Special Disinterest

Nov 29, 2025 | Autism, Thoughts

Special Disinterest

That special interests are part of the autistic phenomenon is commonly known, with me never feeling strange thanks to my friendly environment, where as a child I diligently searched computer game files for interesting fragments, knew the latest car models and mobile phones inside and out, was probably the only young person with an active interest in classical music, or even today could find any bare skin in those books of knowledge with astonishing precision.
Special interests, which are highly absorbing and obsessively pursued activities, can also change, recur, or even disappear over time.

But this is not what this is about, rather the flip side.
Because as much as we try to see autism through the most positive eyes and special interests are mostly viewed benevolently (and rightly so, because this hyperfocus is essential for a neurodivergent brain), there are also purely restrictive behaviors.
And these are less about rejecting hostile sensory impressions, like the residual aromas of mint oil (yuck) or the nonsensical mixture of milk and pasta (sob) or the avoidance of agitated crowds (demonstrations are the worst).
It’s about things to which similar energies are devoted as to one’s own fields of interest, but with the fundamental difference that these things are rejected with an unshakable and disadvantage-accepting power.

For me, this includes (but is not limited to): local radio, soccer, the dubbing of films into another language.
If I were not capable of self-reflection, this would sound like unnecessary hate; and for a long time, I did not understand where these deep aversions came from. I even liked soccer as a child, at least the 2002 World Cup sticker album with all the data and facts and its collecting appeal. But something about the extent of the emotions and personal observations of how a person’s nature can change while playing did not fit with the game in and of itself. And projecting all this onto today’s big soccer industry, I only have incomprehension and a big blockade against soccer fan culture circles. The good news: I feel good about my point, and so do the others about theirs.
And the thrill of rooting for something uncontrollable can be satisfied in other ways, anyway.

Music is another special matter, related to conscious engagement with musical works and the appreciation of a very individual and sometimes extremely emotional art form. Due to the over the years doubtful selection of local radio stations in Germany and the focus on “easy to listen to and safe” and the fact that it is widely turned on because of the “radio” and not because of the contents it broadcasts, local radio fits so little into my worldview and my sensory funnels that I reject it categorically and with deep conviction.
And “just turning it off” is unfortunately impossible, as my brain perceives sounds almost unfiltered alongside my ears.

Regarding films, I have already encountered indignation and incomprehension with other Germans, as this people apparently care more about understanding every translated word (also acoustically foolproof through the dubby style of talking) than appreciating the acting performance. Because silent film has long been out of style and nowadays an actor conveys his role mainly through his voice.
It is also a question of the overall work: What language did the crew probably speak, and to which language world can the thoughts on set or in the studio be assigned? Is the vision of those responsible for the creation and completion of the film possibly related to a specific language?
Undoubtedly, dubbing creates jobs and accessibility (alongside subtitles, mind you), but can it also create art?
Examples of special dubbing are the films with Bud Spencer and Terence Hill, which acquired cult status in German only through their very artistic and free translations. Or Coldmirror’s Harry Potter parodies, where I am a bit cautious not to eventually disrespect the original work.
If someone values the factual content of a film within the German speaking style more than what actually contributed to its creation, then I am probably sitting on an opposite branch of the film tree and accept it but cannot reconcile it with my personal claim to art and culture.

What I would like to point out with this is the following: The reasons behind special interests and special disinterests often lie in the same nest and can reflect the same core.

Even if a person, whether child or adult, cannot precisely say what now makes them fight tooth and nail against a “completely normal, even great” thing, there are deeper reasons. And those reasons may even be quite positive ones and recognizable based on the special interests often in focus.

How we do What and Why

Oct 30, 2025 | Autism, Thoughts

How we do What and Why

Recently, at the self-help group, I found myself philosophizing again, and thus this essay of my thoughts came into being.

The question of Why, How, and What can be viewed differently depending on the situation, and one could readily write novels about all cases of their application. I’d like to address it generally at first and then apply it to family life.

As a child, “Why did you do that?” was the worst question for me. In math class, I was being stirred by the statement “The result counts less than the process” (so the How seemed exceedingly important), and after devouring all the Was-ist-Was? books, I was already doing quite well for myself in the world of the What (a soon to be corrected misconception).

Especially during growing up, particularly in the special life path of neurodivergent children, these three questions come to light painfully all too often, unfortunately, although in different forms:

 

The What

Certainly, a school diploma and a career path in the primary labour market are desirable, certainly, as a social being, a person is to have their place in a circle of friends and family, certainly, an independent/healthy/prudent daily lifestyle should be a priority.

 

The How

Here all of a sudden it all becomes very individual, where each person develops their own approach. But that does not mean a How forms all by itself; no, the How often has great similarities to the nature of the most influential people in one’s life (usually the parents).
And the idea of those people can point out small things in daily dealings or rather big life decisions.
In life I was often told that How I express myself is special, but also How a child pursues their interests, or How we eat, are all things that have little to do with the actual What. Likewise, the career path or other personal life decisions are following streamlined ideas more than our pure interests.

