Do you remember what your parents were doing?

[Pats]

I remember some things from my childhood. One I keep thinking about and I don't know why. I was little and at the store with my mom and siblings and there was a feather duster someone had left on a shelf. I picked it up and started dancing and dusting off shelves and was in my own little world. I remember my mom getting upset with me because I had wandered off and she couldn't find me and had everyone in the store looking for me.

Another time was at my grandparents old house so I had to be three or less. I used to lay in the ditch next to a busy highway and listen to the trucks roar past. I remember my mom dragging me away from the road and telling me not to go back but there was something comforting in it and I kept going back. To this day when I hear trucks roar by I find it comforting.

I remember chewing on the leather car door panels and chair arms because I liked the feel.
I remember long before having to go to school, my parents wanted to go to a friend's and I hid the car keys so we couldn't go and then I hid.
I remember sitting on the stairs and lining up all my hotwheels cars and I remember playing with my paperdolls, trying on the different outfits that I had cut out.

As I got older I remember sitting in my room listening to albums and creating my own black light posters.

All these childhood memories that I have, but for the life of me, I can not remember anything anyone else in the family might have been doing. It's like I was wrapped up in my own little world and paid little attention to anyone else around me unless I was interacting with someone - like following my sister around telling her something or sitting outside the bathroom singing with my sister while she sang in the bathtub.
I do remember one game that both sisters, my brother and I would play together. I have to mention this one just to share a laugh. We would lay down in middle of the road and practice getting up fast in case a car was coming. Guess we wanted to be prepared for any time we might be laying in middle of the road and a car come. lol

Anyway, I have no memory of what the rest of my family was doing and wondered if it was because I WAS in my own little world of autism or if it's something everyone does.

 

[Judge]

Anyway, I have no memory of what the rest of my family was doing and wondered if it was because I WAS in my own little world of autism or if it's something everyone does.

This reminds me of something I learned a long time ago...probably in Psych 101 class. That mature adults understand that they revolve around the world. However that children see the world revolving around them.

That what you may have experienced is simply being a child, and not necessarily an autistic child.

 

[Mr Allen]

When I was very little, Mum was a cleaner up at the Children's Hospital, and then before that she worked at Cole Brothers in Town. Dad was an Electrician in the early years, spent a lot of time working out of Town so we only saw him at weekends.

 

[Progster]

In my childhood memories I can't remember what other people were doing either, because I was not aware of what they were doing, or because I can't remember it. I think that this is normal and not related to autism. Memory is both selective and subjective, and one tends to preserve those memories that stand out to you, the ones that you keep going back to.

 

[BraidedPony]

I remember every word, move, nuance my mother made. Because of abuse, I had to keep an eye on her moods and do everything possible to make her happy.
However, there were times I was in my own world, I would hide under the bed and pretend to be dead. It was such a drag when I grew too big to fit under there.
But I always had a cat.

 

[Bedlamite]

I too have some childhood memories that, in retrospect, may be allied with the spectrum. But they are hard too interpret as such due to the fact that my particular family seemed to be overly "private". I agree, reflecting back on when I was young, even during my teens, no one seemed to "be around". Might be that I too was in my own little world. But what I mean by "overly private" is the fact that I don't know anything about my parents - how they met, where each one individually is from, where they were born, how they grew up, etc.

However, on a humorous note, I do know that I was autistic in nature. One of my worst traits, that I worked very hard to overcome, was interpreting communications literally. My dad owned a considerable amount of acreage more than a three hour drive from home. Every Thanksgiving we would go there for a whole week and my dad and older brothers would hunt. I was too young. Also I knew chronologically that Christmas followed Thanksgiving but I didn't fully grasp the concept of "how long". So, I asked my mom one day as to "how much longer" it was going to be before Christmas. She said, "Oh honey, Christmas is just around the corner." Well needless-to-say I sneaked out of the backyard later during the day, at the risk of severe punishment, and worked my way over to a different block in the neighborhood. I looked up and down the road but did not see Christmas "around the corner." I still remember being tremendously perplexed.

I believe certain circumstances in our childhood memories may be associated with being on the spectrum while others may be just typical behavior. It probably depends on the severity of the affiliated trait and the particular modifying factors attached to the memory.

 

[Autistamatic]

I wouldn't describe my childhood as abusive but maybe "aggressively misunderstood" might convey it. Consequently it became a survival skill to be very aware of where everyone was and what they were doing so I could head off any trouble at the pass. My memories of childhood and the people around me are very clear if not particularly happy.

