How to Explain Poo Brain & Strong, Healthy Relationships? Whut?
My friend had some more questions for me--they were hard to answer, so of course I got right on that.
When my son was much, much younger, he had a terror of getting things wrong. I’ve written about this elsewhere on LJ, but I did ask him why, when he was older. It wasn’t the fear of the consequences - in many cases, there were no consequences. There was just a strong, strong sense that getting it wrong was catastrophic; it existed outside the realm of wrong = punishment.
Yes, this torture of "being wrong" is what motivated me to get my PhD. Now, after diagnosis, I've learned to accept my differences--at least enough that I don't have this pathological need to be right all the time. I used to get off on formulating arguments just for the sake of proving I was worthwhile to the world, by crushing someone else. That need has left me, but I recognize it as a basic part of my wiring. Being wrong means people look at you, it means they question you and expose you--it means sensory overload and embarrassment. So even if there was no punishment for being wrong, there really was punishment for being wrong, it was just wired into the neurology. These days, I recognize that overstimulation flush as just that--a neurological response--and I give it as much credence toward formulating my identity as I do my brown eyes and freckles. It's there, I have choices about how I cope with it, but it isn't the key to who I am on the inside. Perhaps your son was able to make this transition earlier in his life because of an earlier diagnosis, but this terror (and terror really is the right word) has driven and goaded me all my life--and I didn't even know it.
He is eighteen now, and embarking on first year university. But we both read your post, and had different responses to it.
Oh, good luck to him! (Thank you for wading through that ramble, I truly was in the midst of a meltdown--it was not my most coherent writing.)
My son, with time, has learned that even neurotypical people make guesses; in social circumstances, it’s not that they’re in clear possession of all the facts, at least not on a conscious level. He is willing - in social situations - to make guesses in order to follow the flow of conversation or interaction. He’s aware that they’re called guesses because they’re an approximation, and that he may, in fact, get it wrong -- but he also said if he’s unwilling to make those guesses, it’s impossible to interact at all. It’s just that, from his point of view, this type of guesswork is part of the social framework: it’s not because he’s ASD that he has to make guesses; everyone does it. He just does it more frequently.
Your son is way ahead of me on that one. I got my diagnosis about 10 months ago. So I have a lifetime of constantly being told "you're wrong" and trauma from misunderstandings due to blindspots and processing shortcomings that I am still unraveling. Thank you for this input, it actually helps me to look at it this way.
One of the things he asked me, and I’m now asking you - because in text and on-line, granularity isn’t a bad thing and timing is less of an issue - is how you explained things to the people around you. How you explained some of your reactions or some of your silences. He was looking for some sense of how they reacted to your explanations, and he couldn’t find mention of any attempt on your part to explain this to the people with whom you were interacting.
He’s aware of when he’s hit his interaction limit, and will often say something ironic like “I can’t English well right now” when he’s not processing reliably. He tends to gravitate toward the geeks because in general, their social rules are less complicated (“don’t be a Dick”), but also because their interests are co-aligned. (Magic the Gathering, Starcraft 2, etc.)
One of the things I, as a parent, think has really helped him is that he takes very little personally. If someone is being a jerk, he generally shrugs it off because everyone has a bad day. If someone is continually a jerk, that’s a little bit different - but he can weather little difficulties under the assumption that the other person is having a bad day. He considers this one of the most valuable lessons he’s ever absorbed over time, because it works against the tendency to make assumptions that cut him off from people.
So, to recap, his question was: How do people respond when you point out the things you can’t handle well up front, or when you explain some aspects of ASD to them?
He is perceptive. I haven't often explained, because before diagnosis I would just work really hard to be right, wait for someone to misstep and then cut them loose. It was amazing how many people were assholes to me! True, some of them really were, but looking back now with a new filter, I can see some of the ways my odd behavior or reactions escalated things--and how the neuro-typicals might come away thinking I was the asshole.
Explaining now, post-diagnosis, is still something I'm learning through trial and error. Fact is, at this point in my life I just don't have many people who are in my life and spend most of my days without social interaction (I don't count online, because I can seem almost "normal" there). I 'come out' to my students immediately, and explain to them some of the difficulties they might have in communicating with me and why, establishing that if they see me in the library or coffee shop I might act like I don't know who they are, because I don't recognize faces well--and let them know that this isn't because they are unimportant, because five minutes after they walk away I'll remember not only who they are, but exactly where they sit and remember which conversations sparked their interest and exactly what they said all semester long.
