The company of men

Gender is a subject that has never really interested me but it occurred to me recently that this a hot topic for many and so, as this type of realisation often triggers reflection,  I decided it was time to give it some consideration.

I suppose it is my tendency towards the factual and logical that, in part at least, has steered me away from the subject of gender.  After all, - men and women are equally capable of more or less the same feats (with the exception of the obvious biological barriers) aren't they?  The only other considerations seemed to me to be cultural, aesthetic or social ones (historical/legal/political/religious).  I have always considered that my gender was irrelevant, in all but the most fundamental sense.  

Of course, I am aware of the existence of gender bias, cultural and historical prerequisites, and of the tendency of recent years for people to self-label themselves on the 'gender spectrum'...  However, because I have never found gender to be an important factor in practically any decision I have ever made, that doesn't mean that there aren't important issues to consider.  (I am sure that others have made plenty of decisions about me based on exactly this.)  I should explain that I hold social concepts such as race and religion in similar disdain.  I can only consider them in terms of variation and the complexity of experience they bring with them.  I cannot imagine using such broad and subjective terms to make a judgement about a person.  It simply would not occur to me to favour these considerations over the specific merits of someone's suitability (for a job, a spouse, a conversation, a friend...)  What possible difference would it make if an engineer wears makeup or or has a beard?  

I must admit my view appears somewhat simplistic when I read it back.  Am I at fault, or is my simplistic view what we should all be aiming for?  

To clarify what 'gender' means to me personally, as a woman with Asperger's: An assignation which only has meaning in terms of anticipating situations when bias might occur with regard to social, historical or cultural norms, and in practical considerations. For example, the issue of a man working in a women's shelter or wearing appropriate clothing for dangerous jobs.

I have come to see that many people hold their gender identity very dear, some to the extent that it seems to define their very persona.  They celebrate their place on the spectrum of gender.  I struggle to see where I would fit on such a spectrum.  I suppose most see me as quite 'male' - I always wear trousers, but because they are practical and warm, and stop my skin burning in the summer.  (I am particularly aware of how much cheaper men's clothing is, and how much better quality the materials usually are!) However, I do wear minimal makeup and brush my hair (long - because I cannot bear the idea of visiting the hairdressers) when I go out, mainly because I don't want to attract unpleasant comment about 'not making an effort'.  (I don't really associate this with any particular gender - I just accept that I have female attributes, so I do things to fit in to that social expectation, particularly because it is a preference that my (NT) husband shares.)  Of course practical considerations outrank any of these other expectations! (I am amazed by people who will maintain their gender identity beyond all consideration of the practical - high heels on cobbled streets, a 3-piece trouser suit on stiflingly hot day, coiffured hair and eye makeup in a swimming pool etc... what dedication!)

Of course, it's not all about what you wear.   A huge amount of research has been done in this area, and it continues to be a popular discussion subject in many ways:  Does your environment determine gender?  Or is it your biology, your genes...or your brain?

I have been aware for some time of the apparent correlation between being a fairly strong systemiser (47 on Baron-Cohen's AQ scale) and my tendency towards the 'left brain' and the male stereotype:  I wear trousers, hate chatting and shopping and talking about handbags and 'celebrities'.  I was never interested in things other girls were interested in at school.  I didn't like soft toys, ponies or kittens.  Later, I even preferred beer and spirits (straight) to sweet wines and cocktails.  Even now, I like talking about aviation, space, physics and sword-fighting, and have absolutely no interest in 'Nailbars', Love Island or small fluffy dogs which appear to have no practical purpose.   I have always preferred the company of men to women.  Even when I was in school I chose only male company.  I preferred the simpler interactions - we talked about things (bugs, films, cars) not people, or relationships.  Conversations were all about the subject, practicalities, statements and physical or visual jokes.  It was much easier to follow. At college I would dread the inevitable 'girls' nights out, and avoid them wherever possible. Relationships, fashion, pets, gossip were all alien to me. I am aware of how stereotypical this sounds, but this was my experience.  Perhaps we were all responding to  the same stereotypes....

