IQ As It Relates to Intellectual and Developmental Disabilities #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone and welcome to my letter I post in the #AtoZChallenge. Today, I want to write about IQ. IQ, a measure of intelligence, is one of the determining criteria for intellectual disability. So how is it measured in the general population and in people with an intellectual or developmental disability?

The concept of IQ dates back to the 19th century, when early psychologists first started developing tests for measuring intelligence. These were based on the idea that intelligence increases as a child grows up, so they were based on skill sets a child of a certain age should be able to master. IQ was then decided to be intellectual age divided by chronological age multiplied by 100 (to get the idea that a normal IQ is 100). For example, if a child aged five masters the skills of a three-year-old, their IQ was 3 / 5 * 100 = 60.

This is problematic, because among other things it does not allow for testing of adults and does not allow for variation on different skill levels. It was therefore abandoned in favor of a norm-based IQ testing system. Both the Wechsler scales (most commonly used in Europe) and the Stanford-Binet test (which is used more often in the U.S.), are norm-based, with an IQ of 100 being average and standard deviations of 15 (Wechsler) or 16 (Stanford-Binet) determining differences such as intellectual disability and giftedness.

I am familiar only with the Wechsler scales. There is a preschooler, a children’s and an adult version of these. The children’s and adult versions at least contain non-verbal as well as verbal tasks. Until some years ago, these were divided into categories of verbal and performance IQ. I, for one, can only have my verbal IQ tested. This refers to skills such as math, vocabulary, working memory, information (general knowledge questions), etc. The performance/non-verbal tasks include patterns, object recognition (where you see an object with part of it missing and need to identify it), etc. I am pretty sure that, if my performance IQ could ever be tested, it’d be significantly lower than my verbal IQ, as is commonly the case with verbally capable autistics.

On the other hand, nonspeaking or partly verbal autistics often find their intelligence being underestimated because they struggle on verbal IQ tests or cannot take them at all. For this reason, for nonspeaking autistics, a non-verbal IQ test may be more appropriate.

I did honestly find that the adult Wechsler scale was quite difficult even for me, a person with a high level high school and some college education. I honestly doubt those with a moderate intellectual disability will even be able to answer the simplest of questions on it. For example, the first math question was something like: “John had six apples, Peter had two apples, how many apples did the two of them have combined?” Interestingly, the first vocab question was to define “apple”. And no, in Dutch, there is no ambiguity (in case people are thinking “the brand that makes iPhones”). However, the correct answer was “fruit”, which I struggled to come up with, as that’s not a definition, more like a categorization.

Functioning Levels, Support Needs and Other Ways of Classifying Intellectual and Developmental Disabilities #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. For my letter F post, I am going to talk about functioning levels and related ways of classifying the severity of intellectual and developmental disabilities. Most of these are highly controversial within the developmentally disabled community itself.

First are functioning levels. These can be described in several ways. With respect to autism, there is of course high-functioning and low-functioning. The distinction between these is not at all clear: does high-functioning mean an at least average IQ, the ability to speak or the presence of relatively few autism symptoms? In any case, these are often very confusing.

An alternative approach suggested by some autistics is to speak of high, moderate or low support needs. I, according to this classification, would be considered as having high support needs even though I’m considered “high-functioning” in at least two of the aforementioned ways (speech and IQ).

Some people have proposed yet another classification, not based on support needs or apparent functioning, which are after all based on a (presumably neurotypical) professional’s assessment, but on masking. Masking is the ability to hide one’s disability-related symptoms from the public. In this sense, “high-functioning” individuals are considered high-masking.

In intellectual disability without co-occurring autism or other neurodivergencies, functioning levels are slightly more useful than in autism, in that they are based on IQ and level of adaptive functioning. In this classification system, someone with an IQ between 50 and 70 (or 85 in some countries, such as the Netherlands) is considered mildly intellectually disabled. Someone with an IQ between 35 and 50 is considered moderately intellectually disabled. An IQ between 20 and 35 puts someone in the severely intellectually disabled range, and an IQ below 20 puts someone in the profoundly intellectually disabled range. That being said, having had my IQ tested many times, I wonder how well IQs below like 50 can be measured on standard intelligence tests. I guess for more severely disabled people for this reason, professionals prefer the term mental age. Like I said yesterday, this is considered discriminatory.

