It’s curious that the day after I wrote about violence in meltdowns I felt myself approaching one. This is how I handled it.
Read more at Married, With Aspergers...
Thursday, 12 September 2013
Migration
I've decided to move. Not physically -- just my blog. From now on all new content will be on my Wordpress blog (I've developed a preference for the platform over Blogger).
You can find all the existing stuff over on both blogs, but any new posts will only be on the new blog.
Sorry for any inconvenience...
You can find all the existing stuff over on both blogs, but any new posts will only be on the new blog.
Sorry for any inconvenience...
Monday, 9 September 2013
Violence As A Means Of Expression
I'm not a violent person in general. People who know me well have remarked on my placid nature. But I have a darker side: there's a reason my mother told my wife to watch out for my temper...
Stimming Survey - Your Community Needs You!
Fellow autistic blogger autisticook needs your help -- yes, that means you -- to collect as many examples of stims as humanly possible, so please take the time to head on over there and do your bit. Many thanks!
You can find the survey here along with her request to spread this far and wide.
You can find the survey here along with her request to spread this far and wide.
Saturday, 7 September 2013
Happy Flappy Tappy Aspie
My project at work went well yesterday. Really well. So well that I got excited -- this happens when I'm pleased with what I've produced. Now, the thing about getting excited is that, as with most emotions, I feel it mostly as a set of physical effects.
Excitement starts with a tense feeling building deep inside. Not the heavy, paralyzing tension of anxiety but a light, bubbly, tension of anticipation that spreads out. Up my neck to my head, molding my features into a broad smile. Down my legs making them jiggle and my feet tap. And along my arms until it reaches my fingertips and gives me the urge to flap. By this point I guess I must be awash with endorphins and fireworks are going off in my brain!
I'm still working on quashing my learned inhibitions against the more attention-drawing stims that resulted from teasing at school. So I bounced lightly away from my desk with my hands twitching slightly as I contemplated the forthcoming pleasure of flapping them. I might even have skipped a little -- I can't remember. As I passed through the door into the stairwell I gave myself to the sensations and my hands started flapping involuntarily.
Oh, the euphoria of the release I felt! After so many years of suppression it felt incredibly good to ride the wave of emotion and allow my body to express itself naturally, even though it was in private. This was something I decided recently: I would work on overcoming my inhibitions so that I can be more myself. Because being true to myself makes me happy.
A happy, flappy Aspie -- I wouldn't want to be any other way. You see, for autistic people stimming is a way of modulating sensory input -- which includes the effects of emotion -- and helps greatly in coping with many situations, both good and bad. It helps with concentration because it frees the mind to focus on something else rather than the sensory stimulus. Suppression -- the building of barriers and inhibitions as a result of pressure through disapproval, teasing or bullying -- can be harmful. Without stimming it is that much harder to cope with emotional or stressful situations. Without stimming we are denied a means of expression as much as if our mouths were taped shut or our hands bound.
Freedom of expression is a fundamental human right. Don't deny that to autistic people just because the way we express ourselves is not your way.
I'd like to thank the online Aspie/Autistic communities for providing me with a sense of belonging, of support, so that I have begun to feel confident about expressing myself naturally and honestly. On the subject of stimming there's a short article about it from the BBC here, and a great blog post over at autisticook that has an illuminating survey of different stims.
Thursday, 5 September 2013
If It Looks Like A Duck...
Who am I?
That's a question to which I struggle to find an answer that satisfies me. Oh, there are no shortage of answers: I'm Ben, I'm a husband, I'm a 40 year old, I'm a programmer, I'm an Aspie... But these are only labels. Some can conjure stereotypes: in the case of programmer that might well be of a pale-skinned, glasses-wearing, high-IQ social misfit with poor personal hygiene, no girl/boyfriend, the muscle tone of a blancmange and a diet of pizza, soda and Twinkies. As with most stereotypes there are elements that broadly fit and others that are way off. The imprecision nags at me like a label in the back of a shirt.
Tell me about yourself.
I won't deny that I do describe myself as above -- the labels, not the stereotype! But with limited time, space, or both, I can't keep on supplying descriptive tags until I feel I've completed the picture. Where does that leave me? Well, people have to fill in the gaps from their own observations and that depends on how I appear to them.
I can tell you that I care very much for my wife but that obviously didn't show to a group of doctors recently who were urgently treating her for an allergic reaction that caused her tongue and throat to swell. I think they were expecting me to appear agitated and fuss over her but I remained calm -- fussing or panicking would not have helped either of us, so I sat there out of the way and let the doctors get on with treating her. That's what I judged to be the most helpful course of action, and because I care I wanted to act in the way that I thought would benefit her the most. They asked my wife whether I cared about her because I appeared cold and unemotional.
But you don't look <adjective>.
Some people set great store by their belief in their powers of observation: seeing is believing. And when they're told something that is at odds with what their own eyes have seen they are inclined to disbelieve it. In this case of the doctors -- maxilla-facial surgeons and registrars -- even with a passing knowledge of autistic behavior they didn't believe my wife when she told them I do care about her but I'm not expressive: I didn't look like I cared. You just can't win sometimes.
It quacks like a duck, therefore...
If I tell you that I'm 5'11" and 210 lbs, stockily built, physically strong and bearded you will have a particular image of me. You might expect certain traits that correspond to that image: stereotypical masculine traits such as:
It's a platypus?
Conan-Doyle wrote in Sherlock Holmes "when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth". And the truth here will have to wait until I have eliminated the impossible. You see, I can't accurately answer the question with which I opened this essay. I don't know how to describe who I really am: I'm as reliant on labels as everybody else. To myself I am just me -- I know what that means but the collection of thoughts, feelings, behaviors and physical matter doesn't have a name. Any words I or others use are an approximation, a simple sketch of the reality.
René Magritte in his famous painting La Trahison des Images (The Treachery of Images) captured this perfectly. As the caption on the picture states, "Ceci n'est pas une pipe" -- "This is not a pipe". The realization for me of the literal truth of that statement was profound.
And finally...
I hope I've not left you disappointed that I didn't answer my own question. Instead I wanted to explore what identity means and how my perspective cannot be translated to anybody else without losing fidelity. All anybody else will ever see is an imperfect reflection through my words and their eyes.
That's a question to which I struggle to find an answer that satisfies me. Oh, there are no shortage of answers: I'm Ben, I'm a husband, I'm a 40 year old, I'm a programmer, I'm an Aspie... But these are only labels. Some can conjure stereotypes: in the case of programmer that might well be of a pale-skinned, glasses-wearing, high-IQ social misfit with poor personal hygiene, no girl/boyfriend, the muscle tone of a blancmange and a diet of pizza, soda and Twinkies. As with most stereotypes there are elements that broadly fit and others that are way off. The imprecision nags at me like a label in the back of a shirt.
Tell me about yourself.
I won't deny that I do describe myself as above -- the labels, not the stereotype! But with limited time, space, or both, I can't keep on supplying descriptive tags until I feel I've completed the picture. Where does that leave me? Well, people have to fill in the gaps from their own observations and that depends on how I appear to them.
I can tell you that I care very much for my wife but that obviously didn't show to a group of doctors recently who were urgently treating her for an allergic reaction that caused her tongue and throat to swell. I think they were expecting me to appear agitated and fuss over her but I remained calm -- fussing or panicking would not have helped either of us, so I sat there out of the way and let the doctors get on with treating her. That's what I judged to be the most helpful course of action, and because I care I wanted to act in the way that I thought would benefit her the most. They asked my wife whether I cared about her because I appeared cold and unemotional.
But you don't look <adjective>.
Some people set great store by their belief in their powers of observation: seeing is believing. And when they're told something that is at odds with what their own eyes have seen they are inclined to disbelieve it. In this case of the doctors -- maxilla-facial surgeons and registrars -- even with a passing knowledge of autistic behavior they didn't believe my wife when she told them I do care about her but I'm not expressive: I didn't look like I cared. You just can't win sometimes.
It quacks like a duck, therefore...
If I tell you that I'm 5'11" and 210 lbs, stockily built, physically strong and bearded you will have a particular image of me. You might expect certain traits that correspond to that image: stereotypical masculine traits such as:
- self-confident
- independent
- hard
- thick-skinned
- aggressive
It's a platypus?
Conan-Doyle wrote in Sherlock Holmes "when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth". And the truth here will have to wait until I have eliminated the impossible. You see, I can't accurately answer the question with which I opened this essay. I don't know how to describe who I really am: I'm as reliant on labels as everybody else. To myself I am just me -- I know what that means but the collection of thoughts, feelings, behaviors and physical matter doesn't have a name. Any words I or others use are an approximation, a simple sketch of the reality.
René Magritte in his famous painting La Trahison des Images (The Treachery of Images) captured this perfectly. As the caption on the picture states, "Ceci n'est pas une pipe" -- "This is not a pipe". The realization for me of the literal truth of that statement was profound.
And finally...
I hope I've not left you disappointed that I didn't answer my own question. Instead I wanted to explore what identity means and how my perspective cannot be translated to anybody else without losing fidelity. All anybody else will ever see is an imperfect reflection through my words and their eyes.
Tuesday, 3 September 2013
Getting Hired
I wrote a piece a couple years ago about my experiences with Aspergers and how it has affected my work. But what I didn't go into much detail about was the process of getting a job in the first place. This article is to address that deficit.
I'm going to start by saying that I wasn't diagnosed at the time I attended the interviews mentioned here -- I'd not even heard of Aspergers Syndrome -- but as far as I'm concerned the only effect of that was that I had no reason to ask for or expect any accommodations. I'm pretty much the same now as I was back then -- more experienced certainly but not really any more comfortable with certain situations -- except that I now have a reason that explains the way I've always been.
After dropping out of university in 1994 I finally had an idea of a direction in my life. Up to then I had always been rather passive and had gone along with my parents and teachers when they suggested what my next steps ought to be... which was how I ended up studying Natural Sciences at the University of Cambridge. Once I got over the idea that I needed a degree and realized that my special interest would suit me to a career in programming the next step seemed straightforward: get a job in that field.
Well, it wasn't straightforward at all. I bought copies of the computer press such as Computer Weekly to search the recruitment pages. I was looking for an entry level position as a C programmer -- I knew I could program but had hardly anything to put on my resumé to demonstrate experience. I was self-taught, having learned Basic first and then C, and in my degree course we had been taught the rudiments of Fortran. I had written a C program during a summer work placement to drive lab equipment and capture data, but that was only 8 weeks and not exactly commercial development.
