Black and white

One thing that always irritated me about my mother was her tendency to see things in black or white. There was no middle way. Most politicians were evil wrong-doers, and the few she liked were like gods and goddesses. The latter could do nothing wrong and she spoke of them with admiration.

The same was true for colleagues, family members, and other acquaintances. She has been able to uphold this simplistic view of life because of her strong belief that she herself is always right. You can't really discuss with her, because she KNOWS she is right.

If she is always right, obviously everyone who may have different views are WRONG. This does not only apply to politics but also to life style choices etc. My best friend still recalls the day (we were teenagers) when she and I sat in the garden and my mother came down the stairs, furious. She held out an empty candy packet, that she had found in the garbage can, and asked, fuming, 'WHAT IS THIS?!?'. My friend and I had shared a small packet of candy while drinking tea. My mother acted as if it was cocaine.

Most of my life I have consciously chosen not to be like my mother. I have wanted to see the grey tones, the middle way, and I have been ready to accept that others may be right, too.

It is still very important to me not to be like my mother. However the amount of issues about which I KNOW I am right, has increased, meanwhile the amount of issues where I acknowledge that others may be as right, has decreased. I have become more black and white.

Burnt bridges

I recently finished reading Aspergirls by Rudy Simone. I enjoyed it a lot. It is such a pleasure to feel recognised, and to see somebody else expressing how I feel and have felt. It also adds a new perspective to my memories of my own childhood and adolescence. A new narrative perhaps.

One of the last chapters is entitled 'Burning Bridges'. Oh dear. Should I write my autobiography (or my mother's or brother's biography), something about burning bridges would be a favourite for the title.

I have confined my burnt bridges to workplaces. I do have a series of failed relationships behind me though, both romantic relations and friendships. However, most of the times it wasn't I who broke up, but the other person.

I left my first professional job following a conflict with my superior. I hurried away and never looked back. I held the position for 14 months. I wished that I had solved the conflict in a more constructive manner.

My next job was much better and it took 3½ years before I felt the ground burning and I had to get away. Maybe the tasks became a bit tedious, or I started losing concentration and made mistakes.

I accepted the first offer I got, which turned out to be disastrous. That new job just felt so completely wrong that I quitted after ten days. The people were nice, the perks were better than anywhere else I've worked, the wage was similar or maybe higher than my previous job, so what happened? The actual tasks were a bit boring and they also planned for me to go on a business trip to a very cold place. No reasons to quit after ten days, really. In retrospect, I probably had a meltdown, panicked, and ran. I remember the conversation I had with my superior after the ten days. I remember what I said and that I said it in a hoarse voice. I think my voice loses its feminity when I am under stress.

Because of that burnt bridge, the previous bridge also burned. People talk, and the people I worked with in the previous place heard of my behaviour.

Following this episode I worked for an international organisation for about six months. I worked on short contracts and tried to get away almost from the beginning. Short contracts are very stressful. But I left orderly and I didn't run.

I had the next job for about a year. I had frequent conflicts with the woman who I thought was my colleague, but in the minds of herself and the manager in fact was my superior. When I quitted, my manager was cross with me 'because of the way I quitted'. I can't remember how it happened, but I am sure my voice was hoarse.

My next job (which was three years in a large institution, but in two different divisions) ended in a major drama. My superior was probably the worst manager I've ever had. I am sure she was a psychopath. People in her department were stressed and fearful. She frequently made people cry and she was very manipulative. I used my network to return to my previous job (with a different manager), and then I had to resign. I was open and honest about the work environment and my managers leadership in my letter of resignation (I used the words 'management by fear'). Upon which she asked me to hand in my keys and leave. She was allergic to criticism and my voice was hoarse. I should say, that there was a bit more drama than that (as if it wasn't enough), because I accidentally kept some work papers at home, and in my meltdown state I also sent a few e-mails to collaborating partners. I probably shouldn't have done that. A friend of mine went to the work place with the papers a week later.

