Questions in the Doll's Brain
A friend of mine with an ASD son read my last jounal post and wondered what questions I might have that I can't get out. I'm going to make an attempt to answer that today, but my head is an emotionally stormy place right now so I'm not entirely confident in this attempt. Here we go. My friend asked:
"What questions do you need to ask?
My oldest son is ASD, and diagnosed Aspergers, but he doesn’t feel a particular need to ask questions when he encounters people. I think he observes, sometimes, or just sails on past. He has a strong sense of who he is, and no strong sense that that should somehow change to fit who he’s with (which causes minor other problems). He’s happy to answer questions if they’re asked of him -- but the drive or the need to ask questions isn’t there, so I’m curious."
This is a great description of me as well. I don't feel the need to ask questions when I first meet someone--in fact, I rarely do. I'm coming to understand that as a processing issue, but that it can become a distinct advantage as we age and grow. This is going to take some explanation, though, so let me get there.
When I was younger, though, we always chalked it up to shyness. I would speak when spoken to, but only answer if the question was something I knew the answer to and could easily respond. I often got in trouble for being rude to adults when not responding--but usually it was because I didn't know what to say. That feeling that there is a cement block in your throat, crushing your voicebox used to take me to the edge of tears a lot. I knew I had to answer. I knew it was rude not to answer. Everyone stared, expecting an answer, and I simply could not form words. Then I would be scolded, and explained away as 'shy.'
Later, when not meeting new people, I still found that I just didn't ask questions. I would be talking to someone later about a conversation or interaction or something someone had told me...and people I was telling the story to would always have questions about things I hadn't even thought of, and would ask me why I didn't ask about xyz. Well, it hadn't even occured to me, I was busy thinking about other things. Truth was I was busy dealing with the noisy fan in the room, the possible meanings in their tone of voice or emphasis and watching carefully for body language. I was starting to realize that my brain was working differently than everyone else's at about 20, but didn't see a real pattern.
The processing is an issue. It takes me a long time to figure out what a conversation meant. The social and emotional bits are very foreign to me. I've learned over the years, that if someone makes a reference to having to drive a lot recently, that that is a social cue to ask them more about what has been occupying their time. I just learned that last year, in my 40s. Most neuro-typicals don't even have to think about this, they get curious about each other and play the question game regularly. Yet, I want to point out, my lack of questions (and even the lack of the thought of a question in the moment) is more about a limitation of processing capacity. My brain is simply too busy doing other things, and in a sense, I'm only about half in any conversation at any given time. The other half is taking in the environment, reading the energy, looking for gestures, watching the details and capturing the whole conversation in a sort of frame by frame memory--particularly if it is in some way intense or emotionally charged.
I keep enough 'on' my brain to respond to questions and participate in a polite way, while I'm busy figuring out the rest of it. So many times I remember telling my mom that some friend at school just completely blew up at me and I had no understanding why and no clue it was coming. She would ask me about their body language...and had to explain to me that how people moved and held their bodies would tell you how they were feeling even if they didn't say anything. In high school, I still wasn't getting that language even though I knew about it. Imagine my joy when I found a whole section of books on body language and gestures in the Psych section of the local library? I checked out the whole set of dewey numbers for that, needed my mom's adult card to do so--and she was embarrassed (stage whisper: "why are you checking out a whole section of PSYCH books...people will think there's something wrong with you!!") But I read them all cover to cover, read certain chapters and passages multiple times in my two weeks with those books. I learned the language, but it meant my stretched social interaction brain was even pushed more, because I watched each detail, each flick of fingers, each shift of weight, each bounced foot and noted what words the movements were coupled with and tone of voice. That means, it became even harder to know when there was an opportunity for a question (a fishing statement that means the other person wants you to ask about X), or just something I wanted to know more about.
Then I have to go away and replay these conversations, and analyze them more thoroughly. In the moment, all I can manage is answering coherently, and (with any luck) the way I actually intend. If I get rattled and emotional, I can't compose many responses, and will usually just say anything to end the discomfort. Leads to me giving people what they want from me, even when I don't want to--and if they get me to say yes, then I will follow through. Leads to me blowing situations up preemptively as well. So, it's afterwards that I sit down with the interactions and comb it out, teasing away the nuance with a fine tooth comb. In one sense, I finally get to pick up on some of the hints that were dropped, and finally figure out some of the stuff most people just sort of pick up on in the moment. In another sense, I also pick up on stuff that others don't, and see more deeply into people's actual psyches than they think they ever reveal to anyone (and sometimes things they don't even admit to or realize themselves).