I was persistent. I sent off application letter after letter and got back acknowledgment slips and occasionally refusal letters, month after month. I took a part-time unpaid voluntary job with a local charity doing editing and layout for publishing to keep my hand in with some kind of computer work -- it was a new startup and there was just the guy running it and one other volunteer. The guy had posted an ad in a local shop and I phoned him; he came to see me for an informal interview, which was nerve-wracking. I felt incredibly nervous despite being in the familiar environment of my own home but it seemed he was desperate for any help and was more interested in selling the job to me than treating me as a candidate. Despite my nervous stuttering and poor interpersonal skills I got the job: it wasn't something I was interested in pursuing career-wise but it did give me a taste of what an interview felt like.
I realized I had been totally unprepared this time around and would have to work on the impression I made if I was ever to get started in my chosen career. Finally after about four months of fruitless applications I was offered an interview. This time I did my homework: I asked my dad, who worked as a Chief Executive, for advice to learn as much about the structure of interviews as I could. The last time I'd been involved in any kind of competitive interview was after I applied to university and although I'd been successful that time I suspected that my academic record played a large part. Well, it turned out that it was my academic record that had given me my chance this time too -- being gifted academically did have some practical benefit.
I dressed carefully in suit and tie despite ties and buttoned collars having always made me feel physically uncomfortable. Luckily as long as the collar's not tight I can stand it for a few hours and that mode of dress is expected at interviews, at least for professional positions in the UK. It's about first impressions: the interviewer expects that the candidate will demonstrate a smartness of appearance so you have to meet those expectations the first time they lay eyes on you.
I borrowed my mum's car and drove myself to the interview. This was in the days before sat-nav or Google Maps so I'd gotten a street map of the city and plotted my route on the map, studying it in detail so that I felt comfortable about navigating the 50 or so miles. I managed to find the place with little difficulty, which surprised me a little given my previous experiences with navigation, parked in one of their visitor's bays and followed the signs to Reception. I was a little early because I'd given myself a good margin in case of delays. I approached the desk feeling intensely nervous but my desire to finally get a job allowed me to overcome my fear and I introduced myself to the receptionist, stating that I was there for an interview with a certain person. The receptionist was entirely friendly and professional which helped (they must see any number of nervous candidates so I guess with hindsight I didn't seem unusual). I was told to take a seat and wait for the person who would come an meet me before we went for the interview.
After what seemed like ages because I was so keyed up, but was in reality no more than ten minutes, the manager arrived and introduced himself. I remembered to stand up to meet him and to shake hands, and then he led me into the offices to the interview room. He asked me to sit and offered me a tea or coffee: I declined. I figured that no offense would be taken from my refusal and I really didn't want to contend with a pressing bladder in my nervous state. He was relaxed but professional in his manner: he must have been experienced at conducting interviews as it all felt very fluent.
He started by asking about my education and I responded, consciously reminding myself to speak clearly, not too fast, and to make eye contact (or at least a point above his shoulder). I seemed to get away with it and as far as I could tell I didn't come across as either staring intensely or avoiding his gaze entirely. I couldn't hide my nerves and was aware that I was fidgeting with my hands but I guess it wasn't excessive because it didn't appear to attract his attention. Without ever touching on any technical aspects the interview wound to a close, having been mostly about my educational experiences, why I had left university, and what I had been doing since then. He offered me a tour of the offices and then led me back to Reception where he bid me goodbye and said that they had other candidates to interview and they would be in touch.
I left, walking back to the car, thinking about what had just happened and wondering how it had gone: with my lack of interview experience I didn't know whether it had gone well or badly. I took off my tie and unbuttoned my collar to much relief before driving back home where my parents asked me how it went. What could I say? I didn't know. I settled down to wait for a response which arrived in the mail a couple of days later: they thanked me for my time but I had not been successful. I was disappointed but not excessively so: I had resigned myself to a long battle before I would be successful but never had any doubt that I would succeed.
Over the next two months I had another three or four interviews dotted around the country that went the same way before I encountered something a little different. This one was a small software company based in Surrey, some 200 miles from my home in Lancashire. I traveled down by rail, taking a window seat so I could spend the journey watching the scenery pass by instead of having to avoid the gazes of my fellow passengers -- I don't enjoy public transportation but there wasn't another option. Arriving at my destination I realized that I didn't know how to get to the street where the office was located but I had the presence of mind to ask a cab driver for directions. I walked along as directed and although it turned out to be further than expected making me a little warm and uncomfortable in my suit and tie I persevered and found the place.
I was used to the routine at Reception by now and it all went as expected, taking the offered seat gratefully as a chance to rest before my ordeal. I didn't have long to wait before my interviewer arrived and escorted me to his office. In a change from my previous experiences there was another person present already; he was introduced as a Project Manager, my interviewer also being a Project Manager. After briefly covering the familiar ground of my education I was pleasantly surprised to be asked to complete a short written programming test, and was shown to another room where I could complete it in private. I was told that they would return in 15 minutes and see how I had managed with it.
I say I was pleasantly surprised; in fact I was overjoyed to have finally been given a chance to demonstrate my skills. I don't remember the details but there were a number of short questions about the C programming language and an algorithmic problem to solve. I had completed the test several minutes earlier than the 15 minute deadline and when the first Project Manager entered to see how I was doing I told him that I'd finished and handed him the completed answers. That concluded the interview process for the day and after a brief, conventional wrapping up it was over and I left on my long journey home.
I had a positive feeling this time around which turned out to be justified as I received a phone call shortly after arriving home offering me a second interview! Well, I was overjoyed even though I reminded myself that I still had to pass the second stage and it was likely to be tougher. I had known that if I was just given a chance to show my skills I could get there. It was two weeks before my second interview date and my dad offered to drive me down there -- I guess with hindsight he had more confidence about the outcome than even I did: lucky again to have been adopted by such supportive people.
I needn't have worried. After lunch together I left my dad to head off to the second interview: I knew where I was headed this time and arrived in a much better state. The same Project Manager met me in Reception and we moved on to his office where I was introduced to the Operations Director. Apparently I had aced the test -- the best (and quickest) result they had ever had on it -- and had decided to make me the offer of a job there and then based on that showing. In my relief I think I forgot to feel my usual nervousness as it was replaced by pleasure and excitement. I didn't accept immediately: I said I'd like time to consider which I thought was rather brave of me. What if they'd withdrawn the offer? But I didn't think about any of that -- I didn't want to appear desperate and I wanted to talk it over with my dad first. They were perfectly accepting of that -- and I think it was a wise decision of mine given my lack of experience in that kind of situation.
Well, I hooked up with my dad and told him my good news... and then found out he had been looking at ads for rental places. One step ahead of me as usual: I would never have even thought about that. We returned home and I phoned to accept the offer. We then discussed when I could start: having no current job where I had to give notice I told them I could start as soon as I had somewhere to live down there. Just like that I was about to up sticks and leave home for what would be the last time. My dad took care of all the rental arrangements -- I wouldn't have known where to start -- and also helped me buy my first car. And that was that: I had finally reached my goal and gotten my first job in programming.
I recognize now that I faced a number of obstacles in getting that first job.
I'm going to start by saying that I wasn't diagnosed at the time I attended the interviews mentioned here -- I'd not even heard of Aspergers Syndrome -- but as far as I'm concerned the only effect of that was that I had no reason to ask for or expect any accommodations. I'm pretty much the same now as I was back then -- more experienced certainly but not really any more comfortable with certain situations -- except that I now have a reason that explains the way I've always been.
After dropping out of university in 1994 I finally had an idea of a direction in my life. Up to then I had always been rather passive and had gone along with my parents and teachers when they suggested what my next steps ought to be... which was how I ended up studying Natural Sciences at the University of Cambridge. Once I got over the idea that I needed a degree and realized that my special interest would suit me to a career in programming the next step seemed straightforward: get a job in that field.
Well, it wasn't straightforward at all. I bought copies of the computer press such as Computer Weekly to search the recruitment pages. I was looking for an entry level position as a C programmer -- I knew I could program but had hardly anything to put on my resumé to demonstrate experience. I was self-taught, having learned Basic first and then C, and in my degree course we had been taught the rudiments of Fortran. I had written a C program during a summer work placement to drive lab equipment and capture data, but that was only 8 weeks and not exactly commercial development.
I was persistent. I sent off application letter after letter and got back acknowledgment slips and occasionally refusal letters, month after month. I took a part-time unpaid voluntary job with a local charity doing editing and layout for publishing to keep my hand in with some kind of computer work -- it was a new startup and there was just the guy running it and one other volunteer. The guy had posted an ad in a local shop and I phoned him; he came to see me for an informal interview, which was nerve-wracking. I felt incredibly nervous despite being in the familiar environment of my own home but it seemed he was desperate for any help and was more interested in selling the job to me than treating me as a candidate. Despite my nervous stuttering and poor interpersonal skills I got the job: it wasn't something I was interested in pursuing career-wise but it did give me a taste of what an interview felt like.
I realized I had been totally unprepared this time around and would have to work on the impression I made if I was ever to get started in my chosen career. Finally after about four months of fruitless applications I was offered an interview. This time I did my homework: I asked my dad, who worked as a Chief Executive, for advice to learn as much about the structure of interviews as I could. The last time I'd been involved in any kind of competitive interview was after I applied to university and although I'd been successful that time I suspected that my academic record played a large part. Well, it turned out that it was my academic record that had given me my chance this time too -- being gifted academically did have some practical benefit.
I dressed carefully in suit and tie despite ties and buttoned collars having always made me feel physically uncomfortable. Luckily as long as the collar's not tight I can stand it for a few hours and that mode of dress is expected at interviews, at least for professional positions in the UK. It's about first impressions: the interviewer expects that the candidate will demonstrate a smartness of appearance so you have to meet those expectations the first time they lay eyes on you.
I borrowed my mum's car and drove myself to the interview. This was in the days before sat-nav or Google Maps so I'd gotten a street map of the city and plotted my route on the map, studying it in detail so that I felt comfortable about navigating the 50 or so miles. I managed to find the place with little difficulty, which surprised me a little given my previous experiences with navigation, parked in one of their visitor's bays and followed the signs to Reception. I was a little early because I'd given myself a good margin in case of delays. I approached the desk feeling intensely nervous but my desire to finally get a job allowed me to overcome my fear and I introduced myself to the receptionist, stating that I was there for an interview with a certain person. The receptionist was entirely friendly and professional which helped (they must see any number of nervous candidates so I guess with hindsight I didn't seem unusual). I was told to take a seat and wait for the person who would come an meet me before we went for the interview.
After what seemed like ages because I was so keyed up, but was in reality no more than ten minutes, the manager arrived and introduced himself. I remembered to stand up to meet him and to shake hands, and then he led me into the offices to the interview room. He asked me to sit and offered me a tea or coffee: I declined. I figured that no offense would be taken from my refusal and I really didn't want to contend with a pressing bladder in my nervous state. He was relaxed but professional in his manner: he must have been experienced at conducting interviews as it all felt very fluent.