Much has been made in recent years, of the apparent oversight of diagnosing girls and women with Asperger's due to their skill at social mimicking among other things.  To clarify:  Girls don't fit in better, but they are better at 'appearing to fit in'.  Boys are more likely to 'act out' and are therefore more visible for diagnosis.  Or so the theory goes.  I don't think this is true in my case.  I acted out.  I truanted, got into fights and consequently spent the vast majority of the time on my own.  I loved dinosaurs and ancient Greek mythology and drawing scary monsters. I was visible, but my behaviour was dismissed as boredom or eccentricity, due to my academic ability.  

But does favouring the left-brain (the slower, more logical thinking brain) mean that you are more 'male'?  And does that mean you are 'less female'? (I can't help thinking of Temple Grandin here, with her wonderful deadpan delivery and shapeless country cowboy shirts.)  After all, I am a loving mother and teacher, and creative to boot.  (All seen as more right brain.)  I thought my view might change when I met other Aspie women, but I have met none like me - they seemed more able, socially, and conversation inevitably got around to hobbies and interests like crafts, and pets.  Is this because of a tendency for women to be more 'right brain'? Maybe.  It seems quite neat but, of all people, I know appearances can be deceptive... The roles that my husband and I have assumed within our relationship are not the usual 'stereotypical' gender roles:  He does the cooking,  I do the DIY.  He does the vehicle maintenance, I do the gardening.  He is the keeper of the social diary, I do the school correspondence and homework help.  We share all other responsibilities depending on the circumstances at the time.  Any type of brain can see the sense in this arrangement, surely?  It certainly works.

I think, ultimately, that gender should not and need not matter.  I see it as a useful creative tool.  It can open doors, stimulate debate and provide an identity, but it is yours to do with as you wish, so make it work for you...

The Sheephead Wrasse (Semicossyphus reticulatus) Looks aren't everything, when needs must...


Simon Baron-Cohen's article on the extreme male brain and autism.
http://cogsci.bme.hu/~ivady/bscs/read/bc.pdf

The best of times...

It's that time of year again, and I had hoped to have something heartwarming, insightful and completely out of character for a logic loving, systematic, no-nonsense Aspie, to share with you all.  My Christmas tree is still up, so I've thrown in some Dickens, and have sprinkled it with a comforting amount of efficiency in the form of a 'round-up of the last year' so I haven't completely thrown caution to the wind...

I have never read much Dickens, or Austen, Tolstoy or any of the other great writers who's chief delight was in spinning tales of the human condition and the intricacies of complex family or romantic relationships.  I've tried a few times, but I get lost quickly - there is little common experience here to keep my attention.  That doesn't mean I cannot appreciate the masterful and inspiring skill demonstrated by these giants of literature in smaller doses - they are, after all, eminently quotable.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair…" 

When I turned my mind to writing my personal round-up of 2017, it was this quote from Dicken's 'A Tale of Two Cities' that my mental Rolodex fell open on.  2017 has been a year of contrasts...

The year began with struggle.  I was desperately trying to manage an increasingly stressful job, (not, difficult, highly responsible, very important or suchlike... just really, unnecessarily stressful).  This was being made more difficult because I was trying to cope with debilitating migraines and equally debilitating side effects from unhelpful drug treatments.  There was, I noticed, an uncomfortable familiarity about the way I was treated as a migraine sufferer...  The lack of understanding about the condition, the isolating effect, the ineffectual and sometimes harmful treatments, the lack of available help:  I'd been down this path before...

But, (I said, boldly starting a paragraph with a conjunction, and including a split infinitive in the explanation) another path was being forged at the same time. This was taking place thanks to the tireless enthusiasm of a small group of people I have come to think of as Friends.  (I feel the need to pause and explain at this point, for those of you who might skip over the significance of this statement.  Naming someone as a Friend, for an Aspie, is akin to bestowing the Nobel Prize.  Make no mistake - great things will be expected. (I write this with the confidence of someone who knows their Friends will see the humour here - which is the most delightful part!))

