Routine and Home vs Travel and Work

It is 5am and I was just explaining this to someone, in a dream.

In the dream I had fled from something wrong in my life, and ended up in a commune. I knew two people there, a boss and a brother-in-law from a previous life. Both were nice people, but I had struggled to become “friends” with them in the past, despite effort.

The ex-boss (female) and I quickly formed a relationship – it was that kind of a commune. She asked me how my day had been, working with the ex-brother-in-law, doing handyman stuff.

I told her that I really wanted to put effort in, to make conversation, but I couldn’t. I was tired. Not physically tired but tired from the effort to fit in somewhere new.

Autistic people are well known for needing routine. That is their home, because routine and home are where you don’t have to try to fit in. All that effort has been completed. As a kid you keep trying to count to 100 until you can without trying – it has been completed.

I reached that point after being at my current job for maybe 3 years – it is too complex to know exactly when. I went from being incapable of socialising and being paranoid about even asking a question like where is the bathroom? to when I stopped having to put any effort in. Three years and I got there, and I now enjoy my work because it is a home.

I guess that explains why those on the spectrum tend to be very loyal employees.

It also explains why I can get depressed when I travel alone. The worst is when I am on a journey, travelling to somewhere new every day or two. The complete lack of routine and familiarity, the need to learn to count to 100 again every day, is exhausting.

Familiarity – derived from family.

I now finally get why people want to stay on the same beach for two weeks and go back every year. Even though it isn’t adventurous enough for me, and boring (there’s only so many books I can read), I should look into this more.

Any travelling on my own could be done differently…

I will search for a base, where every year I can be adventurous nearby, but still have familiarity. Same hotel, same restaurants, same bar, but different adventures, every day.

It could be a stopover, one week familiar on the way to one week somewhere new.

It could be somewhere with lots of hiking and ancient history.

Being cheap would be useful also!

Good, some research to do 🙂 and I have learned something new about myself. From a dream.

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I Get Angry

Everybody gets angry sometimes. It is a human trait we all have, and it is widely disliked and discouraged.

I would guess even the Dalai Lama gets angry sometimes, but he internalises it, and smiles.

I never display anger, but I experience it. I think even as a young child I had learnt, like many autistic traits, I needed to keep it hidden or be judged by it.

Primarily from observing fellow family members I have worked out when I get angry, and why.

Disappointment. I’m just guessing here, but autistic people, in order to behave normally, need to plan ahead. We love routine, and we hate unpredictable situations, so we try to have all possibilities covered in our heads.

Mistakenly, we often presume something will go as planned, and ignore the possibility that they won’t. This may be connected to the second reason, below.

My best example is food. If I am told that dinner will be lamb chops, and all day long that is in the back of my mind, I expect lamb chops. If what I actually have is different, I get angry. Even though it makes no material difference to my world, I get angry. Even if it is replaced with something I like more, say lamb shanks, I get angry. Of course yelling and throwing the new meal on the floor benefits nobody.

Failure. We different people tend to do the things we do well very, very well. When we fail to live up to our own expectations, we can get upset. Think John McEnroe or Nick Kyrgios – high achievers who still get upset when things were less than perfect.

That’s OK. But what is much, much worse is when you get criticised for something you believe you did well, or ethically, or somebody else caused the failure. This is rare, but when it happens, I simply do not cope.

I know yelling won’t help, and crying is just embarrassing, so I walk away. I literally walk away. On multiple occasions I have walked out from a job, never saying a word and never returning. Losing income is better than the alternatives. I left an early marriage the same way.

Every time I have been punched, I simply walk away. It is the best outcome.

If I ever “snap” because of things going wrong in my life, me not reaching my own expectations, I already know my response. I will walk, and keep going, probably with no destination in mind.

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Think Too Much, Feel Too Much

This isn’t news to me. I have been saying this for years. Autism is a response to thinking and feeling more than neuro-typical folk. It is a defence mechanism. While we might appear to have the least empathy, ultimately we have too much.

