The employment biography provides a long list of Asperger traits, and the reader (in this case, me) has to check each trait that was expressed during the three selected jobs.
My list is long, and almost identical for the three jobs. I should say, though, that a lot of these items were not fully disclosed during these jobs, as I have always made an effort to fit in. The items may also not have been very strong, but I've felt them.
In my first job, I
- bit my nails
- had trouble with eye contact, team work, criticism
- had less than optimal relation to authority figures and aversion towards authority
- wasn't very assertive
- had trouble asking for help
- was conscious of detail
- got stressed when trying to multitask
- had low motivation for tasks outside my own interest
- avoided small talk
- was punctual and conscious about completing my tasks
- conversed in a stiff and pedantic manner
- had poor understanding of reciprocity in conversation
- was poor at understanding body language and jokes
- preferred visual learning and learning step-by-step
- asked a lot of questions, but didn't know who I should ask
- had few strong interests
- had good long term memory
- applied black and white thinking
- had difficulty understanding others' thinking, in particular when they were different from mine
- however I THOUGHT I could read their minds....
- misunderstood what others said
- had difficulty understanding social rules
- was rigid about rules
- was tactlessly honest
- lived in my own world and was a bit of a loner
- was shy
- had problems greeting
- was outraged about unfairness
- had trouble finding an using a social 'mask'
- had problems with confidence in others
- was a bit paranoid
- looped over bad experiences
I my second selected job, a few sensory issues were added to the list. There were problems about the food my co-workers ate (not their lunch but their snacking/drinking habits), and something about smells. I also felt that my personal space was violated, when a particular person stood very close to me. I had a strong reaction to these sensory issues.
I was no longer shy, although I had some performance anxiety in the social field. I had become more assertive, however I added 'difficulty in seeing problems clearly' and 'extreme reaction to not being able to solve problems' to the list. I also added problems with being interrupted to the list.
In my last job on the list (last day tomorrow, yay!), noise sensitivity was added to the list. And some stress/depression symptoms, concentration problems, insomnia, depression. And what probably was central for said symptoms: Problems accommodating to change. That horrible merger...
I can see, that a number of new Asperger traits appear under this last job. I think this is due to me having taken all these tests and becoming more conscious of being aspie. Hence I define myself differently, taking a sort of pride in being different instead of just trying to fit in. Examples of these traits are: weird sense of humour, talking too much of my own things, discomfort about 'playing games' - political or otherwise.
Showing posts with label Traits. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Traits. Show all posts
Sunday, 29 December 2013
Saturday, 30 March 2013
The Big Bang Theory
I never watch TV. I get impatient during movies and I prefer to consume news in writing, from paper or web. But I enjoy sitcoms - and I enjoy them more if the characters somehow resemble me. My favourite show is the Big Bang Theory. Because the characters are scientists. And nerds. I like that and I like them. I like the ordinary girl of the show, too, though I don't really recognise myself in her. In fact, Penny is one of the two top stars of that show, but that is not my point.
My first point relates to the other top star of the show. The famous, brilliant and very annoying Dr. Sheldon Cooper. Here and there on the internet people have diagnosed Sheldon with Aspergers. Somebody (I forgot who) suggests that he has other diagnoses as well, or traits at least. Inter alia, his narcissism is far beyond what you'd normally see in an Aspie. More than one person with Asperger have been compared to Sheldon.
I like Sheldon a lot. He is much more quirky than I am, he has really perfected his Aspie-traits, and he lives it. Like he is proud, only that he isn't, he just lives Aspieness. So I can recognise myself, and laugh at myself simultaneously. He is both what I always wanted to be (true to myself), and what I am sad about in myself (always different no matter how hard I tried to be like everyone else). And he is very bright within his field, and clueless outside his field. This I can relate to as well. So when I laugh at Sheldon, I laugh at myself. Still, he is different from me in various ways. Gender-wise of course but also the fact that he never tries to be like everyone else, at least not sincerely.
Which leads me to my second point: Amy Farrah Fowler. She is probably Aspie, too, but as a woman it has been more important for her to fit in (whether the need to be part of a group is related to biological gender or cultural gender is not clear to me, but I observe this need in women and girls much more than in men and boys). So she tries to fit in. And fails. She tries to do the girl things. And fails. She talks wrong. She walks wrong. She dresses wrong. Her posture is wrong. She is either clingy or very distant. She doesn't see herself from the outside. Not in a realistic manner at least. I hate Amy. I hate being reminded of the pain of not fitting in, the pain of being embarrassing, the pain of being too much. While Sheldon lives quirkiness, Amy lives 'I-only-realise-I-am-too-much-afterwards'.
I really want to believe that I was the only one that discovered my being embarrassing at all those incidents throughout my life. But when I see Amy, I know that other people discovered it, too. When I talked too loud. When I over-shared. When I said the wrong thing or said it in a wrong context. When I was too blunt, too honest, too affectionate, too much...
And Amy reminds me of me. In the most brutal, non-empathic and painful way.
My first point relates to the other top star of the show. The famous, brilliant and very annoying Dr. Sheldon Cooper. Here and there on the internet people have diagnosed Sheldon with Aspergers. Somebody (I forgot who) suggests that he has other diagnoses as well, or traits at least. Inter alia, his narcissism is far beyond what you'd normally see in an Aspie. More than one person with Asperger have been compared to Sheldon.
I like Sheldon a lot. He is much more quirky than I am, he has really perfected his Aspie-traits, and he lives it. Like he is proud, only that he isn't, he just lives Aspieness. So I can recognise myself, and laugh at myself simultaneously. He is both what I always wanted to be (true to myself), and what I am sad about in myself (always different no matter how hard I tried to be like everyone else). And he is very bright within his field, and clueless outside his field. This I can relate to as well. So when I laugh at Sheldon, I laugh at myself. Still, he is different from me in various ways. Gender-wise of course but also the fact that he never tries to be like everyone else, at least not sincerely.
