Autism Answer: Being Seen

A camera sitting on the floor

Warning: This post is about me and how I feel and how I think and what I notice.... oh, what's that? You already knew that? You have been here before and recognize a pattern? Yes, I see. Well, thank you? tee hee!

Confession: I am kinda bothered by the amount of plastic surgery, laser hair removal, fancy serums and other similar things that have become fairly commonplace.

In part I am bothered simply because I'm inclined to advocate for less manipulation of what is natural. I recognize in these procedures and items a desire to sculpt and bend and shave who we are until we like it better. Maybe to fit in, maybe to stand out. (I am impressed by the availability of these things, by the way. I am only bothered by how common they seem to have become.)

However (and here's the confession part) I am also bothered when I notice how popular these measures of manipulating our appearance have become because I worry I will appear increasingly unhappy and haggard and, well, yucky to look at, in comparison to my peers.

I admit, I hardly think about it. What I look like compared to my contemporaries, I mean. Maybe because I live a fairly sheltered life. I mean, I work from home, I am not obligated to attend meetings or video conferences, and my soul mate works here with me too, so I'm less likely to wonder if he's comparing me to other lovely ladies. (Our co-workers are also ladies, but they are of the feline variety. And since I am in charge of making appointments for them and doing their shopping, I am confident they are not having work done or spending lots of money on fancy creams that make them look fresh faced and healthy.)

I love wrinkles, my own and the ones on others. I love grey hair, I love the look of age on people and am happy when I see it on me. It's not aging I'm talking about.

I worry about looking unhappy or haggard, less fresh faced, less healthy.

For some reason I want, have always wanted, my happiness and energy to show, to be noticeable outside of myself. I don't remember how young I was when I stopped looking in mirrors, but I was fairly young. And it was because I would FEEL so happy and full of life, but then I would SEE just some pale, plain, girl. Not the energy I thought should be reflected.

Silly, I know. I am happy and I have happy energy regardless of whether it can be seen. Why do I want it to be seen?

Why do I want the me I feel like I am to be seen?

Why am I less content when it is only me who knows how I feel?

I'm not entirely sure. But just now, as I was typing this, I had a thought. I realize one of the reasons I want my natural way, my comfort with choosing to blossom naturally (while caring about myself at the same time, I don't mean to infer that I don't try to manipulate to some degree by being careful of what I put in my brain and body) is that I want my beliefs to be valid to others. I want to be seen as having a point with potential.

Like, if I say I am comfortable with myself and find strength in feeding my body and mind nutritiously, that I try to make sure not to live too sedentary a life in order to stay healthy-ish, that I am happy in my choices, that I feel it is enough to be me naturally, I want to be believed. To be seen as making sense.

And, darn it, that means I want to be seen as happy and healthy. Not haggard and yucky.

But when so many people are taking advantage of the more extreme versions of looking that way, I worry I will seem less so by comparison.

Silly, right?

Wanting to be seen is not silly.

Parents of children with differences and disabilities work hard to ask for that on behalf of their children because it is not only not silly, but necessary and urgent.

But wanting to be seen as happy and healthy just to prove my point is valid?

That's silly.

Right?

Hugs, smiles, and love!!!!!

Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook) 

 

 

Autism Answer: Teeth Aren't Supposed to be Bright White

I don't know why it bugs me as much as it does, this culture of wanting a pretty white smile. Okay, maybe I know why. There are a few reasons.

 

Reason One: bright white teeth are not natural. Yes. our healthy enamel has a natural white hue to it, while the stuff underneath (dentin, according to my search engine) is yellowish. In general, healthy teeth are yellowish in color, though everyone is different. If your teeth are naturally white, they can be healthy. If they are naturally quite yellow, they can be healthy. But presuming white teeth are the prettier, better, healthier, cleaner teeth just isn't true. 

 

Reason Two: my autistic brother, Dar, has quite yellow teeth. They are also quite healthy teeth. He is lucky that there's a fair amount of space between them, they're easier to clean that way, and he doesn't have the best motor skills so excellent tooth brushing doesn't come easy to him. Forget flossing! However, his big beautiful smile, when bestowed upon people, is sometimes followed up with a comment on the color of his teeth. I'll say it plainly: A lot of people look at my brother and see a disabled man with yellow teeth, the yellow teeth adding to their already predisposed discomfort around a disabled man, due to their predisposed discomfort around yellow teeth. 