For example, when someone removes one of many rings and sets it aside before coming to your bed. When someone makes references to "we have friends visiting..." in a plural when they are single. When they hold your hand for a minute, but throw it off every time someone particular comes into sight. When they won't show you where they live and pay cash for everything. These subtle little clues can reveal the truth of things in a way that this person's words never will--they can also add up to false conclusions and this is why my "after the fact" questions come about.
I am wired to tell the truth, especially when asked a direct question. I've found out the hard way that others don't feel the same way, and I have had my gullibility exploited grossly--at work, at school and at home. I assume others have the same basic desire once they get closer to me, or I would never let them in--it's too difficult for me otherwise, because I'm constantly going over every detail of every reaction and interaction and each word to make sure I understood what is really going on with that person. When I come to know that the other person is sincere in their words, then I don't look so hard, and can find some sort of peace in those relationships.
The other bit to this is my blindness when I feel things intensely. This one bites me in the ass in love relationships all the time. I'm head over heels in love, so...the other person must be as well, right? The poor guy I lost my virginity to after dating for a year, spent the next six months trying to scrape me out of his life. Don't think badly of him, And unplanned pregnancy with his previous girlfriend had left him a gibbering mess when it came to actually attempting sex again. But I didn't get it. I was hurt that for some reason our dynamic had changed, that he no longer seemed to enjoy my company--and that one time was certainly our last time. Still, I couldn't even conceive of what he was going through emotionally, and at 19 he didn't have the capacity to try and tell his Aspie girlfriend specifically what the trouble was. So, I spent 6 months chasing after him--trying to get back the closeness that had just been the way things were for 12 months, and wondering why he seemed mad at me all the time while he was trying to simply disengage. When he broke up with me, he couldn't even face me and tell me face to face, he just...didn't return my calls one night and refused to talk to me on the phone. I was so blown away--I mean, really devasted. Recently, I've come to understand his pain, and just put the pieces together on how he had been trying to cool off the relationship for months--it really hadn't been out of left field at all. DOH!
So now, I'm still the same person, who can't ask questions because the brain is simply occupied and too slow about all things social. I look at things too closely as a survival skill, and often draw wrong conclusions based on what I see (or dead right conclusions that even the other person can't admit to themselves). The processing power all this stuff takes up does eventually click into place (hours after the conversation a light bulb comes on), and then I have a question. I wish I had asked about why all the driving...I wonder what that was about. I wish I had asked about that ring, was that anything?
This slow processing is frustrating, because it is what allows me to read people pretty accurately in a relatively short amount of time. Usually within the first five minutes of meeting someone I can tell enough about them from energry, word choice and body language to know whether its someone I can trust enough to get to know better. The problem is, if I don't ask questions I can draw wrong conclusions and get upset about things that aren't there. I can also see too well, and cause confrontation that others don't expect. BUT, the worst part by far is the fact that I have difficulty connecting with people, and make friends very slowly because I just don't ask the questions. People think it means I don't care or don't have them, when the fact is, the questions just have a different space time continuum from the rest of my conversation.
The result is, when things get emotional and heated or super confusing because of conflicting information (words say one thing, tone of voice says another, body language says something else and overall 'energy' is another place entirely), the questions shut down again. Believe me, I have questions, some are quite normal: ah, I caught the driving reference and missed the opportunity to ask, let me bring it up again. Some are more detective work...nice ring, where did you get it?
When I was younger, though, I found that my plate was so full just getting a handle on my own environment and the people around me, that I didn't have as many unasked questions. I was too busy "passing" and trying to fit in as normal to worry about too much about what other people were up to. Then as I grew, I realized that I was always ending up isolated and left out, that relationships completely flummoxed me (in a bad way), and I started paying closer attention--not only to protect myself, but now in my post-diagnosis world, as a way to try and forge strong, healthy relationships. Just wish my brain wasn't so slow. I don't think I can handle feeling like the broken toy doll in the bottom of the toy box much longer.