Which leads me to my second point: Amy Farrah Fowler. She is probably Aspie, too, but as a woman it has been more important for her to fit in (whether the need to be part of a group is related to biological gender or cultural gender is not clear to me, but I observe this need in women and girls much more than in men and boys). So she tries to fit in. And fails. She tries to do the girl things. And fails. She talks wrong. She walks wrong. She dresses wrong. Her posture is wrong. She is either clingy or very distant. She doesn't see herself from the outside. Not in a realistic manner at least. I hate Amy. I hate being reminded of the pain of not fitting in, the pain of being embarrassing, the pain of being too much. While Sheldon lives quirkiness, Amy lives 'I-only-realise-I-am-too-much-afterwards'.
I really want to believe that I was the only one that discovered my being embarrassing at all those incidents throughout my life. But when I see Amy, I know that other people discovered it, too. When I talked too loud. When I over-shared. When I said the wrong thing or said it in a wrong context. When I was too blunt, too honest, too affectionate, too much...
And Amy reminds me of me. In the most brutal, non-empathic and painful way.
Sunday, 3 March 2013
Being oblong
My ex-husband used to say to me: You've got oblong feet. Oblong meaning that they had a weird shape such that they didn't fit into normal shoes my size. I've discovered that this feature does not only apply to my feet, but to my everything.
About once a week or so, usually during a meal in my family, I feel oblong. I say something which may not be disastrous by any means, but it just doesn't fit nicely into the conversation. It happens at work quite often, that I say or do something that is just a little off the point. And I realise, sometimes immediately after, sometimes up to several years after the incident.
Sometimes my being oblong is so embarrasing (seen in retrospect), that I feel permanently awkward when thinking about it. I see it as a defeat, and I never forget my defeats.
Sometimes my husband says: What do you want to do? And quite often I reply: I don't know. Being around other people is part of life. But I only feel not-oblong when I am alone. I like being around other people (some other people at least - and in small doses), but it is demanding because I am oblong.
About once a week or so, usually during a meal in my family, I feel oblong. I say something which may not be disastrous by any means, but it just doesn't fit nicely into the conversation. It happens at work quite often, that I say or do something that is just a little off the point. And I realise, sometimes immediately after, sometimes up to several years after the incident.
Sometimes my being oblong is so embarrasing (seen in retrospect), that I feel permanently awkward when thinking about it. I see it as a defeat, and I never forget my defeats.
Sometimes my husband says: What do you want to do? And quite often I reply: I don't know. Being around other people is part of life. But I only feel not-oblong when I am alone. I like being around other people (some other people at least - and in small doses), but it is demanding because I am oblong.
Friday, 28 December 2012
Destiny
In the old Greek myth of Oedipus, the main character is told that his destiny is to kill his father and marry his mother. He does everything possible to escape his destiny, but eventually that is exactly what happens. And he doesn't even know.
In Freudian psychology, the myth has been used as a symbol of boys wanting to couple with their own mother, of young boys' jealousy of their fathers, and of the general tendency - for people of both genders - to fall in love with somebody reminding them of their own parent (usually the parent of the opposite gender).
To me, the myth is about the inability to avoid destiny. My thoughts on the Freudian interpretation are more complicated and deserve their own blogpost. In short, I think Freud is not exactly wrong, neither is he spot on.
I would like to think that there is no such thing as destiny. I would like to think that the way I present myself and the way I live my life is a product of coincidences and free will in combination. But I am afraid it is not. Well 'destiny' is some supersticious nonsense. But my genes and my upbringing (and a lot of things that happened after that) laid out a path for me, and I am surprised every time I discover I am walking on that path. You could call the path 'destiny'.
During my childhood, every time we (the family) or my parents were going somewhere, my mother always was a bit late. The last thing she had to do before leaving the house, was to pee. When we went on holiday, my brother, my father and I sat in the taxi waiting, while my mother went to the bathroom, got her coat, and left the house. I remember wondering (probably out loud) why she couldn't pee while we were still in the house? Destiny: Nowadays, when everybody are ready to leave, I discover I need to pee. It is like they have to take their coats on for me to find out.
If I told my mother about a choice I made for me and later on for my children, she would often say: 'Why is that?', in a challenging and demanding tone of voice. If she and I had an argument, she would simply state: 'You are wrong', and she never felt the need to explain why I was wrong. It was sort of God-given, that she was right. Destiny: Before I can think of it, I exclaim: 'You are wrong' or, more mildly: 'I am right', in arguments. When it comes to nutrition, I am right per definition, in that same God-given kind of way. When people close to me make choices I can't relate to, my mouth utter the infamous: 'Why is that?' before I know it.
On my Danish blog I wrote about my mother's tendency to sing if somebody said a line from a song in a conversation. I was always very annoyed because it was an interruption and it was like she put herself first: her need to demonstrate the ability to remember songs was superior to everybody elses need to pursue a conversation. Destiny: I have actually caught myself doing exactly the same thing.
Disgression: It is probably an Aspie trait to be able to remember lyrics. My mother and my youngest son are very good. And even not-very-musical me, I just recalled from a camp in primary school where I was walking with my teacher and my best friend in the wood and I for no apparent reason sang 'When I'm sixtyfour' - the entire song. And it was probably out of tune, too. My teacher said, slightly condescending: 'How nice to remember lyrics so well'.
End of disregression. There are several other examples, my point is that my destiny is to become like my mother. And I am fighting it, I despise most of what she represents, and still the more I think about it the faster I become like her. Truly Oedipal.
In Freudian psychology, the myth has been used as a symbol of boys wanting to couple with their own mother, of young boys' jealousy of their fathers, and of the general tendency - for people of both genders - to fall in love with somebody reminding them of their own parent (usually the parent of the opposite gender).
To me, the myth is about the inability to avoid destiny. My thoughts on the Freudian interpretation are more complicated and deserve their own blogpost. In short, I think Freud is not exactly wrong, neither is he spot on.
I would like to think that there is no such thing as destiny. I would like to think that the way I present myself and the way I live my life is a product of coincidences and free will in combination. But I am afraid it is not. Well 'destiny' is some supersticious nonsense. But my genes and my upbringing (and a lot of things that happened after that) laid out a path for me, and I am surprised every time I discover I am walking on that path. You could call the path 'destiny'.
