{"id":105,"date":"2010-11-01T20:25:00","date_gmt":"2010-11-02T00:25:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/tmbmt.MyCustomData.com\/blog\/?p=105"},"modified":"2012-04-02T21:01:18","modified_gmt":"2012-04-03T01:01:18","slug":"when-worlds-collide","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/tmbmt.MyCustomData.com\/blog\/index.php\/when-worlds-collide\/","title":{"rendered":"When Worlds Collide"},"content":{"rendered":"

I’ve been debating about making this post for the past few weeks.\u00a0 So that I\u00a0don’t have to repeat a bunch of stuff, please read this rather short posts here <\/a>and here<\/a> before continuing.<\/p>\n

What I’ve been debating about for the past couple of weeks is whether or not to write a post for “Autistics Speaking Day”.<\/p>\n

I’m actually still debating right now, as I write this.\u00a0 I\u00a0have a habit of writing blog posts and then deleting them, so if you’re reading this then I\u00a0guess I decided to follow through (most likely after writing and rewriting a few dozen times)\u00a0:P<\/p>\n

I\u00a0don’t actually know who, if anyone, reads this blog on a regular basis, or who might read it today or down the line.\u00a0 I do know that there’s a good chance that family members, old friends, people I\u00a0met through my business, people from autism groups on twitter, and random strangers may all see this.\u00a0 And that is the main reason why I’m reluctant to write this post.<\/p>\n

I pride myself on being honest. \u00a0Completely honest.\u00a0 I\u00a0don’t lie (ever), and I try my best not to act one way around one group and another around another group.\u00a0 Everyone that knows me at all knows that I’m a Christian, and you all have my permission to call me on things when you don’t think I’m living as a Christian should (though I\u00a0may not agree with your assessment, I\u00a0will take it seriously). \u00a0 Being honest is as much a part of my belief system as it is a part of my core personality.\u00a0 I’m not perfect, but it’s just not natural for me to be dishonest.<\/p>\n

But there’s a place where “being perfectly honest”\u00a0meets “sharing too much”.\u00a0 Omission is not the same as dishonesty, unless it’s done to purposefully mislead someone.\u00a0 For instance, you most likely wouldn’t run around telling everyone you have a bad rash on your bum, but if you say “there’s no reason, really, I\u00a0just like to stand!”\u00a0when someone asks you why you aren’t sitting down, you’re lying.<\/p>\n

That line between being honest and sharing too much can be hard to find, though, sometimes.\u00a0 And for me, it’s hard to find right now. \u00a0I\u00a0want to share this information, for those participating in Autism Awareness Day on twitter, but I’m not sure I want to share this info for the people I’ve known all my life. \u00a0Many of which, I’m sure, will think\u00a0I’m crazy.\u00a0 I\u00a0don’t want to open myself up to (more)\u00a0ridicule, but I\u00a0also don’t want to feel like I\u00a0have to be two different people.<\/p>\n

Several years ago I\u00a0came to the conclusion that I\u00a0probably have very high functioning Asperger’s syndrome (Asperger’s is on the autism spectrum, in case you didn’t know).\u00a0 I came to this conclusion after a lot of research, though I’ve known about, and identified with, autistic people for most of my life.\u00a0 Until a few years ago I\u00a0never considered that I could be on the spectrum, because, well, I\u00a0communicate too well.<\/p>\n

I\u00a0was weird in school. \u00a0I’m still weird.\u00a0 Ask anyone that knows me (except Robin, who thinks I’m a saint for some insane reason), and they’ll agree.<\/p>\n

I\u00a0grew up feeling like crap.\u00a0 I\u00a0hated myself. \u00a0I\u00a0wanted to die, sooner rather than later.\u00a0 I\u00a0felt like I was stuck in a world where I didn’t belong, I was in pain all the time<\/strong> (from a neurological disorder, see this post<\/a>) and I\u00a0just wanted to go back home to God, where\u00a0I\u00a0belonged.\u00a0 (Okay, I still feel that way most of the time.)<\/p>\n

