?"

"Oh, that's wonderful," the old man said with delight,
"absolutely wonderful! You see, I just love sake. Every
night me and my wife (she's seventy-six, you know), we
warm up a little bottle of sake and we take it out into
the garden and we sit on the old bench that my grand-
father's student made for him. We watch the evening
fade, and we look to see how our persimmon tree is doing.
My great-grandfather planted that tree, you know, and we
worry about whether it will recover from those ice storms
we had last winter. But anyway, we take our little jug of
sake and go out and enjoy the evening by our our tree. Even
when it rains!" He beamed up at the laborer, his eyes
twinkling, happy to share the wonderful information.

As he struggled to follow the intricacies of the old man's
conversation, the drunk's face began to soften. His fists
slowly unclenched. "Yeah," he said when the old man
finished. "I love sake too . . . "'His voice trailed off.

"Yes," said the old man, smiling, "and I'm sure you
have a wonderful wife."

"No," replied the laborer, shaking his head sadly, "I
don't got no wife." He hung his head and swayed silently
with the motion of the train. And then, with surprising
gentleness, the big man began to sob. "I don't got no
wife," he moaned rhythmically, "I don't got no home, I
don't got no clothes, I don't got no tools, I don't got no
money, and now I don't got no place to sleep. I'm so
ashamed of myself." Tears rolled down the big man's
cheeks; a spasm of pure despair rippled through his body.

"My, my," the old man clucked sympathetically, although
his general delight appeared undiminished, "that is a
difficult predicament indeed. Why don't you sit down here
and tell me about it?"

Just then the train arrived at my stop. Maneuvering my
way out, I turned my head for one last look. The laborer
was sprawled like a sack on the seat, his head in the old
man's lap. The old gentleman was looking down at him
kindly, a beatific mixture of delight and compassion
beaming from his eyes, one hand softly stroking the
filthy, matted head.

As the train pulled away from the station, I sat on a
bench and tried to relive the experience. I saw that what
I had been prepared to accomplish with bone and muscle
had been accomplished with a smile and a few kind
words. I recognized that I had seen Aikido used in action
and that the essence of it was reconciliation and love.

-Terry Dobson



chaosmos
Snowy Owl
Snowy Owl

Joined: 19 Jul 2021
Gender: Female
Posts: 167
Location: Melbourne, Australia

24 Sep 2022, 7:24 am

Dear_one wrote:
My sport and fitness maintainer is a bicycle. It is usually face time that keeps me awake, mulling over what was said or not said. If I have not had my exercise, it is worse. Sometimes, a good sprint is a great way to burn off the adrenalin from anger.

Bonus: An Aikido Story

A turning point in my life came one day on a train in the
suburbs of Tokyo. At one sleepy little station, the doors
opened and the drowsy afternoon was shattered by a
man yelling at the top of his lungs. He was a big man,
a drunk and exceedingly dirty Japanese laborer. The
laborer aimed a kick at the retreating back of an aged
grandmother. "YOU OLD WHORE;' he bellowed, "I'LL
KICK YOUR ASS!" He missed, and the old lady scuttled
safely beyond his reach. The train rattled on, the passen-
gers frozen with fear. I stood up.

I was still young back then, and in pretty good shape.
I had been putting in a solid eight hours of Aikido train-
ing every day for the past three years. I was totally
absorbed in Aikido. I couldn't practice enough. Trouble
was, my skill was yet untried in actual combat. We were
strictly enjoined from using Aikido techniques in public
unless absolute necessity demanded the protection of
other people. My teacher, the founder of Aikido, taught
us every morning that Aikido was nonviolent. "Aikido,"
he would say over and over, "is the art of reconciliation.
To use it to enhance one's ego, to dominate other peo-
ple, is to betray totally the purpose for which it is prac-
ticed. Our mission is to resolve conflict, not to generate
it." I listened to his words, of course, and even went so
far as to cross the street a few times to avoid groups of
lounging street punks who might have provided a jolly
brawl in which I might test my proficiency. In my day-
dreams, however, I longed for a legitimate situation
where I could defend the innocent by wasting the guilty.

