Some of My “Inappropriate Accidents While Living”

I was aware there was a likely reason for doing and saying so many of the things I did and said relatively early on. My parents told me I was an early talker. I now know that what my 6th grade teacher called my inappropriateness was a characteristic many of us on the Autism spectrum are blessed/cursed with. In almost every instance, I was blissfully unaware that I had said or done something “wrong.” (If you can practically feel me using air quotes, it’s because I still don’t understand why most of the things I said or did were considered wrong.) I also don’t believe that these that these inappropriate accidents while living are characteristic only to those of us with autism. I’ve encountered many neurotypical people who say and do pretty much the same kind of things that I’ve said and done, but with none of the shaming of inappropriateness. (This discrepancy has been explained to me as those people just “being honest” or “telling it like it is,” to which I always find myself asking “why isn’t that what I’m doing?”) I guess the question of appropriateness depends on which kind of person says or does the thing. I know which kind of person I am. If you’re sitting there, reading this and asking yourself which kind you are, then I’m sorry but you’re a Natalie…you’re a me…you’re an us…you’re not just being honest or telling it like it is…congratulations…you’re inappropriate. 

Here are just some of the inappropriate accidents while living I’ve accumulated throughout the years:

The Early Years

While babysitting one year old me, my Aunt Shirley loudly voiced her displeasure when the bottle she was preparing for me came apart and spilled into my crib. My parents learned just how angry my aunt was the next morning when I looked at my father and said “goddamn bottle,” then looked at my mother and repeated “goddamn bottle.”

At three years old, my mother took me on my first trip to McDonald’s. We sat directly across from a small group of nuns in full habit dress. After staring at them for half of our meal, I climbed out of my booster seat, walked up to their table and informed them that they “looked like penguins.”

One thing I wouldn’t say was “trick or treat” when trick or treating. I just couldn’t make myself say it. Not because I was too shy…because I just didn’t want to. I didn’t want to do the thing, so I didn’t do it. Only one person throughout my childhood refused to give me candy. I told them I understand and walked away.

My father had false teeth. He used to flip them out of his mouth then back in to entertain me. One day, while my mother and I stood in line at the bank, I yanked on the bottom of the coat of the man standing in front of us. He turned around, looked down at me and smiled. (I was three. He thought smiling at a little girl was harmless.) The bank was quiet, but I asked him rather loudly “do your teeth come out?” Looking confused, he told me that no, they didn’t. Suspiciously I responded “why not? My daddy’s do.”

When I was almost four, we spent the day at my mother’s friend Pat’s house. She gave us a tour because she thought I would enjoy seeing the whole house. I thanked her at the end of the tour by saying “your house is very messy Pat,” then asking my mother if we could go home. 

I allegedly refused to keep my pants on…okay, it’s an actual fact, photographic proof exists. From ages 1 through 5, I wore tights underneath pants, skirts, even shorts during the summer because no matter where we were, I would take the pants/skirts/shorts off. No one could convince me to keep them on. My grandmother even offered me $20 to keep my pants on whenever she took me with her to the grocery store. I still refused. Over the past 2 years, with quarantine and staying home nearly all the time, I’ve worn pants maybe 4 times. I wish my grandmother was here to pay me $20 each time I’ve worn them. I might wear them more often.

A Very Unladylike Young Lady?…

I was small for my age and I looked much younger than I was, so I guess you could say that my blunt and honest (my mother’s words)exchanges were tolerated. However, once I turned 14 and grew boobs I started to hear how inappropriate, rude and(my favorite) unladylike I was. A lot. I heard that one a lot. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a lady, but I found myself working hard to mask my all my real thoughts and feelings, trying to act more like the “normal” girls I observed around me. They were supposed to be ladies and I was supposed to be like them. But sometimes I would drop the mask and say the thing I just had to say.