Re(dis)covering My Creative Self

Posted on by Astrid

Today I crafted a dachshund out of polymer clay. I haven’t put it into the oven yet, as I still want to create other things before baking them all together. I sometimes feel a rush to create, create, create as who knows when this will end? In two weeks’ time, my support coordinator will be back and may decide to put my old day schedule back in place, in which I had only one tiny moment when I could possibly choose to work with clay, inbetween my morning coffee, a long walk and my lunch.

I am taking baby steps towards becoming my creative self again. This blog post is part of the process, as writing too is part of creativity. I notice my writing suffered significantly due to the chaos that was (and may become again) my support at my current care home. I know I’ll still have lots of time to write if my support coordinator puts my old day schedule back in place, but time isn’t the only factor. Inspiration is, too. And when all I do is try to survive from moment to moment – the staff’s terminology for the times they step in to support me -, I am not able to be creative at all.

I am really trying to look at these few weeks as an opportunity to re(dis)cover myself as a creative person, not just as a disturbed, manipulative yet oh so intelligent person, like most of the staff see me. My hope is that the staff who see me as primarily oh so intelligent yet disturbed and manipulative, will soon realize that, with the right support, not only will those “disturbed” behaviors lessen, but I will be able to show them my artistic side. If not, I am hoping that, soon enough, the staff who do get me will be able to convince my support coordinator and those who agree with her that this is not the right place for me. They have seen a glimpse into what I can be like when I am properly supported and I am cautiously optimistic that they can help me maintain this sense of myself, regardless of what happens when the support coordinator returns from her time off.

Mutism or Manipulation?

Posted on by Astrid

When I was a teen, I’d often go mute whenever certain personal topics of discussion came up. My mental health was such a topic. Much as I wanted to speak, my mouth wouldn’t form the words I wanted to tell my teachers or other people who intended to help me.

Even though I felt intensely anxious, my silence was commonly viewed as an act of rebellion. A way of manipulating those around me into, well, I honestly don’t know what.

When my parents and high school tutor had finally agreed that I needed professional counseling – or rather, my tutor had convinced my parents of the need, I assume -, my tutor informed me that the counselor had to meet certain very specific requirements. He or she needed to know blindness, because, well, I’m blind. The second requirement, I can’t remember, but the third was that he or she had to be exceptionally intelligent. The reason for that one was the fact that I, too, was supposedly extremely intelligent. If the counselor wasn’t smart enough, my tutor explained up front, I’d outsmart them with my manipulation. By this, he meant my so-called refusal to speak.

To this day, I am still unsure as to what made him think my silence was an act of willful defiance. Of course, everyone manipulates others at times, but I am pretty sure my mutism wasn’t – still isn’t – part of it.

This post was written for today’s Word of the Day Challenge, for which the prompt is “silence”, as well as E.M.’s RWP, which is “rebellion”.

Precious Memories of My Father

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. Today in her Sunday Poser, Sadje asks us to share our most precious memory of our father or the father figure in our life.

My father was a homemaker and my and my sister’s primary caretaker when we were children. As such, he, rather than my mother, was the one I’d see when I came home from school.

As a child, I took very much after my father, but now I have very mixed feelings about our relationship. My father is intelligent and he knows it. He also knows that I am intelligent and he feels that this somehow negates all my problems. In his opinion, all people who disagree with him, particularly those in the helping professions, are stupid.

