The Solitary Forager

 I'm jotting this down from an overnight subconscious data dump. It's a stream of consciousness entry. It will be edited and polished later. There will be typos and bad grammar. I'm not naturally verbal, nor am I comfortably fluent in the English language, my L2.

Given Reser's Solitary Forager Hypothesis of autism and Glasser's Choice Theory, I want to examine the typical autistic behaviour of "walking off" or "wandering off."

Why do autistic people walk away or wander off?

I'm autistic and I've been wandering off for as long as I can recall.

My most stark childhood memory of wandering off was in primary school. The "official family memory" of the event was that I missed the bus and went home with a classmate to play with him at his house. This is certainly a "just the facts" type of account. But, in the days before awareness of autism, there was no other way to explain my willful behaviour. Willful in that it wasn't an accident; I wasn't abducted. I simply wandered off to explore something / someone of interest. My classmate made an offer that the Solitary Forager couldn't refuse. It is a start memory because of how it ended ... a rather public beating for the high crime of worrying my parents by disappearing. I suspect that a swift beating has resulted from autistics of my generation wandering off and worrying their parents. Although beating children is completely out of favour in modern times, it did serve as a conditioning event. My unconscious Solitary Foraging tendencies needed another way to satisfy their desires.

Reser's hypothesis notes that we're wired for a solitary life. He adds the foraging aspects because this neurotype has been around since at least the time when homo sapiens was slugging it out with Neanderthal; ~50k years ago. The solitary wandering thus fulfills a vital biological function - we wander away from the pack to make our own way. Hunger and thirst refine our intelligent mind towards being able to sustain our solitary desires. 

What are we foraging for in modern time? I think that part of the hypothesis becomes unique to each autistic individual. That's where Glasser comes in. At all times, we're seeking to fulfill one or more of five Basic Needs in pursuit of our Quality World.

My next childhood memory as relates this stream of thought is the visit of my grandmother's brother when I was six. Uncle Sandy was an engineer for Ford Motors in Canada. At the point where we met, he was traveling North America testifying in trials related to crashes of certain Ford vehicles. This was 1976. It was also the day I was introduced to the concept that professional baseball teams could be created out of thin air, but that's another story for another time (yes, I'm still a Blue Jays fan to this day). What Uncle Sandy placed into my consciousness was the idea that one could be paid, and paid well, to wander. That one's foraging activities could be sponsored by someone who wanted services that I could provide. A hint at a later career.

Growing up in the lower echelons of the trade-unionist working class, we didn't have much in comparison to those with whom I went to school. What we did have was hard earned and treasured. I say this in relation to my first bicycle. About the time I got my first bike, I was old enough to be permitted to wander farther away from the house. As long as I was home by a certain hour, I could wander quite far away on my bike. I explored the depth and breadth of my city. I was in no way honest with my parents about where or how far I'd gone on any particular day. In contrast to modern parents of autistic children, I was encouraged to get out of the house and stay out until the end of the day. I took advantage of this freedom and pushed it's limits each day.

This is also the time where my love of abandoned buildings began. These could become my own "fortress of Solitude."

This is also the time when I staged a series of disciplinary situations to get kicked off the school bus so I could walk to school. Certainly, there were bullies on the bus who were brutal in their daily assaults. But, I could have easily dispatched them, as I had done to a few classmates previously. I was, after all, quite a bit bigger than everyone at my school. But, I didn't want to be on the bus. The sensory assault not withstanding, getting off the bus meant having to make my way to the school on my own ... about 3 miles away. There was a set of railroad tracks that made the route even more of an adventure. So, it was win-win, I was off the bus and walking / biking to school.

In high school, my involvement in sports also supported my wandering. Staying in shape, I got on my bike and hit the streets. Also, having been largely abandoned by the system to a life of academic mediocrity, I took geometry at the local college during one summer, allowing me to wander even farther and explore places previously unvisited. 

Another summer had me at the Converse All Stars basketball league. This time, I was riding my bike about 20 miles to Cerritos Community College to play 3 hours of basketball (college courts are bigger than high school courts) only to bike the 20 miles home at the end. Needless to say, engaging my solitary wandering in this way lead to me being in phenomenal physical shape. 

This would also appear when I was playing varsity basketball, but also wanting to wrestle. In high school, these sports happen in the same season. I couldn't play basketball and wrestle at the same time at the same school. So, I got on my bike once again. I snuck out after basketball practice to wrestle at the local greco club which met at the local college. Again, the 5 mile bike ride through the Whittier hills after a full basketball practice only to engage in a full wrestling practice, then bike back the 5 miles lead to me preserving that physique.

