It’s perfectly normal, but often embarrassing—something we encourage our children to suppress, or do in private.
Existing on a continuum from healthy, to bad habit, to scandalizing, stimming is as diverse as humanity itself.
What is stimming?
Stimming—short for self-stimulation—is a term that has yet to make it into any dictionary, despite being one of the most commonly understood terms within the autism community. Called “stereotypy” by psychiatrists, stimming refers to:
“…a repetitive body movement that self-stimulates one or more senses in a regulated manner.”
(My favorite definition, from the Autism Wiki.)
I’d first like to make it clear that a stim is not the same as a tic. Where stims are rhythmic and regular, tics are non-rhythmic and sudden. That being said, I’ve shared anecdotes with several individuals with Tourette’s syndrome, and our (nonprofessional) consensus was that tics and stims do seem to have a lot in common. Both can (sometimes) be held back, although holding back both feels very uncomfortable. While holding back a tic seems closer to holding back a sneeze, I would say that holding back a stim could be compared to holding off on scratching an itch (if that itch never went away, and kept increasing with time, like a mosquito with its nose in your flesh that refuses to leave).
While everyone stims sometimes, autistic people do it far more frequently than their neurotypical counterparts. To make things even more interesting, autistic people often present uniquely specific types of stimming.
The most famous hallmarks of autistic stimming can be divided into three major categories:
- Hand stimming, including hand flapping, finger waving, and finger wiggling
- Body stimming, including rocking, spinning, and head bobbing
- Vocal stimming, including groaning, screeching, and various forms of echolalia
While these are the some of the most well-known (and most attention-grabbing) autistic stims, stimming is incredibly diverse and often unique to a particular individual or situation.
Other types of stims include, but are not limited to: staring at a blinking or spinning object, rubbing and touching various textured surfaces, licking or chewing objects, twirling or petting hair, cracking joints, tapping the feet, and any number of other repetitive, stimulatory activities.
Neurotypical people stim too! Some notable neurotypical stims include tapping fingers or feet to music, stroking the face when stressed, or rocking in a rocking chair.
When I was a child, my earliest and most noticeable stims consisted of sucking my thumb (often while rubbing the rough part of my precious blankie against my upper lip) and pressing or rubbing my eyes.
I once sat through an entire morning meeting in elementary school with my eyes pressed firmly into my knees. The darkness soothed, and the pressure felt firm and comforting. The other children, sitting cross-legged and watching the teacher, didn’t notice until we broke to begin the first lesson.
“Kirsten’s crying,” one classmate squealed. I looked up, confused, as the message made its way around the room, repeated on the lips of my peers.
“No, I’m not,” I protested. But the pressure had turned my eyes red, and “I’m just pressing my knees into my eyes” sounded more like a badly-planned childish excuse to the teacher who was by that point trying to comfort a very embarrassed me.
Why do autistic people stim?
I get this question quite often from teachers who work with autistic children. They’re excited to meet me, an autistic person articulate enough to explain the autistic mindset, and want to know the why behind the uniquely autistic behaviors they see in their students.
And they’re often surprised by how easy this question is to answer.
I once visited the ASD program at The Ivymount School in Rockville, Maryland, a fabulous place for misfit kids of all types. I remember walking through the classrooms and seeing the tykes politely asking for their three-minute breaks when they felt overwhelmed, leaving their desks to go put on stretchy pressure vests, or play with a stim toys, or lie under weighted blankets or pillows. I thought, what I wouldn’t give to have had such an understanding environment as a child.
After touring a few of the classrooms, I found myself amidst a group of young teachers, listening to them tell stories about their many wonderful students. They spoke in particular of an adorable little girl who seemed a universal favorite. The teachers squealed and cooed as they recounted tales of her cuteness: her rosy cheeks, her bright eyes, her Bo Peep curls and squeaky little voice.
“Every time I see her I just want to hug and squeeze her forever!” one teacher exclaimed, hugging her arms to her chest and spinning back and forth on the balls of her feet.
“Oh, I know, I know! She’s just the sweetest little thing,” said another teacher, squeezing her eyes shut and pulling her bent arms tight against her body, chin on her fists, while quickly bending at the waist and straightening again.
“I just can’t handle how darling she is!” said a third, wringing her hands and wiggling her shoulders back and forth.
The conversation eventually progressed to an older student—a middle school boy—who was very fond of anime, particularly shojo romance shows.