He started by asking about my education and I responded, consciously reminding myself to speak clearly, not too fast, and to make eye contact (or at least a point above his shoulder). I seemed to get away with it and as far as I could tell I didn't come across as either staring intensely or avoiding his gaze entirely. I couldn't hide my nerves and was aware that I was fidgeting with my hands but I guess it wasn't excessive because it didn't appear to attract his attention. Without ever touching on any technical aspects the interview wound to a close, having been mostly about my educational experiences, why I had left university, and what I had been doing since then. He offered me a tour of the offices and then led me back to Reception where he bid me goodbye and said that they had other candidates to interview and they would be in touch.
I left, walking back to the car, thinking about what had just happened and wondering how it had gone: with my lack of interview experience I didn't know whether it had gone well or badly. I took off my tie and unbuttoned my collar to much relief before driving back home where my parents asked me how it went. What could I say? I didn't know. I settled down to wait for a response which arrived in the mail a couple of days later: they thanked me for my time but I had not been successful. I was disappointed but not excessively so: I had resigned myself to a long battle before I would be successful but never had any doubt that I would succeed.
Over the next two months I had another three or four interviews dotted around the country that went the same way before I encountered something a little different. This one was a small software company based in Surrey, some 200 miles from my home in Lancashire. I traveled down by rail, taking a window seat so I could spend the journey watching the scenery pass by instead of having to avoid the gazes of my fellow passengers -- I don't enjoy public transportation but there wasn't another option. Arriving at my destination I realized that I didn't know how to get to the street where the office was located but I had the presence of mind to ask a cab driver for directions. I walked along as directed and although it turned out to be further than expected making me a little warm and uncomfortable in my suit and tie I persevered and found the place.
I was used to the routine at Reception by now and it all went as expected, taking the offered seat gratefully as a chance to rest before my ordeal. I didn't have long to wait before my interviewer arrived and escorted me to his office. In a change from my previous experiences there was another person present already; he was introduced as a Project Manager, my interviewer also being a Project Manager. After briefly covering the familiar ground of my education I was pleasantly surprised to be asked to complete a short written programming test, and was shown to another room where I could complete it in private. I was told that they would return in 15 minutes and see how I had managed with it.
I say I was pleasantly surprised; in fact I was overjoyed to have finally been given a chance to demonstrate my skills. I don't remember the details but there were a number of short questions about the C programming language and an algorithmic problem to solve. I had completed the test several minutes earlier than the 15 minute deadline and when the first Project Manager entered to see how I was doing I told him that I'd finished and handed him the completed answers. That concluded the interview process for the day and after a brief, conventional wrapping up it was over and I left on my long journey home.
I had a positive feeling this time around which turned out to be justified as I received a phone call shortly after arriving home offering me a second interview! Well, I was overjoyed even though I reminded myself that I still had to pass the second stage and it was likely to be tougher. I had known that if I was just given a chance to show my skills I could get there. It was two weeks before my second interview date and my dad offered to drive me down there -- I guess with hindsight he had more confidence about the outcome than even I did: lucky again to have been adopted by such supportive people.
I needn't have worried. After lunch together I left my dad to head off to the second interview: I knew where I was headed this time and arrived in a much better state. The same Project Manager met me in Reception and we moved on to his office where I was introduced to the Operations Director. Apparently I had aced the test -- the best (and quickest) result they had ever had on it -- and had decided to make me the offer of a job there and then based on that showing. In my relief I think I forgot to feel my usual nervousness as it was replaced by pleasure and excitement. I didn't accept immediately: I said I'd like time to consider which I thought was rather brave of me. What if they'd withdrawn the offer? But I didn't think about any of that -- I didn't want to appear desperate and I wanted to talk it over with my dad first. They were perfectly accepting of that -- and I think it was a wise decision of mine given my lack of experience in that kind of situation.
Well, I hooked up with my dad and told him my good news... and then found out he had been looking at ads for rental places. One step ahead of me as usual: I would never have even thought about that. We returned home and I phoned to accept the offer. We then discussed when I could start: having no current job where I had to give notice I told them I could start as soon as I had somewhere to live down there. Just like that I was about to up sticks and leave home for what would be the last time. My dad took care of all the rental arrangements -- I wouldn't have known where to start -- and also helped me buy my first car. And that was that: I had finally reached my goal and gotten my first job in programming.
I recognize now that I faced a number of obstacles in getting that first job.
- No degree. I know for a fact that some firms do not even consider candidates without a degree or equivalent, and it is nearly always listed as a requirement in the ad. The fact that I had gained a place at Cambridge counted in my favor here even though I never graduated: just getting into a prestigious university makes you stand out.
- No experience. This one's a biggie -- recruiters look at previous positions held in order to match candidates to openings. No previous jobs means no matches. It's not so much of an issue for entry-level jobs but there aren't too many of those, and then the lack of a degree comes into play.
- Poor interpersonal skills. This is the ASD-related obstacle on my list and its effect is variable. It won't stop you getting that first contact or interview but then it can have a detrimental effect on the interviewer's impression of you as a person. The unfortunate fact here is that these people are looking for somebody to work with them, and -- skills aside -- they will favor the candidate whose personality fits best into the existing team.
Tuesday, 27 August 2013
Studying Conversation
Partly as a result of my anxiety therapy I have been paying special attention to conversations recently, both those I have been involved in and others that I've observed, to learn more about their structure and the behavior of the participants. This has involved paying more attention than I would normally as well as trying to watch people, which I have found to be difficult for a number of reasons.
That first part, focusing on what the people are saying instead of considering my own responses, has had three effects: I find I am better able to recall details of what has been said, I interact less because the time I take to build a response means that the conversation has usually moved on, and it takes considerably more energy to maintain the level of concentration which leaves me feeling tired.
The aim of watching people was to try to observe non-verbal signals. Now, I didn't expect this to be easy but it was worse than I had anticipated: in the nearly forty years of my life I have managed to gain no more than a very basic knowledge of body language. I can recognize smiles. I can sometimes pick up when somebody is angry or upset. But that's about it: how do you look for signs when you don't know what they look like? It's not like people are holding up little flags. So if there are any signals that people use when they're conversing they're lost on me. It's like the patterns that flowers have that only show in UV light which bees and other insects can see but humans can't: if you can't see anything there you can't begin to interpret it.
The one thing I did think to try to watch was people's direction of gaze... which involves looking at their eyes... in other words, eye contact. This is a common issue for those on the Spectrum: it's difficult to strike a balance between obvious avoidance and staring. I tried it out on my wife, concentrating on her eyes while she spoke, and she told me it was intimidating and off-putting because I was staring so intensely. After that I decided not to try it out on others. Besides which, I rationalized that it would probably distort the behavior I was trying to observe in the first place!
My limited observations did allow me to hypothesize up to a point. I identified a distinction between functional conversation where the aim is to convey or acquire information, and small talk which doesn't appear to fulfill any purpose. I tentatively suggested that it was a mechanism for establishing and maintaining social bonds, which my therapist agreed with. I have little or no problem with functional conversation because there is a purpose to the exercise. Whereas small talk... feels pointless. Do I really want to go around commenting on the weather to people? Why?
I guess a large part of my problem is that I don't really understand social bonds (maybe I've just identified my next area of study). No real conclusions yet from all this: even with a focus for my observations I have not been able to gain much insight. But then this is a very common area of difficulty for those on the Autism Spectrum.
That first part, focusing on what the people are saying instead of considering my own responses, has had three effects: I find I am better able to recall details of what has been said, I interact less because the time I take to build a response means that the conversation has usually moved on, and it takes considerably more energy to maintain the level of concentration which leaves me feeling tired.
The aim of watching people was to try to observe non-verbal signals. Now, I didn't expect this to be easy but it was worse than I had anticipated: in the nearly forty years of my life I have managed to gain no more than a very basic knowledge of body language. I can recognize smiles. I can sometimes pick up when somebody is angry or upset. But that's about it: how do you look for signs when you don't know what they look like? It's not like people are holding up little flags. So if there are any signals that people use when they're conversing they're lost on me. It's like the patterns that flowers have that only show in UV light which bees and other insects can see but humans can't: if you can't see anything there you can't begin to interpret it.
The one thing I did think to try to watch was people's direction of gaze... which involves looking at their eyes... in other words, eye contact. This is a common issue for those on the Spectrum: it's difficult to strike a balance between obvious avoidance and staring. I tried it out on my wife, concentrating on her eyes while she spoke, and she told me it was intimidating and off-putting because I was staring so intensely. After that I decided not to try it out on others. Besides which, I rationalized that it would probably distort the behavior I was trying to observe in the first place!
My limited observations did allow me to hypothesize up to a point. I identified a distinction between functional conversation where the aim is to convey or acquire information, and small talk which doesn't appear to fulfill any purpose. I tentatively suggested that it was a mechanism for establishing and maintaining social bonds, which my therapist agreed with. I have little or no problem with functional conversation because there is a purpose to the exercise. Whereas small talk... feels pointless. Do I really want to go around commenting on the weather to people? Why?
I guess a large part of my problem is that I don't really understand social bonds (maybe I've just identified my next area of study). No real conclusions yet from all this: even with a focus for my observations I have not been able to gain much insight. But then this is a very common area of difficulty for those on the Autism Spectrum.
Friday, 23 August 2013
A Song of Ice and Fire
I'm currently reading A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin -- I've just started the first volume of A Dance with Dragons -- and I must say that I'm enjoying it immensely. There is a wealth of descriptive detail in the prose that paints vivid pictures of the vast setting of the series. The most obvious point of comparison would be the Lord of the Rings trilogy, but the semblance is only superficial.
Where Tolkien is concerned with the fight of good against evil and maintains a strong focus on his small band of heroic protagonists, Martin weaves a dance through shifting sands of uncertainty in which his extensive cast of characters behave in all too human ways, driven by self-interest, belief, revenge, lust and even, occasionally, honor. Lord of the Rings is a fairy tale where right triumphs over wrong, battles are glorious and deaths are either heroic sacrifices or the well-deserved reward for treachery. By contrast in Ice and Fire the characters are individuals, each with their own motivations, capable of anything within their own personal bounds. There is a moral ambiguity to many of the acts and the reader must decide for themselves where the characters stand. Battles are not big set pieces, regardless of their importance to the progression of the story; instead they are confused, claustrophobic, noisy, bloody melees where no single character has anything but a limited view of his immediate surroundings and plans are but chaff in the winds of chaos.
I'm in danger of making it sound impenetrably tangled and directionless but that is not the case. Martin handles the multiple threads of the story with assurance on several levels, from the interplay between individuals up to the scale of nations and dynasties. As in life, one can never know what goes on in somebody's head, and while ofttimes his characters will behave predictably they are quite capable of springing surprises. It is said that art reflects life, and if that is true then Martin has ground and polished his mirror to perfection. As many reviewers have commented you can find parallels with many periods of history in these books. The most obvious because of similarities in the society -- absolute monarchs, feudal lords, armored mounted knights -- are to the European dynastic wars of the Middle Ages, not least the English Wars of the Roses. However his world is as diverse as our own and other cultures echo the likes of the Norse, the nomadic Scythians, or even the traders of the ancient east who traveled the Silk Road.
