Knowing about my neurodivergence has given me the key to what I've been looking for...basically my whole life. I've always known that there was something wrong; why did I feel so awful all the time? Why did nothing ever work out? Why did everything I ever tried end in heartbreak and tragedy? And most importantly, how do I change it?

And I did feel horrible. I mean, I knew that I felt bad, but I didn't even know how bad until I felt something different to compare it to.

That's what all of it has been about. The searching, the studying, the journeying, the questioning, the mysticism and asceticism, the writing on this blog: everything was a quest to find an explanation for and a solution to my suffering.

I don't know why simply understanding what it is makes such an enormous difference. But it does. I mean, there is the fact that it enables me to get the right pharmaceutical aid to get my neurotransmitters properly balanced--and that alone is huge. But it's not all of it. Somehow, knowing what it is has made me able to come to terms with it. To find...well...not peace, exactly, but balance...perspective. I feel centered. It's like I've been surrounded by dementors all my life, and have finally learned to summon a patronus. Only it's not exactly a happy thought that does it: it's more like Sirius in Azkaban--it's the knowledge of the truth, even if it's not particularly wonderful, rather than some pleasant memory.

Now, also, I find it much easier to comprehend other people's communication. I am still not, and never will be, adept at it. It still takes effort and reflection; but I can get it. Unfortunately, now that I am more able to see in that way, I can see more clearly all the times in the past when I hurt other people without meaning to. Especially in dealing with girls. I mean, there are enough problems with communication between normal men and women. But with this added factor, it's been an absolute disaster. So many hurt feelings, when I never intended to be hurtful; I just always said the wrong thing, or said it in the wrong way. And the worst part is that so often, what I was trying to say was exactly what she was wanting to hear, only I'm not able to say it in a way that she can hear it. And vice-versa. She'll be trying to tell me something important through hints, and suggestions, and inferences, and other indirect means, as girls do, and I'll be utterly clueless.

But in all cases, I never wanted to hurt anyone. I'm thinking back, and I honestly cannot remember a time when I intentionally said something for the express purpose of hurting someone. No, wait, there's one; during the divorce. But even that was coming from a place of pain and betrayal, not malice.

And I see how living with neurodivergence without realizing it forced me to develop layers of defense mechanisms and coping strategies that were dysfunctional and ineffective. And the longer I went, the more twisted and deeply-embedded they became. Maybe that's where understanding has its effect; in allowing me to unravel all of that and come up with new ways of dealing with things.

But I don't think that's all of it, either. There's something which is hard to articulate. It's like, from the time I was a small child, I was made to feel different; alien; other; unacceptable; unlovable; a freak. Not as much (but still a bit) within my family, but definitely outside it. I don't know how to convey the effect it had. But it left a mark on how I saw myself, and how I felt about myself. Over the years, it became buried under those layers, but the wound was always there. The self-doubt and self-hatred. To oversimplify it, I guess it could be expressed as "Why am I Unlovable?" 

Try to imaging how you might feel about yourself if every interaction and relationship, starting in childhood, ended in criticism, judgment, hostility, and rejection. So yeah, I became sensitive, and defensive. 

I have had very few genuine human connections in my life, so the ones I do have are extremely precious to me. But it always ends up that those people mean more to me than I do to them. It's not easy for me to make those connections, so once I do, I don't want to let go. But they seldom seem to have a problem with tossing me to the roadside. It's almost impossible for me to communicate with people without grave misunderstanding; so I developed the habit of trying, and trying, and trying, to explain myself. But people always heard something different than what I was wanting to say. I've never had a single relationship of any kind which didn't end up breaking my heart; so I became skittish, and hesitant to open myself up, and eventually just quit altogether.

But now I'm...well, working on it, at least. I haven't really gone back "out there" into the world, and don't know if I ever will. But I've at least started to get involved in some things, in a limited way. I'm kind of done with normal people, though. Only interacting with other freaks and weirdos. 

 

I went into college intending to major in English Lit., thinking that I was going to study the great thoughts of the great thinkers by wise and kindly (if a bit crotchety and sharp) old men in tweed jackets with elbow-patches. Instead, I found that English departments had become the epicenter of feminist post-whatever, anti-everythingism, and that anything written by a "dead white male" was to be scorned and spurned. In one of my first classes, this poem was used as an example of...you know, patriarchy, blah, blah, and held up for ridicule and hate. I changed my major.

Just a lovely reading of it here by Lloyd, aka Lindybeige, another slightly crotchety, hopelessly out-of-date old white man, like me. Thanks, Lloyd.

Dear Everyone;

I don't want your app. I Don't Want Your App. I DON'T WANT YOUR APP. I DON'T WANT YOUR &*^%$@ APP!

