Stranger in a Strange Land

My world is changing.  I suppose this simple statement is open to many different interpretations but, I assure you, my world has never shown any signs of changing in the most important way.  Until now.

I speak of the gradual unveiling of the NT world that is accompanying my deepening foray into Peter Flowerdew's particular brand of TA (Transactional Analysis). The reason why my usual cynicism about the possibility of such change is absent?  Because this actually works.  It makes sense to Aspie and NT alike.  It provides common ground where before, there was none and, unlike other 'therapies' and 'techniques', it is accessible to everyone.

I am experiencing a process of profound revelation, unfolding itself in exquisite slow motion, one realisation at a time.  I am using it to shed light on the most inaccessible constructs of my life - places where I have feared to tread, because of their fragility:  My sense of self, my professional persona, my relationship with my husband and son.

I have always sought empirical evidence for the veracity of all things, and this form of TA was in no way immune to my exacting standards.  The first course I attended was filled mainly with participants who were professionals in the field of psychotherapy.  Although the beneficial effect upon the attendees was plain to see, the full potential was not clear to me until I attended the most recent course.

Peter actually ran two courses simultaneously - one written for NTs (professionals and non-professional) and one, a translation for Aspies (from similarly varied backgrounds).  Peter is uniquely skilled to see the obstacles to communication between the NT and Aspie worlds, and he expertly navigated his way though, dealing with all manner of input from the various perspectives of the group.  His sincerity and confidence in his findings, and the efficacy of their application were borne out by the changes I saw played out in that room over three days.

Day One saw a large group of people, demonstrably representing every part of the AQ (Autistic Quotient) scale, from empaths to extreme systemisers, that were butting heads and struggling to understand and to be understood.  No-one had felt comfortable (including Peter, I suspect) and everyone had mixed feelings about Day 2.  However, half way through the second day and it was already evident that something in the dynamic of the group had changed.  A dizzying parade of observations, insight and demonstrations from Peter and Rich (co-presenter) generated meaningful questions and heartfelt answers from NT and Aspie alike. It was exhausting and inspiring.

At the start of Day 3, the enthusiasm in the group was palpable...  Everyone had identified the common ground and the potential for this gift of translation.  The excitement was obvious:  Here was the start of real understanding:  The promise of progress, the possibility of connection, a beginning of real change.

I have waited for the 'welcome' that Peter speaks so passionately about, all my life.  It seems so close now, I feel I can almost taste it.  I cried when my (NT) husband asked if he could attend the course. We have a good marriage (25 years, next year) but there has always been a wall between us, that I have longed to remove.  If we can really connect with each other after all these years - there is hope for us all.  I think now, that perhaps that welcome has been there all along - just waiting to be discovered....

The Cosmic Microwave Background Radiation Map - It was always there - One scientist predicted it but couldn't find it - another found it, but initially dismissed it as interference caused by messy nesting pigeons in their radio receiver...  Turned out to be the long-awaited evidence of the Big Bang....

Reciprocate or cooperate?

I am currently writing a book.  This is a collaboration with my son who's just turned eleven.  It's the most recent in a long series of collaborations with him on a number of different projects - most of them, unplanned.  For years, he has drawn fantastical beasts and regaled me with tales from an imaginary world.  We have a sketchbook where he draws his scenes and beasts, and I work on them in pen adding detail and lifting them from the paper with texture, shading and contrast.  I enjoy this process, but could never provide the initial ideas - I am creative, but not imaginative in the true sense. It is he who is the true creator. I am pleased that people enjoy the pictures, and I am particularly taken with their reaction to the level of detail.  I find repetition calming, and the process of filling a page with tiny orderly lines and dots, the antithesis of the difficult, time consuming and agonisingly boring task that most assume it to be.  My answer to the ubiquitous "How long did that take???!!" is "Not long enough".  My eye sees only error and perfection, efficiency and inefficiency, pattern and interruption. We follow the same division of work when we are writing:  He provides the story, the characters and the descriptions and ideas, and I impose order through structure and vocabulary, and style through wordsmanship. It is a true and equal Partnership, with both parties cooperating and each providing something the other cannot.  Reciprocation happens naturally as part of the process of collaboration.

It occurred to me that similar "Partnerships" have been forged throughout my working life, in lieu of friendships, that are much more difficult and complicated to navigate... As someone with such a woeful record in friendship, I am, I realised, actually pretty good at forming partnerships.  I am a Designer:  A problem solver.  To do my best work, I need a problem (the bigger, and more complex, the better).  In the absence of such stimulation, I can be like a machine waiting, dormant, in standby mode, for input.   This is poor fodder for friendships that require regular maintenance and reciprocation.  My strengths in this regard are welcomed in a crisis, but not in the everyday.

I find very few people easy to get on with.  Those, whose company I do enjoy, are either very similar to me (statistically, very unlikely) or the complete opposite to me (very empathetic). Working, as I did for many years, in Environmental Consultancy was perfect for me - giving me access to the to difficult IT and data problems I desired, the highly technical minds of the scientists and engineers and the immensely empathetic personalities of the environmental experts and ecologists, and I worked successfully on myriad projects from around the globe.

I recently asked my husband to take the standard tests (available online) that are used as part of the assessment process in diagnosing ASDs; The Autistic Quotient (AQ), Empathetic Quotient (EQ) and the Systemising Quotient (SQ) tests.  I filled in the same tests (there are different versions available) to provide some context.  Our scores were telling:
SQ: His score was 37 out of a possible 80, mine was 60
EQ: His score was 58 out of a possible 80, mine was 7
AQ: His score was 13 out of a possible 50, mine was 47

This certainly fits the pattern of 'exactly the same or completely different'.  Although it appears my criteria for a successful partner is easier to find in professional circles, it makes me immensely grateful for those relationships (like my marriage) that are found and forged elsewhere...

Friendly fire

I am often told that I am talented.  I am aware that this is meant as a compliment, but I struggle with the concept of compliments.  I am aware that the 'normal' response to a compliment (apart from acknowledgement and reciprocation) is to 'feel good about oneself.'  I understand that this is the main purpose of a compliment.

In people such as myself, this part of the response is not automatic, and is often absent.  I have been known to wax lyrical about how uneasy compliments, in fact, make me feel... I know I have described them as being almost like physical blows, when I am feeling particularly vulnerable.  I think this is easy to see why, when you consider that, without the good feeling, a compliment can appear to be a simple demand for acknowledgement and reciprocation.

"What?  How cynical!" I hear you cry.  But I assure you, it is not cynicism that negates the positive effect of compliments.  It is merely an effect of applying logic ahead of emotion.  Let me explain:  To say I am talented, is no different (in my world) to telling me that I am above average in some way, at painting, singing, writing.  I know I can paint - I have spent more time than is usual in practising painting techniques and have become quite proficient in certain aspects.  My immediate response to what is clearly a compliment, is one of confusion.  And herein lies the difficulty.  I will try to break down my thought process to make the outcome clearer: The Compliment:

"You are very talented" (Looking appraislngly at one of my paintings)

I am aware that stating something graciously, like "How nice of you to say!" whilst smiling appreciatively, would be ideal, but this is a false response which is dishonest, and cannot be entertained. The true response is more along the lines:

Oh God! A vague, subjective compliment! Right!  Don't panic!  What does talented mean?  Special? Better? Clever? Blessed? Gifted? Lucky?  Well, I'm none of those...  I just work hard.  There are many more able and innovative artists than me, so she's clearly mistaken.  Hang on, perhaps she's more qualified to tell the difference than I am... I wonder what her credentials are?  I would ask, but that might sound rude.  No, I don't recognise her - I assume she's just 'being nice'.  Is there a hidden agenda here? Right - that means I should say something nice back, and perhaps explain. "Thanks, but I'm not really - It's just something I do to stop feeling overwhelmed or bored."  Hmmm.  That didn't seem to be very well received... Smile your stiff, fraudulent smile and move away.