Consequently, I tend to explain to my students when I'm 'cycling' (this isn't about the bike, but refers to a period of time when the autism gets particularly intense, and I tend to have more difficulty than usual communicating, thinking and walking without tripping). I don't use that term, but I will notice that--just as my syntax got very creative in that last post--I'm having difficulty speaking in sentences that are intelligible, and sometimes say completely wrong words, having to backtrack and try again. I've learned to recognize this feeling now, and will usually try to breathe deeply when it hits in the middle of a lecture. I will stop myself and say, "I need a minute here. It seems I'm thinking in Chinese today (and I don't speak Chinese)." I have a couple of those little lighthearted things I do...like start talking in complete gibberish when a word gets stuck "bleh blah la la blah..." deep breath "oooooo-kay, how about I try that again?" I used to get embarrassed and stressed out about this, but now I recognize it as a simple physical limitation and if I stay relaxed I can usually get through it okay.
With friends--I don't have much practice with this. I tend to isolate myself when on the verge of meltdown, or cycling, because I don't want anyone to see me that way. There have been a couple times I have had to explain that I am on the verge of meltdown to friends who know about my issues, and the reaction is mixed. Some hear and understand and try to work with you, others refuse to believe that there is a perfectly good neurological (physical) reason for your very erratic behavior--and that they can, in fact, do something to help. The ones who attempt to understand will try to provide what you need if you tell them--and since I can avert my sensory issues with deep pressure and physical contact, I'm constantly telling people I trust that I NEED a hug from them (not my students or work colleagues, heh). Some get it. Some don't quite understand, but are accomodating--and some find it a pain in the ass. Some lecture you and tell you your impending meltdown is bullshit, get in control of yourself. Like all strategies, and all relationships, sometimes it works for both parties and sometimes it doesn't.
I guess what I've learned is that, although how I ask and what I ask for as far as accommodations from my friends is exceedingly important, ultimately there will be times that folks just aren't willing to meet me halfway--even if you seem to get along well on all other fronts. Finding out who is willing and who isn't is a sort of extended trial and error process, that I'm trying very hard not to take personally (but sometimes it does sting). I think everyone does make mistakes, and sometimes their own emotions and issues prevent them from hearing you--when to persist and when to cut someone loose is something I'm still working on as well. I used to just burn bridges when someone truly hurt me, but now that I know why I used to have that reaction, I don't want to have that response. However, not everyone is worthy of your time and a place in your life--and as an Aspie I want the line between worthy and not worthy to be a clear demarcation (and it just isn't). So...it's definitely an experiment, and I'm sure he and I will both make mistakes figuring out that 'gray' area.
I will tell you that other Aspies tend to be easier to socialize with (if you can manage it), because certain things need fewer bridges toward understanding. Just last weekend, I traveled out of town (because I was on the verge of a meltdown and wasn't going to spend the three-day weekend alone, stewing about the emotional mess I was in). Since I was rattled and in a hurry to leave, I somehow lost my ATM card (ever try to buy gas with a check?), and consequently things got very unpredictable and very abnormal for me. I'll leave the details out, but by the time I got to my destination I was too rattled to carry out any of my social plans and needed to trim my obligations. Since most of my plans where with other Aspies, I found cancelling exceedingly easy. They understood within a couple sentences just what I was going through, and were supportive of me needing to take some time to cool down. In other words, they understood that I really did want to see them, but that I had to take care of myself first, and that it wasn't really optional at that point. I would have had to explain more of that to an NT, or run the risk that they just thought I was blowing them off, when that wasn't the case at all. So, I guess what I'm trying to say to your son is that no matter what you say to people or how you say it, some are receptive to the information and some just aren't.
I hope he fills his life with people who are able to meet him halfway with that. I hope the same for me. It's hard sometimes to see when friction is from your own issues and from someone elses. I think I accept myself and my inner workings enough now, that asking for what I need to help with the Asperger's is as matter of fact as asking for someone to pass the salt (which can still be hard to express sometimes)--versus my pre-diagnosis days when I had to pretend my needs didn't exist because they seemed to be dark, mysterious and as embarrassing as sitting at the table naked.