Such a scene had now arisen. I was overjoyed. "My
prayers have been answered," I thought to myself as I
got to my feet. "This ... this ... slob is drunk and
mean and violent. He's a threat to the public order, and
he'll hurt somebody if I don't take him out. The need is
real. My ethical light is green."

Seeing me stand up, the drunk shot me a look of bleary
inspection. "AHA!" he roared, "A HAIRY FOREIGN
TWERP NEEDS A LESSON IN JAPANESE MANNERS!"
He gathered himself for his big rush at me.

A split second before he moved, somebody else shouted
"HEY!" It was loud, ear-splitting almost, but I remember
it had a strangely joyous, lilting quality to it - as though
you and a friend had been searching diligently for
something, and he had suddenly stumbled upon it.

We both stared down at this Iittle old man. He must
have been well into his seventies, this tiny gentleman,
immaculate in his kimono and hakama. He took no
notice of me but beamed delightedly at the laborer, as
though he had a most important, most welcome secret
to share.

"C'mere," the old man said in an easy vernacular,
beckoning to the drunk, "c'mere and talk with me." He
waved his hand lightly, and the big man followed as if
on a string. The drunk was confused but still belligerent.
He planted his feet in front of the little old man and
towered threateningly over him. "WHAT THE f**k DO
YOU WANT, YOU OLD FART?" he roared above the
clacking wheels.

The old man continued to beam at the laborer. There
was not a trace of fear or resentment about him. "What
you been drinkin'?" he asked lightly, his eyes sparkling
with interest.

"I BEEN DRINKIN' SAKE, GOD DAMN YOUR SCUMMY
OLD EYES!" the laborer declared loudly. "AND WHAT
BUSINESS IS IT OF YOURS?"

"Oh, that's wonderful," the old man said with delight,
"absolutely wonderful! You see, I just love sake. Every
night me and my wife (she's seventy-six, you know), we
warm up a little bottle of sake and we take it out into
the garden and we sit on the old bench that my grand-
father's student made for him. We watch the evening
fade, and we look to see how our persimmon tree is doing.
My great-grandfather planted that tree, you know, and we
worry about whether it will recover from those ice storms
we had last winter. But anyway, we take our little jug of
sake and go out and enjoy the evening by our our tree. Even
when it rains!" He beamed up at the laborer, his eyes
twinkling, happy to share the wonderful information.

As he struggled to follow the intricacies of the old man's
conversation, the drunk's face began to soften. His fists
slowly unclenched. "Yeah," he said when the old man
finished. "I love sake too . . . "'His voice trailed off.

"Yes," said the old man, smiling, "and I'm sure you
have a wonderful wife."

"No," replied the laborer, shaking his head sadly, "I
don't got no wife." He hung his head and swayed silently
with the motion of the train. And then, with surprising
gentleness, the big man began to sob. "I don't got no
wife," he moaned rhythmically, "I don't got no home, I
don't got no clothes, I don't got no tools, I don't got no
money, and now I don't got no place to sleep. I'm so
ashamed of myself." Tears rolled down the big man's
cheeks; a spasm of pure despair rippled through his body.

"My, my," the old man clucked sympathetically, although
his general delight appeared undiminished, "that is a
difficult predicament indeed. Why don't you sit down here
and tell me about it?"

Just then the train arrived at my stop. Maneuvering my
way out, I turned my head for one last look. The laborer
was sprawled like a sack on the seat, his head in the old
man's lap. The old gentleman was looking down at him
kindly, a beatific mixture of delight and compassion
beaming from his eyes, one hand softly stroking the
filthy, matted head.

As the train pulled away from the station, I sat on a
bench and tried to relive the experience. I saw that what
I had been prepared to accomplish with bone and muscle
had been accomplished with a smile and a few kind
words. I recognized that I had seen Aikido used in action
and that the essence of it was reconciliation and love.

-Terry Dobson


That story is brilliant! Thank you for sharing.



CockneyRebel
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Joined: 17 Jul 2004
Age: 48
Gender: Male
Posts: 109,155
Location: On a special base where the Christmas soldiers of the world live

24 Sep 2022, 10:48 am

I can't handle heavy physical activity.


_________________
Oberfeldwebel

Age: 48
Gender: Non-Binary
Pronouns: He/Him/His
IQ: 86 and I use all 86 of them.