Bringing his world-class research to bear on the problem, he devised a radical new theory of the disorder: People like Kai don’t feel too little; they feel too much. Their senses are too delicate for this world.
https://www.salon.com/2019/11/16/how-a-neuroscientists-infant-son-revolutionized-our-understanding-of-autism/

Individuals with autism spectrum disorder often report that looking in the eyes of others is uncomfortable for them, that it is terribly stressful, or even that “it burns.” Traditional accounts have suggested that ASD is characterized by a fundamental lack of interpersonal interest; however, the results of our study align with other recent studies showing oversensitivity.

I had a moment when I worked as a tram conductor in the 90s. Most the job was boring and invited a lot of thoughts about the nature of being. I looked at everyone sitting in their seats and chose to feel their sadness. And I felt it. Not the specifics of their sadness, just the feeling. Under the brave face they were wearing. Every single person at that moment had deep underlying sadness. And everyone ultimately, regardless of the journey they attempt to achieve it, just wants love.

I’m not good at expressing and interpreting feelings, because I feel them too much, not because I lack them. And I’m one of the lucky ones who only has a tinge of it, and can pass for normal. Those people who rock/stim to cope, I cannot be around them, for I know what hell they are going through. And it hurts.

 

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The Woodcutter

I have no idea which book/movie/whatever inspired it, but I had a teen fantasy about being a woodcutter. It was my way of working out the simplest world that would make me feel complete and happy – the opposite of the craziness and misery I felt as a young adult.

  • I wanted to live deep in a forest and be a woodcutter
  • I wanted a wife and children and live in a log cabin
  • I wanted to protect them from bears

Practicalities didn’t matter – this was a fantasy that summed up my primal needs. Do meaningful work, have love, and look after others.

Twenty years later I achieved it… the cottage was a McMansion, the job was marketing, and there was nothing scary to protect my family from. But I got the family part right.

Last week I was as far away from my family as I could possibly be, where polar bears outnumber humans. And there are no trees (too cold). My family is only 42% of what it was before – no wife, but 50% of kids and dogs. No home that feels like home.

My new fantasy is:

  • My own little self-sufficient farm
  • Animals to love and look after
  • Something evil to bring down using the Internet

The basics are still the same, and I think primally they are the same for most men. We just need to find a way to make it work in a very complex world.

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The Extrovert Aspy

Copy and pasting this in full, it is that good, found here:

One of the central characteristics of autism in DSM 5 is a deficit in social communication and social interaction. The social and interpersonal aspects of life are a challenge, so how does the person who has autism adapt to these challenges? Clinical experience suggests there are three potential adaptations: the introvert, the “intensive” extrovert, and the “camouflaging” extrovert.

The Introvert

The more easily recognized adaptation is that of the person who could be described as an introvert. The child (and subsequent adult) actively minimizes or avoids social engagement, recognizing that social interaction is indecipherably complex, overwhelming, and stressful. This conspicuous adaptation, therefore, is to choose (where possible) to be alone to accomplish things while not necessarily feeling lonely.

But we are increasingly recognizing those people with autism who are extroverts and highly motivated to socialize. For these people, there are two potential adaptations that facilitate social engagement.

The “Intrusive” Extrovert

The first of these two adaptations is to actively seek social experiences, even though the person may not be able to read all the subtle social signals that regulate and moderate the intensity of social engagement. Due to impaired theory of mind, those who have autism often have difficulties reading the nonverbal communication used in a social interaction. Their social behavior is then perceived as intrusive, intense, and irritating. A metaphor to describe this adaptation to autism is that of a driver who does not see the traffic signals (nonverbal communication) or abide by the traffic code (social conventions). They are unable to accurately read social situations and therefore act inappropriately. While there is considerable motivation for social interaction and making friends, these experiences may nevertheless be ended prematurely by the social partner. The consequence is that the person feels bitterly disappointed that conversations, friendships, and relationships are short-lived, and social popularity remains elusive. Another issue is that once friendship is achieved, the person can become possessive, idealizing their new friend with an intensity that is overwhelming. When the friendship or relationship ends, there can be intense despair and feelings of abandonment, betrayal, and of being misunderstood.