[My question] is slightly different, because I’m almost fifty and he’s not even twenty.
Can you define what you mean by “strong, healthy relationships”? I know what I mean when I use those words, and I know what some of my friends mean - and I know there’s a lot of overlap between the words, but we don’t use them in the same way.
There are people whose entry into a room is a signal for me to leave - but those people are loved by some of my friends. I’m happy with this as long as I don’t have to love them, too. I don’t hate them; I find them difficult, because their weaknesses and their strengths are not a good mesh for mine.
That’s the thing: friendship isn’t monolithic and it can’t be described in isolation; it exists between people, and both personalities define and describe it in particular ways. If you take away one of the two friends and substitute a different friend, you don’t get the same friendship, even if one of the people hasn’t changed. There’s always an interaction, and it’s the interaction, the combination, that’s key.
Wow, you two ask tough questions (I like that)! At this point, I'm four years into a new area (Los Angeles--which can be a shallow place to try and make friends), and still don't have much of a social network around me. Coming home after that really hectic, uneasy weekend up north, I realized that I got more and more uneasy as I got "home". This was partly due to the sensory overload that just seems to well up out of the LA basin, partly because the gift card I had for gas stopped working and partly because it meant I wasn't distracting myself from my problems anymore. Yet, the thing that made me sob the last hour to my house, was that I felt I had no safety net here. No family. No truly close friends who I could call on if something really embarrassing (like running out of gas on the freeway) did happen to me. All the way I had traveled, I had felt that safety net--until I got home.
This isn't to say there aren't people I could call, but it is to say that I would be really uncomfortable doing so--because our relationships just haven't reached that depth yet. What I'm learning is that my openess when I consider someone a "close friend" (which is mainly about my affections for them, regardless of our history or shared experiences--or lack thereof) sets up a situation where I either let dangerous people in my life without a proper "interview" process (yes, I'm talking about stalkers and sexual/emotional predators, here--been there, done that, don't want to go back) OR it sets up potential close relationships for failure (because healthy people get unnerved when someone gets too close to them too soon--they rightly disengage).
At this point, four years into my new locale, I've managed to piece together a community to feel at home in, and made a lot of beautiful friends. I want to be careful what I say here, because I love them all and don't want them to get offended when I say that most of them are well-loved acquaintances. We enjoy each other's company at group events, we're on each other's facebook, but there is no real contact information shared and we don't see each other outside those events. What most of them don't know, is that even when they only interact with me at that level, they are incredibly important to me. A thimble full of water is an oasis to a person dying of thirst in a desert.
I do have a handful of others who I see a little bit (outside the group events), and I'm working to establish closer ties to some--but again, I don't really know how to reach out to people and am having difficulty finding that balance. Either I let the relationship sit too long without making contact (because I don't realize it's my turn to put myself out there and issue an invitation) or I pester the person to death until they have to start ignoring me. I'm looking for 50-50 give and take, and long term comfort, intimacy and support. I'm looking to, for the first time in my life, be fully understood and accepted for who I am, not just the NT mask I have taught myself to wear when things truly matter. I'm looking forward to building solid, dependable relationships as me, no more closeting my oddities and pretending to be someone I am not.
My therapist wants me to find a female best friend in the area, and another community or two for me to interact in--because right now I have all my social ties in one proverbial basket, which makes that support network really precarious. When I say strong, healthy relationships I'm looking to strengthen ties with more people, in a slow, methodical, mutual way so that I can have close friends in my life here as well--and that those people really want to be there, and are willing to meet me halfway when we interact--regardless of my idiosyncrasies. I want to have: 1) a more balanced community (not just my friendly cycling family) around me, 2) a double fistful of good friends I see and do things with regularly and 3) a handful of people who I can call on (and who can call on me) anytime--who aren't going to judge me for being weird, and who I won't be ashamed to tell I lost my ATM card (again) and ran out of gas on the 405--and who might be annoyed, but won't judge me or feel imposed on by being asked for help. Maybe a handful is too ambitious for that, but I think three is pretty doable--I'm just not there yet and can't force it to happen.
Sometimes I get frustrated and melt down because I don't feel safe and can't seem to get it right. Feeling like this, it's easy to lose sight on the progress I've made in 10 short months and find a reserve of patience. It will happen, and I know it may not be ideal or look just how I sketched it out here, but I know it will happen.
