Rallying

A few weeks ago, I had a really long weekend.  Work that week had been stressful.  I traveled to see friends after work on Friday, but it was an emotionally draining visit.  The next day, I spent at least 8 hours at a small gathering. . . again, it was lovely to spend time with these friends, but socializing with more than one or two people is going to wear me out.  I drove home that evening, and since I had coffee to stay alert on the road, I wasn’t able to get to sleep for a while.  I was emotionally exhausted and ended up crying in bed, and the next morning I woke up with a headache (from the too-short sleep and the crying).  I couldn’t sleep in, because my family was going to a gathering, where I would again be socializing and listening to people talk about things I don’t have (wedding plans, babies).  As I stumbled around like a grumpy zombie trying to get ready to go, I was told I needed “to rally” because it was important.

 

I’m not still curled up in bed under my weighted blanket.

This is me rallying.

I put on clothes that aren’t a t-shirt and pajama pants.

This is me rallying.

I’m responding with nods, grunts, and short exasperated sentences instead of snapping at the upbeat attempts to get me to join in the chatting.

This is me rallying.

I’m allowing my picture to be taken and trying to smile.

This is me rallying.

I’m getting in the car again, even though I just traveled from the other side of the state a few hours ago.

This is me rallying.

I’m strategically isolating in the car to simultaneously recover and prepare for more socializing – hooded sweatshirt to block the sun, squishy pillow to try to sleep, noise-blocking headphones; then, when sleep fails me, escaping into an episode of a TV show streamed onto my phone.

This is me rallying.

I’m getting out of the car instead of staying in here and sobbing or sleeping.

This is me rallying.

When told, “I need you to rally,” one more time, I respond,

“This IS me rallying.”

and I walk into the house, projecting the friendly persona expected of me.

 

 

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Random Relationship Advice from a Clear Non-Expert

I recently read an article about the benefits of writing, and I decided I would spend some of my time off this Sunday writing down some thoughts.  Valentine’s Day is coming up, so the topic of relationships is looming large.  There are no romantic prospects on my horizon, but at least I’ve got my box and cards ready for the party at work.  (I’m gonna be the coolest 30-year-old in the 4th grade).

Ninja Turtle sewer box to hold my valentines

I was a Christian teenager in the 90’s, so my shelf is lined with the usual suspects – Passion and Purity, I Kissed Dating Goodbye, When God Writes Your Love Story, etc.  I’ve also been listening to the Boundless Show podcast a lot, which is geared towards Christian single young adults, so relationships are the most common topic of discussion.  In addition, I’ve read a few books specifically about Aspergers and relationships, like Asperger Syndrome and Long-Term Relationships, The Journal of Best Practices, and 22 Things a Woman with Asperger’s Syndrome Wants Her Partner to Know.  But most of what I’m sharing here I’ve learned the hard way.

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“No man is an island” – and a couple shouldn’t be, either.

Like a lot of Aspie girls, my dating life began atypically late.  When I had my first boyfriend in college, my best friend called me out on some stuff – but I wasn’t totally honest with her about the relationship.  It turns out that was really stupid, and I vowed to not make that mistake again.  I now have a team of trusted advisers that I consult in matters like this – my best friend (and her husband), my pastor and his wife, and my parents.  This caused some friction with one guy, because he didn’t like the fact that I was talking about our relationship with them, but I’m still very grateful that I did.  I don’t mean you should complain to everyone about your significant other – if you need some help discerning between seeking counsel and gossiping, check out my pastor’s book.  But it’s important to have people in your life who know you well and can look at a relationship more objectively than you can when you’re in the middle of it.  Choose them wisely.  You don’t have to do everything they advise, but you’ll be better off having them as part of the process.

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Communicate about what physical touch is okay.