The “Camouflaging” Extrovert

The second adaptation for the person with autism who is an extrovert is to recognize their difficulties in reading nonverbal communication and in making and keeping friends. With this insight, they acquire successful social and interpersonal abilities by keenly observing peers and people in general, analyzing their social behavior, and interpreting and abiding by social rules and conventions, thus effectively camouflaging their social difficulties. The person creates a social “mask.” This third adaptation to autism—camouflaging—which was first recognized as an adaptation to autism by girls and women, but which we now recognize as also occurring with males.

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Suicide

People on the Autism Spectrum are substantially more likely to consider suicide and also to do it (from memory it is 6x more and 2x more).

This makes sense when you consider my 4 word summary of people with Asperger’s – Think More, Feel More.

We typically over-think everything, and are a lot more emotional. Being withdrawn and “lacking empathy” are actually coping mechanisms, to deal with the overload of feelings. If I accidentally stood on an ant, I am sure I would literally cry, if I hadn’t spent my whole life adjusting my behaviour to be more normal.

When I was younger I contemplated it in theory many times, but when I attempted it, I surprised myself. It kinda came out of nowhere, but was clearly from an accumulation of desperate loneliness, alienation and being in a situation I didn’t have the skills to cope with.

It was also, perhaps, the best thing I ever failed. Because I also “think more”, suicide is the most irrational thing imaginable. It has ever since been something that is stupid to even contemplate. And I have loved being alive more because of it.

  • You only live once (probably)
  • Any form of existence is better than nothing (perhaps)
  • But here’s the kicker – if you are so low you want to end things, that is most likely the worst things will ever get. Which means your future must be better. Which means the whole rest of your life could be an existence where you don’t think that way again.

I have since known numerous suicidal people, and been in situations where I was involved as someone they could talk to. I am no expert, have no training, have read no books on the topic – but I think I have been helpful (they are all still alive).

I think my approach comes from being on the spectrum – I talk logic to them. I don’t discuss the situation they are in, or family, or the past, or how it is selfish. They are all on the emotional side of things that got them there. I just explain that it is a stupid, illogical thing to do, especially as I know from experience that things will definitely get better. I mention all the nice possibilities in their future they will never get to have. And I tell them that it is their choice, but doing it would be nonsensical. I make a point of saying it is a choice, and they get to decide. I figure that is different to their state of mind which is suggesting there is no choice, that there is only one way out.

I have known people who have killed themselves. I just never got to discuss it with them. I think that’s my point. Be the person they will want to talk to.

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Non-Verbal

Supposedly 80% of communication is non-verbal.

I know that, without a doubt, when you remove seeing the person who is talking from the equation, I struggle.

Don’t get me wrong – I get less information non-verbally, socially, than neuro-typical folk. But I get less information in general, and less of what is already less makes things worse.

The reason I know this… in my 20s I travelled a lot. I was in foreign lands more than NZ. I phoned my parents as frequently as I could (it was very expensive back then, pay phones).

And I had to be drunk to call them. These are the people I knew the most in my life, by far, obviously. I could picture them saying something easily. They are the people I had conversed with the most, by far. And yet, with only a voice to get social clues from, I found it immensely difficult, almost impossible, to call them.

Yet another example of how for me personally, alcohol was a saviour. It took the edge off an overwhelming environment.

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New Venues

A huge aspect of my “condition” is familiarity. For example, where I currently work, for my first year there, I literally didn’t have a casual conversation with anyone. I dressed quite formally, and I was pretty much terrified that I would make a mistake. These days I am massively comfortable there, even bold at times. No wonder Aspys are know for their work loyalty.

Last night I went to 2 venues that were new to me, The Croxton to see The Damned, and a goth night at The Sub Club.

Because the Croxton hosted the Eagles of Death Metal a few years back, and the same band was attacked by terrorists in Paris on my birthday, and the night’s band was called The Damned, I had it in my head that an attack was unlikely but possible. I spent a good half hour on an exit strategy.

I was drunk at Sub Club but not drunk enough to get loose. At a familiar venue with the same people and music I would’ve been dancing all night. As it was, I got loose around 3am for 10 minutes. I was verging on memory loss to get to that happy, carefree state.