I find it staggering that one person could conceive a work of such magnitude and maintain such consistency across so many points of view. For me the only disappointing aspect is that the series is still unfinished: a work in progress. I ought to say before I finish that I've not watched the HBO adaptation so I cannot comment myself on its fidelity (although I've heard positive reports). I'm not in any rush to see it although I expect I would enjoy it well enough: I'm too enthralled by the books for now, and no matter how good an adaptation may be (I greatly enjoyed the Lord of the Rings movies) I always value the written word.
Where Tolkien is concerned with the fight of good against evil and maintains a strong focus on his small band of heroic protagonists, Martin weaves a dance through shifting sands of uncertainty in which his extensive cast of characters behave in all too human ways, driven by self-interest, belief, revenge, lust and even, occasionally, honor. Lord of the Rings is a fairy tale where right triumphs over wrong, battles are glorious and deaths are either heroic sacrifices or the well-deserved reward for treachery. By contrast in Ice and Fire the characters are individuals, each with their own motivations, capable of anything within their own personal bounds. There is a moral ambiguity to many of the acts and the reader must decide for themselves where the characters stand. Battles are not big set pieces, regardless of their importance to the progression of the story; instead they are confused, claustrophobic, noisy, bloody melees where no single character has anything but a limited view of his immediate surroundings and plans are but chaff in the winds of chaos.
I'm in danger of making it sound impenetrably tangled and directionless but that is not the case. Martin handles the multiple threads of the story with assurance on several levels, from the interplay between individuals up to the scale of nations and dynasties. As in life, one can never know what goes on in somebody's head, and while ofttimes his characters will behave predictably they are quite capable of springing surprises. It is said that art reflects life, and if that is true then Martin has ground and polished his mirror to perfection. As many reviewers have commented you can find parallels with many periods of history in these books. The most obvious because of similarities in the society -- absolute monarchs, feudal lords, armored mounted knights -- are to the European dynastic wars of the Middle Ages, not least the English Wars of the Roses. However his world is as diverse as our own and other cultures echo the likes of the Norse, the nomadic Scythians, or even the traders of the ancient east who traveled the Silk Road.
I find it staggering that one person could conceive a work of such magnitude and maintain such consistency across so many points of view. For me the only disappointing aspect is that the series is still unfinished: a work in progress. I ought to say before I finish that I've not watched the HBO adaptation so I cannot comment myself on its fidelity (although I've heard positive reports). I'm not in any rush to see it although I expect I would enjoy it well enough: I'm too enthralled by the books for now, and no matter how good an adaptation may be (I greatly enjoyed the Lord of the Rings movies) I always value the written word.
Tuesday, 20 August 2013
Attachment and Anxiety: Relationship Problems
I mentioned in a previous post that I suffer from insecurity in relationships because I don't know how the other person feels towards me. In terms of Attachment Theory this would be described as preoccupied or anxious-preoccupied attachment, characterized by worrying about what others think of you and a need for approval and validation.
In my case I am aware that I have a disposition towards clinginess: I can become dependent on the other person for validation of my self-esteem, sometimes to the point of obsession. Being aware of this does help to a degree because it means I can moderate my impulses. I don't mean that I'd stalk somebody, following them around everywhere - nothing that scary - but I without that self-restraint I'd quite probably be getting to the point of harassing them with the frequency of contact. This is not good. Obviously it can destroy a relationship if one party is too clingy and constantly seeks reassurance of their worth - it can be very wearing for the other person involved.
The trouble is... even though I am aware of how I am, I still feel insecure; still feel a need for the approval of others. It's such a good feeling when I receive attention from somebody I care about, and they appear, to me, to reciprocate the friendship. And then, after we go off our separate ways and carry on with our lives, my doubts start to creep in and the insecurity builds: am I reading too much into the relationship? Do they care or were they just being polite? Am I, in reality, just a pain in the ass to them? Are they secretly glad to get away from my clingy behavior? And so it goes on.
I catastrophize (thank you Musings) when I send a text and get no response. The reality is most likely that they are every bit as bad as me when it comes to checking for messages and then remembering to reply when I get the free time to do so, but in my mind I imagine that they are sick to death of being pestered by me, that I've offended them, or even that the relationship exists only in my mind. I worry that I am being too demanding for attention and driving them away.
All these negative fantasies are distressing, driving my anxiety and dominating my thoughts to the extent that I struggle to concentrate on anything else. Recently I have begun to work on handling this situation by focusing on the positive facts about the relationship: remembering occasions and incidents that provide evidence of reciprocation. I also regularly remind myself that this negative speculation is groundless, that I have no reason to harbor such doubts. And I also reflect on the fact that somebody as poor at reading others as I am can certainly not draw those worrying inferences with any confidence - I simply do not know for sure how the other person feels and so rather than assume the worst I try to keep a balanced view. It's not cured my anxiety but it does help prevent the self-destructive downwards spiral.
Now, if I could just work on developing a healthier attachment style I'd be happy! Still, any progress is a help and at least I recognize that a problem exists which is the first step in fixing it.
In my case I am aware that I have a disposition towards clinginess: I can become dependent on the other person for validation of my self-esteem, sometimes to the point of obsession. Being aware of this does help to a degree because it means I can moderate my impulses. I don't mean that I'd stalk somebody, following them around everywhere - nothing that scary - but I without that self-restraint I'd quite probably be getting to the point of harassing them with the frequency of contact. This is not good. Obviously it can destroy a relationship if one party is too clingy and constantly seeks reassurance of their worth - it can be very wearing for the other person involved.
The trouble is... even though I am aware of how I am, I still feel insecure; still feel a need for the approval of others. It's such a good feeling when I receive attention from somebody I care about, and they appear, to me, to reciprocate the friendship. And then, after we go off our separate ways and carry on with our lives, my doubts start to creep in and the insecurity builds: am I reading too much into the relationship? Do they care or were they just being polite? Am I, in reality, just a pain in the ass to them? Are they secretly glad to get away from my clingy behavior? And so it goes on.
I catastrophize (thank you Musings) when I send a text and get no response. The reality is most likely that they are every bit as bad as me when it comes to checking for messages and then remembering to reply when I get the free time to do so, but in my mind I imagine that they are sick to death of being pestered by me, that I've offended them, or even that the relationship exists only in my mind. I worry that I am being too demanding for attention and driving them away.
All these negative fantasies are distressing, driving my anxiety and dominating my thoughts to the extent that I struggle to concentrate on anything else. Recently I have begun to work on handling this situation by focusing on the positive facts about the relationship: remembering occasions and incidents that provide evidence of reciprocation. I also regularly remind myself that this negative speculation is groundless, that I have no reason to harbor such doubts. And I also reflect on the fact that somebody as poor at reading others as I am can certainly not draw those worrying inferences with any confidence - I simply do not know for sure how the other person feels and so rather than assume the worst I try to keep a balanced view. It's not cured my anxiety but it does help prevent the self-destructive downwards spiral.
Now, if I could just work on developing a healthier attachment style I'd be happy! Still, any progress is a help and at least I recognize that a problem exists which is the first step in fixing it.
Saturday, 17 August 2013
Financial Disaster Area
I screwed up again. Nothing new there: it's a regular occurrence. This time I paid three bills twice, but luckily I've got the money in my account to cover it. Finances and me are not a felicitous combination: left to my own devices I will forget to pay bills, lose track of my balance and go overdrawn. Why should this be? I studied math to university level, I was an A student at school and won a Gold Award in a national mathematics competition, I've been working as a software developer for most of my adult life: I am completely comfortable with numbers and higher mathematics.
So... it's not the numerical or arithmetical aspect that gives me trouble. It's executive function (EF). Or rather executive dysfunction, specifically as it relates to planning and working memory. I've tried to manage household finances over the years but I always come unstuck, losing track of what's paid, what's due and how much money remains in the account. I've tried using written accounts, spreadsheets, internet & mobile banking and still I fail to keep on top of it.
Of course the household budget is not the only area where I suffer these or similar problems, but it is the most serious. I can't multi-task - I am only able to concentrate on doing one thing at a time, which can be a limitation in the kitchen when I'm trying to toast bread at the same time as frying bacon. I've lost count of the number of times it has resulted in burnt toast since I forgot about it being under the grill until I smelled the burning! And at work I have problems with meetings - I sometimes forget about the meeting until after it has finished, or get confused about what day it is scheduled. And this is with a reminder on my PC: without one I am totally at sea.
Grocery shopping is another problem area (even without the associated sensory issues and the severe discomfort caused when they reorganize the shelves, but that's a whole other subject). I have a routine - no surprise there - where I make a list first, sorted according to the store layout. I pick up the items in list order, and I still miss one or two items as often as not.
It's a curious, sometimes frustrating state of affairs. I can hold down a full-time job, I can drive, I even run a darts competition in my local pub. But I can't live independently. There are key areas where I need assistance that center around running a household: finances, laundry, cleaning, maintenance. I know that I have the skills to perform these tasks, which is the most frustrating part. I just lack the organization to do them consistently in a timely manner. I've tried, I really have. I've lived on my own for periods when I was a student as well as when I first moved away from home permanently to take up a new job. And every time it has been the same end result: things fall apart after only a few weeks.
It's a benefit of being married that I have somebody else in the home whom I can rely on to do the organizing, to balance the books, and to remind me when jobs need doing. As I said to my wife only this morning, I don't know what I'd do without her.
So... it's not the numerical or arithmetical aspect that gives me trouble. It's executive function (EF). Or rather executive dysfunction, specifically as it relates to planning and working memory. I've tried to manage household finances over the years but I always come unstuck, losing track of what's paid, what's due and how much money remains in the account. I've tried using written accounts, spreadsheets, internet & mobile banking and still I fail to keep on top of it.
Of course the household budget is not the only area where I suffer these or similar problems, but it is the most serious. I can't multi-task - I am only able to concentrate on doing one thing at a time, which can be a limitation in the kitchen when I'm trying to toast bread at the same time as frying bacon. I've lost count of the number of times it has resulted in burnt toast since I forgot about it being under the grill until I smelled the burning! And at work I have problems with meetings - I sometimes forget about the meeting until after it has finished, or get confused about what day it is scheduled. And this is with a reminder on my PC: without one I am totally at sea.
Grocery shopping is another problem area (even without the associated sensory issues and the severe discomfort caused when they reorganize the shelves, but that's a whole other subject). I have a routine - no surprise there - where I make a list first, sorted according to the store layout. I pick up the items in list order, and I still miss one or two items as often as not.