But the only exposure I\u00a0had to autism was classic autism (little kids, who I\u00a0totally “got”\u00a0and could play with for hours, but who were mostly nonverbal) and the “autisic savant” stories like the movie Rainman depicts.\u00a0 I\u00a0remember wishing as a teenager that my math skills were just a little more advanced (I finished college level Calculus I\u00a0at Purdue in 4 weeks the summer after my sophomore year of high school, but my skills weren’t good enough to qualify as ‘savant’), but I\u00a0never really thought about it beyond that.<\/p>\n

I was the smart kid.\u00a0 I helped teach classes when the teachers were negligent, I\u00a0helped tutor other kids when they just couldn’t get something, or they were scared a parent would beat them for having grades too low.\u00a0 I asked questions in class every time a teacher was vague, not because I\u00a0didn’t understand, but because I figured someone else might not understand — and besides, it’d make the teacher better at her job.\u00a0 I\u00a0had exactly one friend in elementary\/jr high, but I treated her like crap (I\u00a0didn’t understand that’s what I was doing, I didn’t know any better).\u00a0 I got along with most everyone else, I\u00a0just didn’t consider any of them friends\u00a0(and I’m pretty sure the feeling was mutual).<\/p>\n

I always felt like something was wrong with me.\u00a0 I\u00a0never felt human. \u00a0I\u00a0still don’t, most of the time.<\/p>\n

I thought I\u00a0was crazy. \u00a0Or everyone else was crazy.\u00a0 Or maybe both.<\/p>\n

I\u00a0never dated. \u00a0I\u00a0had a whole list of reasons why I\u00a0never dated (I’d have listed them if you’d asked me), but it really came down to the fact that no one ever asked.<\/p>\n

I simply could not comprehend why anyone would be upset about something sad happening in a movie.\u00a0 It’s a story.\u00a0 (see my previous post<\/a>)<\/p>\n

I\u00a0never talked to anyone about how I\u00a0felt inside until I was 16.\u00a0 It really just wasn’t done in our family.\u00a0 We would talk about things, just not the deeply personal kind of stuff.\u00a0 Maybe other family members talked about that kind of stuff and I\u00a0just missed it, I don’t know, but I don’t think so.<\/p>\n

When I did try to talk about these things I\u00a0found I couldn’t.\u00a0 I met a guy named Ryan at church camp that summer, and he seemed really kind.\u00a0 He was a counselor that summer and had the reputation for being a good listener, and I was desperate for help.\u00a0 I\u00a0tried to talk about what was going on in my head and all I could find was silence. \u00a0It hurt <\/strong>to try to talk.\u00a0 I’m not sure what made him stay there, trying to coax it out of me, but he did, and I’m forever grateful to him.<\/p>\n

At one point I gave up, and tried looking him in the eyes. \u00a0I’d never done that before, really looked someone in the eyes.\u00a0 They say the eyes are the window to the soul, and I’d always felt an extreme need to protect that.\u00a0 I\u00a0would look at people, I would give “eye contact”\u00a0but I\u00a0would never hold that contact long enough for anyone to see inside. \u00a0I would look at a person’s eyebrows, or the whites of their eyes, or at something behind them.\u00a0 I\u00a0looked him in the eye though, forced myself to, and held the gaze, hoping that by letting him see he could just know what I was feeling and I\u00a0wouldn’t have to try to find the words.\u00a0 That hurt more than trying to talk, and I\u00a0don’t think it worked.<\/p>\n

I\u00a0tried to contact him after camp, using letters, and found that it was much easier to write things than to try to say them.\u00a0 I tried to explain the eye contact thing to him.\u00a0 I\u00a0think he misunderstood my intentions,\u00a0 I’m still not sure. \u00a0But he wrote back, he kept in touch, he was even so sweet and helpful that he’d stand there on the phone for hours listening to me breath while I tried desperately to find the words for what I\u00a0needed to talk about.\u00a0 He stuck around for a while, always there when\u00a0I needed him. \u00a0Then he broke off contact abruptly and completely.\u00a0 I still don’t understand why, but there are two years I would not have made it through without him.\u00a0 Ryan, if you ever read this, thank you.<\/p>\n

I’m a pretty intelligent person. \u00a0I’ve only ever done one official IQ\u00a0test and they never told me the results, but it got me put into a “gifted ed”\u00a0program.\u00a0 But the first time I\u00a0took an “emotional IQ” test I think I\u00a0scored somewhere in the bottom 30%.\u00a0 That’s what got me started looking at Asperger’s.<\/p>\n

