Tactile defensiveness is one of the first red flags as an indicator of autism.  Classic example would be the mother trying to feed her baby and he (or she) pushes away and refuses and cries instead, leaving the mother to think she has done something wrong and is a bad mother.

She is not a bad mother.  The child is in pain from the touch of another person.

Then there is that small sub-set of people, myself included, that are wired the opposite way in that we are in pain unless we are touching someone else.

It is obvious that the tactile defensive got the better deal.

Touch is good.  It doesn't have to be sexual, indeed I would very much prefer that it wasn't because I am so not into that.  But there is also nothing that can settle me down and make me think clearer than the gentle touch of a friend.

It completes a missing neurological circuit and literally takes my pain away.  Better than any medication could ever do.

It also clears my eyes and ears so I can see and hear better.  See 05 below.
 

My eyes don't work.  I could stop here, because it really is that simple.  They don't work.  

It isn't that I am "blind" in the regular, standard sense, I do get information and images through my eyes.  But the information and images are autisticly distorted.

What I see is the same thing you see, except when I see it, there is distortion of clouds and shadow.  That's how I see things, as clouds and shadow and random geometric shapes. 

There are prisms in my lenses, and that helps a bit.  I have learned over the years to compensate and focus, I guess I would have to call it "translation."  I take what I see, and, somewhere in my brain, I "translate" it into a viable image.  Sometimes, and thankfully it is becoming less and less, sometimes I still get it wrong.

Color is a problem for me, too.  It isn't that I don't see color, it is more that sometimes the color I see is the wrong color.  A color other than what is actually there.  And yellow hurts.  Bright yellow really hurts.

The more I see something, the easier it is to see it.  I don't like driving on streets that I have not been on before because it is hard to see the road.  But once I have traveled it a few times, it gets easier to see.

My ears are the same way.  There is audio distortion coming in along with whatever else I am hearing, and I have to filter through the distortion I am hearing and translate it into something I can understand.

I have done this for so long that the translation for both of these is almost instant.  But if I am stressed or fatigued or under the weather, it is much harder to do accurately.

Both my eyes and ears are very sensitive.  My eyes are light sensitive and there have been times when I have stepped outside and instantly vomited on the porch from the bright sunlight.  That's why I wear the wrap around polarized lenses outdoors.

My ears are sensitive to certain specific frequencies of sound.  I hear them louder than I hear the others.  So what is soft to you is sometimes very loud and painful to me.
 

You don't have to tell me I am not three years old.  I already know.

But it isn't intentional.  It isn't something that I am doing on purpose to annoy you. 

Lack of speech is right up there at the top of symptoms of autism.  Many will never speak at all.  Most (if not all) of the rest of us are going to struggle with it.  Pronouns are a common problem, and I get those wrong, too, if I am not careful.  But the main problem I have is with the double double words words. 

Just know that it is kind of the way I am and the way I am wired and that it does not reflect on my intelligence and/or lack thereof.  I am smart even if I can't do something as simple as to say an easy sentence appropriately.

Certain sounds are harder to say than others.  So M's become N's and D's become G's, etc.  Because it is a lot easier and more native to me.

Language is like the vision and the hearing.  It has to be translated.  Unlike the vision and the hearing, this translation goes both ways.  I have my own autistic, primitive, double double word word language, and if I want to say something to you, I have to translate it in my head into your regular language before I can say it. 

And when you say something to me, I have to translate it into my own primitive language before I can understand it.  Sometimes this is not possible and you will have to rephrase what you are saying for me to get it.

But I will eventually get it. 

If I am tired or stressed, or if the topic is complicated, the translation is going to be very difficult and you might here the native language slip out a bit more.

I suppose it can also be seen as a sign of trust.  The translation takes a lot of work and energy that I'd rather not be putting into it.  So if I get to know people and start to trust them, I let that go so I can be more comfortable.

Every now and then I find someone who loves me enough to talk to me in my own language.  That is a lot easier for me.  It is rare to find such a person, and it is rarer still when they get the grammar and syntax right.

But I love it when they do.  :)
 

This is the hardest one to write about, so I saved it for last.

The senses of the person with autism are not designed to process rapid information. Too much of this and the senses get overloaded and shut down.

Then the person who owns the shut down senses shuts down right along with them.

So if we are someplace with rapid activity, noise and motion, and I appear to be someplace else, that's because I probably am.  And it isn't a pretty place to be.

But as soon as I am in a dark and quiet place without all that sensory modulation, I will find my way back.

The clicky red/green/blue bracelet around my left wrist (the bracelet has been blessed and anointed for me) and the stretchy necklace/bracelets are there for medical reasons.  They are an outlet for the nervous energy that naturally builds up in the rapid processing situations. 

They have saved me from seizures more than once.