During my childhood, every time we (the family) or my parents were going somewhere, my mother always was a bit late. The last thing she had to do before leaving the house, was to pee. When we went on holiday, my brother, my father and I sat in the taxi waiting, while my mother went to the bathroom, got her coat, and left the house. I remember wondering (probably out loud) why she couldn't pee while we were still in the house? Destiny: Nowadays, when everybody are ready to leave, I discover I need to pee. It is like they have to take their coats on for me to find out.
If I told my mother about a choice I made for me and later on for my children, she would often say: 'Why is that?', in a challenging and demanding tone of voice. If she and I had an argument, she would simply state: 'You are wrong', and she never felt the need to explain why I was wrong. It was sort of God-given, that she was right. Destiny: Before I can think of it, I exclaim: 'You are wrong' or, more mildly: 'I am right', in arguments. When it comes to nutrition, I am right per definition, in that same God-given kind of way. When people close to me make choices I can't relate to, my mouth utter the infamous: 'Why is that?' before I know it.
On my Danish blog I wrote about my mother's tendency to sing if somebody said a line from a song in a conversation. I was always very annoyed because it was an interruption and it was like she put herself first: her need to demonstrate the ability to remember songs was superior to everybody elses need to pursue a conversation. Destiny: I have actually caught myself doing exactly the same thing.
Disgression: It is probably an Aspie trait to be able to remember lyrics. My mother and my youngest son are very good. And even not-very-musical me, I just recalled from a camp in primary school where I was walking with my teacher and my best friend in the wood and I for no apparent reason sang 'When I'm sixtyfour' - the entire song. And it was probably out of tune, too. My teacher said, slightly condescending: 'How nice to remember lyrics so well'.
End of disregression. There are several other examples, my point is that my destiny is to become like my mother. And I am fighting it, I despise most of what she represents, and still the more I think about it the faster I become like her. Truly Oedipal.
Saturday, 8 December 2012
Sensory senses
It has taken me a while to get my head around the sensory issues thing. It is not like I am OVERALL hyper sensitive. But in certain areas I am. Perhaps it would be easier to understand if it was an overall thing.
I don't wear perfume. I find perfume nauseating. It has such a strong sweet smell I can't breathe. I feel the same way about other people wearing perfume. Luckily I don't sweat a lot, but I sometimes think that I smell sweaty. If I have apologized to people around me, they have assured me that I didn't smell at all. Maybe they lied and I didn't get it... Generally, though, I often smell things that others don't, but almost as often it's the other way around. People ask me: what is that weird smell and I don't smell anything.
I am not fussy with food. I like hot food, and bitter food, savoury food and salt food. I like sweet things too, but mostly as sweets though. I prefer tastes separately but I don't mind mixing them up. There's a few food items that I think taste like plastic: cauliflower and earl grey tea. I really don't like that. I tend to loop a bit on nutrition, and I despise poor quality fast food because it is poor quality. That said, I would eat a MacD burger if it was served. So generally, food is not surrounded with any sensory issues.
I am always cold. I freeze almost all year. I wear gloves and hat outside from early September to early May. I sleep with skiing socks during the same period. And I take very warm showers. But if the bedroom isn't well below 18 degrees Celsius, I can't sleep. If the room (any room) is too warm, I can't breathe. I am just never content with the temperature.
Light is too bright. I love summer, I love being in the sun, I love watching the blue summer sky. I feel claustrophobic if I can't see the sky (whichever colour it may have) from a window. But the bright light still hurts my eye. I need complete darkness to sleep, I prefer to read with a dim light on, and I avoid fluorescent lamps. I don't want lamps in my home that have frosted glass or plastic-looking-like-frosted-glass shades.
Lots of aspies have issues with high sounds. I don't really think I do. But I really really love silence....
The final sensory issue, which in fact has its own question in the Aspie quiz, relates to those washing instruction marks in clothes. My question has always been: why are they there when they are so irritating? I know the answer now: Because NT people don't mind them. Apparently only Aspies are annoyed with them so why bother coming up with a clever alternative? In fact, 95 percent of washable clothes follow these simple guidelines: non-cotton clothes: 30 degrees C, cotton clothes: 40 degrees C, bed linen, towels, underwear, socks etc: 60 degrees C. So: can I please cut off the marks on clothes that follow the guidelines? I promise to maintain the rest!
I don't wear perfume. I find perfume nauseating. It has such a strong sweet smell I can't breathe. I feel the same way about other people wearing perfume. Luckily I don't sweat a lot, but I sometimes think that I smell sweaty. If I have apologized to people around me, they have assured me that I didn't smell at all. Maybe they lied and I didn't get it... Generally, though, I often smell things that others don't, but almost as often it's the other way around. People ask me: what is that weird smell and I don't smell anything.
I am not fussy with food. I like hot food, and bitter food, savoury food and salt food. I like sweet things too, but mostly as sweets though. I prefer tastes separately but I don't mind mixing them up. There's a few food items that I think taste like plastic: cauliflower and earl grey tea. I really don't like that. I tend to loop a bit on nutrition, and I despise poor quality fast food because it is poor quality. That said, I would eat a MacD burger if it was served. So generally, food is not surrounded with any sensory issues.
I am always cold. I freeze almost all year. I wear gloves and hat outside from early September to early May. I sleep with skiing socks during the same period. And I take very warm showers. But if the bedroom isn't well below 18 degrees Celsius, I can't sleep. If the room (any room) is too warm, I can't breathe. I am just never content with the temperature.
Light is too bright. I love summer, I love being in the sun, I love watching the blue summer sky. I feel claustrophobic if I can't see the sky (whichever colour it may have) from a window. But the bright light still hurts my eye. I need complete darkness to sleep, I prefer to read with a dim light on, and I avoid fluorescent lamps. I don't want lamps in my home that have frosted glass or plastic-looking-like-frosted-glass shades.
Lots of aspies have issues with high sounds. I don't really think I do. But I really really love silence....