“It’s just so fascinating to watch how into it he gets,” said one teacher of the boy’s class, “I watch with him sometimes, and the stories are all about this G-rated sexual tension that goes nowhere, until the very end when the two main characters confess their love and get together! The whole build up makes him stim like crazy!” She throws up her arms. “He’ll just hunch over and wiggle his fingers like mad whenever any major progress happens in the relationships! I just don’t understand it.”
“Yeah, I have students like that,” says another teacher.
“I don’t know if this is too vague of a question,” a teacher turns to me and says. “Could you explain why autistic people stim like that? Where does it come from? I just don’t get it.”
I explained that they themselves had been “stimming like crazy” over their darling tiny student with the adorable curls just a few minutes earlier. Perhaps their stims were not as extreme as those of the preteen boy as he watched his favorite romantic comedies, but the root cause was the same.
The build up of emotion, the need to release emotional or physical tension due to an overload (of cuteness, of moe, of anxiety, of anything), is something that everyone has felt at some time or another.
Autistics are easily overloaded, and simply need to release tension more frequently. When I stim, I often feel like an old fashioned boiler letting off pressure—sometimes in tiny bursts, sometimes in huge belches of steam.
Sometimes stimming releases pressure—especially the good kind of stimming. Sometimes a stim will help us focus to block out invasive and overwhelming sensory input, becoming an essential coping aide.
It’s a type of self-soothing, whether one needs to be soothed because something is just too cute or because that ambulance siren is just way too loud, the root cause is essentially the same.
In my opinion, the question shouldn’t be why autistic people stim, it should be why do autistic people stim in such a specific way. Not every autistic stims, and not every autistic person shares all the typically autistic stims. I’m a finger waver, but I’m not often a hand flapper. I have a vast number of vocal stims, but I’m not usually a rocker or a bobber. I know hair-twirlers who rock back and forth. I know knuckle-crackers and foot-tappers who don’t wave fingers or flap hands. Every autistic is as unique as her own personal stimming lexicon.
As a child, I boasted a large repertoire of stims, though most of them required very particular, coincidentally private environments, and thus spared me embarrassment.
When I was very small, every time I hoisted my little body onto the toilet at my childhood home I would spend my potty time croaking like a frog, in long, drawn out vocalizations, enjoying the echo of the buzzing vibrations against the tiles. Whenever I flushed, I rapidly pressed my fingers into my ears over and over, making the terrifying bellow of the toilet into the “whoosh-whoosh-whoosh” of an ocean at an impossible 300 BPM —a trick I learned from a preschool teacher to make using the big kid bathrooms easier, and I still do this every time I flush a toilet. Stims like these never caused me problems, because they required a private setting.
But as I grew older, one of my bathroom rituals made its way into my public life.
Besides croaking like a frog, if I were feeling particularly energetic, I would wiggle my fingers before my eyes in front of the white background of the bathroom. Not only did the motion seem to provide an incomparable degree of relief from pent-up energy, but the palinopsiac trails left by my fingers created of two pink fans, a visual stim that pleased me for no reason I can properly name.
The satisfaction I derived from stimming this way before a white surface is utterly indescribable—and it had to be a white surface, or at least very light in color, for the pink fan to work properly.
At some point after discovering this amazing activity, I began to need it more and more. It went from a stim confined to the bathroom at home to a stim that happened in every bathroom, and eventually to a stim that happened in front of almost every white surface, regardless of who might be present.
Because I was now doing it in public, especially when stressed, I also began doing it in my most stressful environment: school.
By the time I made it to the 6th grade I was doing it multiple times per hour. As you can imagine, I was made fun of quite a bit. My teacher eventually contacted my mother, expressing worry that the other kids were giving me a hard time, and his own personal worry that I literally couldn’t control it. I told my mother that of course I could control it.
But even I didn’t understand why I seemed to need it.
All that hubbub was enough to convince me to try it in front of a mirror, and I quickly realized why it was so controversial among my peers. After that, I never did it in public again.
I still do it in my car, in the bathroom, and other times when I’m alone. And of course, always in front of a white surface (my computer monitor is absolutely perfect, for example).
Once in a blue moon, when I have a good, easy day and I feel comfortable, calm, and connected, I’ll start to think to myself, “What if I’m not ‘really’ autistic? I feel pretty normal today!”