Returning to my old job was a success. I stayed for 6½ years, and only a few times I got so bored that I started making mistakes. Halfway through that period there was a restructuring and I got a new manager, a very pleasant and empathetic person. I liked him, my colleagues, my tasks, almost everything. The last year there things started going down the hill. I had to share an office with 'the smurf', and I lacked a professional network. So I left, but in an orderly manner.

 I held my next position for almost two years. I had a real moron for a colleague and that dominated my work experience to such an extent that my old way of always regarding the grass on the other side greener, returned.

My current job has changed considerably since I started about a year ago. Yes, the ground is burning. And no, I will not leave. The grass is NOT greener on the other side of the fence.

I wanted to write about my mother and brother being much worse than me in the field of leaving jobs angrily. But when I read what I have written, I think it is more or less the same.

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.

Tolerance

I've met quite a few people who probably qualify for an Asperger diagnosis. My mother for one. My brother for two. Etc. Two of the five women I consider my friends, have a lot of traits, too.

When I first started thinking my youngest son probably was an aspie, I was seeing W, who most likely IS an aspie. At that time my excellent student worker completed his education and we had to hire somebody else. I was at the interview when C applied for the job. I despised him, but my superior said his grades were brilliant and we had to hire him. I really disliked C. He was weird, aloof, and strangely immature. But he was also very bright, ambitious, and very good at computer programming stuff. In fact he was so good, that I had to do the menial work myself and think hard to come up with tasks that matched his competences.

I was irritated with C for almost all the time he was my student worker. Towards the end of his employment with us (he also completed his education), my irritation faded and eventually I almost liked him. He must have been Asperger.

Some time later, a woman applied for a job - a position similar to mine. I was again at the interview, this time with another superior and a close colleague. The woman, H, talked constantly for an hour. And said some weird things along the way. She had a strange expression on her face. She behaved like a robot and didn't notice when we were indicating that we wanted to leave. She also had the strangest CV I've ever seen. She had nurse training I think, a Masters degree in a foreign language and a PhD in science. She had changed jobs constantly. After the interview, which mostly consisted of H talking, my colleague and I just wanted to go back to work. We said she was strange, but, well, qualified. And my superior was anxious to get the 'problem' off his back. So we hired her, it seemed the easiest solution at the time. Regrettably, because a few months later, she and I shared an office. And I was annoyed beyond description. She couldn't understand 'signals' at all. Such as: When I sit and stare into my computer and look concentrated, almost angry, it means that I am concentrating on what I do and I prefer not to be disturbed. When I also put on big earphones, it means that I really really don't want to be disturbed. Of course, H must have been Asperger. And I was truly irritated with her.

I am not irritated with all aspies. I love my two dear female friends. I find Sheldon of the Big Bang Theory amusing, and only a bit irritating. I dated an Aspie for more than four years. In fact, I must have loved him. But when all the traits (my traits?) present themselves in one person, I feel very strongly (negative) about it. I remember the overwhelming irritation from my childhood, when my brother again said something that to me seemed inappropriate. And when my mother was weird, and seemed proud of it. And both C and H provoked a strong physical sense of irritation.

Why? Clearly I am reminded of my own defeats, when I did something similar (said something strange, inappropriate, or incomprehensible), and as soon as I heard the words I knew they were wrong. Or when I was aloof without knowing it, and people closed down. Or when I was immature. Or when I didn't get the signal. Etc.

Sorry C, H, mother, brother, and others. It wasn't you. It was me. I wasn't irritated with you. I was irritated with myself. Now I will be more tolerant. With you all. Including myself.

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.

The social coach

In 2002 I was divorced. Two years later I met another man, known by my friends and my Danish blog as W. He was 44 when I met him, so calling him a 'boyfriend' somehow doesn't seem right. We went out for four years and a bit, and it was not a happy relationship. At least I wasn't happy. It was while I was seeing W, that child care professionals started talking about Asperger's in relation to my youngest son. I was rejecting them completely but W thought I should hear them out. He was a child professional himself and I suspect he talked on behalf of his profession. He also had a son (he still has I guess). His son went for regular tests, he has epilepsy, ADHD and maybe something else as well. The boy went to specialised daycare and education. Somebody also talked about Aspergers in relation to W's son.