The final sensory issue, which in fact has its own question in the Aspie quiz, relates to those washing instruction marks in clothes. My question has always been: why are they there when they are so irritating? I know the answer now: Because NT people don't mind them. Apparently only Aspies are annoyed with them so why bother coming up with a clever alternative? In fact, 95 percent of washable clothes follow these simple guidelines: non-cotton clothes: 30 degrees C, cotton clothes: 40 degrees C, bed linen, towels, underwear, socks etc: 60 degrees C. So: can I please cut off the marks on clothes that follow the guidelines? I promise to maintain the rest!
Taking things literally
I often think far too much about what people mean, or, rather, if they actually mean what they say. But the thinking, constantly being on guard demands a lot of resources from me, so I tend not to. I prefer spending my resources on something more constructively (such as research).
And then things like this happens:
The other person: 'Wow it was so great to see you, we must meet again soon, it is such a pity we never get to see each other!'
Me: 'Great, I agree, let me get my diary... what about next week Saturday?'
The other person: 'Oh I didn't bring my diary, but I'll text you as soon as I get home'
Then follows several weeks of silence
Text from me: 'Should we have coffee one day?'
More silence
And things like this:
I talk about my cooking for several people, or I bake a cake for work.
The other person: 'Oh we have this function coming up, can we hire you for the cooking?'
Me: 'I'll be delighted. I love cooking and arranging'
The other person: 'Really? Are you serious? It's a lot of work?'
Me: 'I am serious. I really do enjoy it. When is it?'
After some months:
Me: 'So, should I cook for your anniversary/birthday/...?'
The other person (looking puzzled): 'Oh I thought it was too much work, I hired someone to do it'
And things like people saying things they don't mean or things that are not true. And when I ask: why did you say that, they say: 'For fun'
But I don't get the fun. On the other hand, I also don't get jokes most of the time.
What I don't understand is:
1. Why do people say things they don't really mean?
2. How do I know, if what they say is true and I can act accordingly, or if it's not true?
And then things like this happens:
The other person: 'Wow it was so great to see you, we must meet again soon, it is such a pity we never get to see each other!'
Me: 'Great, I agree, let me get my diary... what about next week Saturday?'
The other person: 'Oh I didn't bring my diary, but I'll text you as soon as I get home'
Then follows several weeks of silence
Text from me: 'Should we have coffee one day?'
More silence
And things like this:
I talk about my cooking for several people, or I bake a cake for work.
The other person: 'Oh we have this function coming up, can we hire you for the cooking?'
Me: 'I'll be delighted. I love cooking and arranging'
The other person: 'Really? Are you serious? It's a lot of work?'
Me: 'I am serious. I really do enjoy it. When is it?'
After some months:
Me: 'So, should I cook for your anniversary/birthday/...?'
The other person (looking puzzled): 'Oh I thought it was too much work, I hired someone to do it'
And things like people saying things they don't mean or things that are not true. And when I ask: why did you say that, they say: 'For fun'
But I don't get the fun. On the other hand, I also don't get jokes most of the time.
What I don't understand is:
1. Why do people say things they don't really mean?
2. How do I know, if what they say is true and I can act accordingly, or if it's not true?
Wednesday, 21 November 2012
Running from depression
I don't think I've ever had a depression. But I know I have been depressed.
Life has never collapsed on me and left me weeping on the floor. But I have had periods of immense sadness and I've experienced anger and despair directed towards almost all elements in my life.
I was about 17. I was in high school, I had a boyfriend and a few close female friends. I was busy at school, playing handball, working. My life was generally OK. And when I came home from school, I cried for an hour. Every day. My boyfriend and my best friend told me to see my GP, who referred me to a psychiatrist. My best friend, also 17 and always very wise, was convinced I was depressed because of the way my father was bringing me up. Now this seems ridiculous, but 17 was the age of teenage showdown for me, and for some odd reason, I targeted my father. Neither my showdown or the psychiatrist (who was told by the patient that the reason was the patients father) had any effect on my moods. They did however fade after a while.
I was 24. I lived in South Africa, studying at the university. I had a boyfriend and a very close friend that I lived with. I had a student job at the university. A couple dramatic life events caused me to be depressed. I was so sad. I didn't cry much, I was just dark inside. I felt hollow and useless. I went to a social worker at the hospital and talked to her. She was nice but it had no effect. Of course we blamed the life events for my mood.
I was 39. Lived with my children. Had a partner, a demanding job and a large social circle (and the usual few close friends). Every Saturday, I cried. There was no energy left. I went to see my GP but I told him I was depressed because my son was showing signs of Asperger and that stressed me. So my GP told me what to do about my son and not what to do about me.
In between there are countless episodes of sadness, social anxiety, insomnia. Generally, my life has been as described at those three points in time: busy in the successful way. But the depression has always been there, lurking in the background, and striking when I was too busy to notice.
What also happens is that if my mind is idle, I start looping. Something somebody said or did keeps coming back to me and bothers me. Something my husband says makes me angry, though with a considerable time delay. So he says something without thinking and the next day I write him a spluttering e-mail. The more prone to depression I am, the more frequently this happens.
I once got anti-depressants. Not for depression but for insomnia. They made me gain weight and I also became cynical. So I stopped.
I self-medicate: I excercise. I run. I run from depression. Some days I go to the gym, but I need to have cardiovascular excercise for at least 20-25 minutes, at least four times per week. Yes I still loop. And sometimes I can't sleep. But I am much more stable mood-wise now. And the episodes mentioned above taught me at least one thing: depression comes from inside. It's nobody elses fault. Not my fathers fault, not the life events, not my son. In fact it is not even my mothers fault. I take responsibility; and I run!
Life has never collapsed on me and left me weeping on the floor. But I have had periods of immense sadness and I've experienced anger and despair directed towards almost all elements in my life.
I was about 17. I was in high school, I had a boyfriend and a few close female friends. I was busy at school, playing handball, working. My life was generally OK. And when I came home from school, I cried for an hour. Every day. My boyfriend and my best friend told me to see my GP, who referred me to a psychiatrist. My best friend, also 17 and always very wise, was convinced I was depressed because of the way my father was bringing me up. Now this seems ridiculous, but 17 was the age of teenage showdown for me, and for some odd reason, I targeted my father. Neither my showdown or the psychiatrist (who was told by the patient that the reason was the patients father) had any effect on my moods. They did however fade after a while.