Sincerely,

A Private Person who wants Peace

P.S. I don't want to be on your damned mailing list either.

P.P.S. I don't want to sign up for your "loyalty" program or carry your stupid card around.

P.P.P.S. No, I won't like, share, subscribe, or follow. Shut up about it.

 

Sweet Patricia

I've just learned that lovely Patricia Janeckova has passed away at the age of 25, from breast cancer.

I am heartbroken. She was so beautiful, so charming, so vivacious and captivating. And her voice! I have never heard anything like it. It was phenomenal. I seriously think she's the most gifted soprano since the invention of recording. 

Often I would watch her when I was feeling low, and it lightened my heart, just knowing that such a wonder was in the world. And she is gone. A light has gone out of the world.

Requiesce in pace, Patricia. I will miss you.

 

I guess I'm not the only one after all.

 

"In other matters also it seemed that fortune was unfriendly to him, so that often what he designed went awry, and what he desired he did not gain; neither did he win friendship easily, for he was not merry, and laughed seldom, and a shadow lay on his youth."

-- Tolkien, The Children of Hurin

 I'm always hearing about this "white male privelege". It sounds really great--where do I sign up for it? I seem to have been missing out.

 

Hoo-ah. Amen, brother. The world needs more Arabs like this. The world needs more men like this.

An answer to the gender identity crisis:

Take your clothes off. Look down. What do you see? That's what you are.

 I don't think so. The world has had a great deal too much of that already, thank you.

I very rarely get political here. In fact, I don't think I ever have. But things in the world are going in a very concerning direction, and I feel it's time to choose sides. 

I am with Israel. 

And if you're a spineless, gutless, whimpering, cowardly liberal who supports the terrorists and hates Israel, then I have no more patience with you. And while we're at it, the same goes if you are a spoiled, privileged, self-loathing, fashionably guilty liberal who spouts Marxist propaganda while living the good life on the proceeds of capitalism and the blood of the soldiers you so despise. 

Liberals are such hypocrites. They're supposed to be all anti-racist, yet they always support the filthy, foul, disgusting, loathesome, pig, terrorist, murdering, raping jihadis who openly profess to want to exterminate all Jews, over the people of Israel who have been the targets of more racism, persecution, and violence than every other race combined. What the hell? I mean, seriously--what the hell?

Remember last time gutless liberals stood by, appeased, and wet themselves like cocker spaniels while someone spouted anti-semitism and followed it up with action?

And if you are a filthy, foul, disgusting, loathesome, pig, terrorist, murdering, raping jihadi (God curse you) here in America, and take offense at my words, then feel free to drop by my house and we'll have a nice talk about it.

Also, I am with Ukraine and Taiwan, while I'm on a rant. I have been seriously wishing that I were healthy enough to go and volunteer. 

It's really starting to look like World War III might actually, finally be coming. "The third Russian empire will last a thousand years!" Why does that sound familiar? Wasn't there another guy who said something like that not so long ago?

Ein Mann wird allein geboren. Er lebt allein. Und er stirbt allein.

 -- Erich Maria Remarque

Some quotes from other autistic people:

"Be Honest: Autistic vs Neurotypical Honesty

I’ve learned a lot recently after asking allistic people on twitter what they truly want to hear from other people when allistic people say “be honest.” In short, most of them want a very specific “type” of honesty. At least, neurotypical people may consider this honesty.

Neurotypical Honesty

Depending on the context, a neurotypical person may want the sugar-coated truth. Other times, they may want more honesty or honesty without the sugarcoating if you’re a close friend. Other times, they want to be supported and encouraged, or reassured about a choice they made.

I’ve learned that most of the time, neurotypical people don’t really want honesty. They want curated honesty. They don’t want the first thoughts that come into your head. They want a rephrased “nice” version, which to me, changes the interpretation of those real thoughts. So to me that’s not honesty.

To allistic people: If you don’t want non-sugarcoated honesty – do not say “be honest” because that’s clearly not what you want. Just tell us what you want, with your words. You can utilize phrases such as “Be supportive please” or “be gentle,” and honestly, it’s a lot more honest!

Even while discussing this topic with allistic people, they act as if there is some clearly stated, obvious boundary of what is “offensive” or what is “brutally honest” and what is a better version of honesty. This notion of clear boundaries between those things can be thrown out the window entirely due to allistic people’s negative interpretations of autistic body language and tone of voice.

We, autistic people, don’t get the benefit of the doubt when we say the same exact words an allistic person says, because our body language may be interpreted negatively. To tell autistic people just to “not say anything offensive” is like asking a cat to do advanced calculus. The idea that we know what will be interpreted as offensive by non-autistic people is laughable."