Because my father and I are both intelligent, my father did encourage my cognitive development from an early age. This is evident in my different response to my parents when prompting me, for example. There’s this Dutch nursery rhyme that goes: “One, two, three, four, paper hat, paper hat.” Whenever my mother chanted: “One, two, three, four…”, I’d reply with “paper hat”. When my father chanted the same though, I’d reply with “five!”.

this is not a direct memory I have of my father though, as I was too young to form actual, verbal memories when this happened. I do remember, however, my father teaching me math when I was about seven. He would show me square calculation by using computer chips that were square-shaped. He’d lay them in a row of, say, three, then lay them in a square of three by three and explain that this is a square calculation. (The Dutch word for the square calculation and the shape isn’t the same, so I had to follow an extra step.) Similarly, he’d explain squareroots by doing the reverse.

We would also spend long evenings looking at his world atlas to see where different countries and other geographic areas were located. I still had enough vision to, with some difficulty, follow his finger along the maps.

When I got older, I had to catch up on reading, as this was one of my weaker subjects, mostly because I didn’t like the fact that I had to read Braille. My father encouraged me, well more like forced me, to do extra reading at home. One memory I have is of me reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland in Dutch when I was about eleven. To show me that he, too, was taking up a challenge, he read the book in its original English. I am currently listening to the audiobook in English on Apple Books.

In short, my father nurtured my intellectual side. Currently, I much more value my creative side, which my mother nurtured (a little). Still, my memories of doing academics with my father are mostly good.

#WeekendCoffeeShare (April 2, 2022)

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone on this cold Saturday evening. I am joining #WeekendCoffeeShare today. I’m afraid I just have water or maybe the staff has put some soft drinks in the fridge by now. My favorite soft drink, Dubbelfrisss, wasn’t cold when I had my evening drink about an hour ago. Anyway, let’s have a chat.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I finally have been crafting again today after a week of just watching crafty videos and doing nothing creative at all. That is, I’ve been blogging, which counts too, of course, but I haven’t touched my polymer clay or jewelry-making supplies or macrame cords or anything.

Today, I finally did a couple of pieces for the mobile for the baby my sister is expecting. I also finished the polymer clay hedgehog I’d started on about a month ago. At first, I was disappointed, because I’d used up all of a particular color for its body and now it was nowhere to be found, so I couldn’t do the ears in the same color. Turns out real hedgehogs also have slightly differently colored ears than their bodies. Besides, I never really meant to be doing a fully realistic sculpture anyway (I can’t).

If we were having coffee, I’d share that the rest of the week was quite meh. I’ve been having tons of plans in my head, but no ability to actually put them into action. Today, I also experienced a ton of flashbacks and internal chaos. Seriously, the discrepancy between my intellectual ability and my emotional immaturity is really getting at me. I find that I can intellectually think of a lot of things that emotionally I cannot handle at all. I’m not sure if this makes sense.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I may want to research an autism support method by Colette de Bruin. My assigned home support staff pointed it out to me and said she’s pretty much using the method on me already, but I may benefit from learning about it myself.

If we were having coffee, I’d share that I am very happy with the latest iOS update. I finally was able to do some reading again on my iPhone yesterday, since the update fixed a bug that caused my Braille display to become pretty unresponsive. I usually read with just my Braille display, as I don’t like VoiceOver’s synthetic speech for that.

If we were having coffee, lastly I’d tell you that I have a quiet weekend, because my husband isn’t coming over and I have no other plans. Next week though is going to be busy, especially the weekend. I am going to the nationwide cerebral palsy day with my mother-in-law. I will be attending a workshop on aging with CP in the morning, which I am really looking forward to. In the afternoon, I’ll be attending a yoga class. I may not be able to write a coffee share post then, especially since I’m also supposed to stay up-to-date with the #AtoZChallenge. I’ll be certain to write about it though.

How have you been?

Five Things I Take for Granted #5Things

Posted on by Astrid

Yesterday, DrTanya’s topic for the #5Things challenge was things you (sometimes) take for granted. I realize I take a lot of things for granted that I really shouldn’t. Here are just five.

1. My intelligence. I don’t take it as much for granted as I used to when in school, but i still feel that I pretty much consider my high IQ a given. Not only that, but I usually find that I’m surprised when others aren’t as intellectually capable as I am. Of course, I don’t mean my fellow clients at the care facility. In fact, they have taught me quite a lesson in humility.

