Fear is a black dragon
Hunting through the night sky.
Eyes glowing like hot coals,
It seeks my hiding place.
Fear is a frozen waste
Where ice needles pierce me.
There is no warm relief,
Only this burning cold.
Fear is familiar:
Frequent companion,
I know its aura well.
I try to run away.
Fear is a pallid ghost
Haunting rooms in my mind.
Never quite clearly seen,
Skirting the edge of sight.
Fear is my enemy,
Waiting to ambush me.
Lurking in dark corners,
It waits for me to come.
Fear is invincible:
I fight its claws and teeth
As it rends flesh from bone:
My weakened spirit breaks.
Fear is a chimera,
A product of my mind.
The ultimate bully,
Preying on my weakness.
Thursday, 22 September 2011
Expressing Sympathy
How do you tell somebody that you sympathise with them; that you understand what they are going through and just want to do or say something that will help them cope with it and - hopefully - help them feel better?
I have a deep aversion to any reliance on trite stock phrases: "I'm sorry", "Chin up" and all that. They always strike me as insincere and demonstrative of a lack of thought. I like to try to cast my words in an original way - to make my message personal and unique to the person and situation. And that can create problems for me because I need time to compose my response. It's so much easier in writing but that doesn't help at all when you're face to face with somebody who is telling you how they feel. Dealing with emotional content in conversation requires a lot of effort at any time. So I struggle, end up muttering "Sorry" - if I can say anything at all - and feel bad for not managing to come out with what I wanted to say and falling into the trap of cliché.
Still, I'm as bad on the receiving end. I say "Thank you". Then I start thinking that that's not enough - I think it sounds like it's just an automatic response, without any thought. I worry that the person will think I'm ungrateful or insincere. So I want to expand on it but I can't easily think of appropriate words on the fly - I end up feeling frustrated with myself on top of whatever it was in the first place! Not the other person's fault - it's pressure I put myself under.
It would be so much easier if I didn't feel when people I care about are troubled - when they are feeling sad or hurt. Most of the time I don't know what to do to "fix" the problem and that hurts me because I think I'm letting them down. And I can't say all this to them at the time - I can't tell them how I feel about their situation. I could write it here but that's clearly not the same. Are a few muttered stock words like "I'm sorry" backed by my full conviction better than another person's empty words of reassurance uttered in tones of sincerity? I don't know. Perhaps the end result is more important than the intent, at least to the listener.
All I can really do is tell them that I care about their situation and I want to help if possible. Would it work if I just said that? Or does it sound like a politician's response to some disaster? When I run the words through in my mind there's no emotional inflection - it's like a string of syllables without any semantic aspect - sounds without meaning, empty. I'm saying what I mean and even I am unconvinced, so how could I convince a person I'm speaking to that I am sincere? Writing is a much more comfortable medium in which to express myself.
I have a deep aversion to any reliance on trite stock phrases: "I'm sorry", "Chin up" and all that. They always strike me as insincere and demonstrative of a lack of thought. I like to try to cast my words in an original way - to make my message personal and unique to the person and situation. And that can create problems for me because I need time to compose my response. It's so much easier in writing but that doesn't help at all when you're face to face with somebody who is telling you how they feel. Dealing with emotional content in conversation requires a lot of effort at any time. So I struggle, end up muttering "Sorry" - if I can say anything at all - and feel bad for not managing to come out with what I wanted to say and falling into the trap of cliché.
Still, I'm as bad on the receiving end. I say "Thank you". Then I start thinking that that's not enough - I think it sounds like it's just an automatic response, without any thought. I worry that the person will think I'm ungrateful or insincere. So I want to expand on it but I can't easily think of appropriate words on the fly - I end up feeling frustrated with myself on top of whatever it was in the first place! Not the other person's fault - it's pressure I put myself under.
It would be so much easier if I didn't feel when people I care about are troubled - when they are feeling sad or hurt. Most of the time I don't know what to do to "fix" the problem and that hurts me because I think I'm letting them down. And I can't say all this to them at the time - I can't tell them how I feel about their situation. I could write it here but that's clearly not the same. Are a few muttered stock words like "I'm sorry" backed by my full conviction better than another person's empty words of reassurance uttered in tones of sincerity? I don't know. Perhaps the end result is more important than the intent, at least to the listener.
All I can really do is tell them that I care about their situation and I want to help if possible. Would it work if I just said that? Or does it sound like a politician's response to some disaster? When I run the words through in my mind there's no emotional inflection - it's like a string of syllables without any semantic aspect - sounds without meaning, empty. I'm saying what I mean and even I am unconvinced, so how could I convince a person I'm speaking to that I am sincere? Writing is a much more comfortable medium in which to express myself.