It's a curious, sometimes frustrating state of affairs. I can hold down a full-time job, I can drive, I even run a darts competition in my local pub. But I can't live independently. There are key areas where I need assistance that center around running a household: finances, laundry, cleaning, maintenance. I know that I have the skills to perform these tasks, which is the most frustrating part. I just lack the organization to do them consistently in a timely manner. I've tried, I really have. I've lived on my own for periods when I was a student as well as when I first moved away from home permanently to take up a new job. And every time it has been the same end result: things fall apart after only a few weeks.
It's a benefit of being married that I have somebody else in the home whom I can rely on to do the organizing, to balance the books, and to remind me when jobs need doing. As I said to my wife only this morning, I don't know what I'd do without her.
Wednesday, 14 August 2013
Social Insecurity
People talk to me. I talk back. Sometimes I feel comfortable with it. But do they like me? I don't know and there are times when that bothers me. Like many Aspies I have great difficulty reading people, recognizing and interpreting their body language. Together with the gaps in my understanding of social conventions this means I've got my work cut out trying to push the envelope of interaction.
There are a number of people I know socially; I talk with them sometimes and it all seems friendly enough. But that's as far as it goes. I very rarely invite people to join me in some activity because I don't know how they will react -- I don't mean whether they will say "yes" or "no" but whether they would feel I had crossed some boundary, broken some social rule.
From my observations of people it appears that it is common amongst friends to arrange to do things together, while people who are mere acquaintances don't do this. I've never been able to grasp how one advances an interpersonal relationship beyond the initial stages. Sometimes it just seems to happen but I don't understand the mechanics.
I suspect that conversation has a lot to do with the process. (Just my luck I guess - that's not one of my strengths.) From what my wife and others have told me it appears that there are non-verbal signals that are used in conversations, perhaps below the level of conscious communication, that influence the other party. It might as well be telepathy as far as I'm concerned, but I've witnessed occasions where my wife has inferred accurate interpretations of people's state of mind without even exchanging a word! It leaves me stunned, like seeing a great illusionist perform: I'm just left wondering "how did she do that?".
Anyhow, I'm digressing a little. To get back to the main topic, I've developed a... theory, if you like. A working hypothesis, a conjecture, which is that these non-verbal signals are important in establishing and strengthening social bonds because they provide information about what the other person is thinking and feeling. I'm handicapped by an inability to recognize and interpret these signals, so all I have to go on is what the person says with a few tentative impressions based on tone of voice.
That's all well and good but I've learned that you can't always rely on taking what people say at face value. They might be teasing, they might be following social conventions (such as "being polite", or, in other words, exhibiting socially-acceptable insincerity). I can't tell so I behave with caution, treading warily up to the boundaries of what I know to be acceptable. My self-imposed boundaries, which are an amalgamation of the rules I've constructed to circumscribe my behavior.
There are different rules for different degrees of familiarity: I may act in certain ways with people I consider friends that I never would with people I do not know well. The difficult question for me is how do these other people feel about me? Do they consider me a friend at all, or am I just some guy they occasionally talk to in the pub? Am I being presumptuous by thinking that there is anything more to the relationship? And how do I find out?
This uncertainty underpins my insecurity about social relationships: I just do not know where I stand with people, I don't know how they regard me. Perhaps I'm deluding myself and the people I think of as friends don't reciprocate: perhaps they just tolerate my presence for some reason. How can I know?
There are a number of people I know socially; I talk with them sometimes and it all seems friendly enough. But that's as far as it goes. I very rarely invite people to join me in some activity because I don't know how they will react -- I don't mean whether they will say "yes" or "no" but whether they would feel I had crossed some boundary, broken some social rule.
From my observations of people it appears that it is common amongst friends to arrange to do things together, while people who are mere acquaintances don't do this. I've never been able to grasp how one advances an interpersonal relationship beyond the initial stages. Sometimes it just seems to happen but I don't understand the mechanics.
I suspect that conversation has a lot to do with the process. (Just my luck I guess - that's not one of my strengths.) From what my wife and others have told me it appears that there are non-verbal signals that are used in conversations, perhaps below the level of conscious communication, that influence the other party. It might as well be telepathy as far as I'm concerned, but I've witnessed occasions where my wife has inferred accurate interpretations of people's state of mind without even exchanging a word! It leaves me stunned, like seeing a great illusionist perform: I'm just left wondering "how did she do that?".
Anyhow, I'm digressing a little. To get back to the main topic, I've developed a... theory, if you like. A working hypothesis, a conjecture, which is that these non-verbal signals are important in establishing and strengthening social bonds because they provide information about what the other person is thinking and feeling. I'm handicapped by an inability to recognize and interpret these signals, so all I have to go on is what the person says with a few tentative impressions based on tone of voice.
That's all well and good but I've learned that you can't always rely on taking what people say at face value. They might be teasing, they might be following social conventions (such as "being polite", or, in other words, exhibiting socially-acceptable insincerity). I can't tell so I behave with caution, treading warily up to the boundaries of what I know to be acceptable. My self-imposed boundaries, which are an amalgamation of the rules I've constructed to circumscribe my behavior.
There are different rules for different degrees of familiarity: I may act in certain ways with people I consider friends that I never would with people I do not know well. The difficult question for me is how do these other people feel about me? Do they consider me a friend at all, or am I just some guy they occasionally talk to in the pub? Am I being presumptuous by thinking that there is anything more to the relationship? And how do I find out?
This uncertainty underpins my insecurity about social relationships: I just do not know where I stand with people, I don't know how they regard me. Perhaps I'm deluding myself and the people I think of as friends don't reciprocate: perhaps they just tolerate my presence for some reason. How can I know?
Thursday, 8 August 2013
Aspergers Blues
It's hard to write about depression. The symptoms keep getting in the way of my words, and for somebody who loves words as I do that is disheartening.
Where to start? Well, I've been suffering bouts of depression for years. It can last for a few hours or several days but it is not usually an unrelenting pit of despair. I have spells when I'm feeling, if not exactly "up" then at least neutral. But then I'm back down again.
These days I don't become inclined to harm myself, although in the past I've cut myself and taken handfuls of pills (my body didn't go along with the plan and I just vomited). Instead I usually seek solitude, which can be easier said than done.
I want to cry but my eyes remain stubbornly dry. I want to curl up in a dark corner and hide from the world. I want to be left alone and I want somebody to just hold me and make me feel safe and protected. I get so tense that I feel as if my muscles are locked in place, yet I have so little energy that I can't bring myself to stir. I detest the sensations, feeling a lack of sensation. It's a complex, contradictory, utterly confusing state of mind.
It's getting to the point where I'm reluctant to relax and enjoy myself because I know that sooner or later I'll come crashing down again, and the shock of the contrast is like jumping into a cold plunge pool from a sauna. I'm forever waiting, anticipating and expecting the next low point.
Of course there are triggers. Rocky patches in relationships. Anything that causes stress and exhausts me leaves me vulnerable. It's a common aspect of Aspergers that we have limited physical and mental resources: we tire easily, and that state of exhaustion means that problems quickly become overwhelming.
What can be done about it? The obvious answer would be to avoid becoming so worn out - I might even say burned out - that I can barely function let alone stave off the blues. My particular problem lately is that as the sole carer for my wife, who's not in good health, I have no respite. There's no break from it, even if my strong sense of duty and responsibility would allow it.
I missed a couple days of work last week because the depression hit again after becoming exhausted dealing with my wife, who is also feeling great frustration and low spirits because of illness. It doesn't help that I pick up the echoes of her feelings - who says Aspies don't have empathy? - but I don't have the mechanisms to cope with these reflected emotions.
In fact, the night before I had spent two hours or so in the company of a friend and left feeling happy... until I got home and returned to the stressful overload. I'm not coping well at all lately: it's all getting to be too much of a strain but I'm stubborn as an old mule and I won't give in until my mind and body call an involuntary time out. Unfortunately that's exactly what happened and a week later I'm still not really over it, still depressed.
There are no silver bullets. There is nobody who can wave a magic wand and fix the problems. Miracles don't happen (even if, like my wife, you have strong religious beliefs). I don't believe there is any higher purpose to suffering: adversity doesn't make you strong. It just grinds you down until you haven't the strength to even lift your head from the dirt.
The funny thing is that now I'm back at work I can get focused on the job and function normally on the whole, although I'm feeling more tired than usual and it's taking me longer to get ready in the mornings - I'm not moving so quick. A case of special interest to the rescue, possibly.
Time flows like molasses in winter;
I am caught in its viscous embrace.
Struggling to break free
As a fly in a web,
Waiting for the poisonous attack.
I am a cornered mouse,
Teeth and claws no threat
To the predator stalking me.
The black cat, Nemesis,
Will not be driven off.
To fight an invincible foe,
To cast the die, burn the bridge
And cross the Rubicon; a dream
Wherein I cast off the fetters
And rise, Prometheus unbound.
Where to start? Well, I've been suffering bouts of depression for years. It can last for a few hours or several days but it is not usually an unrelenting pit of despair. I have spells when I'm feeling, if not exactly "up" then at least neutral. But then I'm back down again.
These days I don't become inclined to harm myself, although in the past I've cut myself and taken handfuls of pills (my body didn't go along with the plan and I just vomited). Instead I usually seek solitude, which can be easier said than done.
I want to cry but my eyes remain stubbornly dry. I want to curl up in a dark corner and hide from the world. I want to be left alone and I want somebody to just hold me and make me feel safe and protected. I get so tense that I feel as if my muscles are locked in place, yet I have so little energy that I can't bring myself to stir. I detest the sensations, feeling a lack of sensation. It's a complex, contradictory, utterly confusing state of mind.
It's getting to the point where I'm reluctant to relax and enjoy myself because I know that sooner or later I'll come crashing down again, and the shock of the contrast is like jumping into a cold plunge pool from a sauna. I'm forever waiting, anticipating and expecting the next low point.
Of course there are triggers. Rocky patches in relationships. Anything that causes stress and exhausts me leaves me vulnerable. It's a common aspect of Aspergers that we have limited physical and mental resources: we tire easily, and that state of exhaustion means that problems quickly become overwhelming.
What can be done about it? The obvious answer would be to avoid becoming so worn out - I might even say burned out - that I can barely function let alone stave off the blues. My particular problem lately is that as the sole carer for my wife, who's not in good health, I have no respite. There's no break from it, even if my strong sense of duty and responsibility would allow it.
I missed a couple days of work last week because the depression hit again after becoming exhausted dealing with my wife, who is also feeling great frustration and low spirits because of illness. It doesn't help that I pick up the echoes of her feelings - who says Aspies don't have empathy? - but I don't have the mechanisms to cope with these reflected emotions.
In fact, the night before I had spent two hours or so in the company of a friend and left feeling happy... until I got home and returned to the stressful overload. I'm not coping well at all lately: it's all getting to be too much of a strain but I'm stubborn as an old mule and I won't give in until my mind and body call an involuntary time out. Unfortunately that's exactly what happened and a week later I'm still not really over it, still depressed.