2. My access to medical care. I don’t take my access to long-term care for granted, because that was a fight, but my basic health insurance coverage, I certainly do take for granted. Of course, it is mandatory here in the Netherlands and even those who don’t pay their premiums can’t be refused insurance for at least six months while the insurance company tries to sort things out with them.

3. A roof over my head. I’ve never been without shelter, although in a sense I’ve often felt “homeless”. In the psychiatric hospital, I knew several ppatients who had no home other than the hospital and who were regularly suspended from the ward into the homeless shelter. In this sense, it is really surprising that I never even considered this would happen to me, since I too for several years had no home other than the hospital. I think this signals how secure I felt, in a sense, at the ward I resided at back then.

4. Electricity. I never had to pay my own electricity bills, at least not directly. I mean, even when my husband and I lived together, my husband paid the electricity bills. As a result, I’m hardly aware of how much energy really costs. My husband did tell me how well we did compared to other households and we were always relatively frugal. Even so, it all seems a bit abstract to me.

5. Access to a computer. I don’t take Internet access for granted, but access to a computer, I certainly do. Even in my early days at the locked psychiatric ward, I had my laptop with me and there was no way anyone could take it from me, regardless of what the rules said about only certain electronics being permitted. Thankfully, my nursing staff did understand.

What things do you take for granted?

Ten Things I Love About Myself

Posted on by Astrid

I love journaling prompts and positive challenges. These are combined into the book 200+ Journal Prompts for the Mind, Body and Soul by Riley Reigns. One of her prompts on the topic of self-love is to list ten things you love about yourself. Of course, it shouldn’t require a book of journaling prompts to come up with this idea, but oh well. I am going to take this challenge today and try to take it to the next level by challenging myself not to follow each statement with a “but…”. Here goes.

1. My sense of humor. I particularly love wordplay and verbal jokes, most with a dark theme. I remember, when I was first admitted to the psych hospital, cracking jokes about the difference between the patients and staff in a mental ward (“the patients get better and leave”). I mean, literally during my first days.

2. My intelligence and craving for knowledge. I love to collect facts and information and this I consider a true asset.

3. My perseverance. I am not one to easily give in and ask for help before having tried something myself first. Particularly when I’ve set my mind on accomplishing something, I’ll really go for it. I can also really focus my mind on a topic of my interest.

4. My honesty. I am open-minded, but if I don’t like something, I’ll be truthful about it. I don’t sugarcoat my opinions.

5. My open-mindedness. I consider myself slightly left-leaning politically and a progressive Christian, but am open to people from all walks of life. Even though I am bluntly honest sometimes, I respect everyone who respects other humans.

6. My sensitivity. I am easily touched by the beauty and sadness around me. This allows me to connect to others on a deeper level than I would otherwise be able to and to experience the world more richly.

7. My ability to express myself. I find that both creatively and verbally, I am able to be very open about my experiences and inner world.

8. My generosity. I am not sure that’s the right word. What I mean is the fact that I find joy in making my own gifts for people and especially thinking about what they’ll enjoy. I love it when I can make them smile.

9. My strong-willedness. This allows me to stand up for what I believe in and for what I want even if it is outside of the norm.

10. My resilience. Even though I’m prone to depression, I always find a will to continue fighting.

What do you love about yourself?

Linking up with #LifeThisWeek and Hello Monday.

This Is Me: Beyond the Labels #Blogtober20

Posted on by Astrid

A few days ago, I discovered Blogtober, a month-long event aimed at bloggers writing a post everyday during the month. There are prompts for each day of the month. They’re based on song titles, but you can do whatever you want. You don’t even have to follow the prompts! The first prompt is “This Is Me”.

So, who am I? When introducing myself, I tend to focus heavily on my labels. I tend to say that I’m blind and autistic and that I have mild cerebral palsy. I tend to say that I live in a care facility. I tend to say that I don’t work, but do day activities at my facility. Then again, are these the things that define me?