I was 24. I lived in South Africa, studying at the university. I had a boyfriend and a very close friend that I lived with. I had a student job at the university. A couple dramatic life events caused me to be depressed. I was so sad. I didn't cry much, I was just dark inside. I felt hollow and useless. I went to a social worker at the hospital and talked to her. She was nice but it had no effect. Of course we blamed the life events for my mood.
I was 39. Lived with my children. Had a partner, a demanding job and a large social circle (and the usual few close friends). Every Saturday, I cried. There was no energy left. I went to see my GP but I told him I was depressed because my son was showing signs of Asperger and that stressed me. So my GP told me what to do about my son and not what to do about me.
In between there are countless episodes of sadness, social anxiety, insomnia. Generally, my life has been as described at those three points in time: busy in the successful way. But the depression has always been there, lurking in the background, and striking when I was too busy to notice.
What also happens is that if my mind is idle, I start looping. Something somebody said or did keeps coming back to me and bothers me. Something my husband says makes me angry, though with a considerable time delay. So he says something without thinking and the next day I write him a spluttering e-mail. The more prone to depression I am, the more frequently this happens.
I once got anti-depressants. Not for depression but for insomnia. They made me gain weight and I also became cynical. So I stopped.
I self-medicate: I excercise. I run. I run from depression. Some days I go to the gym, but I need to have cardiovascular excercise for at least 20-25 minutes, at least four times per week. Yes I still loop. And sometimes I can't sleep. But I am much more stable mood-wise now. And the episodes mentioned above taught me at least one thing: depression comes from inside. It's nobody elses fault. Not my fathers fault, not the life events, not my son. In fact it is not even my mothers fault. I take responsibility; and I run!
Perspective
We talk about train tickets. I go on and on about where I travelled to and from, and how I purchased my ticket. Did I always do this? I try (hard) to sense when they tire of the train talk, so I should stop. Did people always lose interest in my subject before I did?
We talk about baking. They ask for my recipes. There is a joke but I didn't catch it. Was there always a joke I didn't catch? I explain carefully how I go about baking, the share of wholewheat flour, the amount of yeast, and I realise I talk too much. I stop. Did I always talk too much?
We discuss a political topic. We disagree on a central point. My feelings on the topic rush through me and take over. I argue at length, well-spoken (to the point of being too hard), and in an emotional manner. Afterwards my opponent seems cross with me and avoids me. Have I always done this? Did this happen before?
We are friends and we meet on a regular basis. We share things that we don't share with everyone else. One day I share too much. My next invitation is declined. My greetings are met with surprise. Now we don't greet each other anymore. Have this happened before? Did I always over-share (when I stopped under-sharing of course)?
----
I know all these things happened before. I know because I was there and I noticed. I just didn't know why. Now I know, and that has increased my sense of these things. Before I ignored it, didn't see a pattern, thought the other people were dumbasses, etc. My recognition of my own Asperger has changed my perspective. These issues, that I disregarded before, are now perhaps blown out of proportion.
So what is better? Disregarding, ignorance and blaming everyone else? Or over-focusing and blaming myself?
We talk about baking. They ask for my recipes. There is a joke but I didn't catch it. Was there always a joke I didn't catch? I explain carefully how I go about baking, the share of wholewheat flour, the amount of yeast, and I realise I talk too much. I stop. Did I always talk too much?
We discuss a political topic. We disagree on a central point. My feelings on the topic rush through me and take over. I argue at length, well-spoken (to the point of being too hard), and in an emotional manner. Afterwards my opponent seems cross with me and avoids me. Have I always done this? Did this happen before?
We are friends and we meet on a regular basis. We share things that we don't share with everyone else. One day I share too much. My next invitation is declined. My greetings are met with surprise. Now we don't greet each other anymore. Have this happened before? Did I always over-share (when I stopped under-sharing of course)?
----
I know all these things happened before. I know because I was there and I noticed. I just didn't know why. Now I know, and that has increased my sense of these things. Before I ignored it, didn't see a pattern, thought the other people were dumbasses, etc. My recognition of my own Asperger has changed my perspective. These issues, that I disregarded before, are now perhaps blown out of proportion.
So what is better? Disregarding, ignorance and blaming everyone else? Or over-focusing and blaming myself?
Sunday, 18 November 2012
The melting pot
Among the common aspie traits are meltdowns. In fact, this is not a trait or a feature, rather it is a recurring behaviour. Hence I think it can be 'cured', at least to an extent.
A meltdown is an uncontrollable anger and sorrow, expressing itself through me, but using means of communication that are unfamiliar to me. During the meltdown I say things I didn't know I felt, in a horrible and hurting manner. I shout and I swear. I cry. Afterwards I am exhausted as if I went to war and fought it all by myself. About half an hour later I start getting a headache.
The feelings expressed by me during a meltdown are mine. They belong to a hidden subconsciousness and perhaps it's best if they stay there. But they are mine, I admit that. Before my mouth expresses these feelings I didn't know I had them. Afterwards I take responsibility (though somewhat reluctantly) for the feelings.
I have nothing positive to say about the way I express these feelings. I wish I didn't express them at all, I wish that at least I could express myself in a more civilised manner. I am trying.
My son has the same problem. When he feels that he is being treated unfair, he risks having a meltdown. Some circumstances may trigger this, e.g. being under under types of pressure - if his peers look at him in class, if there are guests at our house etc. It has been a long while since he had a meltdown at home though. Feeling secure prevents meltdowns apparently.
My son describes the process like this: In an unpleasant situation, there are two men (in his head that is): the ignoring-man and the anger-man. The ignoring-man wants my son to ignore if he is being bullied or laughed at. He (the ignoring-man) demonstrates this wish by sitting on a chair, ignoring. The anger-man wants my son to be angry (leading to a meltdown) and cry. He expresses his wish by being angry, and acts aggressively towards the ignoring-man. So if the ignoring-man tries to tell my son to act sensibly (i.e. ignore the annoyance), the anger-man will jump from his chair and press his hand against the ignoring-mans mouth. The anger-man usually wins.