 

Reason Three: I feel like (and here I admit it's simply my feeling, I've done no research or anything) there is enough money being made in the tooth whitening world that it will be really hard to shift this frame of mind. I mean, with the money being made it's gotta be worthwhile to keep pushing this "whiter teeth are better teeth, of course you want whiter teeth, we can sell you whiter teeth" narrative. And with little to no tooth sensitivity, too! 

 

Reason Four: speaking of money, the insidious bias that whiter teeth are better teeth means we practically can't help but judge each other as cleaner, healthier, classier, when we have whiter teeth. So to get ahead in the world, maybe we should whiten our teeth. Because that's how you get the job, the partner, the trust, the great customer service, by appearing healthy and clean. A nice clean healthy someone we want to be around. Which means you need to have money in order to whiten your teeth (even if you choose to use oil pulling, the oils cost money) so you can get the job, the partner, the trust, the great customer service. 

 

Reason Five: I think I'm bothered because it works on me. I get excited when my teeth look whiter. I take note of what toothpaste I used that made my teeth looker whiter and I try to find it again. This is fine, as is whitening your teeth if you want, but I don't like how insidious it can be. How I feel more comfortable smiling when my teeth look whiter because I know the receiver of my smile won't be awkwardly distracted by the yellow of my teeth. A natural yellowish healthy tint of teeth should not unfavorably color the joy of a smile. (Okay, I admit to barely actually thinking about the color of my teeth when smiling, but it does happen now and then.)

 

I feel like the whole "having white teeth is better" fiasco is an example of a lot of things that simply go too far. Things that go from misinformation to disinformation. Yes, teeth are stained by things we eat, drink, and do. Smoking stains them for sure. So can my beloved coffee. Also, malnutrition breeds less healthy everything, including teeth. As does poor mouth maintenance, leading to discolored teeth. This feeds the misinformation that white teeth, then, must be clean cared for teeth while yellow teeth must be stained neglected teeth. Then, when people start selling tooth whitening products, the misinformation turns to disinformation. The advertisements insinuate that, clearly, you want whiter teeth because those are better, so here's why you should get those whiter teeth with our product. Everyone we like to look at on our screens has white teeth, unless they are the homeless one, or the junkie. Etc. We are purposely sold the lie that the whiter the smile, the cleaner and better and more successful and healthy is the person behind the smile. 

 

I know, I know, it's silly. It's not a big deal. Whiten your teeth if you want to. I continue to smile easier when I know my teeth are whiter. 

 

But it's too bad, isn't it? Wouldn't it be cool if we all agreed that teeth can simply be healthy? Not have to look a certain way to prove it? Let them be missing, crooked, far apart, crowded. Fix the stuff that makes it harder to be healthy, let the rest be beautiful in it's own right. That would be nice. And more affordable.

 

When my brother smiles big, when he makes direct eye contact and gives a huge from the soul of himself grin, it is bloody gorgeous! 

 

Those far apart yellow teeth of his rival the sun for the light they bring into a room. 

 

Hugs, smiles, and love!! 

Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook)

 

My brother, Dar, in a pool wearing his gorgeous grin

 

Autism Answer: I Don't See What They See

 

 

eye glasses on a glass table, out of focus furniture in the background

The kids all crowded around the game table—

Wait, I say kids and perhaps you imagine young children. The playful energy, adults necessarily nearby watching for mood shifts and play gone too far. You think of little voices, shy little ones, hyper boys ready to push.

But I’m referring to young adults. They are kids to us older adults who either birthed them, or are relatives of those who birthed them. Now that I’ve clarified, you picture similar but different people, right?

There is still the high energy, some are shy, maybe hyper boys pushing each other, but it’s different. Adults are watching in this case as well, but with less likely need to step in, though not none.

Did I mention alcohol?

Ah, maybe shift a bit again. There is alcohol. It’s a birthday celebration for the youngest cousin who is now drinking age.

There are about ten of them. Mostly girls, a few boys, all decked out in swim gear and sporting sun kissed cheeks, sun burnt shoulders here and there. The shy one isn’t overly shy, the boys not any more hyper than the girls. It is sunny, there is a pool near the game table, everyone is getting along, the older adults are fairly relaxed and enjoying the beautiful scene.