When a guy nervously worked himself up to asking me if he could hold my hand, I thought it was silly/unnecessary. Yet I really appreciated that he respected me enough to ask about stuff like that (maybe he was just terrified, but still).  My first kiss had been stolen from me, and that taught me a lot about the need to discuss boundaries, because after that all the guy wanted to do when we were together was make out.  Which doesn’t *actually* help grow a strong, healthy relationship.  This topic is especially pertinent for people on the spectrum, for a few reasons.  One, we (generally speaking) have trouble reading the non-verbal communication that is a huge part of romantic interactions.  This makes it more difficult to know what the other person is thinking and wanting, unless they spell it out verbally.  Two, every individual is different when it comes to what kinds of touch we like and when, and sensitivity to touch can be a major issue for autistics.  Some individuals absolutely can’t stand light touch (the kind that is common in flirtatious interactions) to the point that it can make them feel panicked or physically ill.  Personally, I get kinda weirded out by light touch, especially if I don’t see it coming.  I also dislike hugging people I don’t strongly like (I’ve written before about how I used to run away or fight with relatives who tried to hug me when I was little).  Yet when I’m with someone I’m close to, I love physical contact – it’s actually one of my love languages.  It needs to be on my terms.

So respect others’ rights to their own bodies.  Find out about their sensitivities and what they’re comfortable with.  You don’t have to make it super awkward, but be polite and keep those lines of communication open.

Snuggle bunnies

These two bunnies love to snuggle together.

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Emotional boundaries are just as important as physical ones.

What was that I said about learning things the hard way?  Ugh.  I really don’t have any specific, solid advice for this one.  It’s honestly hard to know how to build intimacy in an appropriate way, aside from saying take your time and don’t talk about certain emotional topics too soon.  It was a chapter in the book I Gave Dating a Chance that first introduced me to the topic of emotional intimacy, and I realized my good friend and I had crossed that line.  I won’t go into detail here, but I still haven’t fully recovered from the aftermath of that.  It resulted in one of the hardest times in my life (when I read the second Twilight book, I completely sobbed when Edward left Bella and there were those blank pages for each month, because I had lived that).

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Be honest.

This one should go without saying, but I’m talking about more than not lying.  It’s hard, because no two people are 100% compatible- there are going to be things we have to overlook or let go.  But we need to figure out which things really do bother us, and be honest about them.   At some point, if you try to ignore things, it won’t be pretty.  They’re going to add up and poison the relationship, or you’ll get in a fight about something unrelated and suddenly those myriad little annoyances will come spilling out.   I had a situation where I had said things were okay, but then I realized I was truly bothered by the low level of communication from a guy.  When I brought it up, it got him really upset, because I had previously said things were okay.  (Of course, it didn’t help that I sent a rather tactless e-mail instead of having a conversation about it, but that’s a topic for another day.)  This is why I bookmarked page 103 in Rudy Simone’s 22 Things a Woman with Asperger’s Syndrome Wants Her Partner to Know –

There’s also “alexithymia,” the inability to identify what one is feeling and therefore, not being able to express it or describe it in words.  If you tell her something that upsets her, she might not know it at first, or know why, so she might say, “Okay,” when in actuality, she doesn’t really feel okay . . .   We have a reputation for “saying what we mean and meaning what we say,” but if we don’t now what we are feeling at the time, we can’t.

Simone then brings up the topic of the spectrum “sixth sense,” and how we can tell something’s wrong even when someone isn’t telling us.  This is another reason I am bringing up the topic of honesty.  I’ve been in situations where I know something is up, even though I might not have hard “proof,” and I’m an emotional wreck wondering if I’m imagining things until finally I get the person to explain and confirm my suspicions.  Drag that kind of thing out long enough and you’re going to cause more hurt than if you had said something sooner. So be honest.

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I guess that’s it for today. A final random thought – when I look back at my relationships, I see that each one emphasized one area of connection above the others – spiritual, physical, emotional, intellectual.  It’s the spiritual connection I miss the most.

 

Thankfulness

I took a walk today, and I put on a Boundless Show podcast (Episode 354). Lisa was interviewing Louie Giglio about his advent book, and she asked him a question about single adults trying to hold onto hope instead of dwelling on what they’re not having.

We always have that choice of saying, well this is what’s not happening. I’m gonna focus on what isn’t happening. And the end of that journey always leads us to a really dark place.

Yeah.

It was good timing.  You’d think that since two days ago was Thanksgiving I would have figured it out, but lately I’ve really been down.  Mostly because it’s so easy to fall into thinking about the things I don’t have.  I don’t mean the stupid things like a functional iPod (though I miss that), but the big things.  Marriage. Or even a date.  Kids. A group of friends to hang out with all the time, like when I was younger.  A home of my own.  A great job.