I like the picture, but I am sad about its implications. The tendency to melt down is, due to its aggression, superior to more sustainable and wise coping strategies, when they are confronted inside the head (my sons head, or mine, for that matter). The ignoring-man needs assistance, and I told my son that. I said: 'You need to help the ignoring-man by imagining what he would say, and do as he does'. I am going to do that myself, I go with the ignoring-man, because going with the anger-man only leads to more trouble.
A meltdown is an uncontrollable anger and sorrow, expressing itself through me, but using means of communication that are unfamiliar to me. During the meltdown I say things I didn't know I felt, in a horrible and hurting manner. I shout and I swear. I cry. Afterwards I am exhausted as if I went to war and fought it all by myself. About half an hour later I start getting a headache.
The feelings expressed by me during a meltdown are mine. They belong to a hidden subconsciousness and perhaps it's best if they stay there. But they are mine, I admit that. Before my mouth expresses these feelings I didn't know I had them. Afterwards I take responsibility (though somewhat reluctantly) for the feelings.
I have nothing positive to say about the way I express these feelings. I wish I didn't express them at all, I wish that at least I could express myself in a more civilised manner. I am trying.
My son has the same problem. When he feels that he is being treated unfair, he risks having a meltdown. Some circumstances may trigger this, e.g. being under under types of pressure - if his peers look at him in class, if there are guests at our house etc. It has been a long while since he had a meltdown at home though. Feeling secure prevents meltdowns apparently.
My son describes the process like this: In an unpleasant situation, there are two men (in his head that is): the ignoring-man and the anger-man. The ignoring-man wants my son to ignore if he is being bullied or laughed at. He (the ignoring-man) demonstrates this wish by sitting on a chair, ignoring. The anger-man wants my son to be angry (leading to a meltdown) and cry. He expresses his wish by being angry, and acts aggressively towards the ignoring-man. So if the ignoring-man tries to tell my son to act sensibly (i.e. ignore the annoyance), the anger-man will jump from his chair and press his hand against the ignoring-mans mouth. The anger-man usually wins.
I like the picture, but I am sad about its implications. The tendency to melt down is, due to its aggression, superior to more sustainable and wise coping strategies, when they are confronted inside the head (my sons head, or mine, for that matter). The ignoring-man needs assistance, and I told my son that. I said: 'You need to help the ignoring-man by imagining what he would say, and do as he does'. I am going to do that myself, I go with the ignoring-man, because going with the anger-man only leads to more trouble.
Sunday, 11 November 2012
Small talk
Small talk is difficult. Much worse than sudoku. Because there is not one solution to the problem. And when I've managed to small talk for twenty minutes I am awarded... some more small talk.
I really enjoy hearing about other people's work. In particular researchers, but also other areas of work. If I am at a function and people start talking about their work, I am home free. I relax and respond to whatever they are telling me.
When the person I am talking to chooses another subject than work, it becomes slightly more difficult. Because we engage in some sort of dialogue, that I am not comfortable with. If we talk about his/her family or relationship issues I don't know if I am supposed to
I really enjoy hearing about other people's work. In particular researchers, but also other areas of work. If I am at a function and people start talking about their work, I am home free. I relax and respond to whatever they are telling me.
When the person I am talking to chooses another subject than work, it becomes slightly more difficult. Because we engage in some sort of dialogue, that I am not comfortable with. If we talk about his/her family or relationship issues I don't know if I am supposed to
- just listen and add one-syllable exlamations at strategic times
- offer my own opinion: 'I don't think it is that bad', or 'could they have misunderstood you'
- contribute with my own experiences in the field
When I follow strategy 1., the conversation usually dies. When I follow strategy 2., either I agree and act sympathetic towards the other person, and then the conversation dies; or I offer another perspective, which very often is not well received. If I follow strategy 3., I often monopolise the conversation, because I don't know exactly when to stop.
I like to run. The past 6 or 7 years I have run regularly with colleagues wherever I have worked. And while I enjoy the running, and in fact also the company, I dread the conversation. If somebody very talkative joins the running team I am relieved. Because then he or she can do the talking. If something interesting is happening at work (a poor manager, a merger), we can talk about that. But very often there is simply not enough to talk about for approximately half an hour. These days I mostly run with one person from work. This guy happens to be the person I also work with in the only project where I work with others. And while I have nothing bad to say about him, I have virtually nothing to say TO him. He seems a nice person, very laid-back. And not very talkative. I've started to dread the running. And it is nothing personal. I just don't know what to talk about. We can't talk about our common project for half an hour. And I am sure we've been around workplace issues and normal small-talk issues more than once. I sometimes tell the same story again in a sort of panic.
I've decided I need a longer list of 'safe' topics for small talk. Not only the running of course, but also for parties and other functions where I am supposed to talk to people I am not comfortable with. My list so far:
- The weather
- Food
- Holidays
- People's clothes, jewelery etc (not that I have any interest but it buys me some 30 seconds)
And there's someting else I would like to know: When I bake or cook for others and they compliment my results, they often ask for the recipe. Is this small-talk or do they really want the recipe?
Thursday, 8 November 2012
Physical contact
About five years ago, I saw on facebook a group called Asperger Awareness. I had a look and one of the things they listed as an aspie trait was: Standing too close to others.
I felt a number of things: Firstly I was annoyed. Did we really become so intolerant that we assign diagnoses to people that cross the 15 cm boundary? If diagnoses are trigged by such minor details, we eventually end up in a society where nobody belongs to normality anymore... And then I was also relieved. Because I was home free. I don't stand too close to others. In fact, I think I stand too far away. As history showed, I was not home free, and now I am quite content about being an aspie. But is has taken me a while to get there. I wasn't there yet five years ago.