There are no silver bullets. There is nobody who can wave a magic wand and fix the problems. Miracles don't happen (even if, like my wife, you have strong religious beliefs). I don't believe there is any higher purpose to suffering: adversity doesn't make you strong. It just grinds you down until you haven't the strength to even lift your head from the dirt.
The funny thing is that now I'm back at work I can get focused on the job and function normally on the whole, although I'm feeling more tired than usual and it's taking me longer to get ready in the mornings - I'm not moving so quick. A case of special interest to the rescue, possibly.
Time flows like molasses in winter;
I am caught in its viscous embrace.
Struggling to break free
As a fly in a web,
Waiting for the poisonous attack.
I am a cornered mouse,
Teeth and claws no threat
To the predator stalking me.
The black cat, Nemesis,
Will not be driven off.
To fight an invincible foe,
To cast the die, burn the bridge
And cross the Rubicon; a dream
Wherein I cast off the fetters
And rise, Prometheus unbound.
Wednesday, 31 July 2013
Therapy? Experiences of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy
Ok. Time to hold my hands up - I'm in therapy. I'm nearing the end of a course of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy to help me deal with anxiety. Up to now there were only three people who knew this: me, my wife and my closest friend.
Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) is a therapy that is designed to teach new ways of thinking, to provide the client with new ways of dealing with problems that they face in their lives. It is very important to bear in mind that it does not promise any cure: in my case it will not stop me feeling anxious in certain situations. What it will do (I believe and I've not yet experienced anything to contradict this) is give me tools to manage my anxiety.
One thing that has struck me throughout the course is how obvious it all seems. In short, the steps have been to identify the causes of anxiety and rank them in order of severity, start at the bottom and develop ways to handle them. It's that simple! But there's something significant about the fact that the advice comes from somebody who has no emotional connection, who is impartial and nonthreatening. I feel that they have no "hidden agenda", that they are not trying to manipulate me (even though in fact they are - that is the purpose of the sessions). It comes down to trust: I feel that I can trust my therapist and consequently I am very accepting of her advice.
The thing about CBT is that it is a learning experience like any training course. If you are not engaged then you will not learn. Period. I believe that if you don't want to learn something then you won't. You can sit through lesson after lesson but if you don't apply and practice what you are taught then you won't learn. I think this is why CBT gets some negative reviews - people come into it expecting some silver bullet that will cure them of their problems, but it doesn't work like that. The sessions with the therapist are just to provide the foundations. It is up to the client to build upon them by practicing the coping techniques learned. It's difficult to begin with - you have to expose yourself to the challenging situation before you can try to apply the lessons.
I guess people fail because they don't put the effort into this part. But as I said to my friend earlier tonight, I wouldn't have brought this up with my GP if I didn't want to try to fix my problem. And if that means I have to do "homework" then I'm going to put the effort in because the end result will be worth it.
I did some research about CBT before I started the course - that's my way - and the key fact I learned about it is that it does not claim to be a cure. In may case it will not stop me feeling anxious. I believe it is important to go into this kind of therapy with realistic expectations of the outcome, and in my case it was that it would not stop me feeling anxious - it might not even make me less anxious - but it would provide me with ways to handle that anxiety, to function despite the feeling.
In many ways the success of the treatment depends on how much effort the client is willing to put in. The key to graduated exposure (which is the type of CBT I am receiving) is that you make the effort to expose yourself to the situations.
I've found that one of the hardest aspects of this for me has been to remember that I have to attempt to interact with people differently. Remembering this instead of falling back on ingrained habits has been very taxing mentally. I've discussed this with my therapist and she agrees that being on the autism spectrum poses particular problems for this type of therapy: resistance to change, ingrained habits (routines), co-morbid conditions such as social phobia and sensory hypo- or hyper-sensitivity, and difficulties interpreting non-verbal communication.
To this end I've been set tasks including listening to the radio (interpreting conversational voices) and summarizing what I've heard, observing other people's conversations (which is one of the most difficult tasks - trying to derive rules for conversation based on observation, because it involves trying to interpret the non-verbal signals), and making phone calls (to my friends initially - it's starting small but if that's where I want to end up then I'll have to build my way up to it.
I reckon I've made progress, even if it's not easily quantifiable by the simplistic measures recorded by the questionnaire I complete before every session. And that's the most important part - as long as I feel that I've progressed and I feel more able to tackle these anxiety-provoking situations then I think I'm gaining a benefit from the therapy.
So, in summary, I believe it's only effective if the client is prepared to put the effort in to practice the skills being imparted. If one doesn't have a realistic view of the aims and purposes of the therapy and isn't prepared to put in the work involved in learning the skills presented, then it simply won't work. In this type of therapy the therapist is the pilot guiding the course but the client is the engine room providing the momentum.
Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) is a therapy that is designed to teach new ways of thinking, to provide the client with new ways of dealing with problems that they face in their lives. It is very important to bear in mind that it does not promise any cure: in my case it will not stop me feeling anxious in certain situations. What it will do (I believe and I've not yet experienced anything to contradict this) is give me tools to manage my anxiety.
One thing that has struck me throughout the course is how obvious it all seems. In short, the steps have been to identify the causes of anxiety and rank them in order of severity, start at the bottom and develop ways to handle them. It's that simple! But there's something significant about the fact that the advice comes from somebody who has no emotional connection, who is impartial and nonthreatening. I feel that they have no "hidden agenda", that they are not trying to manipulate me (even though in fact they are - that is the purpose of the sessions). It comes down to trust: I feel that I can trust my therapist and consequently I am very accepting of her advice.
The thing about CBT is that it is a learning experience like any training course. If you are not engaged then you will not learn. Period. I believe that if you don't want to learn something then you won't. You can sit through lesson after lesson but if you don't apply and practice what you are taught then you won't learn. I think this is why CBT gets some negative reviews - people come into it expecting some silver bullet that will cure them of their problems, but it doesn't work like that. The sessions with the therapist are just to provide the foundations. It is up to the client to build upon them by practicing the coping techniques learned. It's difficult to begin with - you have to expose yourself to the challenging situation before you can try to apply the lessons.
I guess people fail because they don't put the effort into this part. But as I said to my friend earlier tonight, I wouldn't have brought this up with my GP if I didn't want to try to fix my problem. And if that means I have to do "homework" then I'm going to put the effort in because the end result will be worth it.
I did some research about CBT before I started the course - that's my way - and the key fact I learned about it is that it does not claim to be a cure. In may case it will not stop me feeling anxious. I believe it is important to go into this kind of therapy with realistic expectations of the outcome, and in my case it was that it would not stop me feeling anxious - it might not even make me less anxious - but it would provide me with ways to handle that anxiety, to function despite the feeling.
In many ways the success of the treatment depends on how much effort the client is willing to put in. The key to graduated exposure (which is the type of CBT I am receiving) is that you make the effort to expose yourself to the situations.
I've found that one of the hardest aspects of this for me has been to remember that I have to attempt to interact with people differently. Remembering this instead of falling back on ingrained habits has been very taxing mentally. I've discussed this with my therapist and she agrees that being on the autism spectrum poses particular problems for this type of therapy: resistance to change, ingrained habits (routines), co-morbid conditions such as social phobia and sensory hypo- or hyper-sensitivity, and difficulties interpreting non-verbal communication.
To this end I've been set tasks including listening to the radio (interpreting conversational voices) and summarizing what I've heard, observing other people's conversations (which is one of the most difficult tasks - trying to derive rules for conversation based on observation, because it involves trying to interpret the non-verbal signals), and making phone calls (to my friends initially - it's starting small but if that's where I want to end up then I'll have to build my way up to it.
I reckon I've made progress, even if it's not easily quantifiable by the simplistic measures recorded by the questionnaire I complete before every session. And that's the most important part - as long as I feel that I've progressed and I feel more able to tackle these anxiety-provoking situations then I think I'm gaining a benefit from the therapy.
So, in summary, I believe it's only effective if the client is prepared to put the effort in to practice the skills being imparted. If one doesn't have a realistic view of the aims and purposes of the therapy and isn't prepared to put in the work involved in learning the skills presented, then it simply won't work. In this type of therapy the therapist is the pilot guiding the course but the client is the engine room providing the momentum.
Tuesday, 18 June 2013
Unintended Consequences
It's very difficult to admit that you are in the wrong. Especially if the misdeed was not an intentional act but a consequence of natural behavior.
With impeccable timing under the circumstances I read this blog post over the weekend. It was like looking into a mirror - and I don't mean that everything appeared back-to-front! It was as if the writer had looked into my mind, seen inside as if it were crystal. I'm no stranger to recognizing aspects of myself in other Aspie blog posts: that goes with the territory. But occasionally I read something that could have been written about me. Which is kind of why I'm writing this now.
It doesn't matter exactly what happened over the weekend. But what made it worse was my failure to apologize in a timely manner. You see, I started out thinking that because I hadn't intentionally done anything to cause hurt then I couldn't have done anything wrong and the other person must be behaving irrationally. I'd forgotten about unintended consequences.
To truly be responsible for one's actions means accepting responsibility for all the effects, both intentional and unintentional, expected and unexpected, desirable and undesirable. And realizing that even unconscious, unplanned, unavoidable acts are included in this - accidents do happen.
"I never meant to..." is an excuse. It's a valid excuse as far as it goes, but that's not far enough. "It's my fault" is better. I might not have been able to foresee the results of my actions, or even avoid doing it, but that doesn't mean I don't regret what happened. Accidents have causes. In this case I didn't communicate early or clearly enough that I was approaching a crisis. It's like being too busy defusing a ticking bomb to evacuate the surroundings in time. I had too narrow a focus on what was happening internally to think about anybody outside. And that was a mistake. There were consequences that meant the problems were more severe and lasted longer.
And so to the apology. I'm sure some people can say sorry and convey the appropriate sincerity regardless of whether or not they feel remorse. I can't. If I'm going to apologize then I've got to understand that I did something wrong and regret it. Admit to myself first that I was wrong. That's hard.
In some ways I had an easy life growing up. I had a natural gift for the subjects I studied in school and regularly achieved top marks with little effort. I got the "gifted" label early and it stuck. I enjoyed the plaudits. But the down side is that the more used you get to success, the worse failure appears. It makes you risk-averse: you avoid choosing the path of uncertainty because you have become afraid of the possibility of failure, of getting something wrong. In some ways being labelled as gifted is a curse: you're only as good as your last [excellent] result. It made me happy, sure, but it made me awfully insecure at the same time. I identified with the label to such an extent that I felt that losing it would destroy who I was.
