Killing with kindness

 I recently decided to take a bit more control of my life.  Did I sell up and move to the coast?  No.  Did I quit my job and start writing my first novel?  No.  Did I sell most of my belongings and buy a boat?  No. (They are planned further down the line, I assure you!)

No, my first step along the road to 'including myself' was to change the day I celebrate my birthday.  My actual birthday occurs virtually on top of Christmas, and has always been more of an obligation than a celebration:  Almost guaranteed expensive prices, poor choice of cards, rejected invitations, terrible TV, cancelled bookings and dreadful weather.  I have, traditionally always done my best to ignore it and actively encourage anyone I know to do the same.  I decided to announce the change via Facebook (many of my friends and family have begun to use Facebook over the various Lockdowns, and the handy notifications they would receive when I changed the date of my birth to May 23rd (a perfect choice for weather, availability and general demeanour) they would all get reminders.  It worked very well, and I find myself looking forward to enjoying an extended Christmas celebration, unadulterated by the inevitably doomed Birthday planning.  A real win-win.  

I mention this, purely because it is a clear and unique example of doing something for myself, successfully. In my new job (nearly a year here already), I have come to an awful realisation which may throw me back into the maelstrom of seeking employment once again.  For the strangest of reasons:  Kindness.

I work in a school with a group of incredibly caring and kind people, all undoubtedly, highly empathetic.  I am an Aspie, highly logical and, although empathetic in my own way, a world away from their experience.  The job is comprises lots of admin tasks carried out in quite the most hectic and disordered environment I have ever experienced.  Together with the added pressure of constant interactions with staff, health professionals, pupils and parents, it's one of the most challenging I have ever found myself attempting.  And I am failing.

I am utterly exhausted by it every day.  I am told: 'That's the job'.  And it is.  I underestimated hugely, the amount of interaction I would have to manage when I applied for the job, (but it wasn't explicitly stated in the job description) and there was so much to learn, so quickly, it's only now, after a year, that I can reflect and realise this is not for me.  I know this must be a familiar realisation for many of us, on the spectrum.  It is always going to be a minefield; employment, that is.  Those of us on the Autistic Spectrum who are capable enough to 'pass' for 'normal' (whatever that is) fall into an impossible trap:  We enjoy little of the understanding and compassion rightfully given to on those who are in visible distress and extreme difficulty.  We have all the same disadvantages - difficulties in forming relationships, making ourselves understood and procuring the help we need to manage in our working environment.  Indeed, the less we appear to struggle, the less likely we are to attain any of these things.  Our apparent ability to cope and to manage make us vulnerable.  This seems to be particularly true of women on the spectrum, (especially late diagnosed) who have become skilled social mimics.  These skills never become intuitive, however, so the energy required to maintain them is enormous.

I find myself in a situation I never thought possible, and it is probably testament to my own skills at appearing to 'fit in' ('camouflaging' as autistic research has now coined it), together with my conviction that I would be better off in an environment with lots of kind people.  The final straw in my case is the care and concern shown to me, now that I have started to crumble.  I can take no comfort in it.  I don't know why, exactly - perhaps it is a consequence of many years of cumulative trauma from continuous misunderstandings and social rejection, (there is interesting new research on PTSD in ASD) or is it is merely another level of interaction I am unable to reciprocate, because it is genuine, heartfelt and continuous?  I want so much for them to see that their care and concern are helping me, but it isn't, and I blame myself for that. The irony of this is not lost on me, I can assure you...

Ten Years After (First published October 2019)

 (Written October 2019)

It has been a tumultuous couple of months, and not just because of Covid 19, Lockdowns and new vaccines.

I have finally been pushed to limit of of my capacity to put up with my job and my employer of 10 years.  I am very pleased with the new role I am about to begin, but there are always regrets, aren't there?  My regrets are same as always in these situations, but with a couple of added extras...  

Regardless of the reasons for moving one from jobs in the past, (redundancy, company collapse, recession, the employer's contractual irregularities, excessive, unremunerated overtime) I have always regretted that communication could not salvage the situation:  Perhaps I was unaware of some unseen hierarchy, or underestimated the significance of some relationship or aspect of the job valued by my superiors... Sometimes I have been oblivious of political changes happening within the company, and the consequent social activity of other staff, vying for position before the axe fell.  Sometimes, my inability to fit in socially was all it took for me to be 'selected for redundancy'.  To my knowledge, it has never been a result of my inability to do my job to a high enough standard.

On the few occasions I have decided to leave, it has usually been at a point far beyond where most people would have decided the situation was untenable. I am tenacious and reluctant to admit defeat, and tend to hang on in the hope that a solution presents itself.  But to decide to leave because it is right for me, is a fairly rare experience. I feel strongly that, on this occasion, I had gone above and beyond to find a solution to the endless hail of unpredictability and flawed strategies that I have had to weather for the last 3 years.  I can adapt to change, but this was too much. 

But, enough about the things I cannot change.  I mentioned some new regrets earlier, and these are oddly welcome.  It appears I have managed to make an impression in the last 3 years, with staff and students who have told me they are sad that I am leaving, and this has led to some feelings I rarely experience:  I will miss them.  I am not entirely without empathy, (I dont believe any autistic person is), but I do struggle with these feelings for two reasons:  Firstly, unless someone explicitly states that they value my efforts, I assume they do not.  This is not due to some desperate need for validation.  It is merely a consequence of Asperger's - I cannot interpolate other people's feelings about me into my own self-image when they have not been communicated explicitly.  It will never occur to me to think I have done a good job purely on the basis that no-one told me I did a bad job.  Even when I pleased with the outcome of a task I have performed, I will always have some expectation that someone, somewhere is disappointed, if I don't hear explicitly that it was satisfactory.

The difficulties with this behaviour, is that it comes as a huge surprise when people do communicate these things explicitly.  In my experience, it is something reserved for goodbyes.  I was unprepared for the response to my 'goodbye' message, from staff and students.  I was truly humbled by the number of messages of thanks I received.  I still marvel at the way I have spent the last few years oblivious to these feelings. But this is the reality of Asperger's.  It can appear oddly self-serving to illicit comment from people, just so you hear it explicitly - how would you know their response was genuine?  

This may seem a minor issue, an inconvenience, overcome by the will to believe people are being genuine: Trust.  But there lies the problem:  Trust is a difficult concept for someone like me, and when comments are made under circumstances like this, there is little opportunity to test their veracity and gain the evidence I need.  Which is, of course, the dilemma at the heart of what trust is... ignorance is not bliss.

An unwitting tourist shows off the local wildlife...