"What questions do you need to ask?
My oldest son is ASD, and diagnosed Aspergers, but he doesn’t feel a particular need to ask questions when he encounters people. I think he observes, sometimes, or just sails on past. He has a strong sense of who he is, and no strong sense that that should somehow change to fit who he’s with (which causes minor other problems). He’s happy to answer questions if they’re asked of him -- but the drive or the need to ask questions isn’t there, so I’m curious."
This is a great description of me as well. I don't feel the need to ask questions when I first meet someone--in fact, I rarely do. I'm coming to understand that as a processing issue, but that it can become a distinct advantage as we age and grow. This is going to take some explanation, though, so let me get there.
When I was younger, though, we always chalked it up to shyness. I would speak when spoken to, but only answer if the question was something I knew the answer to and could easily respond. I often got in trouble for being rude to adults when not responding--but usually it was because I didn't know what to say. That feeling that there is a cement block in your throat, crushing your voicebox used to take me to the edge of tears a lot. I knew I had to answer. I knew it was rude not to answer. Everyone stared, expecting an answer, and I simply could not form words. Then I would be scolded, and explained away as 'shy.'
Later, when not meeting new people, I still found that I just didn't ask questions. I would be talking to someone later about a conversation or interaction or something someone had told me...and people I was telling the story to would always have questions about things I hadn't even thought of, and would ask me why I didn't ask about xyz. Well, it hadn't even occured to me, I was busy thinking about other things. Truth was I was busy dealing with the noisy fan in the room, the possible meanings in their tone of voice or emphasis and watching carefully for body language. I was starting to realize that my brain was working differently than everyone else's at about 20, but didn't see a real pattern.
The processing is an issue. It takes me a long time to figure out what a conversation meant. The social and emotional bits are very foreign to me. I've learned over the years, that if someone makes a reference to having to drive a lot recently, that that is a social cue to ask them more about what has been occupying their time. I just learned that last year, in my 40s. Most neuro-typicals don't even have to think about this, they get curious about each other and play the question game regularly. Yet, I want to point out, my lack of questions (and even the lack of the thought of a question in the moment) is more about a limitation of processing capacity. My brain is simply too busy doing other things, and in a sense, I'm only about half in any conversation at any given time. The other half is taking in the environment, reading the energy, looking for gestures, watching the details and capturing the whole conversation in a sort of frame by frame memory--particularly if it is in some way intense or emotionally charged.
I keep enough 'on' my brain to respond to questions and participate in a polite way, while I'm busy figuring out the rest of it. So many times I remember telling my mom that some friend at school just completely blew up at me and I had no understanding why and no clue it was coming. She would ask me about their body language...and had to explain to me that how people moved and held their bodies would tell you how they were feeling even if they didn't say anything. In high school, I still wasn't getting that language even though I knew about it. Imagine my joy when I found a whole section of books on body language and gestures in the Psych section of the local library? I checked out the whole set of dewey numbers for that, needed my mom's adult card to do so--and she was embarrassed (stage whisper: "why are you checking out a whole section of PSYCH books...people will think there's something wrong with you!!") But I read them all cover to cover, read certain chapters and passages multiple times in my two weeks with those books. I learned the language, but it meant my stretched social interaction brain was even pushed more, because I watched each detail, each flick of fingers, each shift of weight, each bounced foot and noted what words the movements were coupled with and tone of voice. That means, it became even harder to know when there was an opportunity for a question (a fishing statement that means the other person wants you to ask about X), or just something I wanted to know more about.
Then I have to go away and replay these conversations, and analyze them more thoroughly. In the moment, all I can manage is answering coherently, and (with any luck) the way I actually intend. If I get rattled and emotional, I can't compose many responses, and will usually just say anything to end the discomfort. Leads to me giving people what they want from me, even when I don't want to--and if they get me to say yes, then I will follow through. Leads to me blowing situations up preemptively as well. So, it's afterwards that I sit down with the interactions and comb it out, teasing away the nuance with a fine tooth comb. In one sense, I finally get to pick up on some of the hints that were dropped, and finally figure out some of the stuff most people just sort of pick up on in the moment. In another sense, I also pick up on stuff that others don't, and see more deeply into people's actual psyches than they think they ever reveal to anyone (and sometimes things they don't even admit to or realize themselves).