It is beautiful.

Should I, I’m honestly asking, describe beautiful people in order to ask you to picture the scene beautifully?

What color skin should they have? What sizes should their bodies be? What disabilities should I include, if any? Sure, you'll want diversity, but to what degree?

I was there and it was beautiful. I could clearly feel that. I enjoyed the range of conversations and energy styles. I loved noticing how some of the cousins reached out to newly introduced friends. How some sons and daughters delighted in a social opportunity of this sort.

It got a little less beautiful, in my opinion, with more alcohol.

But, for several hours, it was all simply beautiful.

Kids and adults alike.

However, I ask in earnest regarding appearances of people because, I confess, I hardly noticed and I cannot accurately describe much of what they looked like.

Yet, at least one of the adults (in our older adult group) said enough things about physical appearances that I couldn’t help wondering, not for the first time, what don’t I see?

Comments wanting to become conversation on weight, skin health, ethnicity, and the like, were confusing me a little, giving me a feeling that I am missing something.

Yes, I do see our outsides. I see weight and color and skin. But it is a part so included in the whole that it’s not often specifically noticed. I am aware of the clues on our outsides that point to how we’re doing on our insides and so I don’t try to not see. Yet, for much of my life I’ve noticed - based on the comments of my peers - I am often not seeing what they are seeing. My mom has pointed it out to me a few times, so I know I’m not wrong. A room full of people can be commenting on how something or someone looks, and I often don’t see what they see. (Please note, I don’t mean only bad stuff. I’m not talking about gossipy comments, although I do mean those as well. I’m referring to simply noticing how people and things look.)

This sometimes feeds a worry of mine, about myself.

A little after the birthday celebration, a celebration where most of us were waltzing around in swimsuits, I was asked if I had felt comfortable, attractive even,  at the gathering.  Ummmm…. I felt hopeful that I was not too boring, wanting to be helpful but not get in the way, curious about these people – many of whom I was meeting for the first time – and their stories. Was I supposed to think, also, about appearance? About looking appropriately, I don’t know, good?

Oh, sure, when I first stepped into the yard wearing my swimsuit, my hair unwashed and sloppily ponytail-ed, I was wishing I’d shaved my legs and bikini line, wished my bathing suit wasn’t the wrong size putting me in the position of having to adjust it more often than I’d like. At one point I was told there was dark under my eyes so I presumed I was looking a little old and tired. But I simply shrugged it off and continually stepped into the group hoping to add something beautiful. A listening ear, a helping hand, an interesting, maybe even funny, story or two.

I didn’t much see what I look like or what others look like.

I have wondered this before. Is being “body positive” more than being comfortable in my body? Am I missing something when I don’t much notice the differences, the variety of beauty? When I don’t see what they see?

And I have wondered often, did I embarrass someone? For lack of understanding, for not knowing what I don’t see, did I embarrass someone?

I know I sometimes do.

“Mom,” my youngest son once said in his usual thoughtful careful manner, “could you please come to my school event, but wear pants that don’t have so many holes in them?”

I don’t pretend to not see at all. I recognize a neat smile, eyes that are unique, an extra long beard. But, as I said, it is all part of a much bigger whole.

Books and covers, I was thinking about before sitting down to write this out. I do notice myself attracted to a book cover based on looks. If it looks like the type of texture that feels good in my hands, if it has colors and images that appeal to me, I notice. I think my attraction is in large part due to the experience of knowing which colors and styles are popular in my favorite genres. I see it and want to touch it, to know more about the story and feelings I might find inside. It is quickly more than the cover. As I read the hints and meaning represented on the cover reveal themselves. They change for me.

The kids, I guess, were like covers on books. People were looking at them and seeing more than I was because the other adults knew them better. They knew more of the stories inside and, hence, were able to recognize more meaning beyond the cover itself within the cover itself.

I saw them too, but not as much with my eyes. Hardly with my eyes. I guess, since kids are not books, there wasn’t the need to pick and choose which ones to pay attention to, which cover to reach out and hold. Their stories would simply reveal themselves and I was open to all the genres around me.  

I do try to use seeing more, but I often get it wrong. My mom has noticed. She’s noticed for years. I don’t seem to see what others are seeing. My sister has noticed, too. When I have been watching her kids in her house and she comes home, she's learned to be careful not to immediately say, "I need to clean this house," because, most likely, I think I already did it for her. I often see clean, I often see not broken, when others see dirty and broken.