Admitting I got something wrong equates to admitting I failed. To accept being less than perfect. (Yes, I know intellectually I'm not perfect and I make mistakes but I don't feel it - there's still that belief that I have to achieve perfection just to keep on being myself.) I try so hard to get past this but it's always there, like rails preventing me from changing direction. I still look for praise in what I do and dread censure: it's made me a perfectionist, never satisfied with what I create because I concentrate on the flaws. It's a never-ending school report with just the comment "could do better".
So... it takes me time to get to the point where I feel able to admit that I've done wrong and apologize. Please bear with me and be patient.
I'm doing my best.
With impeccable timing under the circumstances I read this blog post over the weekend. It was like looking into a mirror - and I don't mean that everything appeared back-to-front! It was as if the writer had looked into my mind, seen inside as if it were crystal. I'm no stranger to recognizing aspects of myself in other Aspie blog posts: that goes with the territory. But occasionally I read something that could have been written about me. Which is kind of why I'm writing this now.
It doesn't matter exactly what happened over the weekend. But what made it worse was my failure to apologize in a timely manner. You see, I started out thinking that because I hadn't intentionally done anything to cause hurt then I couldn't have done anything wrong and the other person must be behaving irrationally. I'd forgotten about unintended consequences.
To truly be responsible for one's actions means accepting responsibility for all the effects, both intentional and unintentional, expected and unexpected, desirable and undesirable. And realizing that even unconscious, unplanned, unavoidable acts are included in this - accidents do happen.
"I never meant to..." is an excuse. It's a valid excuse as far as it goes, but that's not far enough. "It's my fault" is better. I might not have been able to foresee the results of my actions, or even avoid doing it, but that doesn't mean I don't regret what happened. Accidents have causes. In this case I didn't communicate early or clearly enough that I was approaching a crisis. It's like being too busy defusing a ticking bomb to evacuate the surroundings in time. I had too narrow a focus on what was happening internally to think about anybody outside. And that was a mistake. There were consequences that meant the problems were more severe and lasted longer.
And so to the apology. I'm sure some people can say sorry and convey the appropriate sincerity regardless of whether or not they feel remorse. I can't. If I'm going to apologize then I've got to understand that I did something wrong and regret it. Admit to myself first that I was wrong. That's hard.
In some ways I had an easy life growing up. I had a natural gift for the subjects I studied in school and regularly achieved top marks with little effort. I got the "gifted" label early and it stuck. I enjoyed the plaudits. But the down side is that the more used you get to success, the worse failure appears. It makes you risk-averse: you avoid choosing the path of uncertainty because you have become afraid of the possibility of failure, of getting something wrong. In some ways being labelled as gifted is a curse: you're only as good as your last [excellent] result. It made me happy, sure, but it made me awfully insecure at the same time. I identified with the label to such an extent that I felt that losing it would destroy who I was.
Admitting I got something wrong equates to admitting I failed. To accept being less than perfect. (Yes, I know intellectually I'm not perfect and I make mistakes but I don't feel it - there's still that belief that I have to achieve perfection just to keep on being myself.) I try so hard to get past this but it's always there, like rails preventing me from changing direction. I still look for praise in what I do and dread censure: it's made me a perfectionist, never satisfied with what I create because I concentrate on the flaws. It's a never-ending school report with just the comment "could do better".
So... it takes me time to get to the point where I feel able to admit that I've done wrong and apologize. Please bear with me and be patient.
I'm doing my best.
Tuesday, 11 June 2013
Anxiety: Learning to Cope
Nobody Home?
It's the strangest feeling, or it would be if it weren't so familiar. I catch myself playing the part, acting "normal", carrying on without conscious intervention while all the time I'm there, watching. I feel like a spectator in my own body, a mere passenger.I remain aware of everything around me, fully linked to my senses, but my mind is free-wheeling, pursuing lines of thought unrelated to what my body is doing. And every so often I notice that my body has been walking around, even talking to people, while I've been occupied with my thoughts.
Role Playing
I guess it's a form of acting: I'm performing a role that I've rehearsed so thoroughly I don't need to think about what I'm doing, leaving my mind free to wander. This is the state in which I'm most at ease: there is a comfortable familiarity as I run along the rails of routine.Am I a Stereotype?
The trouble is... as I watch myself I wonder whether I am being myself or whether I am merely exhibiting a set of learned behaviors with the aim of fitting in. What makes me suspect this? I get little nudges from my conscience - a feeling that I should be, say, flapping my hands or talking at length and in detail about some topic of personal interest. Things I used to do as a child but have suppressed as I've grown.Since discovering that I have Aspergers I have become more aware that a number of things I used to do instinctively were characteristic of the condition. I see my innate Aspie traits on one side of a balance with my acquired "normal" traits on the other, and as one side rises into prominence the other side sinks from view. I've been feeling more and more that I am out of balance and I need to take corrective action to restore the equilibrium.
I've found that whereas in the past I had been led into thinking of my differences as aberrant behaviors to be corrected, I now consider them to be natural aspects of the way I am. I have accepted that I'm different - and the reasons underlying that - and I try to be more myself rather than struggling to "act normal". That said, there are some areas where my instinctive reactions are a hindrance to living independently: it's not possible to go through life without interacting with strangers at some point.
Identity and Self-confidence
My sense of self - my identity - is moderately strong: I know who I am and my core values are well-established in my mind. I might not always have the strength or confidence to actively uphold them but I find that I am incapable of acting against them. My self-confidence on the other hand varies according to the situation from bulletproof to non-existent. And that's where my anxiety creeps in.The Sum of All Fears
First a bit of background: there is a psychological theory of learning usually referred to as "The Four Stages of Competence". Briefly, the four stages are:- Unconscious incompetence where you are not aware of your lack of a skill.
- Conscious incompetence in which you become aware that you do not understand or know the skill.
- Conscious competence which is having the knowledge but not grokking it: knowing a sequence of steps and able to follow the sequence but without fluency. One still has to think heavily about the task.
- Unconscious competence where practice - rehearsal - has made the skill so familiar that it has become habit and little or no conscious effort is required to perform it.
When I am faced with a situation that is unfamiliar or where I can't predict what turns events may take I become anxious. I lack self-confidence in my ability to perform the task, whether it is making a phone call or interacting with strangers. I know I can manage well-defined, structured interactions such as ordering a pizza or going to the doctor because I have become familiar with the routines involved: I am around stages 3-4 in those cases. But with something that is off-the-wall where I would have to react according to the context I find myself back at stage 2 where I am all too aware that I don't really know what to do.
Breaking the Circle
At the moment I find myself trapped in a vicious circle where I have evolved strategies of avoidance when faced with anxiety-inducing situations. This prevents me gaining the experience to deal with similar situations in the future, and results in greater anxiety if I can't avoid them. I recently raised this problem with my GP and I've started a course of therapy to try to manage my fears so that they don't continue to be an obstacle to me doing things.Square One
One of the first tasks has been to analyze the roots of my anxiety: what triggers it, what is it I am afraid of? Many people have a fear of judgement: what will the other person think of them? But that's not it for me. My core fear is of failure, of not being able to complete the task. Fears of this kind in particular can affect people who grew up with a "gifted" label as I did. A lack of experience of failing makes any failure, however small, appear catastrophic. This leads to risk aversion, a strong drive to avoid the possibility of failure. Perhaps if I can learn to accept failure than I will be able to attempt things where I lack confidence. I can hope.Thursday, 30 May 2013
Going Back
There's a saying that might appear familiar to readers of Terry Pratchett: "You can't cross the same river twice". If it wasn't for the clue in his books that the obvious interpretation is not the intended one then I don't think I'd have worked it out. I'm too literal a thinker to have realized, unaided, that the river here refers to the water rather than its course. I'm not going to take the metaphor too far and start considering the water cycle through evaporation and rainfall by which the same water molecules could be crossed again. For the purposes of this metaphor, once the water has flowed downstream it must be considered "lost" as different water flows down, replacing it. The river crossing in this instance is an event in space-time: the time coordinate is key to understanding.
So far, so what? Is any of this relevant? Well,... yes. You see, I sometimes get nostalgic. I recall places in terms of past events and some of those events evoke memories of happiness. I feel a longing to experience a particular event again that going back to the same place in the present can't satisfy: it's not the same river.
This unsatisfied longing to go back to an event - a situation - in the past can be so overwhelmingly powerful that I feel a profound sense of loss because there is no way to return, wind back the clock. This can be a problem when I find myself in the same place doing the same thing, whether it's socializing, playing darts or watching a band. Association triggers memories of the historical event and I can be left feeling that there is something missing, some vital piece of the puzzle that would complete the picture.
So I'm left with my memories, replaying the experiences, going back in my mind instead of in time. Maybe I can't cross that river again, but it will always be there.
So far, so what? Is any of this relevant? Well,... yes. You see, I sometimes get nostalgic. I recall places in terms of past events and some of those events evoke memories of happiness. I feel a longing to experience a particular event again that going back to the same place in the present can't satisfy: it's not the same river.
This unsatisfied longing to go back to an event - a situation - in the past can be so overwhelmingly powerful that I feel a profound sense of loss because there is no way to return, wind back the clock. This can be a problem when I find myself in the same place doing the same thing, whether it's socializing, playing darts or watching a band. Association triggers memories of the historical event and I can be left feeling that there is something missing, some vital piece of the puzzle that would complete the picture.
So I'm left with my memories, replaying the experiences, going back in my mind instead of in time. Maybe I can't cross that river again, but it will always be there.
Monday, 20 May 2013
Wish You Were Here
Outside the Wall
To be a fly on the wall, an unseen observer. How many people have wished that at some point? Usually because of curiosity: they want to be in on private events that they would normally have no access to. It's a normal human feeling... and I don't experience it; I don't have that curiosity about the minutia of other people's lives.Eclipse
What I do experience is a desire to be unnoticed, to fade into the background, to become invisible, hidden. Not so that I can observe others but so that they can't observe me as I go about my daily activities.Paranoid Eyes
Obviously I'm not the invisible man. But is what people see really me or am I hiding behind this fleshy facade? Looking out through the eye-holes in my mask? Like a mask, my face doesn't show much of what I'm thinking or feeling: this is a common autistic trait. And I like it that way. I'm not comfortable with the idea of my private thoughts being broadcast involuntarily by a traitorous subconscious via facial expressions or other body language. I want to have full conscious control over every aspect of my communication.In the Flesh
That's an aspiration; the reality falls short and I find that people are able to "read" me in a limited way. But I find I get misread almost as often, so I guess I'm sending mixed signals. I've been wearing this body for nearly 40 years and I still don't have effortless control over its motor functions: it doesn't always move in the way I want so I can be physically awkward and clumsy. And this also applies to facial expressions and even speech: it takes me a degree of concentration if I'm not to speak indistinctly, mumble or slur my words.Speak to Me
I normally speak softly, only raising my voice when I'm overloaded or in meltdown when I don't have much control. Sometimes too softly and I get asked to repeat myself, which is fair enough given the number of times I have to ask people to repeat themselves. That or I just stand there for a spell while I try to decipher what I just heard into meaningful words. Chinese whispers has got nothing on what I think I've heard at times! It can be quite amusing but mostly it's just confusing and distracting.Us and Them
What is behind this desire to be apart rather than to be a part in social situations? It's partly a lack of affinity with in-groups: I have never identified with any group or class. Most people maintain an identity based on attributes shared with others, whether they support the same football team, listen to the same bands, go to the same church. I am, and always have been, just me. While I am well aware that my interests and activities overlap with those of other people I know, I don't feel that this makes me part of any social group.I'm just me, on my own, always on the periphery. Not so much a fly on the wall as outside the wall, looking in through the windows. The eternal outsider.
