When I began my #autism assessment at the age of 58 I was sure I didn’t stim. In fact it even made me doubt I could actually be autistic. #Stimming - the word itself sounded strange to me. It wasn’t something I identified with at all. How could I be #autistic if I didn’t stim?
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I’d seen autistic people rocking, swaying, spinning and flapping their hands. But I didn’t think I did any of these. It was only when I began reflecting on my childhood and talking to other autistic people that I started to understand how many things can be seen as ‘stimming’.
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Stim objects aren’t just brightly coloured toys with satisfying clicks, textures and smells. As a child I was very attached to a flannelette square with a sharp corner I used to rub my nose with. I was devastated when it got taken away and washed as it lost its earthy smell.
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I spent lots of time in the garden as a child surrounded by textures, tastes, sensations and smells. Walking barefoot on the lawn, a worm wriggling in the palm of my hand, plunging my face into tightly-packed rose petals, watching rippling water, sucking sweet stems of grass
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My childhood clothes were ‘stimmy’. A soft white organza party dress with embroidered dots and a pink satin waistband. The sparkly silver sandals I wore with it and their ‘new shoe’ smell. Stiff shiny taffeta. Wispy chiffon scarves. Buckles, laces, elastic and metal clasps.
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My childhood bed had crisp cotton sheets and pastel striped pillow cases. There were heavy woollen blankets with satin edges, tucked in very tightly, feather eiderdowns and candlewick bedspreads. Staying away from home was tricky. Nylon or brushed cotton sheets felt all wrong. 6/

I loved play park equipment as a child, especially swings, roundabouts, see-saws and slides. Best of all was playing in the paddling pool and sandpit at home, absorbed in trickling water through my fingers, patting down wet sand with my spade, turning out rows of sandcastles.
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I spent hours engrossed by my humming top, kaleidoscope and marbles. Making things bigger and smaller fascinated me. I played with a telescope and microscope. I loved miniature things. Tiny glass jars filled with sugared rose petals, my grandmother’s little sea shell soaps.
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Gadgets and mechanisms also gave me great satisfaction - the clicking wheel on my Dymo label maker, the whirr of the bus conductor’s ticket machine, wind-up watches and musical boxes. In the kitchen orange juicers and mincing machines were sources of multi-sensory pleasure.
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If I hadn’t had to go on a geography field trip when I was 15 I might be sucking my thumb even now. In adulthood my dentist commented that I bit the inside of my mouth and appeared to grind my teeth in my sleep, but I didn’t see these as being anything to do with ‘stimming’.
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Food was so significant, combining taste, texture, sight and smell. My grandmother whipped grated apple, egg whites and sugar into fluffy snow. The pancakes my dad made were velvety, sweet and sour. I spent my pocket money on chews, sherbet dib-dabs and traffic light lollies.
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I was always drawn to water. There was the threat of a hair wash at bath time but I loved having Matey bubble bath or crazy foam as a treat. We went out walking in all weathers - drizzle, snow, pouring rain. I sploshed about in puddles and felt snow flakes tickling my tongue.
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When given the opportunity to play freely as a child I made long lines of buttons snaking all round my aunt’s house. I took skeins of multi-coloured embroidery silk from my mother’s sewing box and laid them out in intricate patterns. And I made tiny posies of garden flowers.
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There are thousands of photos and videos on my phone. Before mobile technology I had post-card collections and shelves of art books. I was fascinated by iridescence, luminosity, colour-changing and glittery things. Striking sunsets gave me an intense and lasting sense of joy. 14/

During my autism assessment I came to realise what a huge range of things stimming covers. Intense sensory input is joyful and exciting; it calms and soothes me. If I was deprived of sensory stimulation it wouldn’t just be a mild hardship, it would be a terrible deprivation.
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