Really good article. If I go back to dating I’m making this a must-read for would-be girlfriends.
I’m constantly perplexed by peoples’ persistent tendency to….um….I ran our of long words that start with “p”. Basically what I mean is they hide the truth. Even tiny, irrelevant truths. As someone with Asperger’s, I have a tendency to bluntly state what’s on my mind or going on in my life without comprehending or at least knowing the social consequences ahead of time. Once I say whatever it is that is then eliciting a shared shocked facial expression to all those within earshot, I spend the rest of the day confused as to why what I divulged was received so poorly. Sometimes, though, I don’t get a shocked reaction but one of pity.
Let me clarify a tad more. I’m an open book. I’ll gladly share anything about my life, even things that people normally would conceal. Some of it is understandable, even to me. You probably don’t want to know the consistency of my bowel movements because that is generally considered disgusting (though seems to have become general topic of conversation amongst my family [a real winner with any women I might bring home in the future, too….]).
But one thing that confuses me is how people conceal the hurt in their lives. The bad things going on. I tend to be quite open to that, and as a result I’ve gotten some weird reactions. People tend to think I am somehow to be pitied or think I am less than them or some version of that. Or they just fidget uncomfortably and try to find a way to get out of the conversation. Maybe they need to go have a bowel movement, I don’t know….
Instead, people will only talk about the good things in there lives when around others. They will only bring up the bad if it’s too apparent to conceal (“So, what did the doctor say about that soccer ball-sized tumor on your forehead?”) This I don’t quite understand. People will get together and talk about their latest raise, how they’re expanding their kitchen, how they just bought a new great car, how they finally got that soccer ball-sized tumor removed… etc. What they don’t tell you is how they haven’t felt happy since 2002, how they’re three months behind on their mortgage and the bank is threatening foreclosure, that she thinks her husband has been sleeping with another woman for the past year, etc.
It makes me wonder a lot about my friends and other people I know. When they’re sitting around putting on a happy face and talking about all the good; how many of them feel like they’re stuck in a loveless marriage? What if this friend of mine has been secretly cheating on her husband for months now? How many of them are on the edge of filing bankruptcy, etc., etc., etc. I recently went through a horrible time in my life. Losing my job, health, and wife amongst other hardships in the course of just one year. I was very open about all of it. People knew. It made me wonder what a normal person would have hid. Makes me wonder sometimes if my story isn’t so unique.
The only two reasons why people might do this which I’ve been able to derive are that either a.) people hide this stuff as a form of social competition (especially amongst females) and/or b.) people are worried about being judged and/or looked down upon by others. But, at the same time, you sacrifice a lot of potential support and closeness that could be invaluable in your time of need. Also maintaining the charade that everything is just fine usually takes a lot of effort, and seems to be energy best spent elsewhere (in my opinion). I guess because I have Asperger’s I’m not prone to the concern of social judgement as much as others are. Perhaps the shame they feel outweighs the effort they put forward to maintain the deception.
Overall, I feel largely lied to in social settings. More so since I’ve learned to read minutiae and microexpressions. It adds to the general unpleasant feeling I get being around other people, and the things I have to keep running through my mind to do and not to do in order to act normal around others. I spend a lot of time questioning if saying such-and-such a thing is socially appropriate to say, or if so-an-so is even telling me the truth or the whole truth.
In closing, I really wish people I knew were more open about the struggles in their lives. It would have helped immensely during my trial, and I honestly would just like to know. Everyone’s lives always seem so happy and blessed, but I know that, even just statistically, a few of them have to be going through some tough circumstances.
This is why I need to not watch so much TV. My mind is a flood of thoughts, desperately trying to process the last year of my life and all that occurred. I can only do so when I am alone and all is quiet. At night, before bed, I like to watch TV. I’m addicted to good stories, good plots, so when I find a TV show, movie, or video game that has one, I find it hard to tear myself away. This, unfortunately, wears on into the night, then when I turn it off and go to sleep, my mind turns on a whirs around faster than sometimes I can handle. So, sleep eludes me, and I write just to relieve the pressure built up behind that dam that is my skull.