Friday, 19 April 2013
Abstract Pictures
I've written before about being a strongly visual thinker. While this can involve the obvious triggering of mental pictures - snapshots if you like - as a direct result of words and phrases, sounds, smells or other sensations, my experience goes far beyond this simple interpretation.
Aside from being a gratuitous cat picture (scores high for cuteness), this image serves to illustrate the simplistic view of visual thinking: akin to a child's picture book that associates a concrete noun with a visual representation of that entity. This is indeed the most basic level of visual thinking: hear or read the word - "cat" in this case - and see a picture of a cat in the mind's eye.
This is all very well as far as it goes, and it does introduce the concept to those people who don't think in the same way. But there is much more to thought than just a collection of concrete entities, and so I will move on to another aspect: visualization of movement.
In terms of visualization, going somewhere is not so different from doing something such as making a sandwich: again it is like playing back a recording. So now we are visualizing processes - things are getting more abstract.
Let's imagine something simple: a square. Picture it drawn on a sheet of paper. Now add another square next to it so that the edges join like squares on a chess board. Add another two so you have a row of four adjacent squares. Now add two more squares, one on each side of a square at one end of the row so you end up with a T shape. Cut away the paper around the edges of the T and then fold the shape up at a right-angle along the edges of each original square so that it forms a cube: if you've got this far then you've got some ability for thinking visually. I find this kind of thing easy to do; so easy in fact that 2- or 3-dimensional geometry becomes as straightforward as mental arithmetic.
I use geometrical visualization to understand mathematics and associated concepts. Solving equations is equivalent to finding intersections on a graph; complex numbers become points in 2D space. In computing, my "special interest" and day job, data structures and algorithms become animated diagrams, like flow charts on steroids: visual models of processes. Software as flowing shapes.
Consider the spectrum of meanings in words relating to happiness. I've colored these to illustrate that they can be thought of as sitting at different points along a scale:
I hope this has given a flavor of what it is like to have a strongly visual-oriented mode of thinking. I'd be interested to know how other people's experiences match up to mine.
C is for Cat
 |
| cat |
This is all very well as far as it goes, and it does introduce the concept to those people who don't think in the same way. But there is much more to thought than just a collection of concrete entities, and so I will move on to another aspect: visualization of movement.
"And Yet it Moves!"
The first step beyond static pictures is to introduce motion. This is straightforward: in the real world things move and change over time. Continuing with my cat theme; unless it has had an unfortunate meeting with a taxidermist, a real cat does not sit motionless 24x7. So we need to imagine it doing "cat things": stretching, washing, playing with a fluffy ball, lapping water from its bowl, scratching at a post and so on. With all this in mind we move from thinking about one instance - a cat - to a more abstract notion of catness that may be applied more generally. If you'll forgive the pun, we've gone from a cat to a category.My Own Private Street View
Another aspect of motion involves travel, moving from one place to another. Google Street View is a great analogy for how I see it, but years before that kind of thing was even possible using technology, I would visualize a journey such as "going to the shop" as if I had filmed it on a previous occasion and was now watching it back. This kind of visualization coupled with a good visual memory - for places if not other things - is a great help if I'm heading someplace I've only been to once before. I just correlate what I'm seeing in front of me with what I can see in my mind. Of course since Street View came along I have been able to make use of it to see routes before I ever go there in the flesh, which saves a lot of effort trying to navigate from a map while driving.In terms of visualization, going somewhere is not so different from doing something such as making a sandwich: again it is like playing back a recording. So now we are visualizing processes - things are getting more abstract.
"It's Worse Than That, It's Geometry Jim!"
Simply relying on memory to furnish images would be rather limiting. What we need if we are to step beyond this slide show/VCR model of visual thinking is the ability to create new images: something like a sketchbook or whiteboard. And this is exactly what a visual imagination can provide.Let's imagine something simple: a square. Picture it drawn on a sheet of paper. Now add another square next to it so that the edges join like squares on a chess board. Add another two so you have a row of four adjacent squares. Now add two more squares, one on each side of a square at one end of the row so you end up with a T shape. Cut away the paper around the edges of the T and then fold the shape up at a right-angle along the edges of each original square so that it forms a cube: if you've got this far then you've got some ability for thinking visually. I find this kind of thing easy to do; so easy in fact that 2- or 3-dimensional geometry becomes as straightforward as mental arithmetic.
I use geometrical visualization to understand mathematics and associated concepts. Solving equations is equivalent to finding intersections on a graph; complex numbers become points in 2D space. In computing, my "special interest" and day job, data structures and algorithms become animated diagrams, like flow charts on steroids: visual models of processes. Software as flowing shapes.
You Can't Get There From Here
It's all been positive so far, but there is a rather large elephant in the room. Everything abstract is derived from or analogous to concrete entities. It all comes back to things that can be seen. But what about truly abstract concepts? Things that cause physical sensations such as heat, roughness or sourness elicit images of situations that cause those sensations, so heat could be standing in sunshine on a summer's day, or being close to a fire. My problem is when there are no physical effects and no real-life situations in which I have experienced the concept. Emotions are a particular problem area for me: I am aware that there are far more distinctions, shades of emotion according to the dictionary definitions, than I am able to relate to my own experiences.Consider the spectrum of meanings in words relating to happiness. I've colored these to illustrate that they can be thought of as sitting at different points along a scale:
at peace, content, cheerful, happy, elated, blissful, ecstaticI know intellectually that these words describe different degrees of feeling but I can't distinguish them in relation to my own emotional states. I don't identify nearly as many points on the scale:
at peace, content, cheerful, happy, elated, blissful, ecstaticThe effect of this is that I get the same mental response when I consider "happy" as I do when I consider "elated". I get the same images, imagine the same situations. It is analogous to color-blindness. I also suspect that this is connected to my difficulty reading emotional states in other people.
Beyond Words
There's just one final facet of visual thinking that I need to explain. Because I've been presenting everything in this written medium, I've been giving the impression that words are of primary importance. This is not the case: when I say that I think in pictures it is literally true. I start with the visual representation and then translate that into words (or the equivalent mathematical expressions, programming language, diagrams or whatever else depending on the domain). I sometimes have a problem, especially when speaking, where I struggle to find the words for what I am thinking - and because I'm not thinking in words I find it difficult to describe in alternative terms.I hope this has given a flavor of what it is like to have a strongly visual-oriented mode of thinking. I'd be interested to know how other people's experiences match up to mine.
Tuesday, 26 March 2013
Emptiness
There comes a point when it stops hurting. When the pain is replaced by numbness. When all that remains is emptiness.
And in a way that's a good thing - there might be no joy, no happiness but there is no hurt either. Only a silent void. Absence of feeling, deathly serenity.
They say ignorance is bliss and they might well be right - insulation from feelings brings a certain clarity to my mind, in which state I may contemplate choice of actions rationally.
Except...
I am faced with hard choices that bear the seeds of possible futures. I could continue on my present course in the expectation that further hurt lies ahead or I could turn aside onto a new, unknown path. I fear the unknown but can hardly bear the life I have. Is my despair enough to drive me over the barrier of my fears?
Friday, 18 January 2013
Teasing Trouble
I find teasing very hurtful; this is a consequence of being unable to read people. I have to take everything I am told at face value, take it literally, because I am unable to determine intent based on anything other than the words spoken. I have to rely on people's honesty.
This means that whenever anybody says something about me I have to assume that it is their honest opinion of me. Because teasing involves negative comments - criticism or accusations - that paint me in a bad light, that suggest the speaker thinks ill of me, I experience feelings of betrayal that cause me great pain. My trust in that person is compromised.
An example: I have a close friend, somebody I used to work with, who is like a sister to me. Yet there are people I see socially who persist in teasing me by suggesting that there is a sexual attraction or relationship between us. As a married man I have an unshakeable loyalty to my wife - strong loyalty like this is not uncommon in Aspies - not to mention the implied insult to my friend. Knowing that behavior like that would be unthinkable to me - such impropriety - I am forced to conclude that these people are being deliberately malicious.
I fail to see their motivation, unless it is to cause me hurt. Yet when I challenge them they just say that they are "only teasing" and lay blame on me for not humoring them, for not joining in their childish games. They appear to assume that I can distinguish between this teasing and serious talk. Am I supposed to feel flattered that I can pass to this extent? Would they "tease" somebody in a wheelchair about their more obvious disability? I believe that less visible psychological conditions like autism, because they're not obvious like many physical conditions (I prefer not to refer to disabilities - we may be defined by society at large in terms of our impairments but I would rather focus on our abilities than dwell on those things that are difficult or impossible to achieve through accident or the roll of the genetic dice), are considered less real, less valid, as if these people believe that we could choose to think and act in a way they consider "normal".
Small-mindedness; unthinking, petty, vindictive cruelty. And for no better reason than their own amusement. I may be no saint myself but at least I would not intentionally cause someone pain. I would feel remorse and apologise if I was brought to understand that I had unwittingly done so. I would not try to pass it off as "only teasing": I would feel as hurt because I had hurt them.
Teasing. It is in the same vein as bullying in my book. And I have no truck with either.
Sunday, 6 January 2013
Doing Right
I am so proud of my wife tonight: we were at our local where we had had a lovely night with friends, and at the end of the night encountered somebody who was insulting a close friend of ours. Well, she stepped right in to defend this person who wasn't even there, at some risk to herself (matters were somewhat heated).
At that point the focus of the attack shifted to my wife. I did step between the two and tried to calm the situation but became passive when threatened myself - what is it with some people under the effect of alcohol? Such aggression. Is it latent and released when inhibitions are reduced under the influence? Or is it a side-effect of inebriation?
I felt that I ought to take a firmer stance against this person but my fear of confrontation was too great. I feel that I let my wife (and my friend who was being denigrated) down. I feel ashamed of my timidity, giving in to my fears and failing to add my voice. It was cowardice on my part.
My wife is terribly upset about the whole incident. So I have promised my wife that I will have words with this person when next we meet. Yes, I am anxious about the encounter but sometimes you just have to do what you believe is right.
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