There’s another article in today’s Globe magazine that I’d like to draw your attention to, as well: the Boston Uncommon feature, an essay by Christopher Wood-Robbins about how being diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome at age 40 changed his life. It’s a beautiful piece.
I’ve written before about Asperger’s, and my own fascination with the condition, and occasional frustration with people on the spectrum. The article I linked to in the previous sentence did more to help me “get it” than anything else, but something really leaped out at me from Mr. Wood-Robbins’s article:
Other kids taunted me at recess and threw dodge balls at my head (and it wasn’t during a game). I would skip down hallways to my next class and not understand why everyone else thought it was strange.
I’m about as neurotypical as they come, and those two lines could be taken directly from my unwritten memoirs. See, my folks moved around a bit when I was a kid, and while skipping down hallways might have been considered whimsical and cool in School 1, and I would be some kind of trendsetter, at School 2, it would be the dorkiest thing you could possibly do and the dodge balls would start flying. As a child, I could pick up on social cues, but I honestly couldn’t figure out why the same behavior, clothes, or lunchbox that would made me cool in one setting made me an outcast in another. The bullying pained me — but the unearned popularity mystified me just as much. And the fact that I knew I hadn’t changed led me to believe that social interaction is fundamentally unknowable … and probably not worth it.
So … yeah. Maybe I do know, a little more than I’ve let on, even to myself, what Aspie folks must feel like sometimes. And maybe some of my mixed emotions about them might be a desire to shut out those painful feelings of confusion and loneliness from my own childhood. I’ve always assumed that my difficulty getting along with people on the spectrum is that I’m very different from them. This is true, but maybe that’s not the whole story.
Because I know what it’s like to do the thing that seems right and normal and have people laugh in your face. I know what it’s like not to realize that the rules have changed until it’s too late. I know what it’s like not to get the joke. I know what it’s like not to even realize there was a joke until you find out, again too late, that you were the butt of it.
And I know what it’s like to say, “Screw it, I’m just going to hang out with my dog and read Sherlock Holmes. Y’all ain’t worth it.” Boy oh boy, do I know what that’s like.
The author ends his essay with this:
If you can try to understand why I function the way I do, then I will do my best to learn the proper way to do things on the neurotypical side of the fence. In other words, I’ll meet you halfway.
Change “halfway” to “for a cup of coffee,” Mr. Wood-Robbins, and you’ve got yourself a deal.
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2 Comments to 'Strangers in strange lands'
October 4, 2009
Asperger’s fascinates me as well. I have an uncle who I think is definitely undiagnosed (being in his late 60s, the diagnosis did not exist for most of his life). And I’m in the process of getting my Masters in Secondary Ed, so we’ve studied it somewhat.
Sometimes, I am also frustrated by Asperger’s. I would think that I would not be diagnosed as someone with it or high functioning Autism (because they may or may not be the same thing, jury is still out) but there are definitely times were I am socially awkward and I remember being explicitly taught (either by another or self-taught) many of the skills that those with the disease struggle with. I wasn’t born knowing that if someone asks how you are, you should answer (probably briefly and many times with “fine” despite reality because, well, no one really wants to know about your myriad aches, pains, trials and tribulations) AND respond in kind – I was taught by my parents and through observation of others. I remember explicitly watching a cousin of mine, who always seemed so comfortable in social situations, and then mimicking her and it worked. But it wasn’t innate, yet, especially in the context of neurotypical vs. Asperger’s, “they” make it seem like it is or should be. And I always wonder, do those with Asperger’s not see this interaction (because there are all sorts of applied behavior management programs where the skills can and are taught to those with Asperger’s) and therefore require MORE or better explicit instruction than your average person or have they just received less?
I think everyone could fall somewhere on the spectrum – as I said, if asked certain questions about social interaction, I could come across as someone with Asperger’s but I really don’t think I am.
So, to keep this from being a novel-length comment. I, too, am fascinated both with Asperger’s and its diagnosis. When I start debating it in my head – I can go for hours making mental ‘pro’ and ‘con’ lists regarding it. And, Miss Conduct, I would think you’re right, part of my fascination is that we try and make those with Asperger’s the “other” when, in reality, they might not be that far away from “self”.
October 5, 2009
I’ve suspected for a while now that my husband is on the Autism-Asperger’s spectrum at the lower end, barely an Aspie perhaps. When he was younger, he was diagnosed with ADD, but that doesn’t quite fit all of his….weirdness (and I say that with love).
We got in an argument a couple of weeks ago. And it’s an argument we’ve had before that basically boils down to him asking, “How do I do that?” It was a genuine question. And the “that” is something that seems so obvious and almost intrinsic to me; I didn’t even know where to begin to explain to him how to be, well, human. (I know that sounds mean.)
So when Wood-Robbins says, “my narrow, intense interests; and my need to learn, through clear, logical instruction, what everybody else learns intuitively” I think YES! That! That’s the problem!
To many people who don’t know my husband well, he does seem to be lacking in empathy. He’s been described as a robot or cyborg. He’s actually a caring man and full of compassion, but he just doesn’t know how to express it most of the time. It truly is a mystery to him, and that kind of blows my mind.
I love my husband so much and feel we are so wonderfully matched, but at the same time I realize that he often has a very different mental process from me. Living with him, being his partner in life, can be extremely frustrating, so I understand how you feel Robin. He has many great qualities though, so I am willing to put in the extra work.
That’s a harder burden to take on when the Aspie isn’t such a close loved one. That’s why I’m glad the disorder (or “disorder” as some see it) is being discussed more – to build understanding.
What I haven’t seen a lot of though are ways to interact with people with Asperger’s without coming away offended or feeling awkward. Then of course, you won’t always know someone is an Aspie. Hmmm.
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