I could also be focusing on my passions. I am a blogger. I love to read memoirs and young adult fiction. I love to make soap and other bath and body care products. I am interested in aromatherapy. I am passionate about mental health and disability rights.

These are more “me” than my disabilities, but they’re still labels. Who I am at the core is not a blind or autistic person, or a blogger even.

Still, it is hard to define myself beyond the labels. Here are, however, a few things I think make me me.


  • I am open to new experiences. For example, I love to discover new hobbies. I am also open-minded to differences in people’s identity.

  • I am passionate. When I have an idea in mind, I can truly focus on it for a while. This means I can really be enthusiastic, but it also means I tend to perseverate.

  • I am sensitive, both to emotions and to physical stimuli. This may or may not be a positive characteristic, depending on how much I can handle on a given day.

  • I am intelligent. This is often the first positive quality people mention about me and I tend to hate that. After all, my IQ was often used to show that I should be able to solve my problems in other areas. Now that I am in an environment that doesn’t judge people by their IQ – I live with people with severe to profound intellectual disability -, I tend to appreciate my intelligence somewhat more.

  • I am a go-getter. Some people would disagree, because I have very poor distress tolerance and because I haven’t achieved their goals for me. They see the fact that I’m in a care facility and not working as a sign that I’ve given up. I haven’t. I have just focused on my own true needs and desires.

What are some things that make you uniquely you?

#Blogtober20

Something I Struggle With

Posted on by Astrid

A few weeks ago, Marquessa over at The Next Chapter started a writing challenge to get herself motivated to write everyday. Yesterday, I saw that Cyranny had joined in. Cyranny started with the first prompt. That one didn’t appeal to me, so I will go to the second. It is to share something you struggle with.

Regular readers may be able to guess what I’m going to share. It wasn’t the first thing that came to mind, but I got inspired by Marquessa’s post. She shared that she struggles with being called “pretty”. She then goes on to say that brains matter more to her than beauty. Well, I wouldn’t exactly say I’m the opposite, but I do struggle with being called “intelligent”.

As a child, I was often called intelligent. My parents loved bragging about my so-called genius. After I had an IQ test at age twelve, this became even worse. The IQ test, though not the first one administered to me, was the first one about which the assessor actually told my parents the exact IQ outcome. My performance IQ can’t be measured because I’m blind, but my verbal IQ was identified as being 154 on the Wechsler scale. This means I was supposedly within the highly gifted range.

As a preteen and early teen, I didn’t mind my parents bragging about this three-digit number as much. I was proud that, according to my mother, I had the same IQ as my father. Now the only time my father had an IQ test administered, he at least told me that was in the pub with a psychologist friend and he was rather drunk. I’m assuming his real IQ may be higher.

As I grew older though, my apparent high IQ more and more stood in the way of my being myself. It was frequently used by my parents and professionals to “prove” that I should be capable of solving my own problems in social situations. This got me interested in the concept of giftedness as asynchronous development. Later, I was diagnosed with autism. Still, my parents reasoned that I was just extremely intelligent.

The reason I struggle greatly with being called “intelligent” is the assumption that I am smart enough to solve non-intellectual problems. This may be so in most gifted people – I think I remember recent research disproves the theory of asynchronous development -, but it isn’t the case for me. Like I mentioned a few weeks ago, my emotional level is equivalent to someone approximately 18 months of age.

Last year, my IQ was used against me to deny me long-term care. I mean, due to my multiple disabilities and low emotional functioning level, I do best in a care setting normally catering towards severely intellectually disabled people. Because of my IQ though, I can’t get funding based on developmental disability. I am lucky that I’m blind in this respect, because I ultimately did get funding based on that.

Contrary to Marquessa, I do not struggle with compliments about my intelligence because I don’t agree with them. I mean, the IQ test I took at age twelve is rather outdated now and I scored much lower when I took another one in 2017. However, I still know I’m indeed intelligent. That being said, that’s not all I am. In the future, I’d like to be able to take pride in my intellectual abilities without them triggering the fear that I’ll need to be good at other things too.