The formation of our fledgling Charity "The Different Engine" has been a difficult, time consuming, fiddly, awkward, tough task.  And it has been an absolute pleasure to be a part of it.  At the start, thanks to the migraines, I could barely look at a computer screen, but now I have nearly finished our new website: TheDifferentEngine.net.  We have our workshops for next year set up, and interest in what we are doing is growing fast.  Leaflets, articles, books and conference appearances are in all the pipeline. I am learning more about myself and how Asperger's effects the way I experience the world around me, every day, and thanks to Rich Hall and Peter Fowerdew's Aspie TA, I can share this learning with my husband, son, students and anyone else who wants to know about it.

Without it, I would not have had the confidence to leave the harmful environment of my last job (because I wouldn't have recognised what was doing the harm).  I would not have had the courage to talk to prospective employers about my Asperger's, (for fear they would not understand) and they would not have realised the breadth of what I could bring to the role (I would not have had the language to explain).  The essential support and understanding of friends and family that I have relied upon through this difficult year would have been drastically reduced, were it not for the the fact that they have joined me on this journey, and we all now have access to this common language.  After 3 years of investigating this tool and its applications, it still amazes me that writing about it can still raise a tingle of excitement and a hitch of breath.

A last minute meeting, recently, proved to the icing on the cake for me...  I had agreed to come along to a meeting arranged by my friend Rich Hall, with a representative from an Autistic support organisation from which we had we both received support over the years.  I wasn't sure if there was an agenda, or if we were just testing the waters, but I listened as Rich spelled out the key stages of our work over the past few years.  Before long, my enthusiasm got the better of me and I there I was:  Waxing lyrical about my experiences and the way my cynical viewpoint had been changed irrevocably by the efficacy of these techniques and methods...  Our audience was somewhat taken aback by what we had achieved in the time since our previous acquaintance, and he spoke at length about his concerns about the direction of Autism research in the international arena.  It was heartening then, to say the least, to hear his positive response to our work - developed by NTs and Asipes together.  This is the most important type of endorsement in my mind - that of people who have lost faith in the systems that are designed to help people like us (most of them researched and designed by NTs in isolation, or using NT designed and interpreted research from autistic contributors)...  If they can see the benefit and scope of what we are doing, then even my appalling self-doubt cannot put up a sufficient argument.  'Nothing about Us, without Us' is one approach, but we chose to look beyond 'Them and Us' to the potential that comes from truly understanding the strengths of diversity  from both perspectives.  What we have achieved could not have been done by NTs or Aspies working in isolation.  We have tackled the barrier itself, and it has toppled.

2017 has indeed been a year of contrasts - illness and healing, leaving a job and gaining new employment, giving in and taking the plunge, despair and hopefulness, self-doubt and self-belief, trying to help and allowing myself to be helped.  Not as eloquent as Dickens, nor as dramatic, but I feel this year marks an important landmark.  "The Different Engine" is about to make a world of difference to a world of people, hopefully, two worlds.  I am very proud to be a part of it.

Abused Amoebas and Career Correlations

I was reading an excerpt from a zoological textbook the other day about the reactions of different types of amoeba to stimulus.  (Yes - this is the sort of thing you will find in my web surfing history.  Shut up.)  It seems that amoeba, generally, rarely move because of a positive stimulus.  (Towards things.) It follows that most of the experiments described involved annoying the amoeba with various negative stimuli and provoking movement. (Away from things.) After I stopped feeling sorry for the amoeba, it struck me that I had something in common with them.

It's been a long time since I had to start a new job.  I began my current employ at the end of 2009, and so, this is as long as I have held any job.  My length of employ in my various jobs has depended on all sorts of things in the past: from the effects of global financial crises, to dodgy contractual practices by employers that left me significantly out of pocket and on the end of a long list of creditors.  Only twice in the 11 jobs I have held, (As a graphic designer, Photographer, Technical illustrator, Administrator, Office Manager, IT Technician, Technical Author, Marketing Manager and Cover Supervisor,) have I chosen to leave.  And then, only because the stress of the situation has begun to effect my health.