In my experience, baseless compliments are not the inert selfless gift that they are considered by most.  In my experience they are potentially dangerous ordnance, that should only be handled by qualified experts. If they do find their way into the hands of rank amateurs such as myself, they need to be accompanied by detailed instructions for their safe disposal or deployment.

This may seem a little extreme, but please do not assume I do not appreciate compliments.  They just need to be reasonably well infomed and specific.  I will find it much easier to engage with a compliment if it offers some new perspective for me to consider, new data to assess.  Compliments I have heard, and preferred include: "I have seen lots of this type of thing, but none of them quite capture the urban setting as well...", I could walk into your skies" and, (my personal favourite) "I like the dirt and the lamp-posts".

(I can engage with the the first, by asking what other similar pictures they have seen and how they differ; the second, by investigating the reason for this: The geometry? The light? The colour? The third is a statement I cannot argue with - it is a simply stated observation and preference pertaining to an aspect of the painting I had actually planned.)

Of course when they become more thoughtful and specific, they are no longer mere compliments -  they have become meaningful acknowledgement, considered observation and heartfelt appreciation.  And these, Euler and I know what to do with...

"Gentlemen, that is surely true, it is absolutely paradoxical; we cannot understand it, and we don't know what it means. But we have proved it, and therefore we know it is the truth." (Bejamin Peirce)

How I learned to stop worrying and love Facebook

I have, in the past, been guilty of disparaging comments about social media.  I have poured buckets of vitriol on what I saw as the enemies of Tim Berners-Lee's dream of the Internet - the voyeuristic and inflammatory nonsense, the sheer inaccuracy of so much of the content, the disproportionate amount of spare time people seem to have for dross-creation, and pointless online activities.  I can hardy bring myself to type the phrase "cat videos".  If I am honest, and I always am, those narrow views are still firmly held, with one exception.

Sit down and have a swig of that stiff drink - I'm going to praise social media, well one bit of it anyway.

I took the plunge and set up a Facebook profile after losing my last job.  It was, at the time, said to be a powerful marketing tool, and I was about to try and go into business for myself.  I failed to grasp, however that it was an excellent marketing tool for people who knew how to use it.  When I found out I would have to initiate and maintain all manner of online relationships and cultivate a client-base, I was scared rigid and immediately deleted my account.  My venture was doomed before it started.

It was years later, on a particularly cold and blustery day in May in the seaside town of Brixham, that the whole Facebook debacle came to mind once more.  We were in Brixham to dive, but the weather had scuppered us again (you get used to this as UK scuba divers) so we decided to head into town and check out the new "Pirate festival" (whatever that was!)  My husband and young son thought it was great... me, less so.  It appeared to be an opportunity for lots of people to dress up as pirates and hang around together.  There was to be a record attempt, that we could, apparently join in:  The largest number of pirates in one location.  You had to be sporting an eye patch and hook/sword to qualify, which we promptly bought from a local shop. Good fun and frostbite were had by all (I was a bit bemused by it all) and we all agreed to come back next year with better costumes.

Six years later and we have a crowded diary of historical maritime reenactment events to attend over the summer.  We have serious, period-correct handmade accoutrements and a broad knowledge of the politics, maritime history and society of the late 18th Century.  We know more than we probably should about gunpowder (black powder, in these circles) and the weighting of swords.  And we have tremendous fun pretending to fight some pesky fellows in red coats, amongst canon and musket fire.

I have also revived my Facebook account in order to 'keep in contact' with the fellow reenactors I meet.  I began using it merely to share photos of events, but it has become much more over time.  I have developed the beginnings of what could be called friendships.  I find I share a similarly eclectic sense of humour with many of them, an appreciation of history, costume or engineering with some, physical acting with others.  My interaction with them is made much easier by the prompts of facebook, and typing my responses gives me time to analyse what people might mean, and develop decent conversations.  I'm pretty sure I'm forming relationships, and I look forward to seeing how they continue.  Facebook also allows me to weed out those contacts that I do not have anything in common with, and I don't even have to risk a face to face.

I don't think it's uncommon for people on the fringes of society to find common ground, but I had underestimated the usefulness of social media in helping me and those like me, socialise.  I had considered it a waste of bandwidth, fit only for those with verbal diarrhoea or a bizarre need to publicise every aspect of their lives (however dull or offensive) to everyone else.

Of course there are those who would use this data for evil commercial purposes, but I guess most of us are just trying to keep in touch.  So thank you Mr Zuckerberg, and sorry for all the bad press!

A special sort of kind

I heard some excellent advice recently; this from someone who's judgement I have come trust in a remarkably short time.  He said : "Surround yourself with kind people."  This chimed with another piece of advice I read many years ago; a little snippet of wisdom from Ashleigh Brilliant: "Be kind to unkind people - they need it the most."

A little background....  A friend (and I use that phrase accurately for the first time in many years) was involved in a workshop/seminar about transactional analysis (TA)  which will probably be meaningless to many, but not so to psychotherapists of any ilk.  I first came across the idea years ago, after a recommendation from a psychiatrist led me to Eric Berne's book "The Games People Play" which seeks to demystify the mechanics of social interaction.  It did so, firstly, by identifying "Ego States" such as the 'Parent', the 'Child' and the 'Adult'.  The book was interesting, but I found the practise of using the theory to structure my interactions difficult and tiring.

I looked at the slides my friend was hoping to use during this workshop, and found them interesting. However, I didn't really see anything groundbreaking, mainly because I assumed, (incorrectly) that this was the same sort of thing as the ideas set out in Berne's book all those years ago.  I had recently had an exhibition of my work in central Bristol, and the Evening Post had done a story about it, with regard to Asperger's.  My friend asked to borrow a couple of pictures to take to his workshop to demonstrate the detail-oriented and systemising nature of the Asperger's brain.  I agreed and offered to help in any way I could at future workshops.

The workshop was a great success, and another was swiftly organised.  I was invited to attend in the capacity of co-presenter, which inferred a level of participation I wasn't sure I was ready to provide, but I was intrigued and went along...  I'd offered my help, after all.

That's how I ended up in a comfortable study, discussing TA with two PHD engineers, both trained in TA and one of them; a leading practitioner in using TA as a tool for psychologists working with Asperger's clients.  I could count on one hand the number of NT people who I have met in my lifetime with a detailed understanding of the nature and effects of Asperger's.  To meet someone who (despite being NT) has such an insight into the neurological differences, and the consequences of life with Asperger's, is exceptional.  To attend the workshop created by Peter Flowerdew, and see the theories explained, and see them translated for NT and Aspie alike, is profound.  It is this inability to understand one another's worlds that is the root of much of the anxiety and frustration surrounding NT/Aspie communication.

I should pause here, to acknowledge the overwhelming kindness I experienced during this weekend. I would say it was a rare privilege, but that would be incorrect, as I have never experienced the like: A room of people who were genuinely interested in my experience, who were sensitive to my sensitivities and appreciative of my honesty.  They called me brave and extraordinary, and made me believe it.  They were a special sort of kind, and I include Peter and my fellow Aspie presenter, R, in this description.  I was truly moved.

It's taken me a long time to process everything I saw and learned at the workshop, and I'm still absorbing and evaluating some of it.  However, it is clear to me now that the key to NTs and Aspie's understanding each other is the architecture of language.  In this workshop, Peter Flowerdew, centres on the different world-views of Aspies and NT and appears to cut straight to the key differences in the way we experience - everything.  He has managed to translate these theories so that they can be used by NT therapists who are desperate to better understand and help their Aspie clients.

