A congruity of Aspies

I write today, after one of our 'Sunday Group'  meetings.  This comprises some Directors of The Different Engine CIC, some counselors and psychotherapists trained in transactional analysis.  A 50-50 mix of Aspies and neurotypicals.  We don't have an agenda, as such, but they always generate interesting discussion.  It is a safe place, and somewhere I feel I can indulge my vocabulary without rebuke.  I like words.  I find there is something remarkably pleasing about putting different words together in a certain order, for particular effect.  The complexity of the English language encourages flexibility and creativity, and I appreciate any tool that allows me the luxury of such fine tuning.  I consider what I write very carefully - something I wish I had the luxury to do in everyday conversation, but long pauses in conversation are frowned upon, I find, which is why our occasional get-togethers are so pleasing.  A good vocabulary seems to be a characteristic of many Aspies, and when we have occasion to use ours, we go above and beyond.  Indeed,  during this meeting, someone (an NT) made a comment on having a collective noun for Aspies, and we all rose to the challenge, quickly coming to agreement on "A congruence of Aspies".

Word games aside, there is an important point to be made here.  As a person with Asperger's, I live in what is essentially a chaotic social world.  This is a world where 'yes' doesn't always mean yes, 'maybe' doesn't always means that there is a possibility, and questions aren't always a request for factual information.  The Aspie sees incongruity everywhere; discordance, dissonance, incompatibility, inconsistency, disparity, discrepancy.  We crave harmony, compatibility, consistency, conformity, balance, consonance, but this is hard to come by.  I suppose this is why so many of us end up working in the sciences, engineering or computing - fields where an appreciation of congruity is valued.

Part of our discussions touched upon modifying our training workshops to accommodate those who work in education with their limited resources, finances and time.  It had become clear during our last short workshop, that teaching people with very limited time that they needed to slow down, (if they were to give their students the support they needed) was, to their ears, rather unhelpful.  Teachers and Teaching assistants, Learning Support Assistants and Higher Level Teaching Assistants are given training in all aspects of their job throughout their employment, and the delivery method is generally the same, providing them with a 'checklist' or 'tool-kit' to take with them to the classroom. It occurred to me that we were doing the opposite.  We were asking them to throw away their tool-kits and checklists, highlighting a huge and complex issue and merely hinting at a solution.  We were, in their eyes, suggesting incongruity where they saw none (despite a lack of success with the tools they were using).  I was reminded that these roles often attract the more empathetic of us, and that NTs employ cognitive bias without conscious thought much of the time.  This can mean that changing these habits is extremely difficult.

I remain convinced, however, that a fundamental change in approach is needed if we are to achieve rapport with our Aspie students.  How can we meet their needs if we don't understand the reason for their anxiety?  How can we communicate if we don't share a language?  How can we possibly understand if we do not fully appreciate the scale of the challenges faced by these students?  How can we empathise when we do not accept their different experience?

The final and perhaps most formidable obstacle to overcome is the perception that time can only be spent on those students who have been identified as requiring help (those who have received a formal diagnosis).  The obvious issue here is the process of diagnosis itself:  The process is quite long and can be distressing.  People can score very high on the AQ scale, but compensate by trying to not appear different.  They can be disappointed and distressed when they are told they do not qualify for the medical diagnosis - they are functioning too well.  I don't doubt that there is a significant number of students with undiagnosed Asperger's in any educational setting. They might even have been misdiagnosed with depression or pathological demand avoidance... There is no easy fix for this.  It takes time and commitment if we are to effect positive change for these vulnerable students.  There may be a solution in the application of transactional analysis (TA) itself.

Although TA (including our 'tweaked' Aspie version) has proven to be a powerful communication tool for Aspies, it is a similarly powerful communication tool for NTs.  In fact, all the changes we would prescribe for educators working with Aspie students would be beneficial for all, students and staff.  After all... any organisation can only be strengthened by incorporating greater diversity, and wouldn't we all benefit from a little congruity?

"As the new generation of bootstrappers explores this abstract theory space, they seem to be verifying the vision that Chew, now 92 and long retired, laid out half a century ago — but they’re doing it in an unexpected way. Their findings indicate that the set of all quantum field theories forms a unique mathematical structure, one that does indeed pull itself up by its own bootstraps, which means it can be understood on its own terms." (Geoffrey Chew's Bootstrap theory on quantum geometry.)

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.

Cut on the Bias?

I suppose seven days is enough time to tell if one has made a terrible decision in leaving one job and starting another, wouldn't you agree?  Time enough to feel the familiar lick of flame as you realise you have inadvertently left the frying pan for the fire, or to realise that the grass, did in fact only look greener on this side.

There were some familiar 'failings', that could have started alarm bells ringing: The induction schedule being rewritten in favour of actual work, meetings being cancelled, people being unavailable. The odd thing is that, given the general atmosphere of the place and the level of activity of the people involved, at no time did it occur to me that any of the changes were actually harmful to me.  I was always able to catch up with the people in question later, and they were always happy to discuss issues and answer questions.  So I was happy, therefore, to forego the induction in its full sense and get stuck straight into 'being useful'.  I got the distinct impression that this came as an enormous relief to the rest of the team.  I know this because they actually told me.

I am a systemiser, and it was clear almost immediately that the systems and procedures here are inefficient at best, and might be entirely unworkable were it not for the tremendous effort being put in by the staff to keep everything running. I would like to be a part of seeing this fixed, and think they might let me. I know this because they actually agreed - the systems don't work well. Their honesty was refreshing, to say the least.