When my son was much, much younger, he had a terror of getting things wrong. I’ve written about this elsewhere on LJ, but I did ask him why, when he was older. It wasn’t the fear of the consequences - in many cases, there were no consequences. There was just a strong, strong sense that getting it wrong was catastrophic; it existed outside the realm of wrong = punishment.
Yes, this torture of "being wrong" is what motivated me to get my PhD. Now, after diagnosis, I've learned to accept my differences--at least enough that I don't have this pathological need to be right all the time. I used to get off on formulating arguments just for the sake of proving I was worthwhile to the world, by crushing someone else. That need has left me, but I recognize it as a basic part of my wiring. Being wrong means people look at you, it means they question you and expose you--it means sensory overload and embarrassment. So even if there was no punishment for being wrong, there really was punishment for being wrong, it was just wired into the neurology. These days, I recognize that overstimulation flush as just that--a neurological response--and I give it as much credence toward formulating my identity as I do my brown eyes and freckles. It's there, I have choices about how I cope with it, but it isn't the key to who I am on the inside. Perhaps your son was able to make this transition earlier in his life because of an earlier diagnosis, but this terror (and terror really is the right word) has driven and goaded me all my life--and I didn't even know it.
He is eighteen now, and embarking on first year university. But we both read your post, and had different responses to it.
Oh, good luck to him! (Thank you for wading through that ramble, I truly was in the midst of a meltdown--it was not my most coherent writing.)
My son, with time, has learned that even neurotypical people make guesses; in social circumstances, it’s not that they’re in clear possession of all the facts, at least not on a conscious level. He is willing - in social situations - to make guesses in order to follow the flow of conversation or interaction. He’s aware that they’re called guesses because they’re an approximation, and that he may, in fact, get it wrong -- but he also said if he’s unwilling to make those guesses, it’s impossible to interact at all. It’s just that, from his point of view, this type of guesswork is part of the social framework: it’s not because he’s ASD that he has to make guesses; everyone does it. He just does it more frequently.
Your son is way ahead of me on that one. I got my diagnosis about 10 months ago. So I have a lifetime of constantly being told "you're wrong" and trauma from misunderstandings due to blindspots and processing shortcomings that I am still unraveling. Thank you for this input, it actually helps me to look at it this way.
One of the things he asked me, and I’m now asking you - because in text and on-line, granularity isn’t a bad thing and timing is less of an issue - is how you explained things to the people around you. How you explained some of your reactions or some of your silences. He was looking for some sense of how they reacted to your explanations, and he couldn’t find mention of any attempt on your part to explain this to the people with whom you were interacting.
He’s aware of when he’s hit his interaction limit, and will often say something ironic like “I can’t English well right now” when he’s not processing reliably. He tends to gravitate toward the geeks because in general, their social rules are less complicated (“don’t be a Dick”), but also because their interests are co-aligned. (Magic the Gathering, Starcraft 2, etc.)
One of the things I, as a parent, think has really helped him is that he takes very little personally. If someone is being a jerk, he generally shrugs it off because everyone has a bad day. If someone is continually a jerk, that’s a little bit different - but he can weather little difficulties under the assumption that the other person is having a bad day. He considers this one of the most valuable lessons he’s ever absorbed over time, because it works against the tendency to make assumptions that cut him off from people.
So, to recap, his question was: How do people respond when you point out the things you can’t handle well up front, or when you explain some aspects of ASD to them?
He is perceptive. I haven't often explained, because before diagnosis I would just work really hard to be right, wait for someone to misstep and then cut them loose. It was amazing how many people were assholes to me! True, some of them really were, but looking back now with a new filter, I can see some of the ways my odd behavior or reactions escalated things--and how the neuro-typicals might come away thinking I was the asshole.
Explaining now, post-diagnosis, is still something I'm learning through trial and error. Fact is, at this point in my life I just don't have many people who are in my life and spend most of my days without social interaction (I don't count online, because I can seem almost "normal" there). I 'come out' to my students immediately, and explain to them some of the difficulties they might have in communicating with me and why, establishing that if they see me in the library or coffee shop I might act like I don't know who they are, because I don't recognize faces well--and let them know that this isn't because they are unimportant, because five minutes after they walk away I'll remember not only who they are, but exactly where they sit and remember which conversations sparked their interest and exactly what they said all semester long.