Then I’ll head to the bathroom and dissolve into a compulsive fit of finger waving, or drive home after a day of socializing and screech, squeal, and shriek to myself in my car, and think, “Oh, right. I don’t think neurotypical people do this.”
By now, the only stims I do in public are small, and relatively “normal.” I crack my knuckles, bite my lips, hum and whistle, tap my foot or fingers, and clean under my fingernails (instead of biting!*). I save my serious stimming for private venues.
Unless of course I have a particularly bad day, and then I’m that girl on the subway rubbing my forehead, massaging my jaws, and clenching and unclenching my fists in front of my face. Hi! Don’t mind me, it’s just a little crowded today!
But not every autistic is able to save their serious stims for the bathroom. And by “serious,” I mean “socially inappropriate.”
Another question I commonly encounter comes most often from parents: How do I make my child stop stimming?
First, I try to direct the parent or guardian away from the impossible goal of literally stopping their child’s stims.
For one thing, this goal is unattainable (the wonderful Cynthia Kim, author of the blog Musings of an Aspie, compares controlling stimming to playing whack-a-mole in her blog post on this topic).
More importantly, demonizing stimming and attempting to stop it is incredibly cruel.
This is like telling a person to stop dancing to music, to stop even tapping their foot to the beat.
It’s like telling a child to never scratch his itches, to never yawn, to never sneeze.
And it’s even worse than all those things, because stimming is essential to autistic happiness in sanity in a way that simply can’t be explained to a neurotypical incapable of imagining what it feels like.
Attempts at preventing stimming teach an autistic child that an essential trait of her person, an uncontrollable, essential, natural inclination, is wrong, and needs to be stopped at all costs.
If you are the parent or guardian of a stimmy child, and your goal is to stop your child from stimming—to teach her to stop flapping her hands, or repeating her cat’s meows, or chewing on her shirt sleeves in the grocery store—know that you are aiming for an impossible standard.
Stimming is a valuable tool for autistics to self-regulate, self-sooth, and gain familiarity and control over their bodies and environments.
Think of how a baby stims: head-bobbing, arm and leg flailing, making faces at strangers, repeating syllables, chewing and licking everything they can get their hands on. Would you try to stop a baby from stimming?
If you can see your child’s stimming as equal in importance to the “innocent” stimming of a baby then you are 90% of the way there.
Yes, other adults will sometimes give you and your child that look when they see a child “old enough to know better” chewing holes in her coat, getting up to walk around at mealtimes, or jumping up and down during storytime at the library.
But a stranger’s opinion—or even your mother-in-law’s opinion—of your family pales in comparison to the value of your child’s health and happiness.
To follow Cynthia Kim’s whack-a-mole analogy: if you keep your child from stimming, the stim will always come up in another (usually worse) way.
You are plugging up the boiler, as though the steam should not exist.
At the end of the day (if he can wait that long!) your child is going to explode into a meltdown, and you’ll have taken zero steps forward and a hundred steps back.
I find this mentality most common among what I call “anti-autism” parents or specialists. These are the people that say, “I love my child, but I hate my child’s autism.” They are usually well meaning (if misguided) parents who only want to spare their child a difficult life.
But autism is not like depression, anorexia nervosa, or PTSD. Autism is not the demon we should be fighting. The true demons are disability, anxiety, and misery.
Autism is an integral part of who a person is. Just as extrovert, male, or gay are all defining personality traits, autism is not in-and-of-itself a disability; it is a type of person. A child who grows up with a support network that hates a core part of his identity is going to have serious self-esteem issues, at the least. And a parent who hates his child’s autism is going to have a miserable life, always at war with his child.
It is the anti-autism attitude that creates the real demons of depression, PTSD, and self-hatred.
Many parents who do accept and cherish their children, autism and all, will still ask how to control stimming. They understand that stimming is not an inherent evil, something to be stopped, or something that can be stopped. But they watch their child flapping and shrieking on the playground, groaning and wailing at the hair salon, or rocking and humming in church, and they see the stares. They imagine with dread their child’s future job interviews, dates, and college classes with people who equate stimming with “unstable” and “crazy.” They just want to know if there’s anything that can be done to make their children a little more socially acceptable, and their lives a little easier.
There are two approaches to this problem.