This was never the case in my previous job:  Systems and procedures were everywhere and constantly updated without consultation and force fed with no concern about their wider effect, beyond their ability to inflate the progress statistics that drive results and ultimately, funding.  In order to be both efficient and successful then, it pays to be cognitively biased:  Try to consider too many things; too many people. Slow things down, and people at the top start to sweat.  People at the bottom start looking for another job.

I watched a re-run of an horizon programme recently about the work of Daniel Kahneman, psychologist and Nobel prize winning economist.  The basis of his work on cognitive bias forms an important part of the model of NT and Aspie cognitive processing in Rich Hall and Peter Flowerdew's work.  It was interesting to see people falling into the trap of making biased decisions by 'cutting out' data in everyday situations in favour of faster processing, even to the point of witnesses 'ignoring' a plainly visible assault in one experiment.  This is Kahneman's 'System 1' (Fast thinking): That wonderful, flexible neural network that filters out all the 'unimportant' stuff and allows instant, intuitive connections to be made in their place, all at lightning speed, and mostly without your conscious knowledge:  The network that is so underdeveloped and underused in Aspies...  Kahneman's genius was to highlight the triggers, influences and repercussions of this type of decision making.

Sadly, the programme concentrated on System 1 and never really went into any detail about 'System 2', (the system I find myself limited to for much of the time).  This slow, logical, analytical, and much more reliable way of thinking is usually reserved for difficult and involved maths problems and the like in neurotypical people.  Aspies tend to rely much more on this type of thinking, and it is often developed to a remarkable degree.  If everyone had to use this system for all their thinking, they would certainly need things to slow down, as Aspies do, but would certainly make fewer mistakes.

As I watched the programme, my voice was raised at the end of every experiment:  "An Aspie would have made an objective decision!"  "An Aspie wouldn't have made that baseless judgement!"  "An Aspie wouldn't have been swayed by popular opinion or simply because they liked it'!" "An Aspie would have looked at all the facts!" There is no denying that System 1 and it's cognitive shortcuts gets things done quickly, but there is inherent risk in making unconscious, biased decisions all of the time.  Ask anyone who is part of a minority.

So, the question is:  What is better?  To rush decision-making, trust the guesswork of others, go with the flow and finish on time, but with a good chance of having got something important wrong? Or to take things more slowly, consider carefully, look at all the angles (including the premise of the task) and finish late, but having got as accurate an answer as possible?  Of course, they both have their ideal application, but I for one don't see the problem with slowing down, being more careful and considerate.  This breakneck pace at which we live our lives and conduct our business is so wasteful and, without doubt, unsustainable.

I had hoped that Economists had learned something from the financial woes of the last 15 years.  Kahneman told them that people take risks - and the greater the potential loss, the greater the risk they are prepared to take.  Perhaps it's time to consider putting System 2 to use a little more.  (I know some Aspies who could help with that.)

A beautiful map of necessary ignorance?  What would the Aspie version look like?

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.

Invalid

I have been struggling with the task of adequately describing the sea change that has occurred in my life - to verbalise the subtle, yet profoundly positive shift that has occurred in the relationship I have cultivated with my husband for 30 years.  I have considered and rejected numerous passionate adjectives to illustrate how deeply I feel this change and how shaken I am by its implications. However, none seems appropriate.  Instead, I find myself drawn to focus on what is now absent. What has been alleviated.  What is no longer important... There is a word I keep returning to in my deliberations:  Invalid.

Invalid: Logically inconsequent.
Invalid: Being without foundation or force in fact, truth, or law.
Invalid: One who is sickly or disabled.

Whether spoken as an adjective or a noun; what an awful word this is:
I see now that this change is more to do with what has been lost, not what has been gained. I have been an invalid and invalid, all my life.

Every soul seeks validation, whether it is from family, friends, colleagues, strangers or the wider public...  Most will receive it in some form, at some time or other - although the quality, quantity and frequency may vary.

One of the most sad and debilitating aspects of life with Asperger's is that the neurological differences present make the social mechanisms one would usually apply in acquiring this validation seem to be absent or so underdeveloped as to appear absent.  We do feel however, (and in exquisite detail) the pain of our failures and the void that exists in its place.

We attempt to compensate for its loss by using systematising strengths to develop valuable technical skills, in-depth or encyclopedic subject knowledge, or to collect catalogues of 'appropriate responses' and body language that can be mimicked. The cruel truth is that these mechanisms all so often exacerbate the lack of validation instead of helping.  (People are intimidated by my skills, confused by my subject knowledge, and suspicious of my programmed responses.  My acting is never quite good enough to fool everyone all of the time, and to be caught out is disastrous.)  Even on those rare occasions when validation is offered unconditionally, we may fail to recognise it, or even learn to avoid it, as being without it is more familiar.

I am astonished, therefore, that a simple knowledge set, gifted to my husband and myself, could have overturned such engrained mechanisms and processes so quickly and so completely. The odd reality is that I have not changed.  All that has happened is that my husband has shifted slightly in his perceptions from 'sympathise, but will never really fully understand' to 'I get it'.  I feel that my response can be eloquently characterised as 'Oh. What?'

Every attempt I have ever made to explain my experience, the way I think, my difficulties etc. in my entire life have all led to the same disappointment.  Cumulatively, the effect is better known as despair.  This is the crux of why I am struggling to process the effect of this knowledge - my despair is missing.

Just knowing, really knowing, with utter surety that someone absolutely 'get's it' has been enough to make that despair evaporate.  All the incidents that usually highlight my vulnerability and failures are passing without their usual effect.  The crushing aftermath of misunderstandings has neglected to materialise.  The validation I am used to clawing from all the wrong places is no longer important.  I now have validation from the one place that matters.  It is enough.

Anything is beautiful if you look at it right... (Left behind - Kyle Wilson photograph)

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

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...

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!

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...