W never managed to 'see himself from the outside', but his daughter and some of my friends suspected that he had Aspergers. Now I am certain that he does. Compared to him, I was more outgoing and socially ept. My own challenges were minor compared to his. Also, this was before my long period of self-development, where the Aspie-recognition is only the last step. And I have several years of practice in the fine art of almost fitting in. When I compare myself to W and to my mother, I see at least one major advantage of my own personality: I am friendly and tolerant and I have a positive way of thinking. My mother doesn't, and W didn't. Therefore people like me, and my probability of being accepted is much higher than theirs.

W used me as a social coach. His job as a teacher provided daily challenges, with peers not with the children, in the form of small-talk, smiling at people, making friends with people. And he changed his workplace rather often. Everywhere he ran into problems. And he told me about it and I tried to tell him what to do. I think it was his Aspergers combined with the personality: People saw him as rejecting and cross, and nobody wants to get to know a person like that. During the course of our relationship, the coaching part of our conversations grew in size and eventually there was no time for me to tell about my day or whatever I needed to talk about. Not that I really needed HIS advise on anything, his advise was very lousy. I was a bit annoyed with this development but I also enjoyed being of use.

I broke up with W, embarked on a development process, during which I discovered my own Aspie traits (as described), met my husband, and now I am here. My husband knows a lot of Aspies and he works with engineers, but he is not Asperger himself and definitely more socially ept than I am. I often want to ask him for advise in social situations but do not want our relationship to develop the way W's and mine did. I don't want to be W! Sometimes I can hear W's sentences in my head, and if I don't stop myself I'll talk like him. My husband never met W, so he wouldn't know, but I know...

Parents and children

Aspergers has only been part of the vocabulary for the past ten years or so. The diagnosis may have been invented much earlier, but when I was a child nobody knew about Aspergers. We hadn’t even heard of autism until Rain Man.

I think that my grandfather was irritated with my mother. She was a girl and he wished for a boy, but also I think he was put off by some of her traits such as being stubborn, anxious, black-and-white, introvert, a bit paranoid and other characteristics that he had himself. My grandfather had a few interests and could go on and on about them. He also took refuge in the kitchen. I don’t know how common this is, but I see numerous examples of parents being very irritated with their children when the children remind them of themselves. And that was the case for my mother and her father. What they had in common was quite a few Aspie-traits.

My mother did many things to spite her parents. A lot of her actions have been driven by anger. She felt neglected as a child and I believe she never really forgave her father for that. Her response to the demands of her surroundings was to be as different as she possibly could. She despised those people that fitted in, people wearing fashion clothes, watching soccer matches, reading gossip magazines and all the other things ‘people’ did. Then she had two children: a boy that displayed so many of the characteristics that she had herself. And a girl (that would be me) that was so eager to fit in that nobody noticed she also had those characteristics. My mother has always had an attitude of surprise and disapproval towards me. I think my need to fit in is seen by her as betrayal. Because her thing was to not fit in, and demonstrate against those that did. My brother on the other hand, did not fit in. Maybe he wanted to if he could. But the gender difference in how Aspergers manifests is the key to understanding why my brother and I developed so differently.

My mother could relate to my brother and never really related to me. I had, after all, rejected her project of not fitting in. What she doesn’t know is that I didn’t. I was close though. I have been so worn out by parties because I tried so hard to be like the others. And I have spent hours, days even, contemplating what I should have said or – in particular – not said. But I went to the party or function or whatever it was. And I tried, because I wanted to. This is probably what my mother despised of.

My point is that I see Aspie parents acting in two different ways towards their children with Aspergers (nobody of course said the A-word). Either they form a strong alliance with the child, as my mother did with my brother. She protected him like she had wished for protection (and perhaps understanding) as a child.