I had an interesting thought this last week. I tried to think back on my life to identify someone who was encouraging to me. Not just once or twice or occasionally, but consistently. Someone who would frequently encourage me, truly believe in me and tell me I could succeed.
No one came to mind.
My father was overbearing and discouraging, my mother critical and doubtful, my sister defined herself by opposing me, and my now ex-wife was verbally and emotionally abusive. I have had mentors and guides, but they served more to steer than encourage. My friends have usually just wondered why I am so odd and asked why I can’t be more normal. Sure, there have been people that have encouraged me once or twice in the time I’ve known (or knew) them, but only a handful of those come to mind. Few have really believed in me. My former boss at the museum in Albuquerque, a friend from my high school youth group, a mentor of mine in college, my former mother-in-law, and a couple of female friends are the only people in my life whom I think have given me any encouraging words or believed in me at all.
For the most part, I have been my only ally in life. To be honest I sometimes even feel like God isn’t even on my side. I know better than to truly think that but feelings and rational thought don’t always flow in the same direction.
A lot of this stems from my own insecurities, I’m sure. But insecurities are built up from experience, then influence your future actions and relationships which leads to further insecurities. It’s a vicious cycle. I tend to imprint my issues with other people on God. Which isn’t fair, since He does not operate on the same level as us humans. To assume that He operates the same way that humans I have had the unfortunate experience to know is a logical fallacy on my part.
I often wish I could shut myself away from everyone. Live as a hermit. People are chaotic, and relationships of any kind confuse and frustrate me. Despite years of trying I have yet to get a decent grasp on social interaction. People say just to be yourself and people will like you. This was perhaps one of the biggest lies of my childhood. When I act purely as myself people inevitably like me less, not more. I default to not caring what people think of me, which is relaxing and freeing, but also leads to even fewer people wanting much to do with me. Perhaps that is the key to me being more alone: just be myself and I will have the peace and tranquility I get from not having to interact with others.
So I’ve been spending a lot of time trying to think up a general identity or theme to my blog. Thus far it’s been philosophical in nature, but that won’t lend itself to the frequency of posting I would like for it to have, so I need something more. It is called “Letters from Aspergia” for a reason, namely that, as someone with Aspergers, it’s my communique to society about my observations of its own nature.
Since, also, I’m picking up the pieces from my divorce and my life falling apart, I’ve decided to also have this blog be about my journey of recovery from all of that.
I suspect the latter will be more popular than the former. It’s been my observation that society does not appreciate commentary on itself. When I make observations, people tend to take exception to me doing so. Why is confusing to me, since I consider the underlying mechanics to anything to be fascinating, and am not sure why it would be considered offensive. It is my guess that people view this as me oversimplifying them, trying to saying also that they are not really in control of their actions but instead are slave to these unspoken societal rules and trends. I’m uncertain why this would be the case, and consider any lack of understanding or insult the result of intellectual shortsightedness on their part. I’ve noticed this also corresponds with peoples’ dislike for being labeled, which also confuses me. If your behavior and personality correspond to a particular cultural subgroup, then it is that way because of the choice one makes to follow that. And, if you conform to that label, then it applies whether or not you like it and, if you don’t, then it’s your own fault for limiting your behavior and personality so much to the limits of that label.
So I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what I want in a woman since my first attempt at love and marital bliss came crashing down like the Hindenburg. I’ve decided a woman who likes and can discuss sci-fi at length would embody a lot of the characteristics I’m looking for. We’d have a strong common interest, they’d be a geek/nerd, and dumb people rarely take much interest in sci-fi. At least it’s a starting point.
The depression has stalemated. There are set stages to grief, and I’ve been stuck in depression. I find I want to sleep a lot. I must admit that part took me for a bit of a loop. I’ve struggled with depression a lot in my life, though now as much as now.