 

[sidd851]

It strikes me, that I also don't remember my parents, so much, from a young age although I do have vivid memories---
maybe at points of "figuring things out".
(I'll have to examine this.)
Memories of them don't seem to surface until I was old enough to "get into trouble".
I had a "hyper-active" streak, so this was around... maybe... 3 or 4? 5?
The memories begin not with them "turning me around", or just acting as "goalie"(kicking me back into play somewhere else),
but when they began to show displeasure at what I was doing, or did, or where I ended up.

I remember finding, one day, that in my parents bedroom(it was a "pass-through" bedroom, and open to the rest of the house)
where I used to play because of the many windows that provided ample daylight and large floorspace, that there was a gap between an armoire and the wall.
It was narrow, but if I wriggled vigorously, I could get my back to the back wall. (I was probably around 18 mo. at the time)
Wow. Secure. Snug. Safe. Comfortable. Isolated. A "secret space" where I could retreat to, feeling warm and hidden and invulnerable. I soon squirrelled a small pillow and blanket, as well as a few toys and books into the nook.(It was well hidden, there were perpetually hangars of clothes on the handles that obscured it from view, and darkened it.)
I would sometimes "find" things, and take them to my "cave" to investigate them.

I remember feeling that if it was found, or I was found in it, I would lose it, so...I was careful.
I would awaken with it on my mind, and go to sleep with it there as well.
If my mom would call me, I'd wriggle out as quickly as possible, and run out of the room, to keep her from coming looking for me.
I even managed to work out that, if she had gotten too close, or even into the room, if I was silent, she'd go away, and I could then make my escape and "appear" in the living room or kitchen, far from my haven.
I know that I was able to keep it hidden from her for quite a while, as the sophistication of the toys and objects I kept there grew over time. I also remember it becoming a little too tight, and discovered that, if I wedged in tight enough, and "expanded" or pushed(hydrostatic pressure), I was strong enough to move the monstrous thing.

One day, she must've become curious where I disappeared to, and how I "appeared" after called for.
She was already in the room when she called for me.
I waited, and did my "appearing act".
This must've raised her curiosity further, because later, she again called from inside the room, and didn't go away.
She called several more times, and, when I still didn't answer, she realized that I must be hiding.
I watched her tear most of two rooms apart, in growing terror, until I saw dawning recognition on her face when she whirled to face me, but still couldn't see me.

I lost my fortress, that day.
Oh, I went there a few times more, but it wasn't the same.
Not after watching her pull item after item from it, amazed at some, shocked at others, and alarmed by a few more.
No. It was never the same, after it was "public".
This is my first detailed, vivid memory of my mother.
The first moment that we were "at odds", or "cross-purposes".

To this day confrontation, however slight, is my greatest difficulty.
I tend not to think that the experience, or any other, caused this, but that it just always"was".
(I was not punished, it was more of a joke, a funny oddity, to them.)

That's my story

TL,DR---
Yeah, I don't remember my parents much at first, either.

 

[Autistamatic]

there were perpetually hangars of clothes

That must have been a BIIIIIIIIG bedroom

Damn you spell check!!!!

Do you wanna buy a boomerang?

Joking aside that was a post that brought memories of similar spaces come flooding back. Thanks

 

[sidd851]

That must have been a BIIIIIIIIG bedroom

Damn you spell check!!!!

Do you wanna buy a boomerang?

Joking aside that was a post that brought memories of similar spaces come flooding back. Thanks

You know, ordinarily I'd fly back there, and correct that.
I think I'll leave it as is.

I can't help but wonder, though,
was that slip Freudian?

 

[Autistamatic]

You know, ordinarily I'd fly back there, and correct that.
I think I'll leave it as is.

I can't help but wonder, though,
was that slip Freudian?

Freud would think it was something related to your trouser contents and some unsavoury feelings about your mother. I'd stick to dodgy spell check

I was a terrible one for hidey holes when I was a nipper and the observation you made about having something against your back raised a quite powerful reaction in me.
I remember in 1980 there was a TV dramatisation of Ray Bradbury's "Martian Chronicles". I had been disciplined for my teacher having told my parents that I was always asking questions in class which was classed as "disruptive behaviour" and was on a period of early bed. I sneaked downstairs and watched the first episode through the keyhole of the living room door and it both thrilled and bloody terrified me! I distinctly remember creeping up the stairs, back to my room after it ended, keeping my back to the wall at all times. If I'm scared, anxious or depressed, that feeling of pressing my back against something has remained a vital ingredient in managing my feelings.

 

[sidd851]

Freud would think it was something related to your trouser contents and some unsavoury feelings about your mother. I'd stick to dodgy spell check

I was a terrible one for hidey holes when I was a nipper and the observation you made about having something against your back raised a quite powerful reaction in me.
I remember in 1980 there was a TV dramatisation of Ray Bradbury's "Martian Chronicles". I had been disciplined for my teacher having told my parents that I was always asking questions in class which was classed as "disruptive behaviour" and was on a period of early bed. I sneaked downstairs and watched the first episode through the keyhole of the living room door and it both thrilled and bloody terrified me! I distinctly remember creeping up the stairs, back to my room after it ended, keeping my back to the wall at all times. If I'm scared, anxious or depressed, that feeling of pressing my back against something has remained a vital ingredient in managing my feelings.

