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I have always had an interest in the nature versus nurture debate. This concept fascinates me as I contemplate my own behaviors and thought patterns. Am I the way I am because of my basic genetics or has there been certain experiences in my life that caused me to respond in a particular way? Did my reactions then become learned habits or was I consistently responding to certain brain chemicals? It really is a chicken and the egg argument. Was I autistic at birth or is my autism a product of my environment and experiences? Though I continue to believe that my external environment can “trigger” me, I am convinced that my mental health conditions are inherited.

Researchers at the UCLA medical school have discovered that autism is genetic. Genetic conditions are health disorders caused by DNA mutations or abnormalities in the chromosomes, which can be inherited from parents or occur spontaneously. Genes can become damaged, destroyed, impacted or mutated over time. The researchers claim autism is not from a single gene but the interaction of a cluster of multiple genes that had caused a mutation within the brain processes. This mutation can become a family trait. Autism has a 50% to 90% inheritably rate suggesting a strong family connection though it can also occur in a single individual without a family history. Currently, 80% of autism cases are inherited.  

I don’t know how far back Autism goes in my family and honestly, there is a part of me that really doesn’t want to know all the details.  I worry about the effects autism may have had on my ancestors. Could any unusual, “abnormal” behaviors caused my family members to be ostracized centuries ago?  Were they considered cursed by witches or possessed by demons? Were they sent to live in institutions where they had to fight to survive in horribly brutal and abusive conditions?

I don’t know what happened to my ancestors so long ago, but about 10 years before she died, my mother, Leslee, shared her story with me. Leslee did not talk until she was 5-years-old. She never said one word. She never made a single sound. Of course, my grandparents, Edith and Ralph, became very concerned and believed that Leslee was deaf. Leslee was examined by several different doctors who informed Edith and Ralph that there was nothing wrong with the child’s hearing. Leslee, however, received some very unusual diagnosis from the doctors, who informed Edith and Ralph that their young daughter was a brat! Leslee was labelled as bratty, stubborn, demanding, selfish, and overindulged. Various treatments ranged from locking her in her room or spanking her for refusing to talk. According to the doctors, she needed the stubbornness knocked out of her.

Finally, Ralph and Edith received a diagnosis they thought was plausible. Remember the word Autism was not used for children at that time. Instead the doctor diagnosed my mother with “Lazy Brain.” He informed the family that Leslee had very slow brain development. The doctor told Ralph and Edith that Leslee was just not using her brain and was depending on her older siblings to do the thinking for her. The doctor predicted that Leslee could be institutionalized if Edith and Ralph did not force the child to use her brain more effectively. His advice was for Edith and Ralph not to give Leslee anything, not even food or water, until she was able to ask for the item by name. He informed the family that Mom’s only salvation was for her to be shocked into talking. Edith fully agreed with the doctor and Leslee was starved for a few days. Leslee was giving nothing to eat or drink until a few days later when she finally began to make a few guttural sounds which over time began to develop into simple words.

My mother’s experience must have haunted her when I was diagnosed at the age of six. I started talking at an early age. But for me, I had developed my own language. I spoke my own strange gibberish that no one could understand. I was making vocal sounds, but they were completely indecipherable. My mother did not react to my situation until my first grade teacher informed her there was a problem. I wasn’t told I had “lazy brain.” Now doctors and teachers used the word retarded, which was immediately applied to me. My  autism has been a long and unusual journey mainly because no one had discussed my diagnosis with me until I was an adult. My experiences will be detailed in later blogs.   

Many years after my diagnosis, the doctors began to use the word autism, which was originally introduced by a Swiss psychiatrist named Eugen Bleuler in 1911. The term was originally used to describe adult schizophrenia. In the 1960s and 1970s, however, the word started to be applied  to children with specific symptoms such as social withdrawal and detachment. The word autism did not come into wide general use until the 1980s.

But over the years in my family, there have been grandchildren and nephews and nieces and cousins  all diagnosed as being on the spectrum, which will be defined in later blogs.

The members of my family just see the world in a very different way. We are all highly intellilgent, highly creative and imaginative. We are sensitive and highly spiritual. I have family members who are very connected to the other side. I have nieces and nephews who are amazingly talented creators. Personally, I love writing and photography and dancing. We love to dream and we see beauty everywhere in the world.  We connect to the universe and communicate with other realms. But only to a certain extent because always at a particular point, the world intrudes and reminds us that we are different and not “normal.”

And it all seems rather strange to me. The world tells us we are an autistic family, but until a few years ago, I had just always thought I came from a family of artists.