It’s hard, because too often I look at the lack and blame it on not being good enough, or being weird.  Or I catch myself thinking it’s not fair.

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A very wise person once told me,

God answers our prayers in three ways:

“Yes.”

“Not yet.”

“I have something better for you.”

I’ve tried to hold onto that, the idea that he isn’t simply saying “no” to things, but he has a plan for my good and his glory.  It’s hard to trust sometimes.

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Anyway, I realized on my walk I should spend some time reflecting on what I *do* have.  As soon as I heard that part of the podcast I knew I should sit down and blog.  This list could clearly go on for a very long time, so I’ll just hit a few highlights.  It’s a good reminder to resume the habit of writing down daily blessings, a la One Thousand Gifts.

 

I’m thankful for the opportunity to go back to college.  I’m thankful that my inheritance from my grandfather meant that I was able to jump into getting an associate’s degree without the added stress of going into debt.  My classes have been going really well.  I strongly dislike the networking topic, but I enjoyed the C++ programming class so much that I finished my final assignment 3 weeks early.  It’s encouraging to see that I really do have an aptitude for this field and enjoy the material, as I had hoped.  I’m hopeful that it will lead to a good job where I can thrive.

I’m thankful that I’ve been able to continue working part-time with my autistic client, and I am especially thankful that he got moved back to the best teacher I’ve ever worked with.  Not only is she great to work with, but we’ve started spending time together outside of work as well – it’s so much fun to get to have a conversation with her without the kids interrupting every 10 seconds! I’m also thankful for the opportunity this job gives me to show other kids some love.  There are some really sweet girls in my client’s class, and sometimes we have good conversations at lunch.  They, in return, are a huge encouragement and blessing.  Look at this:

I’m thankful for the awesome time we had in Nashville in September, at the Jars 20 Celebration Weekend.  We got to casually chat with the band, meet other fans (including some people I interacted with online many years ago), have a special concert in the Blood:Water Mission office, tour their studio, and go to the Concert to End All Concerts at the Franklin Theatre.  The guys were kind and gracious as always, and they even put up my photo gift where I could see it when they did the next online concert.  Only The Office Convention weekend comes close in awesomeness.

Jars 20

I’m thankful for my family, who accept and support me in so many ways.

I’m thankful for my best friend, and my godson, and the technology like FaceTime that lets us keep in touch so it’s easier for him to remember me when I finally get out there to visit.

I’m thankful for my sweet, fluffy cat Gandalf.  He makes me smile.

I’m thankful for the many bloggers who have helped me discover my place on the spectrum, understand more about myself and others, and make me feel less alone.

On Birthdays and Measuring Years

30. 1. 20.

We attach so much significance to our measurements of time.

I recently turned 30.
It’s been 1 year since I realized I have Asperger’s.
Jars of Clay is celebrating 20 years as a band. (Their new album is excellent, btw).

Jars 20

30. I don’t feel 30, of course. I’m not sure what 30 is supposed to feel like. Of course, life doesn’t look the way I expected it to look at 30.

One thing I wanted to write about was my birthday, and how it was an example of what I’ve learned over the past year. Here comes the Aspie problem of not knowing exactly how much back-story to give. . . to be brief, my 28th birthday was very sad and emotional because of a relationship situation. The next year, I planned to have a better birthday. I even had a party for the first time in years, complete with goodie bags!  Some of my favorite people came to visit, and the house got noisy when some family friends were in town and came by also.  But another relationship situation went down shortly after, which ended up tainting the weekend.

So this year I was back to not looking forward to my birthday.  Since the previous two were tainted by guys, I decided to not even mention that my birthday was coming up to the guy I was chatting with online.  Every time I thought about my birthday coming up, and tried to decide what I wanted to do (such as invite people over) I would just want to cry.  My very wise best friend encouraged me to “do something fun . . . like eat ice cream for breakfast, don’t do any school work, and watch HSM3 or Darren Criss.”

I took her advice.  (Well, I saved the HSM3 for the next weekend when she was coming to visit, and I had a different dessert for breakfast.)  I went to my morning work session, then relaxed at home with my parents and watched some movies with them.  Mom made delicious food.  I got a few thoughtful gifts from my family.

My bestie sent me this shirt. Link and Harry are my homeboys.