I won't go into details, as I am no expert, but one part in particular struck a chord that has kept me thinking on it ever since.  That is the striking realisation that the usual "Ego State" Models differ markedly for Aspies and NTs.  One particular slide which made a lasting impression, was that of a diagram showing the transaction of  conversation that I recognised from any number of exchanges with ex-employers.  The Parent and Child ego states take much from learned past experiences, and the Adult state is purely based in the present.  The way it is expected to go sees the Parent (Boss) asking the Child (employee) to do a task.  The Child is expected to respond, however, in Aspies, it is the Adult that responds, confusing the now Disparaging Parent (Boss), and eliciting an assumption of a response from a Petulant Child (employee being difficult and unhelpful), and not the Adult state response it actually was (Why would you want to do that when there are more efficient ways?).  The startling connection that Peter has made is that there really is no Parent or Child ego state for Aspies.  We really only interact in the Adult state.  This of course would cause enormous confusion in social interaction, and clearly does.  It was immediately clear to me that is is the dynamic behind many of the failed interviews, premature redundancies and abortive social gatherings that have plagued my entire adult life.

This is surely worthy of much study, and as if to prove the point, workshop bookings are increasing exponentially.  I am keen to pursue this and help in whatever way I can, as it seems to be a huge leap along the way to mutual understanding between Aspie and NT, and promises more natural interaction without the expectation of the Aspie conforming to NT models.

To put it another way: "There is common ground, it's just not where we thought it was, so put down the net and the cattle prod, and let's talk..."  And it's the kind people who will oblige first...

Learning with the Experts

When I explain to people that I have Aspergers, the response can be somewhat polarised.  I am met either with a knowing smile and a slow nod, (as if this is mere confirmation of a long suspected fact) or with utter consternation and denial.  However, both camps can easily be united in disbelief when I mention the fact that I work in a school.  With teenagers.  Front of Class. As a cover teacher.  And in my spare time, help out at my son's primary school and with the local Cubs and Scouts.

It's too noisy, surely?  Too much social interaction?  How can you empathise?  Communicate?  Too stressful? What? No timetable?  Constant change?  Different students and different subjects every lesson?  Nobody on the Autistic spectrum would choose to do this!

I suppose it does seem strange, but let me explain:  I like working with kids.  I prefer to spend my time talking to kids than to adults.  Kids make much more sense.  They are honest (to a fault, like me).  They prefer honesty, but if they do lie, then it can't be hidden (like me).  They are full of wonder and curiosity (like me).  Their potential knows no bounds. They are brave, have amazing resilience, humour and kindness.  They do not judge.  They can always change their minds.  They don't dismiss anything as boring or valueless without trying it out.  They feel everything keenly and react honestly, feeding back instantly.  I could go on and on.

I love learning - It's essential to me, and I will never stop.  To be around people who are as honest as me, as open as me, as full of wonder as me, as fallible as me, as energetic as me, as silly as me (as anyone who knows me and my penchant for giant inflatables can testify!), and as much fun as a barrel of puppies, too - well. It makes adults seem a stuffy lot..

Ah, but those of you who know my previous incarnation of 'Graphics Specialist' working in Environmental Engineering, will wonder why I haven't always worked with kids...  Well, I worked with scientists then, and in my book, that's almost the same thing:  Wonder... curiosity... lack of social sophistication... sound familiar?

Yes of course, it's exhausting, yes it can be frustrating, heartbreaking, infuriating, but at school and cubs, I can be myself with the kids, and I know where I stand with them.  They don't placate, humiliate, undermine, dismiss.  They praise when they are impressed, they criticize when they are not.  It is clear to me when I have inspired them, when I have upset them, when I have amused them, when I've made a difference to them, and I collect the experiences eagerly.  It is easier than being around adults, and I learn more from them than I can in adult company.  I am learning about social interaction as they do - It is more inspiring than anything I have ever done, and when I see them growing up and learning how to manage in the world, it gives me hope for myself.

Charley shows off his Viking ship homework

Who am I to judge?

I was recently received a rather unexpected invitation from my old Art Club.  I was asked if I'd like to come along and be judge for their Annual Art Exhibition.  Oh, and by the way, if I could see my way to providing a short workshop on pastel work at a later date, then that would be lovely, too.  I agreed straight away; flattered and surprised, as I always am when someone unexpectedly acknowledges my existence in a positive way...   Of course, once I had sufficient time to really process the request to  judge the artworks, I began to panic:  Questions like "I'm not a professional artist... how am I qualified to judge?"  I was a member here just a year or two back... how am I any better now?" and "I don't know anything about art" all clamoured for the top reason why I should renege on my agreement.

I have a long and illustrious history of agreeing first, considering the repercussions after, and then panicking at an exponential rate at the event draws closer.  It is, I have learnt, an excellent way to experience new, sometimes challenging situations that I would not otherwise attempt.  Sometimes I agree to things that don't benefit me in any way, and have, in the past, agreed to things that have been damaging to me.  It's a bit high-stress, I'll grant you, but if I start thinking about something, then you can forget it.  I should pause, about now, to apologise to my long-suffering husband who has borne the brunt of many such situations and who has always stalwartly seen me through the frantic run-up to such events.

(I should also let you in on the chuckle I'm currently having at my own expense - I just spent 20 minutes looking for a suitable alternative to 'run-up' in several online and hard copy thesauruses, and am now late leaving work.  See what I mean about the thinking?)

I knew I couldn't back out, and I really did want to visit my old club...  I had first joined at the suggestion of psychologists running the post-diagnosis group I attended, with a view to engaging in 'structured socialising', which is much easier than the usual method (which I usually refer to as 'cold calling').  Everyone at the club was pleasant and welcoming, and they made it much easier than I had any right to expect.  I had wanted an opportunity to thank them for this, and here it was...

I wrote a short speech explaining what the club had meant to me, and wrote suitable appropriate generic paragraphs filled with glowing praise for all the various elements of what I considered the fundamentals of quality art (thank goodness for that single year of A level History of Art I completed, and Mr Berger for 'Permanent Red'!), and left gaps for additional information I would fill in when I had seen the exhibition.  I found out the categories for which I was expected to find winners and runners-up.  My intention was to leave as little to do as possible on the night. (Spontaneity is a minefield for me with my slow processing for social interaction... You will not get an honest impression, as you might expect from an NT being spontaneous... you'll just get a carefully rehearsed show - I need notice to be spontaneous!)

On the night, I found the decision-making easy, as expected:  I am nothing if not practical, and my objectivity, and lack of bias goes without question.  I asked my husband to review my choices, simply to make sure I had not inadvertently chosen pictures too similar in style or by the same artist.  I gave my speech, adding comments relevant to the individual works, gave out the prizes, shook hands, finished my wine, and that was it. Done.  And everyone got out alive.

I am patently aware that many of these situations actually pass without incident, and I am equally aware that most of the people around me can see the potential for this clearly.  It pains me to confess that I simply cannot see things from this perspective until after the event.  Then, everyone's' confidence becomes perfectly clear, and I feel terribly foolish.  You'd think I'd learn, wouldn't you? The problem is: I don't.  Because I'm not NT.  No matter how many positive outcomes I have, this never gets any easier. I never become more assured of success, but I do notice one change:  I allow myself to be talked into things that might be good for me that little bit more often.  A small, incremental step, but nevertheless, in the right direction...

Interestingly, the thought of carrying out an hour's workshop in front of 20 people watching my every move and interrogating me on my technique doesn't bother me at all...