For example, when someone removes one of many rings and sets it aside before coming to your bed. When someone makes references to "we have friends visiting..." in a plural when they are single. When they hold your hand for a minute, but throw it off every time someone particular comes into sight. When they won't show you where they live and pay cash for everything. These subtle little clues can reveal the truth of things in a way that this person's words never will--they can also add up to false conclusions and this is why my "after the fact" questions come about.
I am wired to tell the truth, especially when asked a direct question. I've found out the hard way that others don't feel the same way, and I have had my gullibility exploited grossly--at work, at school and at home. I assume others have the same basic desire once they get closer to me, or I would never let them in--it's too difficult for me otherwise, because I'm constantly going over every detail of every reaction and interaction and each word to make sure I understood what is really going on with that person. When I come to know that the other person is sincere in their words, then I don't look so hard, and can find some sort of peace in those relationships.
The other bit to this is my blindness when I feel things intensely. This one bites me in the ass in love relationships all the time. I'm head over heels in love, so...the other person must be as well, right? The poor guy I lost my virginity to after dating for a year, spent the next six months trying to scrape me out of his life. Don't think badly of him, And unplanned pregnancy with his previous girlfriend had left him a gibbering mess when it came to actually attempting sex again. But I didn't get it. I was hurt that for some reason our dynamic had changed, that he no longer seemed to enjoy my company--and that one time was certainly our last time. Still, I couldn't even conceive of what he was going through emotionally, and at 19 he didn't have the capacity to try and tell his Aspie girlfriend specifically what the trouble was. So, I spent 6 months chasing after him--trying to get back the closeness that had just been the way things were for 12 months, and wondering why he seemed mad at me all the time while he was trying to simply disengage. When he broke up with me, he couldn't even face me and tell me face to face, he just...didn't return my calls one night and refused to talk to me on the phone. I was so blown away--I mean, really devasted. Recently, I've come to understand his pain, and just put the pieces together on how he had been trying to cool off the relationship for months--it really hadn't been out of left field at all. DOH!
So now, I'm still the same person, who can't ask questions because the brain is simply occupied and too slow about all things social. I look at things too closely as a survival skill, and often draw wrong conclusions based on what I see (or dead right conclusions that even the other person can't admit to themselves). The processing power all this stuff takes up does eventually click into place (hours after the conversation a light bulb comes on), and then I have a question. I wish I had asked about why all the driving...I wonder what that was about. I wish I had asked about that ring, was that anything?
This slow processing is frustrating, because it is what allows me to read people pretty accurately in a relatively short amount of time. Usually within the first five minutes of meeting someone I can tell enough about them from energry, word choice and body language to know whether its someone I can trust enough to get to know better. The problem is, if I don't ask questions I can draw wrong conclusions and get upset about things that aren't there. I can also see too well, and cause confrontation that others don't expect. BUT, the worst part by far is the fact that I have difficulty connecting with people, and make friends very slowly because I just don't ask the questions. People think it means I don't care or don't have them, when the fact is, the questions just have a different space time continuum from the rest of my conversation.
The result is, when things get emotional and heated or super confusing because of conflicting information (words say one thing, tone of voice says another, body language says something else and overall 'energy' is another place entirely), the questions shut down again. Believe me, I have questions, some are quite normal: ah, I caught the driving reference and missed the opportunity to ask, let me bring it up again. Some are more detective work...nice ring, where did you get it?
When I was younger, though, I found that my plate was so full just getting a handle on my own environment and the people around me, that I didn't have as many unasked questions. I was too busy "passing" and trying to fit in as normal to worry about too much about what other people were up to. Then as I grew, I realized that I was always ending up isolated and left out, that relationships completely flummoxed me (in a bad way), and I started paying closer attention--not only to protect myself, but now in my post-diagnosis world, as a way to try and forge strong, healthy relationships. Just wish my brain wasn't so slow. I don't think I can handle feeling like the broken toy doll in the bottom of the toy box much longer.