Proximity to others bother me. I am not talking about my family, but everybody else. If another person stands close to me, I usually take a step away. I really don't like talking to people when I can also smell them. If I have to show a colleague something on my computer, I carefully place myself away from him or her, e.g. with a chair in between. I don't like it if I accidentally touch the other person during a conversation.
Some people use physical contact as part of their communication. E.g. some colleague pats me on my shoulder while we are talking about school kids over lunch. I gathered that it was a way of telling me: I know how you feel, I feel the same way and you have a funny way of expressing your experiences. But I had major difficulties in concentrating on our conversation because her constant patting me on my shoulder distracted me. Sometimes I get used to it though.
If there is one rule of greeting and it is hugging then hugging is OK. But some people hug upon arrival one time and before farewell the next. Some people hug hello and goodbye one time and not at all the next. Nobody (I guess) hug their colleagues everytime they meet. But if the colleague had a baby, or they leave because they got another job, then you hug. Maybe. And if you don't work together anymore but meet at the zoo one day, you hug, even though you never touched the person while the two of you worked together.
I hug because social convention dictates it. I'd rather not touch at all. I am not afraid of germs or anything, I just get very self-concious and insecure. And I can see the disappointment in people's eyes when I 'forget' (I don't, I just pretend). You see, I didn't hug the colleague that had a baby. And not the ex-colleague at the zoo either.
My family and my best friends: That is different. If I feel completely comfortable with others touching is OK, and I like to hug. I still get confused about physical contact as a means of communication though. I get distracted when the person I am talking to, touches me during conversation.
I felt a number of things: Firstly I was annoyed. Did we really become so intolerant that we assign diagnoses to people that cross the 15 cm boundary? If diagnoses are trigged by such minor details, we eventually end up in a society where nobody belongs to normality anymore... And then I was also relieved. Because I was home free. I don't stand too close to others. In fact, I think I stand too far away. As history showed, I was not home free, and now I am quite content about being an aspie. But is has taken me a while to get there. I wasn't there yet five years ago.
Proximity to others bother me. I am not talking about my family, but everybody else. If another person stands close to me, I usually take a step away. I really don't like talking to people when I can also smell them. If I have to show a colleague something on my computer, I carefully place myself away from him or her, e.g. with a chair in between. I don't like it if I accidentally touch the other person during a conversation.
Some people use physical contact as part of their communication. E.g. some colleague pats me on my shoulder while we are talking about school kids over lunch. I gathered that it was a way of telling me: I know how you feel, I feel the same way and you have a funny way of expressing your experiences. But I had major difficulties in concentrating on our conversation because her constant patting me on my shoulder distracted me. Sometimes I get used to it though.
If there is one rule of greeting and it is hugging then hugging is OK. But some people hug upon arrival one time and before farewell the next. Some people hug hello and goodbye one time and not at all the next. Nobody (I guess) hug their colleagues everytime they meet. But if the colleague had a baby, or they leave because they got another job, then you hug. Maybe. And if you don't work together anymore but meet at the zoo one day, you hug, even though you never touched the person while the two of you worked together.
I hug because social convention dictates it. I'd rather not touch at all. I am not afraid of germs or anything, I just get very self-concious and insecure. And I can see the disappointment in people's eyes when I 'forget' (I don't, I just pretend). You see, I didn't hug the colleague that had a baby. And not the ex-colleague at the zoo either.
My family and my best friends: That is different. If I feel completely comfortable with others touching is OK, and I like to hug. I still get confused about physical contact as a means of communication though. I get distracted when the person I am talking to, touches me during conversation.
Saturday, 3 November 2012
This is what it's like
It is like singing in a choir, and constantly being out of tune. Sometimes to the point of singing a different song. Other times almost carrying the tune. And not knowing which is which. Either I have to be very proud of my out of tune singing, or I just shut up, pretend I am singing and knowing that I will never ever learn.
It is like being Goldielock, but never finding the right chair. There's always something wrong. Too cold, too noisy, too many people...
It is like being a sprinter in a marathon. You can impress at first, but sooner or later they'll find out that you can't run the whole distance.
---
This is what it's like for me:
Good stuff:
I am honest. I will not cheat you, and I will do my best to help you and to make you feel comfortable.
I have a very good memory. I remember birthdays, telephone numbers, past events, how you take your coffee, and almost everything you told me (though I forget what I have told you).
I am good at concentrating. I dig into a subject until I have the information I need.
I am loyal and I don't escape, not physically and not into substances.
Not-quite-so-good stuff:
I am always cold. And when I wear woolen clothes and turn up the heater, I am fine temperaturewise but my eyes get dry and sore.
I need complete darkness before I can sleep. I wear 'night goggles' even when it is dark in the bedroom. I can't sleep - even with the goggles - if the light is on in the room.
There's a track in my mind that is always busy. I can't stop thinking, and I can't control the thoughts. That is also why I can't sleep. It is also the reason of many conflicts, because it is not nice, calm and harmonious thoughts. The track is like a railway track next to the real railway track. When the train manages to switch tracks (I don't know how), it runs on the 'thought-track' and it can't get back to the real railway track. The thought-track often leads to aggression, temper tantrums, and regular meltdowns. I wish it was not like that. I wish I knew how to control the train.
I am gullible and I am extremely bad at lying. Very often I don't catch jokes or I catch them too late.
Crowds exhaust me. Sometimes I get social anxiety but most often I am just very self-conscious. I don't mind crowds of strangers though. They don't expect anything from me.
I lose things out of my hands. When that happens, I cry and scold myself.
I don't know what to do with other people's feelings. I have empathy but I don't know how to show it.
----
This is what I do to make me feel better:
Being at home.
Structuring and planning (calendar, to-do lists).
Knowing what is going to happen.
Baking.
Cooking.
Running.
Sleeping on my stomach.
----
This is what others can do to make me feel better:
Don't surprise me.
Inform me, structure things, be predictable
Don't write between the lines (I might read it but you never know)
Be honest.
If you want me to do something (or don't something), please tell me.
Talking about feelings and other sensitive issues is probably not such a good idea. I am much better in writing. Writing also prevent most tantrums. So if there's something sensitive you want to tell me, it's fine by me to e-mail or facebook-chat about it.