Consequently, I tend to explain to my students when I'm 'cycling' (this isn't about the bike, but refers to a period of time when the autism gets particularly intense, and I tend to have more difficulty than usual communicating, thinking and walking without tripping). I don't use that term, but I will notice that--just as my syntax got very creative in that last post--I'm having difficulty speaking in sentences that are intelligible, and sometimes say completely wrong words, having to backtrack and try again. I've learned to recognize this feeling now, and will usually try to breathe deeply when it hits in the middle of a lecture. I will stop myself and say, "I need a minute here. It seems I'm thinking in Chinese today (and I don't speak Chinese)." I have a couple of those little lighthearted things I do...like start talking in complete gibberish when a word gets stuck "bleh blah la la blah..." deep breath "oooooo-kay, how about I try that again?" I used to get embarrassed and stressed out about this, but now I recognize it as a simple physical limitation and if I stay relaxed I can usually get through it okay.
With friends--I don't have much practice with this. I tend to isolate myself when on the verge of meltdown, or cycling, because I don't want anyone to see me that way. There have been a couple times I have had to explain that I am on the verge of meltdown to friends who know about my issues, and the reaction is mixed. Some hear and understand and try to work with you, others refuse to believe that there is a perfectly good neurological (physical) reason for your very erratic behavior--and that they can, in fact, do something to help. The ones who attempt to understand will try to provide what you need if you tell them--and since I can avert my sensory issues with deep pressure and physical contact, I'm constantly telling people I trust that I NEED a hug from them (not my students or work colleagues, heh). Some get it. Some don't quite understand, but are accomodating--and some find it a pain in the ass. Some lecture you and tell you your impending meltdown is bullshit, get in control of yourself. Like all strategies, and all relationships, sometimes it works for both parties and sometimes it doesn't.
I guess what I've learned is that, although how I ask and what I ask for as far as accommodations from my friends is exceedingly important, ultimately there will be times that folks just aren't willing to meet me halfway--even if you seem to get along well on all other fronts. Finding out who is willing and who isn't is a sort of extended trial and error process, that I'm trying very hard not to take personally (but sometimes it does sting). I think everyone does make mistakes, and sometimes their own emotions and issues prevent them from hearing you--when to persist and when to cut someone loose is something I'm still working on as well. I used to just burn bridges when someone truly hurt me, but now that I know why I used to have that reaction, I don't want to have that response. However, not everyone is worthy of your time and a place in your life--and as an Aspie I want the line between worthy and not worthy to be a clear demarcation (and it just isn't). So...it's definitely an experiment, and I'm sure he and I will both make mistakes figuring out that 'gray' area.
I will tell you that other Aspies tend to be easier to socialize with (if you can manage it), because certain things need fewer bridges toward understanding. Just last weekend, I traveled out of town (because I was on the verge of a meltdown and wasn't going to spend the three-day weekend alone, stewing about the emotional mess I was in). Since I was rattled and in a hurry to leave, I somehow lost my ATM card (ever try to buy gas with a check?), and consequently things got very unpredictable and very abnormal for me. I'll leave the details out, but by the time I got to my destination I was too rattled to carry out any of my social plans and needed to trim my obligations. Since most of my plans where with other Aspies, I found cancelling exceedingly easy. They understood within a couple sentences just what I was going through, and were supportive of me needing to take some time to cool down. In other words, they understood that I really did want to see them, but that I had to take care of myself first, and that it wasn't really optional at that point. I would have had to explain more of that to an NT, or run the risk that they just thought I was blowing them off, when that wasn't the case at all. So, I guess what I'm trying to say to your son is that no matter what you say to people or how you say it, some are receptive to the information and some just aren't.
I hope he fills his life with people who are able to meet him halfway with that. I hope the same for me. It's hard sometimes to see when friction is from your own issues and from someone elses. I think I accept myself and my inner workings enough now, that asking for what I need to help with the Asperger's is as matter of fact as asking for someone to pass the salt (which can still be hard to express sometimes)--versus my pre-diagnosis days when I had to pretend my needs didn't exist because they seemed to be dark, mysterious and as embarrassing as sitting at the table naked.
[My question] is slightly different, because I’m almost fifty and he’s not even twenty.
