Meet Smudge The Table Cat

If any of you think autistic people don’t have the capability of being powerful and scary, here’s a game

My friend Zack, me, and a few other people have a game we play in robotics when we have free time. Zack is blindfolded, he spins around for 30 seconds, and then he has to find us. (It’s like a quiet version of Marco Polo) The problem with this, however, is he has insanely good hearing, and he can tell where he is in the room by the sound of the vents. (The left side of the room has a vent that has a slightly higher pitched air flow than the one on the right, and only he and I can hear this.) So that, in combination with him being able to hear the sound of our breathing/any movement, he is scarily accurate.

The worst part? He is fucking insane. Whenever he hears someone, he lets loose a maniacal giggle and sprints to that person. There is no escaping, and it’s literally akin to some sort of horror game that’s rigged. (Imagine Outlast meets Five Nights at Freddy’s, and then you have to play hide or die.) The only person who has managed to beat him is me, and that’s because I was quiet enough until 10 seconds before the five minute timer went off, and then sprinted around the room until he ran into a chair and the alarm sounded.

TL;DR: My autistic friend has echolocation and is absolutely horrifying when playing a quieter version of Marco Polo.

ADHD is chanting “walnuts, walnuts, walnuts, walnuts …” under your breath 300 times, then getting distracted for half a second and forgetting to add the fucking walnuts to the banana bread before putting it in the oven.

“Female menstruation shouldn’t get in the way of education!”

*Me at 13 in the nurse’s office lying helplessly on a sofa, literally whining and crying because it was the worst pain I’d ever felt in my life and how it was like I’d been stabbed.*

In fairness to the nurse, she was nice. She called it a “tummy ache.” That is what it was always called when we girls had that situation.

*male administrator approaches me* “Now, you’re not on anything…are you?”

*Me* “WHAT? Of course not. Are you mental?” If I’d rolled my eyes anymore, they’d have fallen out of my head.

I’d like to tell you he had the decency to look ashamed of himself but, as best I recall, he did not. 

Things they don’t tell you about special ed kids: they’re probably being that “disruptive” or “reclusive” because the sped teachers literally abuse them and no one gives a fuck. (It’s literally legal for sped teachers to abuse their students because it’s considered part of the special ed therapy.)

When I was in middle school, I was in a special ed program called “Social Thinking”, which was supposedly for teaching social skills, but really what it taught was “You have to act like a normal (neurotypical) person and only ever do ‘expected behavior’, or everyone will hate you and think you’re annoying. You have to always keep up this facade no matter how exhausting it is. If you don’t do that and just be yourself, your friends would be happier without you.”

Some highlights from that special ed class:

The teacher told me, to my face, that all my teachers hated me and thought I was annoying and stupid, and that this was because I blurted out in class.

They literally went to my friends behind my back and told my friends to stop listening and walk away from me anytime I started “monologuing” aka rambling about the things I’m interested in. (My best friends decided not to do that, because they knew how awful the teachers were.)

 One of my best friends was also in that sped program, and one year she was in the same “class” for it as I was. I cried in that class a lot, but she cried even more than I did. She also had breakdowns (as did I) and was suicidal sometimes. I distinctly remember one time when she said “Just give me the scissors, I’ll do it right now!”. She was TWELVE at the time.

The teacher would frequently grab my chin and turn my head towards her, forcing me to make eye contact. She also told my parents to require me to make eye contact before allowing me to do fun things, and to force eye contact like that if I didn’t want to. (And, unfortunately, they did.) Even now, almost five years later, I still flinch when anyone comes close to touching my face.

I’m pretty sure I got some form of ptsd from all the horrible in that special ed therapy, but I can’t get it diagnosed because even the possibility of having to talk to any sort of therapist makes me have severe panic attacks. :^) lifes a bitch like that.

TLDR: special ed teachers were super abusive and no one gave a shit because it was supposedly part of the therapy. 

please reblog this if your blog is safe for asexuals

(an ace safe space)

Alien: You’re telling me that in times of great distress humans have been known to suddenly gain the strength necessary to lift objects more than a dozen times their own weight?!

Human: Yeah, it’s called “hysterical strength” and it usually happens in life-or-death situations, like when someone gets stuck under a car or something and someone lifts the car to get them out. We can’t really test it though, ‘cause it only happens spontaneously.

Alien: Humans have the ability to tap into untold strength and power and you don’t even know how you do it?

Human: Pretty much, yeah. We think it has something to do with temporary analgesia, so we just don’t feel the pain we should when we pick up a 3000-pound car.

Alien: YOUR PAIN RESPONSE JUST SHUTS OFF?

Human: Yeah, it’s like an adrenaline thing? Do you not have that?

Alien: Fuck you and your entire species of tiny juggernauts.

when I was a senior this guy a grade below me, we’ll call him T, was messing with a girl and one of my classmates had a younger brother in that grade, D, and D was friends with the girl so he told the T to meet him in the bathroom to duke it out. we left lunch and started to walk down the hall only to be hit with an awful smell and a few teachers telling us we couldn’t go down the hall. a while later, word got around that D punched T in the gut and he pooped in his pants. I dont know if any school has a drill or procedure to follow for that kind of thing but we weren’t allowed to leave the classroom for a while.

tldr: this guy literally got the crap punched out of him