I said this here 6 years ago:

For me personally, I get claustrophobic – too much going on in one place. When I enter a large social situation (rock concert, wedding, lecture) I will usually be against a wall and close to an exit – in case I need to escape. But these apply mostly to new situations. Repeated situations don’t have me on guard nearly as much.

 

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Things I Have Never Done

I am a very adventurous person, and I have found that it is an Aspie trait to be curious about pretty much everything.

Yet there are many, many everyday things I have never done, especially when it comes to food.

Things I have never eaten or tried – not a comprehensive list:

  • donuts
  • lobster / crab
  • chewing gum
  • eggs (except for in fried rice)
  • ice cream except for plain vanilla, french vanilla, chocolate and neapolitan. Definitely never with nuts
  • banana
  • grapes
  • kimchi
  • sauerkraut
  • any raw fish (and I’ve been to Japan twice)
  • cheezels
  • black pudding (but I have eaten haggis many times)
  • rabbit
  • goat
  • any salad that has dressing

Things I have not experienced, that many/most people my age have:

  • massage
  • bungee jump or skydive
  • rollercoaster or any such ride
  • listened to an audiobook or podcast
  • had an operation
  • been to a funeral for someone I cared about
  • been on a cruise ship
  • be tattooed
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Asperger’s in my childhood

I recall four occasions from my first year of primary school, and all seem relevant now.

At the end of my first day I was meant to meet my older cousins at the front gate, which was a large stone arch. Unfortunately there was a gate that looked exactly the same at the rear of the school. My cousins didn’t turn up, and I knew it was a short walk straight down the road so I headed off. And  got lost. Long-story short I knocked on someone’s door and declared that I was lost. And I had memorised my parent’s phone number.

During lunch breaks I would often stand just outside my classroom and try and work out what everyone else was doing and why. I would stare at some drainpipes, I think to make it look I was doing something and not being 100% odd. And every-time I stood there the same pop song would play in my head over and over again. The song and place belonged to each other. There was no shaking it.

There was a soccer field and I used to watch the kids play soccer from quite some distance away, and I yearned to join in. But I couldn’t work out how. It made me very sad.

I went to a birthday party at a girl’s home, with plenty of my classmates present. Her father was a policeman. Despite encouragement I didn’t really participate in the games, and wouldn’t eat any cake. I just leant against the wall and observed. I didn’t mind, but it bothered me that it bothered them.

We changed towns a few times and that didn’t help with making friends, but I was always going to struggle regardless. The basic rule was that the oddest kid in the school would latch on to me and he would be my friend. As long as my friend was talkative, I never minded who they were. They did tend to be the type that got bullied, and I wasn’t a good friend in those situations. Empathy clearly wasn’t there at that age, though self-preservation was strong in me.

I was bullied consistently throughout childhood, even by girls. All it took was four factors combined – I hung out with the wrong people, I was clever, I was aloof, and my reactions were always wrong, such as smiling when I shouldn’t. Two factors meant that I was never beaten up, despite dozens of attempts each year – I was clever (good for hiding), and I ran very, very fast.

Crying in hiding places was very common for me.

At home I was a pretty active kid, lots of interests, got on OK with my siblings, plenty of exploring outdoors and bike riding, to balance the reading and music listening (and later, computers). I would listen to the Top 40 countdown every Sunday and religiously chart the new positions in a scrapbook. I’ve loved listening to pop music, but didn’t appear to have much musical talent. So I tried to find patterns in the songs I liked, and patterns in the changing chart positions.

At school, in classrooms, I had two states of being – zoned out or class clown. I don’t know which came first, shutting out the sensory inputs arising from 30 kids in a room, or staring out the window from boredom because the studies were too easy. As a young adult everyone thought I was a stoner (although I would never touch drugs, then), because I was zoned out. It was a coping mechanism.

School camps and dances were awkward. They were highly social situations for confident kids, and even though I witnessed a lot of flirting between genders, and beyond, I could never work out how I could do the same. It was a foreign language.

Stimming.

I never rocked, that I can recall. I would chew on pens and fidget, but nothing like rocking. I know now that I’ve always wanted to, I guess I just didn’t because nobody else did. Trying to be normal has been a constant in my life.

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