Like the time I was in the check out line at Perkins restaurant with my twin cousins and I noticed the man in front of us was wearing Adidas sneakers. I knew as soon as I said it that I had made one of my mistakes. I tapped him on the shoulder and when he turned around I asked him “Do you know that you’re wearing Adolph Hitler’s best friend’s sneakers?” He looked at my cousins and replied “You need to stop letting her do drugs…and tell her to stop talking to me. What kind of babysitters are you anyway?”

Or the time I was changing for gym class in the girls locker room, unaware that I was singing the “Sloppy Joe” song (it was a 1980’s thing, I guess) out loud. All the other girls changing into their gym clothes stopped, stared and started laughing. Then one of the “normals” (they all kind of merged into one after awhile and I could never tell them apart) asked me if I was the “R” word. You know, kind of like in The Christmas Story, “THE word, the big one, the queen-mother of dirty words,” the R-dash-dash-dash-dash-dash-dash-dash word!

When my mother’s cousin, who lives in Florida, suggested I apply to some of the colleges near her, I told her “thanks, but I’d rather visit the gynecologist every day for a month rather than set foot in Florida.” (I still stand by this statement. My sincere apologies if you live in Florida.)

A Most Unprofessional Adult

Surprise! It wasn’t a phase. I lurched into adulthood, then middle age with all of my inappropriateness intact. I was 43 when I was given my Autism Spectrum Disorder diagnosis, so by the time I became a real “grown up,” with bills, a career-type job, responsibilities, even I started to grow concerned with my random utterances.

I finally landed my first teaching job. It was at a small Catholic school with a workload of 3 teachers and the smallest paycheck possible. The principal was without a doubt (and I am not religious) a servant of the devil. One lunch break I was in the teachers lounge, cooking my Stouffer’s Mac and cheese (got to burn those outer edges so it’s crispy). I collected my food and headed toward the door, running into the principal on my way out. She asked “why don’t you eat lunch with the rest of us? Don’t you like us?” I was totally focused on how cold my food was getting so I absentmindedly answered “no, not really,” snuck around her and headed back to my classroom. Definitely the wrong answer to that question. Should’ve kept it to myself.

After my new dentist removed and drilled one of my front teeth into a point, I asked to see what it looked like. (Disgusting. It was disgusting.) I told her that I felt like Jeff Goldblum in THE FLY. Then, while she was putting the crown over it, I fell asleep. Following the minor emergency crisis this created, I had to explain that it was narcolepsy that made me fall asleep, not anything they did.

I have this phrase I always say to a dog when I meet them: “You’re a handsome devil, what’s your name?” (Works best if the dog is male, but I digress.) My best friend and I were walking in an outdoor mall and a man about our age was walking towards us with the most adorable Chocolate Lab I have ever seen. I looked right at the dog and said my go to phrase and the guy said “Rob.” So I said  —  to the dog  —  “Hello Rob! How are you?” The guy then informed me that his name was Rob, not the dog. (Apparently he thought I was calling him a handsome devil. Only I didn’t process this or the fact that he thought I was hitting on him and he was reciprocating. This happens to me a lot unfortunately.) Thinking only about this awesome dog, I asked “Oh, so what’s your dog’s name then?” I get laser focused when it comes to dogs 🙂

Today…Whatever that Means

Nearly all of these situations occurred before I knew I was autistic. None were done or said in a malicious way. I did know that what happened to me didn’t happen to everyone. There have been many instances when the reactions of other people were verbally or physically violent, in some cases both. These are occasions I work very hard to forget because even though I didn’t mean to be, I was the cause of the problem…at least that’s what I’ve been told. Learning I was autistic has allowed me to lean in to who I really am. I finally feel a sense of freedom to be the whole person I have always been without the shame that people who are embarrassed for me think I should feel. Because I don’t feel as embarrassed to be myself in the ways I used to. My life changes everyday…just like everyone’s life…neurotypical and neurodiverse. I think about these situations when I need a good laugh or I start feeling sorry for myself because I believe I have a broken brain. I am braver when I can express what I’m thinking and feeling. And it’s always gratifying to be able to amuse people with my own social gaffs, but this time on purpose and because I’m the one who’s chosen to