I don’t mind, mostly. This is not a huge issue and hardly worth exploring. But sometimes I worry that it means I am the reason everyone is feeling uncomfortable, and I don’t know it. Because I don’t see right, I might not know how wrong I look.

I don’t see quite the same as others so when I try, I worry I’m getting it wrong. The point is, to fix it I’d have to see what they see.

Here’s the rub, I mostly like not seeing. It is a newer discovery about myself. I like it. I like hardly noticing these things.

And it is hard to learn a new skill. So, maybe I also like liking it, so I don’t have to learn.

There is the risk of missing an important clue about a loved one or myself, a change in appearance that is a symptom in need of investigation. So far, though, others have been helpful in pointing these things out. (Recently, when a cat was losing weight but I hadn’t noticed, the problem was addressed, because other people noticed.)

So, for now, I think I like not seeing.

Do you see?

Hugs, smiles, and love!

Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook)

Autism Answer: Some New Years Are Another Chapter In A Book, Others Are An Entirely New Book In The Series

Time to reflect, create, plan, envision, and connect.

The New Year always offers a timely moment to consider, reflect, plan, and design a renewed vision for ourselves. 

However, while many New Years stretch before us with potential and possibilities waiting to be shaped by us, some New Years present themselves with the promise of huge life shifts regardless of any planning on our part. These New Years, arriving with unmistakable design changes already in the blueprint, are still wonderfully important opportunities to consider, reflect, plan, and design a renewed vision around, and indeed they almost demand it considering that new living has been previously decided. But they feel different. These New Years remind us that life is going to change, that people will leave, arrive, hold on, let go, regardless of any comfort we may have with our world the way it is, and we are always able to plan, reflect, and design new visions but we aren't always able to keep things the same, and we aren't the boss of the visions and plans our loved ones create. 

I am being welcomed into one of those New Years myself. 

2018 has my youngest son graduating high school with plans to leave home for college giving my hubby and I our first ever opportunity to live together without children or a school schedule tethering us to our town, I am expecting two more grandbabies, one of whom will be the first child for my second youngest son, and my mom (aka Dr. Lynette Louise The Brain Broad, aka My Employer) has asked me to do a new job for her as she shifts her career to one of consistently speaking and performing on stages around the world now that she is no longer accepting new clients. My New Year has been partially designed for me (new living environment, new job, new babies) while leaving plenty of room for me to reflect, plan, and design how I will step into it with passion, excitement, and intention. 

What an exciting time! It's almost like a blank canvas. Almost. But more like a sequel or series. I know the colors and characters that I certainly want written into this New Year while I find myself excited for and anticipating the new ones about to be introduced. Established storylines exhist and new ones are waiting to be discovered, explored, and invented.

Some New Years are like a new chapter in a book or a new episode in the same season of a show, while others are like a brand new book or an entirely new season. I feel myself getting ready to binge on an entirely new season while opening pages against the newness on the spine of a brand new book in a series. RANDOM ADDITION: I am not often found reading books in a series or even watching many shows, preferring to be more of a stand-alone movie and book fan, but that doesn't mean I don't ever do it or understand the joys of them. In fact, I ADORE the ones I choose, partly because I choose well and partly because I choose to ADORE the ones I choose. :D

Happy New Year, friends!! 

Regardless of how much your New Year promises to be similar to recent ones, an episode in a season of your life; or spectacularly different, a whole new season or even an entirely new show, I hope you have fun planning your role and creating visions and dreams and actions for 2018!!! 

Hugs, smiles, and love!!
Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook)

Autism Answer: Being Present (Lessons From My Granddaughter)

With my granddaughter

Holding my granddaughter I am often transported back in time. The feel of her is similar to my sons. 

Also, it's new and special.

With my sons, I was less present. I wondered differently; I wondered with worry. Not much, but some. I worried most about my own inabilities, the cruelties of the world, and their possible eventual self-esteem issues.

With my granddaughter I am different. I wonder, I watch, I allow, I enjoy, but I'm not worried. I am too present for worry.

Life will be hers, her way. The world will have its protests and power struggles, the semantics of things will be argued and replaced, the education she receives will be imperfect.

But I'm not worried. I'm ready.