I don't know if "allistic" is a real term, but it's used by some people to mean non-autistic or neurotypical.

 

"I grew up in a home where you said what you meant and you meant what you said. It was awesome! I later discovered that not everyone likes or is prepared to hear this kind of strong honesty. Most people seem to like to be let down gently rather than told things as they are. It interests me. If I am upsetting a person I would much rather they tell me  what I did than what usually happens which is that they distance themselves and I never see them again. I am left puzzled by this and deeply hurt.

I like autistic honesty. It is sensible and I think it is more respectful to be honest. I know how to mask and do small talk but my preference is not to. The honesty thing can be seen as a fundamental difference between autistic people and neurotypical people. It seems that it doesn’t occur to the neurotypical folks to say things honestly the way autistics do. Working on several levels at once and telling people what they want to hear is very different to what autistics do. We  tend to operate on one level at a time and what we say is what we mean.

I have met many neurotypical people who are partners to an autistic person saying how refreshing our honesty is. What interests me is that they think it is a choice! In fact honesty for autistic people is more like a default setting. We are not deliberately being honest we are just being ourselves. Honesty doesn’t just extend to verbal or written conversations either. It also relates to body language and eye contact. As an autistic person I have no way of knowing what my eyes or body are conveying. I am not aware of body language and eye contact in myself or in others. I definitely cannot intentionally adjust my body language or eye contact to convey something I don’t actually mean or believe. A few years ago I was working in a lovely team in Human Resources, My senior manager said something which was a bit sensitive about a colleague. He looked at me and said ‘That’s the right eye contact Yenn!’ It was like he thought I was intentionally doing the appropriate thing with my eyes. In reality my eyes were being honest – they only know how to be honest! Luckily my intent was positive!

There are a lot of misinterpretations in this space. Autistic people are so often called rude or disrespectful because our honesty makes people think we are intentionally being unpleasant. It is one of those cultural type differences between autistic people and neurotypicals. We are (metaphorically) speaking a different language which is rarely recognised or understood by the neurotypical folks in our lives. So instead of thinking we are different and our intentions and approach are different they assume we have the same meaning with our words and actions that they would if they said or did those things."

 

"From what I understand, neurotypical people communicate largely by subtext. There are words, but the tone of voice, facial expression, and body language convey the bulk of the meaning.

With neurodivergent people, the words themselves are the most important. Unfortunately, since NT culture is so used to looking for subtext, those words are often lost behind ‘blank’ facial expressions and ‘flat’ vocal tones."

This is so precisely my lifelong experience that I can hardly overstate it. It pretty much explains everything. My whole life has been one misunderstanding after another: I say something, meaning one thing, and the other person hears something totally different, interpreting my meaning through the filters of this baffling (to me) multi-level normative communication; they (ok, let's be honest, usually she) get offended, angry, and hostile, and start attacking me, or worse yet, they keep acting nice but then begin a campaign of defamation, character assasination, and gossip behind my back, which I have NO CLUE about. Eventually, I pick up on the fact that something is wrong, and so I go and try to fix it directly, being completely honest, sincere, and vulnerable; they either take it as some kind of scheme or elaborate triple-reverse insult or whatever, or they're already so vengeful, or vindictive, or hysterical, or whatever that they aren't willing to try and fix it; and then...well, you know the rest of the story. Over and over. All my life. Since I was old enough to start interacting with people other than my family. It happens with strangers. It happens with acquaintances. It happens in friendships. It happens in relationships. It happens at jobs. It happens at school. It happens at church. And all because I'm autistic. And because I never knew it. If I'd at least known, I could have learned to adapt, and could have explained to people how I'm different. Not that that would have worked with everyone, or in every situation, but it could have saved me a lot of pain.

This clip is from a movie about an autistic young man who's venturing out into the world for the first time.

This is exactly how the world seems to me. Like I'm an alien, observing from outside. Like I'm speaking a different language from everyone else--a language whose words sound the same but have different meanings. Like everyone else is playing a game to which I don't know the rules. Like I'm not part of their species. Just pain. Just horrible pain.

 I bought a new house! Well, I bought an old house.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1533-N-East-Side-Hwy-Elkton-VA-22827/108047013_zpid/

"To die is nothing, but it is terrible not to live."

-- Victor Hugo

 

You know that awkward feeling, when you walk into a medieval church and find a thousand-year-old picture of yourself in the stained glass? 

I had forgotten this song existed until I heard it the other day on Pandora. God, how appropriate it would have been a few years ago. Still beautiful, though.

 

Heroes often fail.