Unfortunately, not being aware of the context of these wanderings has lead to some rather unfortunate episodes. I wandered off to college after high school, taking the first offer that came. My desire to leave home was greater than any advice given to me that it wasn't a good deal, or that it wouldn't end well. It didn't. I wasn't ready to be fully on my own, but I was. I had access to a car now. Did I ever wander. I wandered so far one Friday that I missed my football game on Saturday. I completely forgot that I was in school to play football and that they owned the rights to my time. The following Monday, my coaches let me know who was in charge. It didn't happen that way again.

Several injuries, and several unfortunate incidents later, I was wandering north. This time, I was in Santa Rosa, CA. In the care of a dear woman who is still a dear, albeit distant friend, I was completely on my own and able to wander in some incredible spaces. I took every advantage. So great was my desire to explore, and so poor was my health relative to my autistic system, that it took me 4 years to complete the first two years of college.

In Santa Rosa was where I met the mother of my oldest son. In retrospect, she enjoyed the wandering and was keen to join in. An incredibly intelligent and resourceful woman, she was the perfect match at the time and we willing joined forces ... a rarity for the Solitary type. She had wandered so far away to Santa Rosa and was anxious to get back to where her. heart remained, Germany. A year or so later, we had wandered across the width of the US and were exploring western Europe. It was within this space that I experienced the first two autistic shut downs. They scared the living $hit out of me. The events of the final one, experienced whilst I was living in Germany, caused me to be expelled from the country and invited to not return for 5 years. It was the best thing as I needed help, and that help wasn't available in rural Nüssloch.

Back in the US, in and out of the hospital, prior to DMS IV and a proper diagnosis, I was still wandering. I bought a pile of Volkswagon parts that my roommate and I put together into a camping Combi. I now had the platform for some amazing wandering and foraging. Away I went.

A series of low paying and rather menial jobs earned me just enough to explore. I wasn't interested in riches, I was / am a forager. I had what I needed.

The next phase of my wandering life ties into the memory of my Uncle Sandy. I was invited into employment with the City of Los Angeles to a position very much like that of my venerable relative. First, as a master communication electrician working independently in support of various operations, I was paid handsomely to work independently in and around the city. Then, when technology was changing rapidly, I was asked to figure out an aspect of digital / multimedia evidence and became one of the founders of the digital / multimedia forensic sciences. Even penned a book, dozens of papers, and thousands of articles.

But, being at the forefront of the discipline, and largely writing the curriculum on how to do what I was doing, I was offered opportunities to travel the world to teach those who wanted training in this new science. Away I went. As time progressed, I was invited into private forensic science casework ... further enhancing my ability to explore.

I've been to a majority of US states. I've been to Canada. I've assisted in cased from around the globe. I've even worked in South Africa ... and was privileged to explore the bush surrounding it's capital city.

In creating Towcester Abbey, and focusing the vocational rehabilitation work there on training people for careers in the digital forensic sciences, I think (subconsciously) that I was acknowledging that it's a good career path for fellow Solitary Foragers.

So, as I transition to the newest phase of my life, I am yet again exploring. This time, it's the Vermont Square neightbourhood of Los Angeles as an elementary school special education teacher.

With all of this in mind, this massive brain dump, I'm leaving this set of notes to the future me, reconciling the past me, and depositing an artefact for parents of autistic children trying to understand this pathological desire we Foragers have to wander off.

Some who know me may read this and recall the events I've briefly outlined entirely differently. That's fine. This retelling is a reframing giving new information as to WHY ... trying to better understand the WHAT. I've always been a Solitary Forager. I've just gotten better at hiding it, or better able to engage with it safely, as I've gotten older.

Glasser's Choice Theory explains why we wander off better than any other theoretical construct. We need to wander. As Reser notes, it's biological - written into our genetic heritage. We seemingly ignore safety needs. We care not for esteem and affection. We care so deeply to explore (or forage) the world in the peace of solitude. Perhaps this is related to our sensory issues - the often overwhelming noise that bombards us in crowded places.

This is in no way a full treatment of the topic. Just notes that came to me overnight, as often happens with me. The Theatre of My Mind has been rather active on this topic of late. It's popping into my IG, and I've explored it there. It's dominating my lucid dreaming. Finally, it was time to dump the accumulated words into this space. The words, shouting so loudly, I have to get them out so I can have some peace and quiet again.