If you think that I go too much on and on about nutrition or a smartphone app, just ask me to stop :)
It is like being Goldielock, but never finding the right chair. There's always something wrong. Too cold, too noisy, too many people...
It is like being a sprinter in a marathon. You can impress at first, but sooner or later they'll find out that you can't run the whole distance.
---
This is what it's like for me:
Good stuff:
I am honest. I will not cheat you, and I will do my best to help you and to make you feel comfortable.
I have a very good memory. I remember birthdays, telephone numbers, past events, how you take your coffee, and almost everything you told me (though I forget what I have told you).
I am good at concentrating. I dig into a subject until I have the information I need.
I am loyal and I don't escape, not physically and not into substances.
Not-quite-so-good stuff:
I am always cold. And when I wear woolen clothes and turn up the heater, I am fine temperaturewise but my eyes get dry and sore.
I need complete darkness before I can sleep. I wear 'night goggles' even when it is dark in the bedroom. I can't sleep - even with the goggles - if the light is on in the room.
There's a track in my mind that is always busy. I can't stop thinking, and I can't control the thoughts. That is also why I can't sleep. It is also the reason of many conflicts, because it is not nice, calm and harmonious thoughts. The track is like a railway track next to the real railway track. When the train manages to switch tracks (I don't know how), it runs on the 'thought-track' and it can't get back to the real railway track. The thought-track often leads to aggression, temper tantrums, and regular meltdowns. I wish it was not like that. I wish I knew how to control the train.
I am gullible and I am extremely bad at lying. Very often I don't catch jokes or I catch them too late.
Crowds exhaust me. Sometimes I get social anxiety but most often I am just very self-conscious. I don't mind crowds of strangers though. They don't expect anything from me.
I lose things out of my hands. When that happens, I cry and scold myself.
I don't know what to do with other people's feelings. I have empathy but I don't know how to show it.
----
This is what I do to make me feel better:
Being at home.
Structuring and planning (calendar, to-do lists).
Knowing what is going to happen.
Baking.
Cooking.
Running.
Sleeping on my stomach.
----
This is what others can do to make me feel better:
Don't surprise me.
Inform me, structure things, be predictable
Don't write between the lines (I might read it but you never know)
Be honest.
If you want me to do something (or don't something), please tell me.
Talking about feelings and other sensitive issues is probably not such a good idea. I am much better in writing. Writing also prevent most tantrums. So if there's something sensitive you want to tell me, it's fine by me to e-mail or facebook-chat about it.
If you think that I go too much on and on about nutrition or a smartphone app, just ask me to stop :)
Saturday, 6 October 2012
Defining me
On my other, Danish-language, blog I have TWO pages describing who I am. One is a short description of my family mostly, the other contains not less than 100 facts about me.
Writing them was a true challenge, because I always had extreme difficulties seeing myself from outside. When people told me how they percieved me, I was always very surprised. I couldn't define me.
Many years ago I befriended a South African woman whose native language wasn't English either. She spent a lot of time in conversations defining herself. I think what she said was not entirely correct linguistically but I prefer her phrase: 'I am a person, that is stubborn', 'I am a person that doesn't like sugar in my tea', 'I am a person...'. And for years I did the same (inside my head or when talking to myself): 'I am a person...', giving myself an identity through my taste or preferences.
But a lot of it was something I made up. I still couldn't define myself. When I did the 100 facts thing, I focused mostly on preferences: Food, clothing, culture. And I made one entry one day, and described the opposite preference the next. I couldn't even define myself through my favourite candy, my style in clothing, my taste in movies.
Now, when I read blog entries from others describing the Asperger traits, e.g. this one, I feel recognised and understood. I am like that - or like most of that. An example: I try and avoid conflict, I get nervous and want to escape when someone is criticising me. I duck when others are angry. But at other times I am the one that is angry, and others are scared of me.
When I was about to finish high school, our class should agree on a performance at some matriculation function. Nobody had the time to write the song, and eventually my friend and I volunteered. We weren't very good at it and it took forever, but we did write a song. When we presented it in class, one boy said: That song can't be sung! And he made a whole scene about it. Or maybe I made the scene. At least thats how people remember me: I was nice but I could really be mad at times. In retrospect I think I had a temper tantrum, someting that happens once in a while. And other people get scared. At other times I was the one being scared about much lesser things. I wish I could just be a little bit more on the middle of the road. I wish I could assert myself without scaring others.
Writing them was a true challenge, because I always had extreme difficulties seeing myself from outside. When people told me how they percieved me, I was always very surprised. I couldn't define me.
Many years ago I befriended a South African woman whose native language wasn't English either. She spent a lot of time in conversations defining herself. I think what she said was not entirely correct linguistically but I prefer her phrase: 'I am a person, that is stubborn', 'I am a person that doesn't like sugar in my tea', 'I am a person...'. And for years I did the same (inside my head or when talking to myself): 'I am a person...', giving myself an identity through my taste or preferences.
But a lot of it was something I made up. I still couldn't define myself. When I did the 100 facts thing, I focused mostly on preferences: Food, clothing, culture. And I made one entry one day, and described the opposite preference the next. I couldn't even define myself through my favourite candy, my style in clothing, my taste in movies.
Now, when I read blog entries from others describing the Asperger traits, e.g. this one, I feel recognised and understood. I am like that - or like most of that. An example: I try and avoid conflict, I get nervous and want to escape when someone is criticising me. I duck when others are angry. But at other times I am the one that is angry, and others are scared of me.
When I was about to finish high school, our class should agree on a performance at some matriculation function. Nobody had the time to write the song, and eventually my friend and I volunteered. We weren't very good at it and it took forever, but we did write a song. When we presented it in class, one boy said: That song can't be sung! And he made a whole scene about it. Or maybe I made the scene. At least thats how people remember me: I was nice but I could really be mad at times. In retrospect I think I had a temper tantrum, someting that happens once in a while. And other people get scared. At other times I was the one being scared about much lesser things. I wish I could just be a little bit more on the middle of the road. I wish I could assert myself without scaring others.
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