Feelings

Dealing with emotions has been very difficult. Here is probably the greatest disconnect between the Aspie world and the NT world, and also probably the greatest source of trouble not only for me but for people who know and love me.

To begin with, my neurological make-up makes me extremely (not to say, hyper) sensitive in lots of areas. For instance, physically, I am sensitive to the clothing I wear. I would rather have ugly, comfortable clothes than attractive, uncomfortable clothes. In fact, I would rather have REALLY ugly comfortable clothes than attractive, uncomfortable clothes. If you were to see me in a clothing shop, you would witness me not only looking at the clothing, but also feeling it to see if I can stand it next to my skin.

My feelings are also very sensitive. I am perfectionistic, so anytime I do something less than wonderful, I kick my own butt all over the place. Given that fact, the least little thing that someone else says to me feels devastating to me (it's punishment in addition to the plentiful punishment I give myself for the least infraction) even though someone else might be able to take such a remark in stride.

Secondly, I am literal-minded. I have a really good sense of humor as long as it doesn't exceed first-grade level--the type of joke in "My Favorite Jokes" books. My type of humor is based on word play. I grew up playing with language the way other kids play with Legos. I guess my play toy was Logos!

But when jokes are based on being able to tell the difference between humor (teasing) and meanness, that's where my ability to discern what is happening falls apart. I really don't like teasing because it seems mean to me. I have to go through an intellectual process of figuring out what the relationship is with the teaser and the teasee to decide whether this is supposed to be humor or it is some form of bullying. And I am never sure I have drawn the right conclusion, particularly if someone is teasing me. Maybe they really mean what they say.

So, when people criticize something I have done, I take those statements literally, and to me statements of that nature mean that the person is permanently mad at me for screwing something up completely. Again, it takes analyzing what is going on to come to a different conclusion--the literal, magnified meaning is what I first take from the interaction and it is only after I really think about it that I can come to a more realistic conclusion. It has taken many years to learn how to go through this analytical process, so I have spent a lot of years in relative agony.

It is said that people on the autism spectrum lack empathy. In fact, I think we tend to have empathy for people we understand, which would be other people on the autism spectrum, and we appear to lack empathy for people who are not on the spectrum because our minds work differently.

Part of being sensitive is having a very tender heart. I really don't want to hurt other people and I don't like seeing other people hurt. When a person expresses hurt, I assume they feel the way I feel when I am hurt, and I am learning that what hurts a neurotypical person is different from what hurts me. They seem to have a thicker skin than I do in some areas. But my empathy comes off a little weird, I think.

Another challenge is that while I am able to use intellect as a way to make up for neurological shortcomings in a neurotypical world, there is a limit to that intellect and its effectiveness. As a result, I get myself into deep water with significant relationships. I have a very difficult time explaining my feelings, why I do things as I do them, particularly since my actions and feelings are logical to me but not to other folks.

One characteristic among people on the spectrum is that when we get into a situation that is over our heads, we can throw temper tantrums. I have been known to throw them or to get close to them, baffling people around me. For example, I have been afraid of diving (part of my longterm battle with poor motor coordination combined with a fear of falling and being physically out of control). A group of lifeguards (there were five or six of them) decided to get me over this fear by making me dive--throwing me headlong in the water.

I realize now that they did have my best interest at heart. I was actually by then a good swimmer and my inability to dive would end up keeping me from participating on a swim team, which would have been good for me. Also, I'm sure it seemed ridiculous to them that I could swim so well and yet not dive. Finally, one good dive and I probably could have overcome the fear.

But, at the time, I was very afraid and I threw one good autistic fit while they were bodily carrying me (five life guards and a 12 year old) to the diving pool. It was such a good fit that they gave up and did not dump me headlong in the water. I think they were mystified. I was relieved.

I threw a similar but less spectacular fit in gym class when the teacher tried to get me to flip around the top bar of the uneven parallel bars. Then she modified the exercise for me--she tried to get me to flip around the lower bar. I still refused to do it. Part of me thought, there goes my grade--but I really didn't care. I would happily have flunked out of gym if doing so would prevent me from having to deal with the uneven parallel bars. Seeing uneven parallel bars still gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Even as an adult, I have "fits"--not the screaming variety but the "end this relationship because I can't deal with it variety." Which is to say, that I have screwed up significant relationships, friendships, and family relationships because I was in deep water and didn't know how to cope with other peoples' feelings and their understandings (or lack thereof) of me.

I also get more than reasonably upset if someone proposes to change something without reassuring me of how the new way of doing things will work. It's ironic that I am a creative and innovative person but have a hard time dealing with change that I did not myself propose--particularly in areas that have a great deal of meaning for me. Go figure.

As of midlife, I have begun to understand the nature of some of the differences between the way my brain works and the ways in which other people's brains work. Understanding these differences may help me to be a little more functional in my relationships with people. I hope so, anyway.