It is in the nature of people with Asperger's to work hard.  After all, most things about everyday life are hard for us.  By most things, I mean all the stuff that is relatively easy for NTs.  (Chatting, socialising, networking, building relationships, finding advocates, friends and allies, navigating office or organisational politics.) The things that most NTs find hard:  being focused on work; wading through piles of boring, difficult or unsavoury tasks; learning new and difficult procedures and skills, staying motivated; is relatively easy for us.

Where people like me come unstuck, is that point where we need some support, help or recognition for our work and we look up from our narrow focus and find there's nobody there.  Because we haven't spent our time socialising, building those relationships, finding our allies and advocates, we have to rely on the formal organisational structure, as is. As anyone can attest, this alone is rarely adequate and sometimes even, shockingly, not always in the employee's favour.  It reminds me a little of what it was like during my maternity leave after having my son, Charley.  Finding myself alone with a new baby...  just the two of us, music, the park and a bunch of books:  (The idea of going to 'mums groups' or 'baby massage classes' filled me with absolute terror.)

But this seems to be a fate shared by of many of the people I have since met who have managed to secure regular employment, and who are on the spectrum.  Their remarkable skills and work ethic go unnoticed, simply because they don't know how to get them to register with their colleagues and employers...  The widely proclaimed CPD programmes seem in principle to be diametrically opposed to the 'one-size fits all' mentality of their actual content... and the forms!  They are anathema to the logical mind of an Aspie. The whole thing actually works against us, making us appear 'difficult' and 'unhelpful', when nothing could be further from the truth.  In fact, I think this is probably the most hurtful thing I could be accused of, simply because I try so hard to achieve the opposite outcome.

After discussions with several of the people I will be working with in my new job, I have much more confidence that they understand this.  They are aware of my Asperger's, the skills and strengths that it affords me, and the accommodations that they will need to make for me (some flexibility when it comes to CPD and conferences (large, noisy gatherings in strange places).  For many of us, our work is really our only 'social' contact, and what we do there is how we reach out to people.  It is up to our colleagues and employers to notice that, and accept the offer.  They would certainly not be disappointed if they did.

I digress, and do so because I have to go and write the obligatory 'goodbye email' to fulfil my social duties.  It seems awkward and pointless...  I have no wish to rant about my reasons for leaving, or single anyone out for particular thanks - this I have already done, in person. I see no purpose in throwing out more of the bland and meaningless platitudes that litter the daily lives of teachers.  I expect no card, no presentation, no celebration of my contribution of the last 7 years, which does sadden me, but it's a dusty, old and familiar sadness.  No, I'll leave quietly as usual.  After all, haven't I heard somewhere that it's better to speak softly and wear a loud shirt?

Amoeba Proteus, formerly known as Chaos Diffluens (I wonder why the change...?  Perhaps it's in Witness Protection....)

The Incident Pit

As I sit here, towards the end of a busy, full day of cover at my local secondary school, wondering how long the Epi Pen training will take and if my son will make a big fuss about his guitar practice tonight, I realise that things have found their way back to a kind of normality.

I have missed this.  Things have not been normal for some time.  Over a year, in fact.  I don't know how long this respite will last, and I have no intention of letting paranoia shorten any positive effects.  So, this is me drawing a line under the past year's difficulties, and looking ahead to a continuation of all the good stuff that had begun to happen.

However, I think it's worth pausing to reflect on how incredibly difficult these 'hiccups' and 'blips' in our lives are to navigate without a decent support network, real understanding or the ability to properly communicate your experience to those who need to hear it.  Of course, this is the norm for many people on the spectrum, who live every day of their lives without the comfort of a circle of close friends, or the confidence of being able to make themselves understood.  I count myself among the exceptionally lucky that I have a small but exceedingly genuine and responsive circle of friends, and an amazingly understanding husband and son, who have weathered my rants and complaints and soothed my pains and fears.  I don't know how I would have managed this last year without them.