I also remember the"Martian Chronicles" with fondness and a little fear.

I think that feeling of security created by having your back firmly grounded(I'm spitballing, here) may be a "genetic memory", or instinct, as one can't be attacked from behind--- your foes have to come at you head-on.

This only increases my revulsion of bullies who force a frightened "mark" back against a wall and terrorize them--- reinforcing fear in place of comfort in that act.
Wonder if they do this so that their mark can't flee, to psychologically terrorize, or both?

 

[Autistamatic]

I think you're on to something there. It's even expressed in the reassuring phrase of "I've got your back covered". We are blind behind ourselves so having something literally covering our backs halves the risk/threat.

 

[TheFreeCat]

@sidd851 I loved the way you described that. I always had a "hole" in the house and so did siblings. It was an open and accepted thing and it was so great. A small corner or a place against a closet or a space by a radiator. It was usually by a heat source.

We had our books and creative things and things to read and things to play with. We'd cozy up in a blanket and pass the time.

It maybe why I do well in tiny spaces. I can live in a tiny room and be cozy and happy.

 

[Thinx]

I remember playing upstairs in my sister's bedroom which was a double room with two single beds, the floor space seemed vast. My dad had made a rocking horse by bending metal tubes as the rockers and as well as riding it we used to turn it on it's side to be a boat, and pretend we were our aunt and uncle with their babies in this boat on the sea of swirly carpet. Also with a (toy) dog who used to fall overboard but luckily could swim.

More autistically perhaps, I used to sit in the living room drawing lines of pin people who were families of children, with different coloured hair and eyes and I would add names and ages and interesting clothes and unusual eye colours. Stacks of them, I did that a lot, also reading library books. I would go out on my own on my bike to the shops or the park, on main roads sometimes, we weren't much supervised.

I would go to the libraries from about age 10 on my bike we lived between two libraries then that were both in parks with lakes. I loved those libraries, a whole room of story books, stacks of hardback books with colourful nicely drawn covers, and nice and quiet. Plus the lovely settings they were in, like fairytale lands.

 

[sidd851]

I remember playing upstairs in my sister's bedroom which was a double room with two single beds, the floor space seemed vast. My dad had made a rocking horse by bending metal tubes as the rockers and as well as riding it we used to turn it on it's side to be a boat, and pretend we were our aunt and uncle with their babies in this boat on the sea of swirly carpet. Also with a (toy) dog who used to fall overboard but luckily could swim.

More autistically perhaps, I used to sit in the living room drawing lines of pin people who were families of children, with different coloured hair and eyes and I would add names and ages and interesting clothes and unusual eye colours. Stacks of them, I did that a lot, also reading library books. I would go out on my own on my bike to the shops or the park, on main roads sometimes, we weren't much supervised.

I would go to the libraries from about age 10 on my bike we lived between two libraries then that were both in parks with lakes. I loved those libraries, a whole room of story books, stacks of hardback books with colourful nicely drawn covers, and nice and quiet. Plus the lovely settings they were in, like fairytale lands.

Nice memories, thank you for sharing them.

 

[SusanLR]

I have memories that go back to infancy and I was always super aware of surroundings, parents
and animals.
Some people do have vivid memories of so much, so young.
The same as now, I was always observing everything.

 

[Ezra]

I still live at home and things are pretty much the same as always as far as my parents and my relationship with them goes.

Now that I am an adult things have changed a little. But I still require a lot of looking after. Since I was diagnosed with significant autism from the beginning and they put a lot of work into learning how to deal with that, things have always gone relatively smoothly.

Altogether the household consists of my mom, dad, aunt (mom's twin sister) and cousin who is my age. My cousin and I have always had a close bond.

 

[Progster]

When I was 6 or 7, there was a really spectacular sunset with red clouds, and my older sister told me that it meant that the world was going to end. She meant it as a joke, but I believed her. I was terrified. It turned something beautiful into something very frightening.

 

[Pats]

When I was 6 or 7, there was a really spectacular sunset with red clouds, and my older sister told me that it meant that the world was going to end. She meant it as a joke, but I believed her. I was terrified. It turned something beautiful into something very frightening.

You know, I had the same thing happen. Then every time the sky looked different I was a bit worried.
But it wasn't as cruel as when my dad told my nephew, who was afraid of the storm they were driving through that he wouldn't have to be so worried if he wasn't so bad.