While some might see my change in behavior as “giving up” or withdrawing, I recognized it as growth in understanding and accepting myself.  Ever since I was small I have loved the *idea* of a party, but the party itself was often problematic.  I have a hard time splitting my time and attention properly when I’m with multiple people.  I have to be constantly “on” socially and concerned about how people from my different circles are getting along.  It can easily get noisy and overstimulating.  There’s the inevitable disappointments (too often I ended up crying in my room at parties) and the stress of opening gifts.  Tangent time!

I hate opening gifts.

I have theorized that this goes back to getting things like Barbie dolls as a child from people who don’t actually know me (like if I invited a classmate to a party and their mom never met me).  Talk about disappointing!  Like most people on the spectrum, I was never good at hiding my emotions and lying.  I know I’m supposed to act happy and grateful when I receive a gift, but that is SO HARD when it’s a disgusting magenta box with an ugly doll inside.  (I used to avoid the magenta toy aisle at all costs; I thought about taking a picture of one for the blog and decided it’s too awful, so I’ll skip it.)  So imagine it – being a little kid, excited to see what new toy is under the wrapping paper, but then seeing the hot pink and feeling seriously disappointed while having an audience – including someone who will feel sad if you show your disappointment, and you don’t want to make them feel sad.  It’s not fun.  And while I slowly got better at acting thankful, that trepidation still accompanies every wrapped gift and every surprise.   (Second tangent – I don’t like surprises. . . unsurprisingly, my relationship with a magician did not end well).

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So, instead of stressing about organizing a get-together that would inevitably stress me out, and thinking about all the ways my birthday could be different, I decided to honor who I am and what I actually enjoy, and give myself the gift of a relaxing day of good things.  And I got to have other good things to look forward to, like my best friend and her family coming to visit and the arrival of the not-yet-available LEGO Mini Cooper my parents wanted to give me for my birthday:

LEGOS!

This was one birthday toy that did not disappoint! My inner-child was SO HAPPY.

The Joy of Jars

A lot of posts I write will inevitably be focusing on the things about Asperger’s that make life difficult; after all, the diagnostic criteria are based on deficits (for a positive spin, read Discovery criteria for aspie by Attwood and Gray).  So here I wanted to share something that brought me great joy.

At the beginning of my “Emotional Overload” post I told you that I had sent my favorite band a link to the blog post I wrote about naming this blog after one of their songs.  And I shared that I got a little notification that Charlie from the band “liked” my post; I appreciated so much that he actually took the time to read it.

This past Friday Dad and I drove 5 hours to Columbus, OH to see Jars of Clay yet again.  Normally we don’t go that far just for a Jars concert, but I had never been to one of their Christmas shows and I got a deep desire to go. . . and my dad never says “No” to a concert.  Music is an aspie-fixation we share, and we’ve built a lot of wonderful memories traveling to shows together over the years.

We gave ourselves a large time buffer for the trip and made great time, so we arrived about 2 hours before the Meet and Greet was scheduled.  The venue served food in the front, and as we were about to sit down at a booth Charlie saw us (before we saw him, this time) and came over to say hi.  I thought to get a picture.

Charlie and me

Charlie is awesome.

He was supposed to be heading back for the sound check, but he talked with us for a few minutes about the tour, answered Dad’s question about shooting a music video in the Philippines, and listened to Dad’s story about one of my first concert experiences.  Then he turns to me and says, “Oh, and I really liked your blog, by the way.”   *invisible internal happy-dance*

While Dad and I ate our early dinner we listened to the band run through “Loneliness and Alcohol” for their sound check, and I was feeling so extremely happy after that interaction that eating was almost upsetting my stomach.

We had a nice time exchanging a few words with the rest of the band at the Meet and Greet, and Jude kindly rounded up the guys for a group photo.  They also graciously signed a set-list I grabbed from the stage after the show.

Matt, Charlie, Stephen, me, Dad, Dan.  And cookies.

Matt, Charlie, Stephen, me, Dad, Dan. And cookies.