Wednesday, 21 September 2011
Sunfall
The sun is out and shining bright,
The grey skies banished by its light.
Though rain was falling yesterday,
Now clouds have drifted far away.
Just like the weather's wax and wane,
My moods will fall, then rise again
From thunder's roll and tempest's blow
To skies of blue and peace below.
But would the sunshine warming me
Feel half as good were it to be
Without the contrast of the cold
That had me lately me in its hold?
The grey skies banished by its light.
Though rain was falling yesterday,
Now clouds have drifted far away.
Just like the weather's wax and wane,
My moods will fall, then rise again
From thunder's roll and tempest's blow
To skies of blue and peace below.
But would the sunshine warming me
Feel half as good were it to be
Without the contrast of the cold
That had me lately me in its hold?
Tuesday, 20 September 2011
An A to Z of Aspergers
A is for alexithymia, without words for emotion.
B is for bullying, to which many autistic people are subjected at some point in their lives.
C is for communication, the spoken word that gives such trouble.
D is for different: wouldn't life be boring if we were all the same?
E is for empathy, which I experience even if it's in a different way to you.
F is for fear, a very common emotion for me.
G is for guts where my butterflies dwell.
H is for human: I am, you are.
I is for interests, "special" of course, that are such a consuming passion.
J is for jam; what happens to my words when I try to speak about how I feel.
K is for kindness: a little goes a long way.
L is for literal: how I interpret what people say.
M is for meltdown, the red mist that can descend in response to overload.
N is for neurotypical, a brain that functions in the average way.
O is for overload, when there's too much going on around for me to handle.
P is for programming, my main special interest.
Q is for quiet, a vastly underrated experience.
R is for respect, to which everybody is entitled.
S is for shutdown, an involuntary state I find myself in from time to time.
T is for therapy: my writing fulfils this function for me.
U is for understanding, which I don't always get.
V is for variation, which you find right across the autistic spectrum.
W is for withdrawal, a need to just get away from it all for a while.
X is for xenophobia, fear of strangers.
Y is for you, reading this and, I can but hope, gaining an insight into my mind.
Z is for zebra, because I got stuck on the last letter and I happen to like the stripy creatures!
Monday, 19 September 2011
Shutdown
I shut down for about three hours on Saturday. I don't know exactly what the triggers were this time - I do know things have been building up and getting on top of me lately. I've been feeling more insecure than usual and I've largely avoided making phone calls and other interaction with strangers. I don't even know what the "final straw" was this time - one minute I was eating my breakfast; ten minutes later I was sitting, hunched over, rocking gently and staring into space.
I am almost completely non-verbal while shut down. I hear what's going on around me but I can't respond - words rush around my head but I can't get them out of my mouth. It's as if there's a paralysis. I can't write either - my fine motor coordination is affected too much for me to form the letters. In that state I feel like an observer in my own body - I'm stuck inside without much control - just along for the ride.
I can't handle much stimulation while shut down - I will actively avoid loud noises, physical contact and bright or flashing lights if I can't block them out. I prefer to be left alone in a quiet, darkened room until I come out of the state naturally. In fact, too much sensory input while I'm shut down can switch me into a meltdown. I avoid eye contact - I just stare blankly ahead or sometimes close my eyes, more so if I know I'm alone because I worry about being touched unexpectedly if somebody approaches me.
The best way to approach me when I'm shut down is to speak slowly and quietly in a soothing tone - the actual words don't matter so much. Don't get too close to me because that makes me uncomfortable, don't shout and don't sound aggressive - any of that will deepen and prolong the shutdown. A hug is usually the only contact I can handle - but if I stiffen up then I'm not receptive at that point in time. In general the best thing to do is be patient and wait for me to come out of it.
Prevention is better than a cure - so the proverb goes. How can a shutdown be prevented? Well, it's a reaction to stress, so prevention is all about reducing or even avoiding stressful stimuli. What I find most stressful are unfamiliar social situations and forms of aggression or confrontation. But a shutdown often isn't an immediate reaction to a particular event. It will be a combination of factors that build up over time - possibly even years - and can be triggered by something seemingly so trivial that I might not even be aware of what it was that pushed me over the edge.
This can be confusing for people around me who may not realise what is happening - that I have shut down - and try to interact with me without any response. I've had people accuse me of being ignorant or sulky - as if I have any control over shutting down and am just choosing not to speak to be awkward. I find that particularly insulting - just because I don't have many obvious outward signs of the shutdown there is an assumption that I'm being deliberately uncommunicative. So let me say it again: I have no control over a shutdown. When it happens I am simply along for the ride, trapped inside until I get a measure of conscious control over my body again. How could anybody really think I'd shutdown if I had a choice? So please have a little patience and respect.