They couldn't help me, however, when it came to explaining to medical personnel the effect of the illness with regard to Asperger's.  Whereas I am sure my Doctor sympathised that my inability to make concrete plans, stick to my schedules or escape into a book or that my ability to draw my super-detailed doodles had been utterly compromised by the threat of severe migraines, I am sure the full impact on my life was lost to her:  The function that reading or doodling fulfills in calming me down at the end of a stressful day of social interaction.  The role that drawing plays in my relationship with my son, the part it plays in our understanding of one another and our creative processes... Without my plans and schedules, I am rudderless and days can pass in a morose of sedentary catatonia.  The pleasure I took at exploring pattern has now turned to fear and anxiety due to the very real prospect of triggering a migraine... It is all extremely distressing and my anxiety quickly rises past it's usual elevated position to new heights, causing sleeplessness and a cascade of other associated difficulties.

It has always been difficult to explain to NTs, how the impact of  familiar issues such as these differs in autistic people.  It reminds me of something that we learn as scuba divers:  To dive within our limits.  We are told that things can deteriorate quickly into a serious situation if we do not follow this rule.  We are told to consider the Incident Pit:  A metaphorical place where a certain number of small incidents can be weathered without major consequence, but one too many, and nothing with halt your slide into panic and its inevitable, fatal result.  I realised that all these 'small inconveniences'  (not reading, not drawing, staying out of bright sunshine, not diving, not eating certain foods, not looking at patterns, not being reliable etc) had me skating perilously close to the edge of my own Incident  Pit.  I faced a future without any of my coping mechanisms, without any of my methods for sharing ideas or connecting with people, and I panicked.  It has been many years since the idea of suicide entered my head, and I'm fairly sure that the only only reason it did recently, was thanks to a rare side effect of the latest medication, but I resent bitterly that it arrived at all, and the terrible impact it had on my family.


So, in summary, although I do, tentatively feel as though I have turned a corner, and that some normality is returning to life, recent events have served to remind me how vulnerable we can be when we isolate ourselves, and how difficult it can be for others to see this.  It is ultimately up to us to recognise our limits, and when to ask someone to throw that lifeline.

Derailed

Things have apparently been going too well.  My blissful transition from anxiety-wracked nerdy under-achiever to contented, thankful, hopeful individual has been rudely sidetracked by something known as Chronic Migraine.  This insidious and little understood condition is extremely distressing and I have found myself ill-equipped to deal with it or its wider effects.

I am a creature of habit. As an Aspie, schedules lists and patterns weave the aspects of my life together into something that I can navigate reasonably successfully. I rely on reliability.  But my reliability has been taken from me, and it has been devastating.

To explain:  I had only had migraines rarely in the past, perhaps once every one or two years, and they were fairly mild: a few visual fireworks , a nasty headache tempered by a feeling of elation once the event was over.  Then, about a year ago, I began to have severe migraines with 'aura' (a visual disturbance that take a number of forms, but in my case, was a flickering zig-zag pattern that started in the centre of my field of vision but soon expanded to fill it entirely, for at least 20 minutes.)  This would be accompanied by nausea, disorientation and a loss of verbal dexterity (I would struggle to find the right words).  This would be followed by up to 8 hours of severe headache, centred in one or both eyes. I would spend the next day (if spared by another migraine) in a mindless fug - my thought processes muddled and slow, de-motivated and depressed.)

Within a month of having the first migraine, they were occurring almost every day.

My life stopped.  I could not work.  I couldn't drive. I couldn't manage a decent conversation.  I couldn't watch the TV, read, or work on my computer.  I couldn't work on my book, draw or paint or write my blog.  I couldn't go outside in the sunshine or open my eyes in the bathroom thanks to my striped flooring.  Worst of all, I couldn't think.  I have let people down, missed deadlines, broken promises and failed to turn up.  All cardinal sins to an Aspie.  I feel as if I have regressed to the sorry state I was in when I was 20: No confidence, no prospects and no idea.  Only the stalwart support of my amazing husband and son have kept me afloat, and for that I am extremely grateful.