Friends with benefits

I recently attended a workshop hosted by BASS (Bristol Autistic Spectrum Service) on Friendship. Hearing others' definitions of friends, and hearing about their expectations and experiences was sobering. Friendship is something I have coveted for as long as I can remember, but it has always eluded me.  I have watched; enchanted and bemused in equal parts, as people perform their social dances around one another, but I always have the feeling that this is not for me.

I have difficulties with the most simple elements of the dance...  Compliments, reciprocation, interest and recall of important events, facts and anniversaries all present potentially friendship-ending problems for me.  I do want to have friendships, and I have attempted them, but even when the exchanges seem effortless, the sense of foreboding is palpable...  "Don't get too comfortable", warns The Voice: "It'll all go wrong eventually."

And so it does.  I am undecided on whether this is self-fulfilling prophecy, mechanical error or sheer inevitability, nor am I entirely sure the differentiation matters.  I have waited patiently for the friendship which becomes seamlessly 'intuitive', but it has never materialised.  Failure after failure (usually my own fault) has taught me a lesson that is hard to ignore:  I do myself, and others, less damage if I don't have friends.

I suspect that some might balk at this - after all, it's an effort for everyone isn't it?  You'd be right to question it, but there is a caveat.  If it was purely just hard work, I would achieve it.  I work very hard.  At everything.  There is nothing that I don't try my best at - it's just my nature.  But friendships are not just about me...

The aspect that concerns me most is the possibility of really hurting someone else; achieving the opposite of what you intended.  People's social circles are complex and pitfalls lie in wait around every corner.  Nothing scares me quite as much as the prospect of making and then losing friends. None of the maintenance required for friendship occurs to me intuitively, so the risks of alienating or hurting someone are heightened.  My sensitivities are also heightened, and the idea of losing a friend because of something I have said or done is devastating to me.  People who I could call friends have been so few and far between, the prospect of failure generates a fear so great that the isolating alternative seems safer. I know I have inadvertently hurt people I considered friends before, and undoubtedly will again.  No different to anyone, you think?

The difference is, that there will be no explanation forthcoming to bring the friendship back from the brink - I will not have realised what I did, and people who have been hurt will rarely feel like spelling it out..
The difference is, I will feel shame so keenly that I will probably never have the courage to speak to that person again.
The difference is, I cannot afford to lose friends - it is far too great an investment for me.

So what does friendship with me entail?  Only the most tenacious sorts will get past the first hurdle, better known as 'getting me to realise that you are interested in being my friend'.  (After scaring everyone away for a number of years, I can be very slow to interpret these messages.)
The next step can take forever, so make yourself comfortable.   I am unlikely to accept any invitations to go out for coffee, or meet up in any sense.  I need to gather data.  (Don't worry - this doesn't mean hacking your Facebook account or stalking of any kind!) This might entail a period of email exchanges on a range of subjects.  I cannot make those intuitive judgements, that come so naturally to NTs, in a few short face to face meetings, nor a few texts or a Facebook comments.

Think of this less as a test and more as a reality check: Anyone who loses patience with this process is never going to make it in the long run.  It's a way for people to get out before they invest too much. In all honesty, anyone wishing to be a good friend of mine (not just a casual acquaintance) has to be prepared for a long and frustrating road:  I will forget Birthdays, anniversaries, dinner dates... you name it.  It will not occur to me ask you how you are, how your family is, how your job interview went.  I will say tactless things about your outfit, your behaviour, your family. But...

I will apologise genuinely and unreservedly if you tell me where I went wrong, and I will sincerely try to learn from it. I will never stop trying to be a better friend.  I will be a loyal supporter and fierce defender.  I will always seek to lighten your spirit and make you laugh. I will always be honest.  I will never be boring.

Of course, I will also try to teach you all about Quantum Physics... which is a good thing, dammit!

Losing my Sparkle

I listened recently to an abridged reading of Chris Packham's 'Fingers in the Sparkle Jar' (I will read the full text soon) and was mesmerised and deeply affected  to hear another voice that has experienced life in a similar way to me... One that has responded with similar vigor and been hurt in similar fashion. To hear the question: "Were you a happy child?" answered with such passion and certainty: "O course not! How can any child be happy?" struck such a chord, as did his descriptions of the intensity, detail and clarity with which he sees and experiences things.

We Aspies can live isolated lives, so I sometimes forget that there are others like me out there.  It makes me swell with pride when I witness an individual surprising everyone and holding misconceptions up to the light...  Showing  people that they don't quite fit in that snug pigeonhole to which they were consigned....  Turning out to be more complex than just that familiar face.

It soon became apparent that there was much here with which I identified.  As I listened, Chris began to explain his motivation - his constant drive to be better, learn more... to 'win' as he calls it.  I am very aware that, in lieu of the companionship, support and kindness that comes with friendship, I tend to try to impress people with my hard work, commitment, knowledge - anything that I can achieve with purely intellectual or physical effort.  I never try to 'wrong-foot' people, but it's easy to do just that, simply by being enthusiastic, eloquent and capable: How can somebody with all 'this' be this sad, this isolated, this exhausted?  It doesn't make sense to most NTs, but it couldn't be more familiar to me.

Chris also talks about his decision not to take his life, at a time when this seemed the only option.  I was reminded that I have considered ways to "take a permanent rest from it" on several occasions through my life, and to hear another voice acknowledging the lure of just not trying any more... to give up... to lose... well.  On the occasions when I slipped into those really deep depressions, I would write lists of pros and cons for this decision as I did for any important decisions; looking at the available data, weighing the consequences.  I could never isolate the exact scenario, so the outcome was never certain... I could never be quite confident that everyone I knew would be better off without me.  I have come to believe that I have some worth over the years, mainly because I can't deny the continued presence of my incredibly patient and understanding husband, and my amazing little boy... I must be doing something right, as they say.

I am looking forward to reading the book in it's entirety, despite its uncomfortable content...

The natural world has always been a balm for me in difficult times, and I have an enduring love of birds, insects, marine life, dinosaurs, reptiles and much more.  I spend as much time as possible near the sea, its rocky, semi-deserted shores and the vast cloudy panoramas it offers.  I feel truly relaxed when staring at the life in a drop of pond water under a microscope or at the night sky through a telescope.  I marvel at the colours of a Rose Cockchafer's wing covers, sit, fascinated, by the actions of a wolf spider who has lost her egg-case...  This is the 'Sparkle Jar': These are the things that bring me joy, convince me to stay, these, and the opportunity to impart their beauty and importance to others, if I can.

The finer things...

Radiohead made my day today.  They have re-emerged after a long hiatus, with the release of "Burn the Witch."  Now.  Just so we are clear... I am no 'fan girl' (whatever that means!)  I love Radiohead's music, but then, I like an awful lot of music across many, many genres.  But listening to Radiohead's most recent release and watching the delightfully disturbing video, got me to thinking about musical tastes in general...

One of the traits acknowledged among Aspies is a reluctance or inability to differentiate in some matters.  This can sometimes be problematic:  Confusion about how different people should be spoken to in different circumstances, or whether a subject is appropriate for casual conversation.  But it also means that Aspies are less likely to be racist, sexist, or any of those other 'ists'.  It makes no sense to us to treat someone differently because of the skin colour, fashion sense or looks, and neither does it make sense to avoid genres of music because of their political, historical or cultural basis.  Music is music, and there is merit in all of it.  It is the crowning glory of our achievements as a species (I believe) and a skill that no other species can claim.