I'm comfortable in a new way. With my granddaughter, that is.

But for her mom and dad, for my son and my daughter-in-law, I'm finding little previously unexposed worries. Like, how will I help them through the millions of little mistakes, scares, and disagreements I expect - from experience - are waiting down the line? Waiting for them in the near future. Moments that make a parent feel so, so, so alone even when there are gazillions of others admitting to similar moments.

Yet, as I share these thoughts with you I feel a truth. I'm ready for this also. I'll let go of expecting and hold on to experience.

I've already seen, in only a short week, overwhelming reasons to let go of worry. My son is in love with his new family, deeply in love with his new daughter. His wife is strong, smart, and loving. They have both been wanting exactly this their entire lives.

So I'll be present. Not only with my gorgeous granddaughter but with my son and his wife also.

A lesson I have tried to example and teach to my own children becoming truly mine, brought to me as a gift from my granddaughter. Being present.

I'm not worried. I'm ready.

Hugs, smiles, and love!!
Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook)

Autism Answer: Real Beauty (Dove and Shonda Rhymes Want Our Stories)

Shonda Rhimes has partnered with Dove (the personal care brand) and they launched Real Beauty Productions. They have called for submissions and stories, from women of every type, that will help expand the definition of beauty. Stories that will help define beauty in a thoughtful healthy manner. What a valuable and necessary project! 

So, I am sharing my story with you here (yes, I also used their form to share it with Dove) in hopes that you, too, will have a story to share. And if you don't feel that you do, I encourage you to change that! Perhaps have your story now. Make a purposeful shift in how you see and imagine Real Beauty. 

Here's the link that I hope you'll use: #RealBeauty

And here's my story. Hopefully it will get you thinking about yours. 

#RealBeauty

I was a twenty-three-year-old single mom when I met my now husband of seventeen years. As I watched him fix my mom's car I was immediately attracted to him. Twice my age, rugged, and black as night I responded to his pull by swinging my hips, pinching color into my pale cheeks, and glossing my lips. However, he seemed entirely uninterested. I flirted while he avoided looking at me. I was a little bruised by the rejection but as a single mom dating wasn't easy, so I chose to pretend I was relieved.

Later, when I went into town to pay him for the work he'd done, I dropped the flirting and was comfortably myself. Animated and authentic I playfully complained about missing my sons, who were visiting my sister. The mechanic's demeanor changed and for the first time, he looked at me. "How old are you?" My answer surprised him and he admitted that he'd thought I was much younger. Well, no wonder he hadn't flirted back! But then, also, he continued to tell me more and the reasons for his lack of interest in my swinging hips proved deep and somewhat disturbing.

As a black man growing up in the south he'd learned never to look a white woman in the eye. Responding to my signals could prove dangerous for him, though unlikely dangerous for me. As he shared these things with me I found myself drawn in ever more, but quickly showed it in a new way.

I became more myself. Rather than pout my lips and fling my hair, I displayed my kindness and tossed ideas. We connected by exploring who we were, each of us encouraging the other to dive deeper and discover more. I began to feel more beautiful than I ever had. Who I was and what I did were beautiful and as I flirted with the mechanic a confidence in my beauty grew outward.

My family saw it. My friends saw it. Even I saw it.

The mechanic and I have now been married for seventeen years and we have raised four sons together. This newer understanding of beauty, as a displaying of who I am not how I look, has informed their understanding of beauty. I see it in the way they treat themselves and others.

So it turns out that discovering my own true beauty not only helped me feel gorgeous but also made me a better mom! How wonderful!

_________________________

Now, I don't know if my story will ever be shared via Real Beauty Productions. But I do know that taking the time to share it helped me feel it. Helped me know it. So, I have benefited! Also, by sharing it here with you (which may disqualify me from being featured by Dove, but that's okay) I have also imagined that maybe you will benefit. I hope so! 

Whether you share your story or not, I absolutely encourage you to take a moment or two to consider your definition of beauty. And if necessary, make a few changes. 

Whatever definition you create for yourself, be sure it recognizes your worth and your real beauty, friends. 

There's no shame in wanting to blossom further but it will be easier and more fun if you recognize your beauty now. 

Happy Saturday beautiful friends!!

Hugs, smiles, and love!!

Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook)  

A small sampling of women in my life that are beautiful.