On one hand, a “high-functioning” (and in this context I mean self-aware) child may be taught to stim like this in private, the way that I taught myself. Allowing a child to watch himself stim in a mirror, and divide stims into public and private, can sometimes work. Public stims may include foot or knee tapping, finger waving under the table or in pockets, jumping, wiggling, rocking, and spinning back and forth on a pivoting chair or on foot. Private stims—things that “disturb” or “distract” others—may be things like screaming and groaning in quiet environments, or nose picking (a private stim many neurotypicals are guilty of, if my observations of my boyfriend are any indication). If parents can teach their children not to masturbate in public (a very common stim in autistic and neurotypical children), then perhaps the same principles can be applied to stims that disturb neighbors in church or frighten peers on the playground. But again, this may not be possible, and it definitely isn’t possible or healthy in very young children.
On the other hand, many (I would argue most) children cannot control their stimming.
For some, sensory processing difficulties are simply too overwhelming, and there is just no way to hold back those essential self-calming behaviors. For children like this, the only real problem is other adults. As Cynthia Kim discusses in her post on socially acceptable stimming, it’s not autistic behavior that’s the problem, it’s the reactions of strangers, and the embarrassment of parents.
I’ve heard countless heart-breaking stories from parents whose children were assaulted and harassed in public by adults who misread autistic behavior as naughty behavior. One mother described a woman approaching her screaming son and shaking him, while chastising his mother for not controlling her child.
Children may stare at or taunt autistic peers, but from the stories I hear it seems to me that adults are the main perpetrators of outright (and often dangerous) abuse. Having a spiel at the ready to explain the situation (either verbally, or on printed cards that can be handed out) can help a naïve neurotypical avoid making similar mistakes in the future. Preparing an explanatory presentation for you or your child’s teacher to give to her class can be similarly helpful. (Note: This is one of many reasons why I oppose hiding a diagnosis from a child. You need to be able to discuss these things in front of them concisely and safely!)
And when it comes to job interviews, I advise autistics to follow the advice of Temple Grandin, who always says that she couldn’t sell herself, so she made sure to sell her accomplishments. Build a portfolio, make yourself an expert, showcase your invaluable skills.
Also, stimmy children don’t have to control their behaviors to make stimmy friends. While an autistic child may have a harder time making friends, and have fewer friends than their same age neurotypical counterparts, autism is a powerful selective pressure when it comes to finding true and loyal friends. One of my best friends in high school was a beautiful caricature of ADHD, a neverending source of class-disrupting verbal stimming and flailing. We got along swimmingly and stimmed together, repeating phrases and sounds and generally torturing our poor math teacher.
Stimming is normal, healthy, and fun. And it’s not something to be feared or stopped. Can you imagine life without spinning in circles barefoot in the grass, or bobbing your head to the beat of your favorite song? It’s just another part of life. So don’t be afraid to just keep stimming.
Note: I am going to do a future post on how to deal with dangerous and unhealthy stimming. Not all stimming is safe, and there are ways to deal with these. If your child is hurting himself, you obviously can’t just dismiss that because “stimming is normal.” When I finish that article I’ll link to it here!
*I compulsively bit my nails from third grade (when I first read this book, inspiring the habit) until around the age of 21. Autistics are notorious victims of habits like nail biting and skin picking. I plan to write a future blog post about why these habits are so difficult to break, and how to quit.
My daughter is 5 years old and uses objects like sticks, cutlery, a toothbrush, recently an umbrella to stim. She holds it up high slightly above her head and looks up with cross eyes whilst gripping it tightly with both hands and shaking it slightly back and forth. She does not do anything else and nothing without an object. She does it when she’s excited, internally or externally stimulated or overwhelmed and when trying to express something. I’ve ignored this behaviour as have generally thought it to be a quirk of hers related to her being rather an intense and emotionally reactive little girl. She was what was I think would be described as a high need baby (easily overwhelmed/stimulated – needed lots of physical contact,jigging left to right in large swaying motion in a sling to get to sleep, screamed persistently when put in a pram or car seat) and challenging toddler/preschooler (intensely stubborn and highly emotionally reactive and found transitions difficult). We still struggle with lots of non-compliance and her not listening to us/valuing what we say) She is now doing well at school – her reading is way above average and has some good friends. I had thought she might grow out of the ‘crazy stick wiggling stuff’ but I think she’s doing it more rather than less. I’ve started to worry that all of this might add up to something more problematic and only recently discovered there was such a thing as stimming. Any advice greatly appreciated.