It would never occur to me to say "No, I won't listen to it because I don't like Rap" or "Classical music is boring!" (I nearly choked on that one!)  Music, like all things created by man, can be categorized meaningfully by quality alone.  The skills of composers, bands and musicians and the quality of their music, ranges from 'badly conceived and performed noise' to 'beautiful and transcendent artistry'.  I have listened to all sorts of genres and found good and bad in all (If you want to see how many there are now, have a look at this site: http://everynoise.com/engenremap.html )

Some genres are associated with quality music... (Sacred music, for instance - composed and held up to the ultimate standard, so quality is almost assured!)  There are also composers, artists and bands that were/are skillful enough and inspired enough, to continually produce interesting, musically challenging, amazing original music throughout their professional lives.  David Bowie comes to mind.  His drive to push the limits of his writing, his enthusiasm for collaboration with other musicians, his range of subject matter and his awareness of culture and society all combined to provide immensely enjoyable, imaginative music across the decades of his career...  Led Zeppelin changed the face of rock music and produced a series of iconic albums.... Aretha Franklin broke through numerous barriers to bring her amazing voice to the public and her passion is apparent in everything she produces, even now, at 74...  Antonio Vivaldi left us a wealth of melodic and intricate compositions that are as fresh today as when they were written in the 1700s...

So why Radiohead?  Well, there are few bands that tick as many of my preference boxes as does Radiohead.  Each new album is different in subject, theme, style and musicality, but remains quintessentially Radiohead.  Their musicianship is superb and expert enough to carry their increasingly complex ideas...  The production is sensitive and the enjoyment; slow release:  I often have to listen 5-10 times, and maybe look a few things up, before really appreciating each track...  I love a puzzle, and Radiohead's tracks are often harbouring political or social comment .  For example the album, Hail to the Thief, appears to include much comment about the disputed election results in the US that allowed George W Bush a second term.  And this new song's sentiments seem to reflect the UK political posturing and paranoia around immigration and the European Union... the "Trumpton" style video  must ring a few bells...?  As an Aspie, I want my powers of appreciation stretched.  I want to be challenged, but also rewarded for my efforts, and Radiohead has always delivered.

Even if you think you don't like Radiohead (not everyone does!) their latest 'offering' (watch the video, get the joke!) is well worth a look - especially for those of us who are knocking on 50 and feeling nostalgic...    watch the video

Busy-ness as usual

Of all the behaviours that characterise my Asperger's there is one I struggle to explain to neuro-typicals (NTs).  It seems to be so alien a concept to most; one that NTs often rationalise it as 'showing off' or 'bragging' or suchlike.

I like to be busy.  It is integral to my continued functioning.  If I don't have enough to occupy me.... bad things can happen.  I am sure I have mentioned before, my dread at instructions like: 'Take it easy!'  'Relax!'  and my personal favourite: ' Chill.'  Clearly, these people do not realise that, without a suitable task to engage with, I might end up trying to start a conversation or similar lunacy.

Casual conversation is somewhat of an oxymoron for someone like me:  'Chatting' is such a complicated undertaking, I will try to avoid situations where it is likely to happen. Should I find myself unexpectedly alone and in unfamiliar surroundings, I start to panic a bit, often choosing to start a conversation in a bid to avoid appearing withdrawn and awkward.  However, my attempts are more likely to ensure I end up being precisely that.

So... I keep myself busy.  Every waking moment is taken up with a task of some kind.  Of course, I may choose something repetitive or non-physical when I'm tired, but I cannot simply do nothing.  And it needs to be interesting or relatively complex to keep my attention.  Even when watching TV - I cannot submit to 'mindless entertainment' unless I am actually trying to fall asleep.  If I want to relax, then I indulge in one of my interests - perhaps reading scientific articles, drawing, correcting grammar on blogs, researching some historical event... whatever takes my fancy.

There is a happy side-effect to this kind of activity:  One learns about things.  This can have the even happier effect of Making You Knowledgeable, but this is a double-edged sword which only becomes apparent when you attempt to use what you have learned in casual conversation.  I simply fail to differentiate between chatting about Gravitational B Waves and who got arrested on East-enders last week.  (There's a sentence I never anticipated writing!)  Clearly, one belongs in casual chat, and one does not.  The trouble is I cannot, for the life of me, understand why this should be the case.  Of course, the more you learn about the world, the less interesting the mundane, everyday things become, which compounds the problem.

When I attempt to inject this type of interesting content into conversation; (with my formal language and vocabulary) instead of  gleeful exclamation or an equally interesting tale in return, I am met with consternation, confusion or, even worse, the rolling eye smirk which is evidence that you have been consigned to the conversation dustbin as a 'show-off' or 'know-it-all'.  It is not my intention to belittle, nor to assert my superiority. Formal conversation with its rules and exchange of facts and opinions is much simpler to navigate: The idea of talking without objective purpose is difficult for me to fathom let alone, master.

This is all very well, and I can explain my motivations and understand the reactions I get in return...  But my choices in general conversation are limited:
1. I could explain the situation, and my odd behaviour to potential participants in a conversation. (A good way to end the chat before it starts.)
2.  I could learn the mechanics of transactional analysis (the psychology of social interaction) I have read several books on the subject, but it's very hard work to sustain conversation using these intellectual techniques)
3.  I could choose my conversations and subjects very carefully...(just wait until I meet someone else interested in quantum physics, clouds, 18th Century Naval history and ornithology...) or
4   I can learn to love internet cat videos and East-enders.... hmmm...

The home of all awkwardness... the wonderfully awful Bottom.

Capacity building

I recently travelled to Egypt for a diving holiday.  Seems such a straightforward and harmless statement doesn't it?  I went on holiday - just popped onto a plane and got off in another country, got my transfer to the accommodation and Bob's your uncle!

Here's how my experience really went:

We piled into the car at 4.30pm on Good Friday and took to the road.  Apparently, the rest of the UK did, too.  Even though I wasn't driving, the ensuing 2 hours, 45 minutes of motorway driving left me exhausted:  The driving conditions were poor, with rain, darkening skies and roadworks and breakdowns everywhere.  When travelling at speed, I find the rate of visual input completely overwhelming, but I am also plagued with anxiety which furnishes me with constant, detailed and realistic visualisations of potential incident after potential incident.  The truly exhausting part was having to hide all this from my son, so that he wasn't affected by my anxiety.

Fortunately, I have had plenty of experience of staying in hotels (required in several of my previous jobs) so I am not as affected by strange accommodation as I might be.  The grossly decorated lobby with its alarmingly squishy carpet was airy and open plan, so I was able to relax somewhat - only the constant visualisations of horrific plane crashes from the neighbouring Gatwick Airport to concern myself with...

An early morning rise for check-in saw the return of my favourite coping mechanism:  Panic humour. Being hyper aware with anxiety means excellent comic timing, and there was a wealth of material in peoples' reaction to the ludicrous management and staffing in the check-in queues...  A welcome distraction from the looming flight.  By the time we entered the departures lounge and it's wealth of noisy, smelly, crowded food outlets, I was exhausted and staring at the joins in the flooring materials whenever possible.  Still aware of the importance of 'staying positive', I kept up the cheery exterior and focused on my son, who was taking everything in his stride, considering it was his first trip abroad... only my husband was aware of my mounting anxiety.

The bus journey to the plane seemed to take forever - showing every possible angle of the plane that was to be our transport to Egypt.  I forced myself to endure it, inwardly chanting things like "no, the rivets are supposed to look like that", "don't look at the engines" and "you don't know anything about what well-maintained landing gear looks like", and trying to remember air travel versus air accident statistics to put my mind at rest.  This self calming continued on board - "they look competent".  "At least the pilot seems mature"...  The facade nearly slipped when my son insisted I sit next to him in full view of the tiny window for the 5 hour journey.  A matter of minutes later, I found myself in the ridiculous position of 'whooping' for my son's benefit at the excitement of the take off, whilst simultaneously crushing my husband's hand in terror!