I have always avoided taking medications - I seem to be particularly sensitive to their side effects and have suffered many that were quite severe and rare.  The drugs available for managing chronic migraine come with lists of side effects that are almost more frightening than the thought of a never-ending migraine.  Over the course of the next 6 months I tested medications and compared side effects and efficacy.  Nothing seemed to work and everything made me feel terrible.  It is testament to my desperation at this point, that I settled on a regimen that blocked only most of the effects of the migraines, but left me dizzy, faint, prone to blacking out.  (Being unable to drink alcohol or go diving now seem minor considerations.)  Now, however, the medication is failing, the migraines are back with a vengeance and I am back at square one.

I find myself wondering whether I can realistically continue to work at all.  How can I offer services when I am so unreliable?  I cannot convey quite how horrendous this concept is to me.  This is the one thing I had complete confidence in:  My ability to get stuff done.  The one quality of mine that was never questioned by anyone:  I could be relied upon.

So, I find myself about to embark on a new regimen of scary drugs (the list of instructions and side effects for this one took a full 45 minutes to read through!) that will lessen the effects of the migraines at the acceptable risk of liver failure, kidney stones and blindness.  As I sit here, feeling my neck stiffen and watching the tell-tale sparkles appear at the periphery of my vision, I hope I have made the right choice this time...  I am still waiting to see a neurologist, a year down the line, but there is no guarantee they will have anything helpful to tell me about this debilitating and misunderstood condition.

The feeling is Mutual

I have lived for many years with the unshakable and certain knowledge that I was alone.  That no-one would ever truly understand my world, my experience, my truth.  For two weeks now, I have been rather off balance - my certainty has disappeared and normality has yet to return, because return it must:  If it doesn't, I will have to think of something to replace it with, and this is new territory.

I have grown closer to people in the last year or so, special friends who share my experience, whose insights I value, whose company I genuinely enjoy, but the loneliness persisted.  Something fundamental has changed since the TA/Aspie workshop that we attended a fortnight ago, when, shockingly, my NT husband went from borderline cynicism to  wholehearted devotee of TA. He acquired an almost miraculous appreciation, not only of the difficulties I face as an Aspie, but also the breadth of the empath/systemiser spectrum and his place in it, and the power of TA to bridge the enormous chasms that litter our attempts to connect with people.  It was somewhat unexpected, and I wanted to give things time to return to normal, for his enthusiasm to wane, for the bubble to burst. The odd thing is that none of these things has happened.  And, even more unexpectedly, I find I'm OK with that.

I have come to the conclusion that this is due to suddenly having a key person in my life who genuinely understands, wholly, why my life is the way it is. He 'gets it.'

This is The Most Important Person In My Life, and until now, I was certain he only excused my mistakes, tolerated my idiosyncrasies, weathered my anxieties. I have played my part without the innocent wisdom of genuine sincerity. I merely support, agree and frown my concerns with no real expectation of understanding. This is no longer the case. He 'get's it.'

We have talked and talked and talked.  We have sat in silence, grinning at each other between intervals of hand-holding. He tells me he's less stressed now, and that he no longer feels the need to start conversations with 'don't take this the wrong way' or to answer 'it's nothing' when I ask why he's upset:  He gets it.  I go to work and experience the same old problems, the same lack of understanding, the same pressures and anxieties but somehow, they no longer seem to accumulate into the overwhelming assault that left me exhausted at the end of every day.  I brush them off:  The Most Important Person in my life 'gets it'.

My friend, Peter assures me that this is, in fact, the experience of Mutuality.  This is unconditional; a place where communication is effortless, where I am accepting and accepted, where I am welcomed. It is a gift: A sublime edition to our hard won and solid foundation, 25 years in the making.