I have been mad at my youngest son many times. My parents have suggested that I was sad because he was different. I think most parents experience a kind of sorrow when their child appears to be less than perfect. During the past year or so I have come to understand that my youngest son is much more like me than I thought. And my sorrow related to his being different is in fact related to me being different. I experience him going through the same challenges that I did. Only, there was no such thing as Aspergers then, and I was a girl and much better at hiding under the radar.

The closet door

In Denmark, people with Aspergers are mostly regarded as having a disability. Child care professionals, lots of parents, and journalists talk and write about it that way. Seeing the difference as a mere difference, which may even be turned into a strength, is not a common way to percieve Aspergers. And autism and other diagnoses as well.

Once, I met a boy of about 11 whose parents had him diagnosed with Aspergers. He described himself as disabled. We had some function at our house and I took refuge in the kitchen (as I always do when I can get away with it). This boy came and asked if he could help. I asked him to chop vegetables or something and the two of us talked. He said that he wasn't very good at being around large crowds (such as the one gathering in our house that day), because he was disabled. While we worked together, we talked about cooking, food, recipes, and his school. When there was no more to be done in the kitchen, I found him a remote room and a computer, and he and a few other boys played some online games.

This boy came across as nice, friendly, skilled (at least much better at cooking than his peers), and I was left with a very positive impression of him. And still, his parents, obviously not meaning to do any harm, had been so focused on the diagnosis, that the boy introduces himself as being disabled.

When child care professionals are eager to put a diagnosis on the childen in Danish schools and nursery schools, I am afraid that their motivation is mainly to be allocated more ressources, because a child with a diagnosis is entitled to additional support. We know very little of the consequences for the child later in life, what will happen when they, as the boy in my kitchen, introduce themselves as disabled? Can they get a job? A partner? Children?

A young man with Aspergers wrote a letter to the newspaper, describing the difficulties he encountered in getting a job, because he's got the diagnosis.

So parents and child care professionals make a child come out of the Aspie-closet, which only results in a stamp on his forehead. And for reasons that mainly relate to the needs of parents and teachers, that child has to carry the stamp with him for the rest of his life. Thus while the closet door opens, many other doors close.

I am a bit scared on my on behalf. But only a bit. I know I can adjust, I did it my entire life. And also, I already have a partner, children, a job. But on behalf of my youngest son: I am certain that the diagnosis will do him more harm than good. Not because of him, not because of the Aspergers. But because of the Danish manner of seeing needs instead of opportunities. Let's just close that closet door.

Now what!

I started blogging about fifteen months ago. My Danish blog has centered around a dramatic conflict with my mother in July 2011. Later, I touched upon other issues such as my relationship with my husband and challenges involving my children. One central challenge relates to my youngest son. Since he was about five, nursery school teachers and teachers and psychologists have suggested that he might have Aspergers. I have (almost violently) denied. Through my blogging I came to realise that my maternal grandfather, my mother, my uncle, my brother and probably also my youngest son, all have Aspergers.

Now where does that recognition leave me? I started to think that my anger towards those people wanting to diagnose my son was related to all those traits of his that I had as a child or still have. Thus I felt they were criticising me... So maybe I was Asperger too? A lot of conversations between my husband and me, and between my best friend and me, touched on the topic of Aspergers.

So, after giving it a lot of thought, I took a test. That is, I took a number of tests. And scored very high on the Asperger scale. And spent the next couple of days searching the internet for implications of this finding. I found a number of blogs and facebook groups. Most of the Danish web-pages and facebook groups seemed to be dominated by people that couldn't get the help they felt they needed, from the municipality. So much talk of social workers and financial support...

I can't relate to that, I may be a little different but I am not a victim, and I can support myself. The American blogs and pages were much better. I subscribe to a number of them and I really enjoy reading them. They talk of being Aspie as a challenge AND a strength. Also with my newfound knowledge it is a pleasure reading about others being like me.

My strong preference for the American websites drove me to starting a new blog which is not written in my native language. My hope is that I can give a little bit back to those people that made me feel so... recognised...