As soon as we were allowed, I got out my chosen book and put on my mp3 player at top volume, determined to distract myself from anything that might remind me that I was in a plane.  Sadly, my book choice could have better, beginning as it did, with an explosion at an airport...  Luckily, my son's tablet battery lasted almost the entire flight, so I didn't have to keep up the facade for him, but my husband's hand suffered every time there was a little turbulence...

The next five hours are, thankfully, already fading from my memory - a nauseating cycle of anxiety, trolley avoidance, speculation and visual scenarios until our imminent arrival at Hurghada was announced. Any relief was short lived as figures for the statistical likelihood of failures on landing began whizzing though my head, despite my understanding of the overall safety of air travel.  After a bit of waiting around, security checks and baggage collecting, we made our way to the exit to meet our transfer. I was practically a zombie by now, all my coping mechanisms exhausted, so the hour and a half break-neck drive to our destination (with no seat belts and a tendency for our alarmingly young driver to drive at on-coming vehicles even when blinded by their full beams) passed relatively quickly.

I did not sleep for the next 3 nights.  This seems to be as a result of the anxiety of this type of travel - I usually just crash after too much social interaction - sleeping for longer than usual, but foreign travel requires another magnitude of effort.

The journey back was somewhat less stressful, buoyed as I was, by having survived the journey there!   Why put myself through it?  Well this isn't simply a fear of travelling...  I know it will improve, as everything does, with familiarity - my capacity for dealing with travel will improve.  It is only now that my son is old enough to have qualified as a diver that we can all go together.  I am immensely pleased to be a diver and able to see the amazing sights under the Red Sea, as the memories generated by the holiday in between these terrifying episodes have to be amazing to justify the effort!

A little knowledge...

"We're all on the spectrum somewhere, aren't we?" I hear this phrase a lot from people who are well meaning, well-read and reasonably aware of Autism.  I used to accept it without question but, over time, my annoyance at the phrase grew until it was more likely to be met with angry disagreement.  People might as well have been saying: "Well it's nothing really, is it?"  or "It's no different to anything the rest of us have to put up with is it?" I have recently passed beyond this phase and now bask in the zen-like calm of someone truly at ease with the ignorance of others.  Too blunt?  Too judgemental?  Quite possibly. Let me explain:

It is widely understood that the Electromagnetic Spectrum comprises radiation of different wavelengths and frequencies.  They all have different characteristics, but they are all still radiation.  Most of us have heard of some of them:  Radio, Microwave, Infrared, Ultraviolet, X-Ray and Gamma Ray.  They are all invisible, but there is a small section in the middle of the Spectrum that is visible to the human eye.  The colours that make up this visible 'white' light are visible when white light is 'split' by a prism. This small part of the spectrum comprises most people's experience of light. We know the familiar colours of the rainbow and their characteristics - we see the effects of their wavelengths with our eyes as they are absorbed or reflected by different materials around us.  Everyone knows where they are with visible light.... Few ever feel the need to study the parts of the EM Spectrum which are less 'tangible'.  These are things that cannot be understood by looking in the same way we see visible light.

The Neurological Spectrum poses a similar problem - Everyone knows where they are with Neuro Typicals (NTs) even though they encompass a huge variety of different characteristics and behaviours. People with Autism, however, exist firmly in the less well known parts of the Neurological Spectrum; indeed we occupy our own 'Spectrum'.  As an Aspie, I find it hard to see things from the perspective of any one who doesn't share my little chunk of the Spectrum.  I now suspect it is practically impossible for most NTs to see things from my perspective.  How can someone who is NT begin to understand how someone with Autism experiences the world when the very tools we use to experience it are so different?  Try to convince an Aspie that you share their experience when you are NT, and you will probably meet some resistance.

In short - someone who is NT may share similar difficulties as someone with Aperger's, but the experience will differ enormously.  They may both get overwhelmed at a party, become tired and want to leave, but the Aspie may be so overwhelmed it brings on a meltdown....  They might both enjoy a walk in the countryside, but the Aspie might become so overwhelmed by the beauty around them that are driven to tears.  Stresses at home or work may get them both down, but the Aspie may be more likely to suffer a severe bout of depression.  Similarly, both may enjoy a well made film, but the Aspie may dissect it to the nth degree to fully appreciate the craftsmanship and recite volumes of observations to anyone available whether they watched it or not.

We all experience the same difficulties, ups and downs. How we experience them, and how they affect us however, is very, very different. It is clear to me now, that only the most exceptionally open-minded or highly perceptive individuals can look beyond their own NT experience and acknowledge that it is different for us... Which doesn't mean we should stop trying, of course!

To me it's a raven - to others a rabbit...  but I'm right (hee hee!)

'HTTP Error 404 File Not Found'

Many of us Aspies find ourselves spending a lot of time with computers.  This can be due to a number of reasons.  Some are particularly good with computers; coding, scripting, diagnostics etc. Others are users, like me; experts in using software for various purposes, or avid gamers or researchers.  Computers are logical and hold no surprises, and are a pleasant way to pass time without the hard work of interacting with people.  They behave as expected as long as you treat them correctly.  Overwhelm them with too much nonsensical data in too frequent tranches and, like Aspies, they will stop normal functioning, at least temporarily.  It is not surprising then, that some of us use computing analogies to explain how we gather and process information, and more importantly, what happens when our coping mechanisms fail us.

I have worked with computers since I left school.  As a graphics specialist, I rode the incredibly steep curve of technological advances that began in the mid 80's.  Many people will remember as clearly as I do, the instability and lack of reliability of the early PC software, hardware and peripherals; the fledgling email systems, compatibility problems, the early Internet, (when search results would number in the tens, not the tens of thousands!) poor processing speeds and the lack of data storage space.  My job meant I pushed hardware and software to its limits... The consequent error messages which accompanied the inevitable breakdowns now hold almost legendary status... You can buy t-shirts and other merchandise emblazoned with the messages.  They are also, quite conveniently analogous of my own internal systems breakdowns...

The Microsoft fatal error message known as The Blue Screen of Death, for instance: When this error occurred, there was nothing you could do but switch off and hope it would start up again.  Like many Aspies, there is a finite amount of data we can process over a given time without 'overloading'.  When my own 'internal system' has exceeded its capacity, it can no longer function, I have no choice but to switch off, withdraw from stimulus and wait until I can 're-boot'.

'HTTP Error 404 - File not found' is the message that comes to mind when I look to my 'catalogue of appropriate responses' and the relevant page is missing.  For myself, this happens when I have to deal with several stressful social situations within a short time.  These situations require intense scrutiny and lightning access to my catalogue but if the page is missing: Error 404 File not found (Having Trouble Talking to People Error: Appropriate response not found).

If software is not functioning as it should, surely and upgrade is in order? So how does this work for Aspies?  We cannot upgrade our system, so how do we continue to manage? The answer may lie in our superior data storage capacity.  Perhaps the combination of absorbing vast amounts of data and our proclivity for repetitive tasks may lead to faster processing?  Either way, it's not an ideal solution and 'meltdowns' continue to occur.  So be patient, don't tap the keys angrily or bang the mouse on the desk - sometimes you just need to give the old PC a moment to collect itself and everything will be OK.  And yes, I'm still talking about Aspies.

Especially Interesting...

There are a number of well known characteristics associated with Aspies. (Those who know me personally will know how long it has taken me to reconcile my feelings about using the word "Aspie" but I suppose there is no denying that it takes less time to type.)

The media tend to focus on the easily characterised traits such as social awkwardness, capacity of long term memory, talents and 'Special Interests.' It is indeed the case that some are exceptional at maths; some can memorise huge quantities of numerical data (historical dates, the digits of Pi, train timetables etc.)  But we are not all savants or exceptional in the eyes of our peers.