Dad and I were able to stand right up front against the stage – it isn’t the best for sound balance, but it’s just so much fun!  This is what it looked like:

Years ago I had recognized that my love for the band was bordering on obsessive (creating a website, being highly active in the wonderful Jarchives community, etc)  and I consciously toned it down; I didn’t know at the time that it was an Aspie “special interest”/fixation, but I knew that things like stalking are socially unacceptable. 😉   But any of you who are on the spectrum will know how important special interests can be, and so you will probably understand why I had such a wonderful, joyful day.  Dad and I used to get excited when we could tell they recognized us from the many concerts we had attended; thinking of Charlie coming over to chat with us and bringing up the topic of my blog post truly warms my heart.  If you haven’t yet, I encourage you to check out their music.  You can even download some for free on NoiseTrade.com.

Happy Holidays

Holidays can be stressful and emotional times for everyone – having Asperger’s usually makes it worse.  I just experienced my first family get-together since my self-diagnosis, and the self-awareness and respecting myself really helped.

Pie

Ten years ago, when I first discovered that I was a Highly Sensitive Person, I often used “holidays at Gram’s” as one of my anecdotes to explain to people what it meant. Like this:

When I was little, we’d go to my Gram’s house for holidays.  And at some point I’d suddenly tell my parents that I wanted to go home.  Mom would say, “Okay, we’ll go in about half an hour.”  And I would feel panic and even want to cry.  I never knew why.  I often liked playing with my cousins, I always liked visiting my Gram’s, and I knew that I was being “unreasonable.”  But in those moments, I wanted to go NOW.  I’d repeat that I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t articulate that I needed to, because I didn’t understand it.  Instead I’d usually go in one of the unoccupied bedrooms and wait there.  Now I understand that I was overstimulated, and I had reached my limit – as suddenly as if a switch was flipped.

We’d walk in the door and my senses were assaulted.  Food smells, sounds, people moving around.  I would also be physically assaulted – aunts with jangly jewelry, powerful perfume, and greasy-makeup-cheeks; uncles with scratchy mustaches; and a swarm of little cousins – all trying to hug and kiss me.  I would back up; I would run away; I would squirm; I would actually punch them.  They thought it was funny.  Sometimes a relative would refrain from trying to grab me and voice that they knew I didn’t want to be hugged, but I often felt bad about that.  The thing is, I crave physical touch.  It’s one of my main “love languages.”  But like most autistic people, I only want it on my terms.

I often felt like I didn’t fit in with my cousins.  Not knowing about Asperger’s, I came up with several theories over the years, such as:
I’m older.
I live farther away.
We have nothing in common.

Those were all valid reasons why I felt different. . . but it doesn’t look like I have any aspie-relatives on that side of the family, so I faced the same social divide that I did with my non-blood peers.

At family gatherings – as well as at gatherings with our family friends – I’d frequently wander between the kids and the adults.  I’d try to interact with my peers, feel bored and/or left out, and then go hang with the adults until they started talking about boring adult stuff (like people I don’t know).  I might wander back and forth a few times or go find a quiet place to read or play my GameBoy.  I always loved it when an adult like Aunt E. would pay me some special attention and make me feel less alone.  If I was really lucky I would have a friend along; my parents were awesome about letting me take a friend (or two or more) to practically everything.  Despite my social deficits I was blessed with some really loyal, understanding friends over the years.  Holidays and other events were always easier when one of them was around.

It was a beautiful (albeit a little stressful) drive out into the woods

It was a beautiful (albeit a little stressful) drive out into the woods

So back to this year. . . we had Thanksgiving out at my pap’s hunting camp.  I asked my mom ahead of time who was planning to be there.  I had been out to the camp for Thanksgiving ten years ago, so I had memories of what to expect.  When we arrived I dutifully gave hugs and made some effort to join conversations, then sat on the couch for a bit and played a few apps on my phone (no service out there, so I was stuck with offline games- mainly a crossword puzzle app and Flow, which felt rather “stimmy” ).  I interacted when spoken to and occasionally joined back in when there was a conversation that interested me, but I didn’t push it.  I respected that I have a limited number of spoons for social interaction and didn’t make myself feel guilty for taking breaks.  I was still in the same room, after all.  I interacted a bit with my cousin’s 1-year-old and took some pictures.  And after eating our delicious dinner I sat at the table and had a good conversation catching up with a few people.    I had respected my limits, and my relatives were all social in a non-threatening way, not saying anything about me occasionally sitting quietly by myself.  At one point I thought, “I’d like to go home now,” but I didn’t bother saying anything because I knew I could last a little longer.  The switch had not yet flipped.  Success.  OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA