Learning to accept myself
November 11th 2006 00:34
Accepting your Asperger's
I have this interesting habit, it seems. Whenever I meet someone who I feel at all close to or comfortable with, I somehow want to bring up the topic of autism and/or Asperger's. I try to do it slyly, deftly, so it doesn't seem too out of place; I have no idea if actually works. During this past campaign season, I was volunteering for a local candidate a few evenings a week, during the last two or three weeks of the campaign. I really enjoyed her company and the company of the woman who also worked with us. The home office was very cozy and comfortable - it takes a LOT to make me feel comfortable somewhere, so this was something of a surprise - and I really enjoyed my discussions with these two women. They were very appreciative of my work and *very* accepting of my differences. I don't usually try to hide my differences, figuring it really isn't worth it, but I do often wonder after the fact or during the fact how I am being recieved, as I can't always, okay most of the time can't unless it's pretty obvious, tell.
This time, however, was a little bit different. I was surprised by how accepting right off the bat these two women seemed of my differences. For instance, when I would arrive, I would go in the kitchen for a few minutes and gather my thoughts and get ready for what I was to do. I never heard a "Where's Kate?" or got any strange looks when I dissapeared as I would have with most people; neither seemed the least bit impatient waiting for me; they just went about their work and when I returned, they told me what they wanted me to do, with a look of, shall I say, amusement, or perhaps understanding on their faces. They didn't mind.
I am a naturally enthusiastic person, and they responded well to this. Engaging me in conversation and smiling at me and so on, which made me feel good. I felt like I could be my natural exuberant self with them.
I had a lot of trouble making eye contact when talking because I was nervous and the intensity of the connection was at times overwhelming. I would stand there listening to what she was saying,
asking questions and carrying on an animated dialogue, but just not looking at her. And I thought, doesn't she think this is weird? But she never let on.
At one point, one night when I was tired, calling my dad late at night to check in with him before he went to bed, I was sitting in a chair and suddenly felt too tired to remain sitting. So I started sliding down the chair. "Hmm," I thought, "this isn't good." I kept sliding down and landed on the floor, all without practically missing a beat of conversation. Then once I was sitting on the floor, I just decided to lie down, right then and there on the floor by the chair and the second volunteer's desk. I was lying on the floor carrying on an engaged, enthusiastic conversation with my dad. Evi just stepped over me and laughed. I loved that, and that I could feel comfortable enough there to do that.
After the three weeks or so was over, I was driving home with L, the candidate, late at night after all the election results had come in. In a conversation a couple weeks ago, I had started talking about autism just casually...I think I said I wanted to volunteer to work with autistic kids. Turns out both women had experience working with special needs kids before so we talked for a bit about various facets of autism, although at the time I didn't let on that I had it. (But was wondering if they would make the connection.)
This night, I had this unsquelchable urge to "come out" to her, to disclose that I had Asperger's, very explicitly. Looking back I wonder why - did I, and do I, feel the need to apologize for myself? I almost feel like I do. I almost wanted to say, I think, although that I didn't really think it consciously, "this is why I'm so weird, see there's a reason after all, see I'm really okay" even though she had never given me any indication of feeling that I was anything but okay.
So I casually mentioned that I thought I was going to be able to move in to Portland now, and she asked why, did you come into some money? And I hesitated and said yes, I just got disability payments. She asked me what my disability was and I said AS. And, taking it a step further, I asked her what she thought of me when she first me me, how I came off. Which is a question I am dying to know of most people but have asked precious few because you have to be REALLY comfortable with someone to ask a question like that....or really brave....or both. She said I moved around a lot, which was no surprise to me, duh. And said I was too CHEERFUL. That threw me. For god's sakes, there's nothing wrong with being cheerful, I happen to think it is an excellent survival technique. I know there's a difference between being phony cheerful and being annoying, but I am genuinely cheerful, smiling, telling jokes, caring about other people - at least when I'm not upset. I prefer to be like that if I can - makes the world seem like a better place. So that surprised me. I don't hold it against her or me, it just surprised me.
And it made me think once again - why do I care so much? Why did I feel such a pressing need to disclose? Why couldn't I just let our relationship be as it was? I think I crave an emotional intimacy with others, and this is one way to get it, and that might be why I tend to do it.
But I also think that I should just accept myself the way I am and not be so preoccupied with thinking about AS all the time. I don't know, there is a LOT of value to knowing about AS, to educating others about it, to thinking about the way it affects your life to a certain extent. But I don't think you should let it take over your life and totally define it either. I am somewhere between those two things and a lot closer to the second.
To further illustrate - I made contact with a babysitter I had when I was a kid, about ten years ago. She had been very important to our family. The last time I had contact with her was several years ago, I probably saw or talked to her two or three times by chance after she left us. I discovered she was working at a school near here, and emailed to ask if she wanted to get together again. She said yes, she'd love to (although is very slow responding to emails so let's hope this actually happens lol). The point of my story is, I am dying to ask her what I was like as a kid, in her perspective. My parents' memories are rather biased, I'd love to hear what she thought. I want to hear what she says in part to see if it is consistent with what I now know about Asperger's; if it can help me explain my childhood to myself. And I also intend to, if I can find a way to weave it into the conversation without embarassing myself too much, tell her that I have AS. It's all for the quest of self knowledge I feel - I feel the more I know about AS and what I was like as a kid the more I understand about myself - but it also makes me wonder of course if I aren't a little too, uh, well, focused on this AS thing.
Kate
I have this interesting habit, it seems. Whenever I meet someone who I feel at all close to or comfortable with, I somehow want to bring up the topic of autism and/or Asperger's. I try to do it slyly, deftly, so it doesn't seem too out of place; I have no idea if actually works. During this past campaign season, I was volunteering for a local candidate a few evenings a week, during the last two or three weeks of the campaign. I really enjoyed her company and the company of the woman who also worked with us. The home office was very cozy and comfortable - it takes a LOT to make me feel comfortable somewhere, so this was something of a surprise - and I really enjoyed my discussions with these two women. They were very appreciative of my work and *very* accepting of my differences. I don't usually try to hide my differences, figuring it really isn't worth it, but I do often wonder after the fact or during the fact how I am being recieved, as I can't always, okay most of the time can't unless it's pretty obvious, tell.
This time, however, was a little bit different. I was surprised by how accepting right off the bat these two women seemed of my differences. For instance, when I would arrive, I would go in the kitchen for a few minutes and gather my thoughts and get ready for what I was to do. I never heard a "Where's Kate?" or got any strange looks when I dissapeared as I would have with most people; neither seemed the least bit impatient waiting for me; they just went about their work and when I returned, they told me what they wanted me to do, with a look of, shall I say, amusement, or perhaps understanding on their faces. They didn't mind.
I am a naturally enthusiastic person, and they responded well to this. Engaging me in conversation and smiling at me and so on, which made me feel good. I felt like I could be my natural exuberant self with them.
I had a lot of trouble making eye contact when talking because I was nervous and the intensity of the connection was at times overwhelming. I would stand there listening to what she was saying,
asking questions and carrying on an animated dialogue, but just not looking at her. And I thought, doesn't she think this is weird? But she never let on.
At one point, one night when I was tired, calling my dad late at night to check in with him before he went to bed, I was sitting in a chair and suddenly felt too tired to remain sitting. So I started sliding down the chair. "Hmm," I thought, "this isn't good." I kept sliding down and landed on the floor, all without practically missing a beat of conversation. Then once I was sitting on the floor, I just decided to lie down, right then and there on the floor by the chair and the second volunteer's desk. I was lying on the floor carrying on an engaged, enthusiastic conversation with my dad. Evi just stepped over me and laughed. I loved that, and that I could feel comfortable enough there to do that.
After the three weeks or so was over, I was driving home with L, the candidate, late at night after all the election results had come in. In a conversation a couple weeks ago, I had started talking about autism just casually...I think I said I wanted to volunteer to work with autistic kids. Turns out both women had experience working with special needs kids before so we talked for a bit about various facets of autism, although at the time I didn't let on that I had it. (But was wondering if they would make the connection.)
This night, I had this unsquelchable urge to "come out" to her, to disclose that I had Asperger's, very explicitly. Looking back I wonder why - did I, and do I, feel the need to apologize for myself? I almost feel like I do. I almost wanted to say, I think, although that I didn't really think it consciously, "this is why I'm so weird, see there's a reason after all, see I'm really okay" even though she had never given me any indication of feeling that I was anything but okay.
So I casually mentioned that I thought I was going to be able to move in to Portland now, and she asked why, did you come into some money? And I hesitated and said yes, I just got disability payments. She asked me what my disability was and I said AS. And, taking it a step further, I asked her what she thought of me when she first me me, how I came off. Which is a question I am dying to know of most people but have asked precious few because you have to be REALLY comfortable with someone to ask a question like that....or really brave....or both. She said I moved around a lot, which was no surprise to me, duh. And said I was too CHEERFUL. That threw me. For god's sakes, there's nothing wrong with being cheerful, I happen to think it is an excellent survival technique. I know there's a difference between being phony cheerful and being annoying, but I am genuinely cheerful, smiling, telling jokes, caring about other people - at least when I'm not upset. I prefer to be like that if I can - makes the world seem like a better place. So that surprised me. I don't hold it against her or me, it just surprised me.
And it made me think once again - why do I care so much? Why did I feel such a pressing need to disclose? Why couldn't I just let our relationship be as it was? I think I crave an emotional intimacy with others, and this is one way to get it, and that might be why I tend to do it.
But I also think that I should just accept myself the way I am and not be so preoccupied with thinking about AS all the time. I don't know, there is a LOT of value to knowing about AS, to educating others about it, to thinking about the way it affects your life to a certain extent. But I don't think you should let it take over your life and totally define it either. I am somewhere between those two things and a lot closer to the second.
To further illustrate - I made contact with a babysitter I had when I was a kid, about ten years ago. She had been very important to our family. The last time I had contact with her was several years ago, I probably saw or talked to her two or three times by chance after she left us. I discovered she was working at a school near here, and emailed to ask if she wanted to get together again. She said yes, she'd love to (although is very slow responding to emails so let's hope this actually happens lol). The point of my story is, I am dying to ask her what I was like as a kid, in her perspective. My parents' memories are rather biased, I'd love to hear what she thought. I want to hear what she says in part to see if it is consistent with what I now know about Asperger's; if it can help me explain my childhood to myself. And I also intend to, if I can find a way to weave it into the conversation without embarassing myself too much, tell her that I have AS. It's all for the quest of self knowledge I feel - I feel the more I know about AS and what I was like as a kid the more I understand about myself - but it also makes me wonder of course if I aren't a little too, uh, well, focused on this AS thing.
Kate
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