I have 'Special Interests' like most Aspies.  Mine are numerous, but all share an important characteristic: They are have complexity and there is a lot of detailed information available to absorb from lots of different sources.  This means that when I research the subject I can do so exhaustively, and this can keep me busy for a great deal of time.  (Anyone hoping to intimidate me with a huge pile of repetitive detailed work is going to be disappointed.)  I have no control over what piques my interest - often they are subjects unlikely to come up in general conversation, and they are as likely to reflect my abilities or aptitudes as not - Theoretical Mathematics for instance.  My poor working memory for numbers means I will never be able to calculate anything but basic sums, but I enjoy reading at length about concepts like sets of infinities and imaginary numbers.

Those who know me will be aware that I will try to crowbar the subject of quantum physics into conversation at will (after all, it is relevant to every subject in some way!) or I may interject hopefully about the meaning of a prefix or common word, followed by a treatise on it's origin and evolution.  I have amassed an encyclopedic (if incomplete) knowledge of many subjects to various levels of detail. Sadly none of them are the subjects that work well in informal chatter.  Even when I talk about the weather, I feel bound to use the correct cloud classifications and wax lyrical about how global climate change is affecting El Niño.

Airing these interests in public can be problematic.  People can feel intimidated when unfamiliar with the subject and may seek to extricate themselves at the first opportunity.  This is usually the point at which my 'conversation assassin' (enthusiasm) leaps in, pinning the hapless participant until it becomes clear that they are no longer 'participating' or have left without my noticing their departure. Enthusiasm occurs either in a desperate attempt to reengage the participant, or simply because the temptation to blurt out vast sections of the knowledge, which brought me such pleasure to acquire, is simply too great... So, my sincere apologies to any of my victims and, if it's any consolation, I hope at least you learned something! (Commence squirming at my utter tactlessness!)

Hmmm - the infinite variety in atmospherics... 

Dial it down?

If I tend, in my musings, to linger on the things that are difficult, challenging or otherwise worthy of dissection and explanation, it is because I am eminently practical:  I want to fix things that are not working, improve experiences that are not beneficial... The ratio of difficulties to pleasures, however, can be a little one-sided so you'll forgive me if I guard the "good stuff" jealously.  Let me explain...

It has become a habit, over the years, to note every nuance, detail and minutiae of most everything I encounter, the main purpose being to try to avoid getting into trouble with people in one form or another. (I tend to edit out the mundane or uninteresting experiences, and this is sometimes a grievous error as my judgement of What's Important often differs from other peoples'... ) An interesting thing happens when you turn this skill to things that are less practical; just interesting, beautiful or elegant. 

To put it mildly, I can be filled with the most disproportionate joy when glancing at a reflection in a puddle (the overlapping images, the play of light, the colour combinations, subtleties of tone and shade and it's fleeting nature...)  A piece of music might bring me to tears at it's first hearing - the harmonies, mood and texture eliciting such a strong emotional response that I have to listen in stages.  Even a well crafted TV advert can draw me in - even if the product is of no interest and subsequently forgotten.  I seem to be especially sensitive to these experiences anyway, and I suspect the intensity of them is due in some part to the way my observational and analytical skills have been honed over the years.  I realise that many neurotypical people have a deep appreciation for music, or art for instance, but few will become obsessed with dissecting a particular shade of green or the sound of a person's name or a musical chord to the nth degree....

When I look up at the clouds, I am thinking not just of the form and colour, but the air pressure difference responsible for the air currents that are tearing, thinning, building or layering other clouds on it, the angle of the sun and the thickness of atmosphere through which it's beams must travel before they cast their altered light over the vapour.  I am thinking about the temperature at altitude and how the inevitable ice crystals are causing the halo that passes through it, the vast weight of water droplets causing the darkening lower edge, and so on....  The result is quite magical and sometimes even transcendent. 

A strong emotional response whilst listening to a particular piece of music is a more common shared experience but I count myself amongst the few who experience the full effect of every nuanced phrase, every scintillating rhythm, every  crescendo and cadence; regardless of the genre...  It puts me in  mind of Douglas Adams' Hitchhikers book when he describes the apparatus for 'appreciating' Vogon Poetry, (known to be the 3rd worst in the Galaxy) making sure that every detail of the experience is felt as fully as possible...

I suspect this is also why I can't bear One Direction.

A dull day in Clevedon - just as beautiful and fascinating as a glorious sunny day.

Liar, Liar (First published Jan 18th 2016)

It is a subject I hear discussed only occasionally, and then usually by professional types, as part of abstracts about ongoing research into Autism and Asperger's…  but it is one that fascinates me. It is, in part, the reason for my user name: Talentless Liar.  I consider myself to be an honest person, but over my lifetime, it has not escaped my attention that people are very good liars.  I don’t mean to insinuate that they are dishonest in any criminal way (though clearly, some are!) but only in the subtle ways required by informal social interaction.

People appear to make instant judgements about each other, hundreds of times during an average length conversation:  They may recall the last time they spoke and decide, on the fly as it were, how the conversation should begin:  Was it a long time ago or earlier that day?  They make observations about each other – do they look well? Have they lost weight?  Had a haircut?  These are the clues that are noted and acted upon throughout an informal chat.  Reciprocity, interest and empathy are all integral to engine that drives the conversation.  It’s incredibly complex, but all happens INTUITIVELY in neuro-typicals (normal people – for want of a better term!)  

People with Asperger’s have to manage this on a purely intellectual level, making each observation ‘manually’, thinking though potential responses, whilst cross-checking possible pit-falls with each mico-decision and memories.  What is for most a pleasant distraction, is for me, a strategic campaign: The First and most important goal being to get through it without upsetting the other person. (Objective No 1.)  If I was on form, I might attempt Objective No 2:  Leave the other person feeling better about themselves. This might be achieved by using an observation to spark a positive comment, but this is a minefield when you consider that the response to your comment might be negative and self-effacing.   (I recognise that this is sometimes used to illicit further positive comments to confirm their truth, but lose track and disaster may ensue!)  

On the rare occasion that the exchange continues in fairly reciprocal spirit, (and I really have to be ‘on fire’ for this)  I may go for the elusive Objective 3:  Leave the other person feeling better about me. Because none of this is intuitive in my case, I inevitably have to lie to some degree.  Most people probably wouldn’t see this as lying. After all, this all happens on an intuitive level for most. It is only only when the process is broken down intellectually that the lies become obvious.

I am uninterested in hair (unless I am considering whether my own needs washing.)  I don’t care about fashion, Social media, games, Celebrity, Soaps, most fiction books, football or Reality TV- most TV, in fact.  I actively avoid talking about relationships, (not my area of expertise!) social tech, dating, breakups or sensationalised news stories.  You may rest assured that if I am in conversation with you where any of these subjects are concerned, I will be actively lying, not to mislead, but purely in order to achieve the aforementioned Objectives.  I will be using my prestigious catalogue of real-life ‘emoticons’ to confirm, agree, sympathise and enthuse.  It has become an entrenched response to unplanned conversation.  