(I suppose I should wish my husband a Happy Silver Wedding Anniversary while I'm thinking about it... chances are I'll probably forget by next August!)

Binary system - stars in mutual orbit

An illuminating experience (or, The Light at the End Of The Tunnel has had its Chance..)

I think I must have heard every possible incarnation of the phrase: "There is light at the end of the tunnel" over the last 40 years or so.  From concerned family members to well-meaning therapists, the all encompassing message that persistence reaps a happy ending is a stalwart of the optimist's arsenal...  I am sorry if I sound less than optimistic - The light at the end of my personal subway has been obvious by its absence for the entire span of operations, but I suddenly find myself part of a team that has been busily installing skylights along the length of the entire system...

My own network of dark and seemingly endless tunnels had been explored exhaustively and no prophetic light could be found, perhaps because there didn't appear to be an end to the tunnel.  I may have managed, through trial and error, to learn to walk the tunnels without blundering into the walls too often but fear of the dark, so to speak, is ever present and unyielding.  I may also have had company in the dark - a trusted companion  who held me up when I stumbled, but we were both, still in the dark.  In my despair, I reluctantly conceded that this was my reality many years ago, and that it would never change.

I have no precedent, therefore, for the fact that this reality has changed, and I feel oddly, but pleasantly, adrift.  I talked some time ago, about my wish to break down the barrier that still existed between my husband and I, despite our 30 years of amicable partnership.   He is NT and we have never shared an understanding about how the Asperger's mind differs from the NT. Until now.

My husband recently attended Rich Hall and Peter Flowerdew's course on Transactional Analysis for therapists and Aspie clients and their families. Again, I was helping out as co-presenter with my friend, Rich.  I had hoped, that after 3 intensive days of explanations and discussion, my husband would acquire some insight into what life is actually like for me, and Aspies generally. Indeed, he acquired this insight and more:  He also learned a new appreciation of his own personality and communication style, and how it colours all of his interactions. He understands, at last, the extent to which our worlds differ, and that, given the right circumstances, they can converge.  In short, the last barrier to our communication has been lifted, and we can now be wholly 'real' with each other, in a shared space, with no concerns about treading blindly on each other's toes.

My 11 year old son paid us the simplest of compliments, when he heard his Dad and I talking after the course:  He said "Dad, why are you talking like Mum?"  Such a small thing, but it was the first 'independent verification' that we were finally speaking the same language.

My vocabulary seems insufficient, and my thoughts too cluttered to clearly express the impact of this on our lives.  I hope that this stupefied state will leave me soon, and I can write more clearly about the implications of this profoundly positive change.

The Great Convergence:  Galaxies, NGC 2207 on the left, and IC 2163 on the right, approx. 80 million light-years from Earth (Hubble Space Telescope image) Not so much a collision, as a 'coming together'.

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 agonizingly 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 visualisation and detailed description. It is a true and equal Partnership, with both parties cooperating and each providing something the other cannot (yet - I know he will learn).  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 'peripheral' 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...

Fitting a square peg into a round hole is possible, 

but it helps to have the brightest minds in NASA working on it.

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, and thankful to the compliment-giver.'  It is almost entirely an intuitive interaction. With my logical, cognitive mind, I understand this to be the main purpose of a compliment.

In people such as myself, compliments are not given or responded to intuitively.  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.  It is when you experience this without intuiting the good feeling, that a compliment can appear as an unsolicited 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 practicing 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 appraisingly 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, 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 informed 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 intellectual 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)

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 Rich Hall and 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 Rich 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.  This workshop 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.  It manages 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 traditionally understood "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 to the Parent, (a parallel interaction) 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 disrespectful), and not the 'Adult' state response it actually was. The startling connection that has made here, 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 interactions 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...

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, for instance.  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 over which no other species can claim mastery.

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 categorised 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 intrinsically linked with quality... (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 often harbour include tangential 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 (and, let's face it, 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 tends 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 among 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 human or indeed, 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.