One of the deepest motivations that drives my advocacy for autism is about to reach an important milestone this year. As of July, it will be 20 years since my suicide attempt. If the word suicide just made you hesitate, you now know the single most important truth about what it is like to be a suicide attempt survivor. We are not accepted by society. Same as many autistic people.
Three years ago, I had the cops called on me in an act of discrimination by the caller, against whose institution I filed an Affirmative Action complaint. I lost. Imagine that in this day and age. Last week, I recognized an eerie similarity between setbacks in suicide prevention and problems facing autism care. Care has been taken to be mindful of the following writing. As sensitive as suicide is, discussing it as well as autism is more important now than ever before.
In late 2016, before I even knew what autism was, I made a serious commitment to address my mental health and, at the same time, advocate for others like me. At age 35, suicide had been an influence for over half of my life, beginning with the passing of a classmate during junior high school. Prevention soon became my top concern because of its profound impact and what I observed in countless news stories.
In early 2020, I was fortunate to have my official survival story published. As part of the writing process, I needed to familiarize myself with and follow suicide reporting guidelines. At the time, I recall seeing an emphasis that there was no single cause for suicide. With my long-term, diverse experience, I strongly disagreed but was not in a position to effect change. However, I did retain the conflicting firsthand point of view.
Seventeen months ago, I felt I possessed enough experience to suggest ways for improving suicide prevention. Suicide was a very important issue. So, instead of doing nothing, I meticulously composed a program proposal and submitted it to a mental health non-profit. My suggestions were practical in nature and relied heavily on deductive reasoning. Fast-forward to last week.
I was comparing notes about the difficulties of autism diagnostics with someone in the mental health profession. In private conversation, this person strongly believed that experts currently view autism as being difficult to define. Suddenly, a light bulb went off in my mind. I recognized a pattern that I had seen two years ago with suicide prevention. A pattern that, at the time, I was powerless to do anything about. The tables have turned. I now have an audience.
I thought back to all of the autism traits I have come across. In the last 20 years, mental health professionals have struggled to define and diagnose a potentially significant portion of the population. I then compared this with suicide prevention. In the last 20 years, suicide rates have steadily increased in most US states. A number of factors have been identified as contributing, but the prevailing view among professionals is that there is no single cause for suicide.
I was shocked. This is literally a pattern of life with autism and death with suicide survival. Neither autism nor suicide have been simplified to improve the quality of care. I was shocked. Yet, now more than ever, I am trusting my logic-driven pattern recognition to demonstrate legitimate concerns. Me. A 40-something, unemployed, autistic adult can improve both issues?
Hire me and find out.
#LetThatThinkIn
Welcome to the next Autism Experience.
A Closer Look at the Writing on the Wall.
