Considering the name of this blog, it’s probably about time I posted something about my autism, otherwise I’ve wasted a damn good domain name.
I have Asperger Syndrome. Sometimes called “Asperger’s Syndrome”, “AS” or just “Asperger’s” (not Assburgers). To some that makes me an “Aspie”. I didn’t use to like that term, it felt like using it made light of my condition, but I’m more relaxed about it these days. So you can pretty much call me what you like. I’ll probably ignore you anyway.
I’ve known since I was in my early to mid teens that I was “different” from my peers in some fairly hard-to-define ways. I had obsessive interests and an amazing attention to detail, and although I was intelligent I had great difficulty understanding others, let alone relating to them in social situations, I couldn’t “read between the lines” or understand body language, I had problems understanding how to approach the opposite sex appropriately, I thought of myself as ugly and awkward, I didn’t really “do” empathy or grief (though I could imitate them), I had bouts of irrational and self-destructive anger usually followed by an anxiety attack, I was very serious (though I enjoyed certain kinds of humour) and I was hyper-sensitive to certain sounds and sensations. All these things are still with me of course. AS doesn’t go away, you just learn to cope and adapt.
During my teens, twenties and early thirties, I had never heard of Asperger Syndrome. Basically because it wasn’t recognised as a condition until 1994. In fact I barely understood what autism was, let alone that I might have some form of it.
Nope, I just thought I was weird. Sometimes I blamed my genetic heritage, sometimes I blamed my home environment, sometimes I blamed my schooling (inevitably, I was bullied), sometimes I didn’t blame anyone or anything. But the obsessions, emotional coldness and difficulties relating to people wouldn’t go away, and my gradually increasing alcohol intake didn’t help me to understand myself any better. I also suffered increasingly from bouts of depression, and when you couple all this with being in a long term difficult relationship, I was having a pretty miserable time of it.
In my mid thirties I started reading up on personality disorders, since by that time I was becoming more and more convinced that there must be something definable that was wrong with me, even though I had no idea what it might be. The internet had arrived by this point, and so I did some online tests and talked with some people on forums. I didn’t get anything conclusive from these tests, but then I followed a link or someone’s suggestion, I forget which, and did an autism test. I was almost off the scale. I found and did a couple of other autism & Asperger’s tests, and again the results were emphatic – it was extremely likely that I was autistic, specifically Asperger Syndrome.
No sooner had I started to absorb this enlightening information than I had a reason to use it as a way of getting out of trouble. I had a meltdown at work due to the inflexibility, jobsworth-ness and general asshattery of a colleague, and I was in big trouble. Sent to the director, I decided to use the only piece of ammunition I had, and I said that I had Asperger’s and that it caused me to have trouble containing my reactions appropriately at times. This got me off the hook, life got back to normal and in time all my research and enlightenment kind of faded into the background. It’s like I knew that I probably had AS, but I was scared to consciously embrace it, because I didn’t want to be different. Looking back it seems like it was too much to handle, with all the other pain in my life. Dumb, really. I should have stuck with it and tried to work out a better understanding of myself. I blame the booze.
So after several years of not really thinking about AS, and all kinds of other life events (emigration, giving up alcohol, counselling, relationship breakup, a subarachnoid haemorrhage that nearly killed me, new relationship, etc etc), I was triggered into thinking about Asperger Syndrome again more recently by a friend – or rather the difficulty I was having interacting sympathetically with this friend.
Something went ‘click’ in my head and I thought “so this must be what AS is all about”. I decided it was time to be honest with myself, learn what I could about whatever it was I had, and respect myself by embracing it.
Now it was 2015 and there were more online tests available. I did them all. Every single time, the result was “Asperger Syndrome” or “High Functioning Autism”. And every time I was well into the autistic range of results, never borderline.
Lots more clicks in my head. So this was why I couldn’t tolerate being in the same job for more than two or three years without losing patience with the people I worked with. This was why I literally couldn’t see things from other people’s point of view – I had a severely stunted “theory of mind“. This was why I was so hyper-sensitive to light touch and could hear a mosquito at 10 metres. This was why I “stimmed“, in my case picking at skin and pulling eyelashes, and moving my fingers in patterns. This was why I was so clueless when it came to the opposite sex. This was why I always hated eye contact (I can do it when I have to but it leaves me feeling violated). This was why, when I had a meltdown due to an inability to cope with someone’s behaviour or attitude, I could never face them again and so I simply cut them out of my life. This was why, in social situations, I always felt like I was watching a foreign language film without subtitles. This was why I got obsessed with certain things to the exclusion of everything else. This was why I only felt truly myself when alone. Let’s face it, not understanding all “this” was probably also why I got depressed and why I had spent most of my twenties and thirties getting drunk most evenings.
So now we come to the present day. My autism is still officially self-diagnosed – though I’ve talked to some knowledgable people about it, including my counsellor, I haven’t been to a specialist and undergone tests to get an official diagnosis. Sometimes I think I’d like to do that, to get a final confirmation of what I already know. Othertimes I can’t be bothered – why bother when I do already know? What would I gain from it? Nothing that I can think of. I’m certainly not looking for special treatment.
This recent understanding and recognition has already changed my life in a very significant way – I finally realised that I would never, ever find a job that I would stick to without getting terminally pissed off with colleagues after a year or two, so why put myself through that any more? So last year I went self-employed and am now a busy independent IT consultant. Who says autistic people can’t succeed in life?
I’ve also found more, what can I call it, inner peace. That’s probably the best way to describe it. Now that I know why I am like I am, and I know there is no cure, I have no choice but to accept it, and accept everything that goes with it. So I do, and I live my life accordingly.
For example, I know that I will always hate and regret going to parties, so I don’t go to them any more. I know that truly understanding (not just intellectualising) someone else’s point of view will always be severely challenging, and so when it comes to my girlfriend, I make an extra effort to imagine I was in her shoes when I’m trying to understand her reasoning and emotions. It’s not easy but I’ve made some progress, which I don’t think I would have been able to make if I didn’t fully understand what was going on in my head.
I also know that I tend to neglect friendships to the point of losing them, so I simply don’t prioritise making friends any more. To be honest my relationship with my girlfriend gives me pretty much all the personal interaction I need, and I don’t miss having more friends. I have one or two people I feel quite close to, some acquaintances who I get on fine with, and people who have been friends at various points in my life and remain as social media friends, and I find that’s enough. I don’t feel lonely.
There have been two further side-benefits of this new-found self-awareness, and I can connect both of them with the easing of stress and angst that my self-diagnosis has given me – a few months ago I gave up the antidepressants I had been taking for several years, and then a little more recently I gave up smoking, replacing it with vaping.
So, as Freddie Mercury would say, there you have it. I’m not slightly mad (sorry again Freddie), I’m just autistic. And I don’t think I mind, either, most of the time. It is what it is, and I can’t change it, so I may as well get comfortable with it. It feels settling to be able to give my weirdness a name. I’m not one of these “autistic people are better” would-be activists, and I don’t really care either way about the controversial organisation Autism Speaks, which seems to generate so much heated discussion in the autistic community. In fact I don’t really think of myself as part of a ‘community’. I just am who I am. And that’s kind of OK.