I am almost completely non-verbal while shut down. I hear what's going on around me but I can't respond - words rush around my head but I can't get them out of my mouth. It's as if there's a paralysis. I can't write either - my fine motor coordination is affected too much for me to form the letters. In that state I feel like an observer in my own body - I'm stuck inside without much control - just along for the ride.
I can't handle much stimulation while shut down - I will actively avoid loud noises, physical contact and bright or flashing lights if I can't block them out. I prefer to be left alone in a quiet, darkened room until I come out of the state naturally. In fact, too much sensory input while I'm shut down can switch me into a meltdown. I avoid eye contact - I just stare blankly ahead or sometimes close my eyes, more so if I know I'm alone because I worry about being touched unexpectedly if somebody approaches me.
The best way to approach me when I'm shut down is to speak slowly and quietly in a soothing tone - the actual words don't matter so much. Don't get too close to me because that makes me uncomfortable, don't shout and don't sound aggressive - any of that will deepen and prolong the shutdown. A hug is usually the only contact I can handle - but if I stiffen up then I'm not receptive at that point in time. In general the best thing to do is be patient and wait for me to come out of it.
Prevention is better than a cure - so the proverb goes. How can a shutdown be prevented? Well, it's a reaction to stress, so prevention is all about reducing or even avoiding stressful stimuli. What I find most stressful are unfamiliar social situations and forms of aggression or confrontation. But a shutdown often isn't an immediate reaction to a particular event. It will be a combination of factors that build up over time - possibly even years - and can be triggered by something seemingly so trivial that I might not even be aware of what it was that pushed me over the edge.
This can be confusing for people around me who may not realise what is happening - that I have shut down - and try to interact with me without any response. I've had people accuse me of being ignorant or sulky - as if I have any control over shutting down and am just choosing not to speak to be awkward. I find that particularly insulting - just because I don't have many obvious outward signs of the shutdown there is an assumption that I'm being deliberately uncommunicative. So let me say it again: I have no control over a shutdown. When it happens I am simply along for the ride, trapped inside until I get a measure of conscious control over my body again. How could anybody really think I'd shutdown if I had a choice? So please have a little patience and respect.
Saturday, 17 September 2011
They Sang "Happy Birthday"
They sang "Happy Birthday" after the bell struck midnight. I felt uncomfortable at all the attention - I've always said I don't like a fuss. In a way I'm dreading going out this evening and putting on the happy face so I don't disappoint. Because right now I feel like I need some down time - some time on my own.
I'll do it all the same - put in an appearance. And people will be nice to me and - as far as I can tell - enjoy themselves. But I will feel under pressure to fit in and live up to normal expectations. So I won't quite relax and let my guard down because it will be a little unpredictable. Social occasions are not easy - more so when I'm attracting attention.
I'm sure they mean well and are sincere with their birthday wishes - I can't tell if it's otherwise so I take it all at face value. The truth is that a birthday is just another day to me. I'm happiest if it all procedes according to established routine. No surprises.
In case I'm giving the wrong impression let me state now that I appreciate all the happy returns - they make me feel that people do care about me (did I ever mention I'm insecure?).
Birthday Nerves
I rang the bell at midnight.
The bar was closed,
My shift was done.
How could I know that they might
Start singing out
"Happy birthday"?
I stood there, no time to hide:
Like a rabbit
Caught in headlights
I felt embarrassed inside
But carried on.
What could I do?
Discomfort's normal to me:
I feel awkward
In the spotlight.
One-to-one is best you see:
Interaction
On my own terms.
I hope that they keep in mind
Limitations
Of my syndrome.
Only trying to be kind,
They overload
Me: it's too much.
So come in turn with greetings:
One at a time,
More is excess.
I can cope with such meetings
Without the stress
That groups can cause.
Friday, 16 September 2011
Mystery Word
My first is in apple but not found in plum,
My second's in sibilant - sounds like that one.
My third is a vegetable, small green and round,
My fourth is a vowel, not a consonant sound.
My next is in rolling but not standing still,
While my sixth may be uttered when getting a thrill.
The next one in seven may be seen twice.
Letter five is repeated; isn't that nice?
My whole forms the name of the doctor from Wien
And also a Syndrome that you must have seen.
My second's in sibilant - sounds like that one.
My third is a vegetable, small green and round,
My fourth is a vowel, not a consonant sound.
My next is in rolling but not standing still,
While my sixth may be uttered when getting a thrill.
The next one in seven may be seen twice.
Letter five is repeated; isn't that nice?
My whole forms the name of the doctor from Wien
And also a Syndrome that you must have seen.
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