Can you define what you mean by “strong, healthy relationships”? I know what I mean when I use those words, and I know what some of my friends mean - and I know there’s a lot of overlap between the words, but we don’t use them in the same way.
There are people whose entry into a room is a signal for me to leave - but those people are loved by some of my friends. I’m happy with this as long as I don’t have to love them, too. I don’t hate them; I find them difficult, because their weaknesses and their strengths are not a good mesh for mine.
That’s the thing: friendship isn’t monolithic and it can’t be described in isolation; it exists between people, and both personalities define and describe it in particular ways. If you take away one of the two friends and substitute a different friend, you don’t get the same friendship, even if one of the people hasn’t changed. There’s always an interaction, and it’s the interaction, the combination, that’s key.
Wow, you two ask tough questions (I like that)! At this point, I'm four years into a new area (Los Angeles--which can be a shallow place to try and make friends), and still don't have much of a social network around me. Coming home after that really hectic, uneasy weekend up north, I realized that I got more and more uneasy as I got "home". This was partly due to the sensory overload that just seems to well up out of the LA basin, partly because the gift card I had for gas stopped working and partly because it meant I wasn't distracting myself from my problems anymore. Yet, the thing that made me sob the last hour to my house, was that I felt I had no safety net here. No family. No truly close friends who I could call on if something really embarrassing (like running out of gas on the freeway) did happen to me. All the way I had traveled, I had felt that safety net--until I got home.
This isn't to say there aren't people I could call, but it is to say that I would be really uncomfortable doing so--because our relationships just haven't reached that depth yet. What I'm learning is that my openess when I consider someone a "close friend" (which is mainly about my affections for them, regardless of our history or shared experiences--or lack thereof) sets up a situation where I either let dangerous people in my life without a proper "interview" process (yes, I'm talking about stalkers and sexual/emotional predators, here--been there, done that, don't want to go back) OR it sets up potential close relationships for failure (because healthy people get unnerved when someone gets too close to them too soon--they rightly disengage).
At this point, four years into my new locale, I've managed to piece together a community to feel at home in, and made a lot of beautiful friends. I want to be careful what I say here, because I love them all and don't want them to get offended when I say that most of them are well-loved acquaintances. We enjoy each other's company at group events, we're on each other's facebook, but there is no real contact information shared and we don't see each other outside those events. What most of them don't know, is that even when they only interact with me at that level, they are incredibly important to me. A thimble full of water is an oasis to a person dying of thirst in a desert.
I do have a handful of others who I see a little bit (outside the group events), and I'm working to establish closer ties to some--but again, I don't really know how to reach out to people and am having difficulty finding that balance. Either I let the relationship sit too long without making contact (because I don't realize it's my turn to put myself out there and issue an invitation) or I pester the person to death until they have to start ignoring me. I'm looking for 50-50 give and take, and long term comfort, intimacy and support. I'm looking to, for the first time in my life, be fully understood and accepted for who I am, not just the NT mask I have taught myself to wear when things truly matter. I'm looking forward to building solid, dependable relationships as me, no more closeting my oddities and pretending to be someone I am not.
My therapist wants me to find a female best friend in the area, and another community or two for me to interact in--because right now I have all my social ties in one proverbial basket, which makes that support network really precarious. When I say strong, healthy relationships I'm looking to strengthen ties with more people, in a slow, methodical, mutual way so that I can have close friends in my life here as well--and that those people really want to be there, and are willing to meet me halfway when we interact--regardless of my idiosyncrasies. I want to have: 1) a more balanced community (not just my friendly cycling family) around me, 2) a double fistful of good friends I see and do things with regularly and 3) a handful of people who I can call on (and who can call on me) anytime--who aren't going to judge me for being weird, and who I won't be ashamed to tell I lost my ATM card (again) and ran out of gas on the 405--and who might be annoyed, but won't judge me or feel imposed on by being asked for help. Maybe a handful is too ambitious for that, but I think three is pretty doable--I'm just not there yet and can't force it to happen.
Sometimes I get frustrated and melt down because I don't feel safe and can't seem to get it right. Feeling like this, it's easy to lose sight on the progress I've made in 10 short months and find a reserve of patience. It will happen, and I know it may not be ideal or look just how I sketched it out here, but I know it will happen.