 

The Why

If we find ourselves stuck, where neither any answer to the highly individual “How one is supposed to live life” nor the individual things “What there is to achieve in life” seem to work in real life, we may dare go one step higher.

This level is pleasantly far away from the What and the How and yet it has the greatest influence on them. This level questions, just like a curious child, Why we would do something.
And it only gets really exciting when we actively ask ourselves Why we actually do something. Quite simply: if someone knows exactly Why they are here in this world, then they will have no problems with the questions “What do I do?” and “How do I do it?”
With a satisfactory Why, the How has less to do with anyone’s (including one’s own!!) ideas but only with the thing at hand itself.

If one no longer asks How to best tie shoes but starts from Why one wears shoes at all or Why those must have shoelaces, many alternatives can be found to possibly leave this hurdle in the past entirely.
When it comes to eating habits (Google: Autism Sampler Platter), a healthy direction close to the Why is easier to take than blind vegetable consumption because of “Eat your vegetables PERIOD.”
School is imposed on children of all stripes for good reasons, but nowadays, when system busters are on the rise, it has the positive effect that some schools reconsider their mission and allow much more leeway in the How to achieve the What. But until this becomes the norm everywhere, there is still much to do.
And when one finally understands Why there is such a thing as friends, it hardly matters anymore How that friendship will look.

As a final practical tip, there is the dazzling method of inventing a Why.
Because if you would very much like to have a good Why to do something but you cannot find one quickly, you can simply make one up. Important rule of thumb: If it harms no one, it is all legitimate.

These thoughts are meant to encourage when everyday life with children or oneself is difficult.
If all does not feel quite right, there is always a level where we can come to terms with the constants around us. (there’s a chance they are not that constant after all, but shhh)

Ode to Board Games

Aug 30, 2025 | Autism, Thoughts

Ode to Board Games

Lately, I have been overflowing about a pastime that is not new, but has become a trusty companion in recent months.

It is board games.

Slowly, the wounds of at time even miserably plain experiences with mediocre games have been replaced with exciting thrills and fleshed out stories to tell and to recommend.
We’ve built zoos, sailed mystic waters, fought breathtaking battles, saved civilizations, went to space, wandered degenerated dungeons, hunted cryptids and so much more!

The general fascination with predetermined worlds I laid out in this bit already.
But with board games, the stretch between a story to tell and the abstracted version of it is much more intricate.
Through mechanics and artwork, haptics and rules, premise and expectations, they make for a wonder-filled reason to get together with friends and family.

Getting to know a game, obsessing over a game, mastering a game or sharing all those joys with others, those are the dream of those who think up and make games.
I am sure, everyone has had their contact with board games and there are many preferences out there.

Coming together and sharing them is a sweet game in itself, though as much as an autistic person loves all those game mechanics, shouldn’t they have reservations about the whole “other people” deal?

A great example, which I often like to use, is the 11-to-11 gaming day a friend organised a while back, when I was down on my energy. Still, the plan was flexible enough to test my battery and go home any time.
Did I go home before 11pm? No. Were there many people? Yes. Did I know most of the people? No. Did I play with them regardless? Yes. Did I run out of energy even remotely? No. Was I surprised in the end? A bit.

Turns out, board games, besides their obvious spoils, are a stellar example of accommodations to my brain:

  1. There is a rule book that explains everything that is to know about the game on the table.
  2. Any contents of the box are listed neatly.
  3. Any kind of desirable act or victory related aspect is laid out as a central part.
  4. If the premise is not divergent, the game is to be fair.
  5. The players have a shared vocabulary for critical elements.
  6. Games have end conditions.
  7. The chances of finding order, rather than chaos, are high.
  8. Within the rules, anything is possible.

Sure, the fun of some game nights is determined by accompanying circumstances, second by set expectations, but only after a huge gap by the very fact that a board game is being played.

Now come into the danger comfort zone and let’s play!

Crash

Jul 29, 2025 | Autism, Thoughts, Updates

Crash

 

The boy in the video cheerfully corrects his mother: “I don’t suffer from autism, I just have it.”

Yes, I just have it too. And whatever we humans have or don’t have, we do everything to avoid suffering. Even though the level of suffering and its acceptance is often held way too loose.
But what if that suffering shows up suddenly and all unexpected? When all of a sudden everything becomes unbearable and all of the same sudden our world falls apart?
What if we fear the trauma of a breakdown so much that the very art of living consists of preventing it as much as possible?

Over the years, especially recently, I’ve learned a lot about my fears, my subconscious life design, and my neurodivergent nature. Actually, it’s a whole topic on its own, how a (for me) low-stress life differs from what might sound normative…
And yet, after a long time, I had a breakdown again. In public, at a special place.
And I decide to share it here.

Among neurodivergent people, three stages have been agreed upon: the Overload, the Meltdown, and the ultimate Shutdown.

 

Overload

This is the autistic experience, when you pay attention in support groups, read between the lines, or even trust memes. In terms of the three stages, Overload means an exceptionally critical level of overexcitement, overburdening, overextension, overexertion, overstraining, and overtension, which in the best case makes itself painfully noticeable.
In the worst case, though, it only shows too late, because we humans seem to love to push through and hold out.