And suddenly, perhaps, everything made sense.\u00a0 Perhaps I\u00a0make sense.\u00a0 Perhaps I’m not just crazy, perhaps my brain is just wired differently than everyone else’s.<\/p>\n

The “4 going on 40”\u00a0phrase my mother always used when introducing me to strangers as a child suddenly made sense.\u00a0 My inability to lie, and my tendency to take everything literally make sense.\u00a0 The compulsion to hide in a corner and rock (which I rarely did, but often felt like doing)\u00a0made sense.\u00a0 My need to get lost in patterns, and my being completely mesmerized by geometric screen savers and spinning things made sense.\u00a0 My inability to talk when upset made sense.\u00a0 All those meltdowns as a child made sense.<\/p>\n

Of course, just because it makes sense doesn’t mean it’s right.\u00a0 I’ve not been officially diagnosed.\u00a0 I\u00a0don’t trust psychologists (for good reason, I\u00a0could tell you some really interesting stories), and I’m over 30.\u00a0 A diagnosis at this point wouldn’t do me any good, and the people who don’t believe if now would still doubt it even if I had a diagnosis in hand.<\/p>\n

Besides, I\u00a0have the most awesome friend in the history of friendship, and he has dedicated significant portions of the past decade of his life to helping me grow as a person, learn how other people think, and overcome some of my more challenging issues.\u00a0 (Oddly enough, he doesn’t believe I\u00a0have Asperger’s either, but he provides more help than I’d ever get from a therapist.)<\/p>\n

So does it really matter if I\u00a0have Aperger’s?\u00a0\u00a0Probably not.\u00a0 But would it have helped to know sooner?\u00a0\u00a0Absolutely!<\/p>\n

Had I\u00a0known that my brain was perhaps just wired differently than everyone else’s, I\u00a0might not have breached untold numbers of social protocols in my teenage years and my 20s (because I would have known to spend the time learning, then<\/strong>).\u00a0 I\u00a0might not have ended up in a situation that scarred me so deeply I\u00a0had to spend 10 years recovering.\u00a0 I\u00a0might have realized decades sooner that stress sets off all of my autistic tendencies, and calling a good friend when I see it starting can save me an entire day of banging my head (literally)\u00a0against a wall.\u00a0 Ryan might not have disappeared on me.\u00a0 I might not have treated my best friend like crap when I was in school, without even realizing I\u00a0was doing it (so sorry, Jenny).<\/p>\n

My life might be different, better, now, in so many ways, had I\u00a0only known. \u00a0Just knowing it is a possibility, whether it’s definite or not, has helped me tremendously for the past few years.<\/p>\n

So I\u00a0guess I’m going to go ahead and post this, and I\u00a0might regret it, but at least I was honest.\u00a0\u00a0If you know someone who shows autistic tendencies you may be afraid to say anything. \u00a0If it’s a young child let it go, no need to freak out a parent.\u00a0 But if it’s an older child, and it seems obvious, say something to the parent.\u00a0 If it’s a teenager, say something!\u00a0 Even just a simple “have you ever heard of autism?\u00a0\u00a0Perhaps you should look into it.”\u00a0 Sure, it might be embarrassing, especially if you’re wrong, but you never know how much grief you could save someone.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I’ve been debating about making this post for the past few weeks.\u00a0 So that I\u00a0don’t have to repeat a bunch of stuff, please read this rather short posts here and here before continuing. What I’ve been debating about for the … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[246],"tags":[174,179,177,126,191,67,4,192,51],"class_list":["post-105","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-disability-2","tag-advice","tag-aspergers","tag-autism","tag-camp","tag-childhood","tag-children","tag-educational","tag-emotions","tag-personal"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/tmbmt.MyCustomData.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/105","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/tmbmt.MyCustomData.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/tmbmt.MyCustomData.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tmbmt.MyCustomData.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tmbmt.MyCustomData.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=105"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/tmbmt.MyCustomData.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/105\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":400,"href":"https:\/\/tmbmt.MyCustomData.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/105\/revisions\/400"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/tmbmt.MyCustomData.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=105"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tmbmt.MyCustomData.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=105"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tmbmt.MyCustomData.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=105"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}