Wow this sounds like my daughter. Particularly the baby years. I’m just googling stimming again after various discussions with schools/doctors since the age of three – although she’s been doing something similar since 18 months, sometimes with a vocalisation/inaudible chatter. I’ve always thought she’d grow out of it, and her teacher last year was not concerned as has a niece with a similar action, but it’s becoming a conversation topic amongst friends at school more frequently so wanted to learn more about this to head back to the doctor. Or tackle the way this shoos be dealt with at school. I’m glad that kirsten has highlighted there is a need for this as I’ve always been reluctant to push her to stop it until she feels ready, but know that others have been saying she should have “outgrown this by now”.
It’s been a few months since I posted. My daughter has just started year 1. She is now stimming with just her fingers – no prop needed now. She is also doing it at a much higher frequency. We have started to talk about it now with her. I tend to think of it as an indicator of her being overwhelmed if she’s doing it lots (as if in a bit of a frenzy) and so try to help her calm down or reduce stimulation. If it’s clearly an expression of joy/excitement then I respond differently. I spoke to her previous teacher, who spoke to the SENCO and from what I could gather they were wondering about sensory processing issues but suggested we do nothing and just keep an eye on her. I spoke to her new teacher last week and she had not noticed her doing it – which I find astounding as she now does it most of the time. I showed her a video of my daughter doing it at home and this prompted her to make a couple of suggestions about taking breaks to spin on the playground apparatus. I’ve decided that I would like to get an assessment and some advice from a professional to help me understand and respond appropriately to her. I will also hopefully get help to make suggestions at school. I have booked a private consultation with a clinical psychologist specialising in child development. I will let you know how this goes.
Thanks Debby. My daughters teachers have yet to notice this at school, but I’d definitely say she gets in a frenzy doing this at home during homework or even play. Let me know what the clinical psychologist makes of all this, thanks
Hi again Grace,
C Psychol recommended we get an OT assessment of sensory processing/needs as a first step. She did not think that we needed a full assessment of ASC at this stage. I have contacted an OT who will observe her at school and run through some questionnaires with me. The OT can provide some therapy which aims to help her learn ways to cope better with overload and also offer suggestions for a sensory diet that can be implemented at home or in school.
[…] Markel gets happy, he stims. He’ll tense his shoulders and fingers, squeezing the muscles in his face into a tight […]
My daughter is 5 years old diagnosed with Autism and low tone. She is also non-verbal for now. She stims pretty much all day by chewing on the neck or sleeves of her shirts, spinning, patting her tummy, watching visually stimulating shows on YouTube or looking at patterns are some of her favorite things. I have zero problems with any of these because she is generally happy and is easily redirected if need be. However, she often rubs herself on the floor, I believe the term is “gyrating”. She doesn’t seem to mind where she is so will engage in this form of stimming anywhere. My biggest concern is how others will view this as she gets older. When she was 4 shortly after her diagnoses of ASD, an assistant at the daycare she was attending (this was during summer break at a daycare where she was the only child with special needs) voiced concern about possible abuse at home. By no means was this even a possibility and my daughter had been “gyrating” since she was under a year old. That is when I realized what a long road ahead we really had. My question is how can I help my daughter find another, more appropriate way to self-sooth without damaging her emotionally?
[…] моей предыдущей статье, Stimming 101 (стимминг: основы), я писала об аутичном стимминге как […]
This article is amazing! I am a mother of 3. my middle daughter who is 3, was diagnosed with ASD and Pica, she has come along way in just the past few years, she is now talking a lot using words I couldn’t even imagine her using. my daughter uses stemming daily throughout her day, her favorite thing to do is rub on her favorite blanket and its always on a specific corner as well, she has to take it everywhere she goes. Another thing she does is flap her hands continuously (which brings a smile to my face when its for excitement) when excited, scared, frustrated. she also screams when she cant find the words to use or cant communicate the words she’s trying to express, and this is when the frustration comes out, I don’t get any negative comments about my daughter but I read a lot of articles about other parents of kids without ASD that find it disturbing or as they would put it “annoying”, Why is that?