My specific Overload consisted of several elements: changes in life (a new phone with shipping difficulties, the end of my work contract at my longtime company, planning a new wallet concept, thoughts about new occupational horizons, rethinking routines), second hand worries, a city trip by train, a bit of Weltschmerz, a bit of heartache, sun, people, a medieval market, old impressions, new impressions, human needs.
Every single thing has its own good and I always have solid arguments for my conscience. And the less you actively think about each single point, the easier life becomes — but that exact thing is incredibly difficult. And when you don’t have a good bucket to bail water out of the boat, the water rises faster than you want and the air becomes tight…

 

Meltdown

Here the pressure is too great for the brain’s walls, and something has to happen! What that looks like, whether very obvious or completely suppressed, depends entirely on the individual affected. But it always brings consequences, whether visible or not.
I am super good at suppressing. I had some bad experiences with outbursts, and as a child, I was raised within strict limits. This probably saved me a lot of confrontation and made me seem patient and understanding, but somewhere the pent-up feelings have to burst to.

It happened at the peak of the day, the big show tournament, when my bucket could no longer handle the flood of impressions. People too close beside me, jubilation and clapping, frothing horses, intense spectacle, no free seat in sight, always on alert for careless touches, not missing out on the big event for which we were here.
My want to scream loudly, to put people in their place, to throw hands and run away — I masterfully suppressed all that, as I am a decent person after all and that’s how I grew up.
And despite the rigorous use of stimming tools (a fidget gadget and an acupressure ring), the other side inside of me burst open.

 

Shutdown

The immediate consequence.
I often compare a shutdown to a plant closing its blossoms and wilting away.
There’s nothing left, I tense up, I close my eyes no matter the surroundings in order to at least dull some of the sensory onslaught. I had already put on my hearing protection before the show started, because without it, my nerves would have been raw much earlier.

Toward the end of the grand spectacle, some seats next to me became free so I no longer had to focus all my muscles into holding my limbs together and could find some room to breathe. That’s when it became clear what state my whole organism was in. I was breathing like a marathon runner after the race.

While all these things are happening, a certain part of my brain keeps on running. The part that wants to adapt and merge with the environment. I had no strength left to clap along from the beginning, just hoping that didn’t bother anyone. But much worse was the obvious thought that hardly anyone around me could understand what was going on inside me. I can explain it, sure, as I am doing now, writing this text for hours — but in that moment, in the turmoil I was in…impossible!

And that feeling, being there among thousands of people, forsaken and alone, suffering from things people paid a lot of money to see, which seem to please many and had pleased me in past years, that dealt me the penultimate blow.

The last blow was a physical one. When people were leaving the stands, no one sitting beside me anymore, me struggling to process all the effort while gasping and panting, I got a jab in the neck, possibly by accident.
People who know me well know how easily I scare at times. That often depends on the current tension which I rarely can identify and even more rarely can communicate.
So my physical reaction was stronger than I would have thought possible. I jerked apart and back together in a strong jolt, and my head and arms spasmodically compensated for the unexpected shock.
Embarrassing. Out of control. Inappropriate.
I quickly fled to a now-empty bench where I had room all around, continued my breathing, and kneaded my stimming tools. All composure gone. Eyes closed. Tears. Storms of thoughts. Loneliness in the crowd.

But I was not all alone. My dear friend, with whom I came, rescued me. I had no words left, so we agreed via WhatsApp that it was okay to leave, and with lowered gaze and no pretense of behaving like a healthy person, we went back to the hotel. With fewer and fewer people around, but most of all with the understanding of the one person I was with, I managed to calm down, and after a night’s sleep and without further sudden stress factors, I made it through the weekend’s remainder okay.

 

What would I need in that moment?

Even more important is what I could have needed before, especially before it was too late and even before it was way too late.
Namely, basic preparation on how I could behave in such a situation, what emergency breaks there are, what is okay and acceptable, and the certainty that my brain’s twists and turns are understood.
This might sound utopian, but it would have helped even in the unexpectedly raging storm.

What helps in the hot moment, and the following points already contribute to the factor “understanding the brain’s twists”, is avoiding new sensory input, creating space, non-binding offers of concrete help (I can hear you but might not be able to react appropriately), and easing communication worries.

Apart from the example above, where some things went well, given the circumstances, here are suggestions for what might be helpful in the case of a person already in sensory distress:

  • Be careful not to cause sudden noises, touches, or the like
  • Depending on the person’s environment, give them space and possibly ask others for consideration
  • If decisions to change location are necessary (moving away from the crowd, changing seats), make sure response options are as nonverbal as possible: “If you want to go to [specific safe place] now, just stand up and I will lead the way.” This allows choice of action without additional communication
  • If further communication hurdles lie in the way to safety, like buying a bus ticket or other situations with direct human contact, it helps if an advocate intervenes

And it really is quite an adventurous-professional feel when we leave the house equipped to the teeth with hearing protection, stimming tools, alternative communication methods, emergency plans, and a quiver full of action strategies.

That’s how we’re strong!