It’s unrealistic to expect most people to understand that I need sufficient notice about a conversation before my contribution can be truly honest and tactful.  The normal measure for honesty for neurotypicals is the ability for someone to respond tactfully and spontaneously; something I find extremely difficult. The only exceptions are those conversations which are a) about one of my ‘special interests’, (Most of these are so ‘special’ as to negate general conversation.) b) with someone who either has a deep understanding of Asperger’s or is just incredibly understanding and patient, or c) I’m fed up, tired or angry and can’t be bothered to lie.  These conversations are usually quite short, unless the other person has misunderstood and thinks I am being humourous.  Smiling is not something one does naturally when one is engaged in a difficult task that requires great concentration and effort, so remembering to use appropriate facial expressions whilst doing this is almost impossible…

To achieve Objective 3 in a conversation, is to be on Cloud 9 for the rest of the week (or until over-confidence supplies the inevitable social disaster!)  I can live on the crumbs of a ’3 for 3′ informal exchange for ages…  But why?  If my neurological toolbox is devoid of empathy, reciprocity and interest in people, why am I stupidly pleased with myself when I get these exchanges right?  I have pondered this for some time…
When I first learned about Asperger’s, it’s characteristics and neurological differences, I was both appalled and relieved by this staggering insight.   This was why being around people is so exhausting!  This was why I felt like an alien amongst others!  This was why people were offended by honesty instead of applauding it.  Lying is a complex and confusing part of communication but there is nothing more humane…

Anxiety Rules (First posted 9th January 2016)

I worry about things a lot.  This can make me seem pessimistic and paranoid, but it is something I struggle to control.  It’s something that has been with me for as long as I can remember. Whenever I had an unsatisfactory exchange with a family member, another student, or teacher at school, (a misunderstanding, perhaps, or failure to notice and comment on a new haircut) I would worry for days, if not weeks about it, literally losing sleep over it, and it would often lead to my avoiding the person in question thereafter.  

Equally, if I had a pleasant and successful exchange, (a long conversation with someone who shared one of my interests, for instance) I would soon begin to worry about the potential for a misunderstanding (on my part) to bring about the end of a burgeoning friendship, leaving someone I cared about hurt and confused.  I am blessed with a singularly vivid imagination and the graphic nightmares that accompany this anxiety are cinematic in nature.  This anxiety, this self-doubt has never left me and still colours every exchange.

This fear is an issue that is well known among people with Asperger’s, and it can be crippling.  I am lucky in that I have people to help me to find the courage to keep trying: I have the support and understanding of my wonderful husband who’s outgoing personality continues to put opportunity after opportunity for socialising in my path.  I also have the added incentive to be a strong and confident role model for my son.

Decoding everyday exchanges in a purely intellectual way is extremely hard work and riddled with danger.  (This is the reason for my usual frown of concentration; putting on a smile is just another thing I have to remember.)  I work in a large school and have to tackle hundreds of such exchanges every day.  Granted, it is easier with children, as they are usually more honest, predictable and transparent in their exchanges than are adults. To engage at all, I have had to become a student of language myself (researching colloquialisms, idioms, turns of phrase, body language and the like.)  Unfortunately, I didn’t realise until after I had embarked on this course of action, that learning to ‘navigate’ creates a vicious circle of its own:  The better you cope, the less understanding people show when things go wrong.  The longer you can keep up; the more ‘normal’ you appear, the more likely that misunderstandings will be judged as willful or deliberately hurtful.   It is EXHAUSTING.  

The endlessly sophisticated and ingenious intricacy of human communication navigated intuitively by neuro-typicals is mind-boggling.  Most people can have no awareness of the sheer volume of observations, decisions, judgments made,  hints, clues, signals given in a matter of seconds during a casual chat.  It is an enormous barrier to understanding those of us who do not possess this intuition.   It was this realisation that led me think more about the handful of people that I can truthfully call ‘friends’, and appreciate the patience they show and efforts they make in merely putting up with me!  Not giving myself enough credit, you think…?  No.  I have no illusions about that. I am patently aware how different things might have been…

Anyone with Asperger’s will know about the ever-present companion to anxiety: Depression.  It is a constant battle not to give up the effort, close the door and surrender to self pity, exhaustion and the inevitable spiral into depression.  I have had many periods of deep, damaging depression in my life, and I am immensely proud and pleased that I have not had a major episode for the four years since my diagnosis.

I am sorry if this post seems to concentrate too much on the negative, but that is a necessity when you discuss feelings like fear, doubt, anxiety and depression.  They are an ever-present part of my reality.  Don’t worry! I will write another post shortly about some of the amazing gifts and joys that also share my everyday life.

Happy New Year... (First published 5th January 2016)

Making friends and maintaining friendships has always been nigh on impossible for me.  I can only assume that there is some point where the interaction becomes intuitive, and no longer requires excessive effort on the part of the friends.  In my experience, this juncture in a relationship usually sparks an end to proceedings:  Either I have lost interest in the person, or they in me.  The other possibility is that the person becomes too close, and I begin to panic about the consequences of an ill-considered remark or forgotten appointment. I have read many books on the subject, including Eric Berne’s "The Games People Play" which has proven useful but the mechanics, when tackled on a purely intellectual level, are exhausting.  I do not prefer my own company – it’s just often easier to be on my own.

Christmas and New Year is especially exhausting in this sense.  Regardless of what they may say, people have high expectations around this time.  People must be kind, thoughtful, organised  and strive for perfection, (based on what criteria, I cannot fathom, but God forbid it's the TV adverts…) presumably under pain perhaps of being 'struck off the Christmas List'.

I enjoy the pomp and ceremony around Christmas time – I love singing carols, making and wrapping presents and decorating the house, so I keep the stresses associated with Christmas reasonably at bay.  The real test comes with the return to work in January: Remember to say ‘Happy New Year’, ‘How was your Christmas?’ and ‘Did you manage to get away?’ (my personal favourite as it always conjures up an image of Santa robbing houses and getting chased by the  police as he makes his escape on his sleigh!)

Keeping up with appropriate comments and responses when I have no particular interest in what other people have been doing is really challenging.  They might be surprised to learn that I have no interest in telling them what I was doing either.  I hold no ill-will towards anyone if they  forget to send me a card, and I would like to think the same is true for them…

I assume that, like much of what passes between people in everyday conversation, these exchanges serve to maintain and strengthen friendships and social ties.  I see no logic in treating people differently according to the time of year, but I confess to putting a great deal of effort into playing along!  I can’t help thinking that things would be a lot simpler and less traumatic if we were to go back to just sitting around picking fleas off each other…

On Christmas (First posted on December 16th 2015)

'Tis the season to be merry!  Indeed, it makes sense to cheer oneself up at the time of year (certainly in the UK) when the commercial world is doing its level best to drive everyone to distraction…

I am, technically, a Catholic.  Yes, I understand that this sentence broadcasts my indecision ('crisis of faith' is far too strong! )  I struggle with the idea of celebrating Christmas, despite my liking for the festive period.  Religion keeps getting in the way of my enjoyment.

I am fairly certain that I do not have any faith (in the biblical sense).  I have confidence in the progress of science, human ability, the tenacity of life…  None of these include much translated, reinterpreted, and possibly, doctored 2000 year old records – they cannot be relied upon, so I will never be convinced to blindly accept miracles such as the transforming of bread into flesh.  My intellect is my primary tool for understanding, and may not be bypassed in an act of faith.

I do, however enjoy my infrequent visits to mass.  I sing in the choir, and sacred music is a great love of mine. I enjoy the ceremony and the ritual and even, to some extent, the company of members of the congregation.  I am complimented on the quality of my voice, challenged by difficult musical arrangements and enthralled by the interactions of the faithful, but this is no different to being distracted by the intricacies of a spider's web, or swirling patterns of subatomic particles captured by an accelerator’s detectors.  No, this is a type of spirituality I will probably never know.

Conversely, I think I do experience spirituality in a purely intellectual way… I feel immense joy at the complexity in nature, the elegance of a mathematical formula, the way water droplets, sunlight and air currents collaborate to produce the incredible beauty in the skies above us.  The more I think about the chemistry, the molecules, the patterns, the forces, the probabilities involved, the more filled with wonder I become.

Surely whoever said "God is in the details" knew what they were talking about.