Wow this article was amazing really answered a lot of my questions and made me feel a lot more comfortable thanks a lot you don’t know what this article did for me I look at everything totally different now
Thanks for writing this. I’m actually waiting on my referral for an adult autism assessment but this is the first time I’ve actually read about stimming. The way you explained the feeling after the stim is exactly how I would. I’m 28 and used to scratch myself til I got friction burn. I was embarrassed to admit it so doctors said I must be doing it in my sleep. I stopped that but started scratching a point below each knee when I was about 13. I now have dark callouses as I do it upto several times an hour but is relieves so much stress when I push into it or squeeze
I was actually doing one of my subtle stims while reading and writing this comment too. Pushing my thumbnail into the corner of my index finger, near the nail. I have been picking the skin quite a lot recently so it’s a bit tender but it feels better like that
I also crack my knuckles, big toes and particularly my thumb. If it doesn’t crack right I have to keep doing it til it does and can get very anxious if it doesn’t. I also have callouses on the bottom of my feet where I pinch them before putting my shoes on coz if I don’t I constantly feel the need to scratch an itch. It’s very difficult if I’m out all day and have to wear shoes all day
I also bite my top and bottom lip, rip my lip to shreds if I feel loose skin, scratch the dipped points above and below my lips as well as scratch the back of my neck and palms of my hands
These are just the ones I notice. Sorry for the long comment
Kirsten thank you for such an insightful post. Did you ever write the one on nail biting?
Thanks! Not yet. Though my post on skinpicking and hairpulling (here) has some information that can be applied to nail biting as well.
I can’t thank you enough. In my 19 years of life I’d never found an explanation for why I always had to squeeze my hands together when daydreaming, or my childhood tendency to create a repertoire of odd sounds. The possibility I might be on the spectrum helps me put some things straight, so thank you again!
Hi, did you write a post about how you got over your stimming habit? I would like to know how to do this and also how to stop the masterbation stimming behaviour from spilling over into adulthood. Thank you
The short answer is, I didn’t. I just learned to stim in more healthy ways. Also for your second question, that’s a very case-by-case basis thing depending on the child. If you’d like, please feel free to email me (email@example.com) with more info and I’ll provide any feedback I can!
I flap my fingers, or a handkerchief or a sock. At work, I flap a pencil for hours and hours. My mother used to tell me to never, ever stim in public. She said people would think I’m crazy. Once at work, one of my coworkers asked me to stop flapping the pencil. She said she couldn’t stop looking at it. But she was sitting behind me and to the side, so the only way she’d look at it would be if she wanted to. I refused to stop.
I used to be terrified of being caught flapping my fingers in public, but now I don’t care. There’s nothing wrong with it, and people should mind their own business.
[…] Original: How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Stim […]
[…] to never sneeze, or scratch an itch, but on a grander scale. According to Kirsten Lindsmith in her blog Stimming 101, or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the […]
Love, love, love your explanation of this! It helps me understand my son even more. I wish you could come to my sons school and explain this to people who don’t want to understand this. It would save him a lot of heart ache if most people would at least try… Thank you for sharing!
[…] my previous article, Stimming 101, I wrote about autistic stimming as a normal and healthy aspect of autistic identity. While this is […]
Hi work with a young boy and I find the moment he stims, he loses focus. He likes to rub surfaces or anything that he can put his fingers on. If I should allow it, he would do it non stop. If I hold his hands gently, he will focus and respond. Once done, he is free to Stim again – he has a container with all his favourites. My question really is if I give him lots of tactile input could this reduce the sensory need? It seems as once the stim takes over he is incapable of learning.
This is a great example of how, while stomping is healthy, we as adults aren’t just meant to let kids do literally whatever they want! You’re probably right that while he’s stimming like that, that’s where his focus goes. It’s regulating, but can be all-consuming. I wonder if there’d be some low level sensory input that could help him focus without needing to stim so much, like a wobble chair or something.
Wow. Thank you.
I genuienly thought stimming or as we called it in our house “dialling up” was a thing of being upset or my son being bored.
But hearing someone who is also autistic like yourself to show it’s actually a lovely relaxing fun thing to do makes me feel so much better, I was so worried he wasn’t happy or was “stuck”
I’ve been reading more and more from autistic adults on there experiences so I can understand as books from neurotypical adults doesn’t seem as personal to feelings etc.
Thank you for this
What a lovely comment! Thank you! I’m so glad you’re seeking out autistic perspectives to better understand your son, and I’m glad my post helped you! 🙂
[…] Lindsmith’s blog is one of the best posts I’ve read on the self-injurious side of stimming. Kirsten is on the spectrum herself and gives strategies for both the autistic individual and the […]
[…] Links• Stimming 101, or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Stim – Kirsten Lind Smith• The Dark Side of the Stim: Self-Injury and Destructive Habits – Kirsten Lind […]