According to my mom, I have always had "tics" and "habits", as she would call them. My therapist tells me these things I used to do, and some that I still do are called "stims" and just another part of having Asperger's...
*I used to chew on the sleeves of my clothes constantly.
*I went through a phase where I sucked on my hair.
*I sucked my left index finger to help me fall asleep until I was about 14.
*When I was younger I would shake my hands(I have recently been informed that this is considered "flapping"), and it would usually be when I was in public because being in public made me VERY nervous. I had such an intense fear of being around lots of people. I would also shake them when I was excited about something. Anyway, I would shake them the way people shake their hands after they wash them but there is no papertowels or hand drier so they shake them dry(best way I can think of to describe it). My grandma would always tell me "Stop that Lacey, or people will think you have a mental problem". But it wasn't something I consciously thought about doing really. Anyway, after my grandma yelled at me so many times to stop and I became aware of what I was doing, I got better at catching myself in the act so I could try and stop. My Husband just this past weekend pointed out that I was "hand flapping" and told me I have done that for the last 7yrs we have been together every time I'm extremely anxious about something. And I do remember him mentioning it a couple times like saying "I've never seen anyone do that before". But like I said, it's just not something I consciously think about doing
*I have had a "blankie" for as long as I can remember(I know, I know, I am 26yrs old and still have a "blankie"..don't judge). It's not that I have an attatchment to this particular object, as much as it is an attatchment to the feeling it gives me, and the calming effect. I am now on my third "blankie" because the first two disintegrated, and it has pretty much the exact same texture that the first 2 had. That's why I say I don't think that it's that I'm attatched to the blankie as an object. What is important is the texture, and how it feels when I rub it with my fingertips/nails. It's like "pilly" and "rough". Fabrics like silk or that are extremely soft just won't do. I cut a peice of my blankie and sewed it onto an elastic hair band, and attatched a string to it, then sewed my blankie onto it so that people wouldn't be able to see what I was doing in public because let's face it, it is pretty weird for a woman like me, who is 27yrs old to have a "blankie", let alone need to "rub her blankie" when she's out in public. But with my pretty genius idea of making it blend right in, I can still rub it whenever I want.. It brings me comfort, and it actually seems as though I'm addicted to it in a way. If I lose it I flip out! It's like a drug, and when I lose it I feel out of control in a way. I panic. I don't know if anyone else has something like this, but if so I would love to hear about it so I know I'm not alone! :)
*From age 8-11, I used to do cartwheels back and forth in our living room for hours after school. Just back and forth and back and forth without stopping or pausing at all. It made me feel dizzy in a good way, and just thinking about it right now makes me wish I wasn't so sick, and didn't have horrible vertigo everyday so that I could do them right now. It was like a neurological itch that needed to be scratched. We had a very small house so the living room was the only place where there was enough space, or room, for me to do the cartwheels. So when my dad would come home I had to stop because he wanted to watch TV of course, so I couldn't be doing them in front of the TV obviously. My mom thought the cartwheel thing was a little odd but as long as I wasn't bugging or bothering her she didn't really care..
*Swinging. Swinging on the swings in my backyard also gave me that feeling. I would go out in our backyard by myself and just swing for hours until I was told I had to come inside. The back and forth, back and forth was comforting.
*I love rocking chairs because I love the way rocking makes me feel. And when I was younger, my mom would yell at me for rocking back and forth so a rocking chair was the closest thing to it, because rocking on my own just wasn't an option. It's another one of those things that scratches that neurological itch
*Within the last 2yrs I have developed another "habit" as my mom would call it. I do this thing with my neck..almost as if I'm stretching it, or trying to crack it but I'm not. It looks kind of like a "jerk" and I do it twice. My Husband says I look like a chicken when I do it. Lol. I feel like I can't help it, but it's not an involuntary movement or anything either. I technically have control over the movements, but it's like another one of those things I just feel like I have to do. I don't really know how to describe it.I'm not very good at putting how I feel into words, so I apologize if some of this makes no sense! And after I do the neck jerk thing, I usually do this little like clearing my throat/cough thing. Sometimes I do the "clearing my throat" thing by itself. My Husband and my parents noticed me doing that a couple years ago when I was going through a pretty stressful time, and they said I would do it every time I got extra stressed, or upset about something. My dad says it sounds like I'm grunting. And then sometimes I will roll/tighten the muscles in my stomach and do this weird breathing thing. Sometimes it even interferes with me speaking because it's like something I just do without thinking. Like a reflex, but my therapist says it is just another "stim". The reason I know that I can control it if I need to is because I had an MRI done about a month ago where I had to be completely, 100% still. It was definitely not easy, but I know that I had to. Anyway, I managed to not do the neck thing, cough, or tighten my stomach muscles, because if I did it would mess up the test and I could have had to start all over again.
Please feel free to share or leave a comment! Thanks! :)
Lacey G.
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