Returning to My Roots

Last week, I returned to Camp Negev (not its real name), the secular Jewish summer overnight camp that I went to from 1995-1998. It was their second annual Alumni Day, in which Negev campers from years past could return and reunite with friends for a few hours.


Nobody from my age group showed up. In fact, I think a total of two campers from the 1990s, besides me, who showed up, and I wasn't close with either of them (we were positive acquaintances, I'd say). But that's okay. It was still good to see them. It was just good to see familiar-- and not so familiar-- Negev faces. To understand why I was okay with showing up and not reuniting with anybody I had ever been close to, one has to understand my experience at Camp Negev and what a unique place it was.


Camp Negev changed my life. I was a few months shy of 15 when I started attending in the summer of '95. I had never been to overnight camp before, and all life had taught me (mostly in school) was that I could expect interaction with my peers to be one humiliation after another. I expected that to happen at Negev. I expected the girls to put on makeup and talk nonstop about Cute Boys and make fun of me. If I expected this, why did I go to Negev? Because my older brother had gone (from '91-'93) and loved it. I had outgrown my day camp and was too old to return as a camper. 


When I first came to Negev, I was paranoid. I was scared that the slightest infringement on my part would invite humiliation. I remember being terrified when I randomly announced one day that the year was exactly half over to everybody in my cabin; they responded by giggling. I see in retrospect that they giggled because it was such a random comment. They probably forgot about it five minutes later and it never came up again. At school, a comment like that generally invited months of humiliation and became something of which I would never hear the end. I cried nearly every day for the first couple weeks at camp out of stress of trying to navigate the social world. Finally, in the middle of the third week of camp, one of my counselors, Jonas (not his real name) reached out to me and became my friend and mentor. He helped me to relax and make friends. Within three days or so of beginning to get to know him, I begged my parents to let me stay second session-- and they did. And the other kids in my group were happy about this. This kind of reaction was new to me. 


I stayed all 7 weeks in the summer of '95 and, at the time, it was the best summer of my life. Jonas helped me through high school, emotionally (despite living hundreds of miles away). I haven't seen him in about 10 years and we don't talk much anymore, but I know I will always love and respect him for what he did. I don't know who I would be today if not for him. Needless to say, I did return in the summer of 1996 (which was the best summer of my life. Period.), went on the camp's Israel trip in 1997, and came back as a C.I.T. in 1998. What I found to be unique about Negev was how interesting the people were to talk to even if I barely knew them. Most of them were intelligent and had something interesting to say. Some of my fondest memories include the deep discussions-- that sometimes lasted until 3 AM-- with people, some with whom I was close, and some with whom I barely knew. It was just that kind of place. In fact, it's really the first time I can recall actually engaging in a true conversation with anyone outside of my family! Plus, its small environment (usually about 150 campers) made it more comfortable for me. Did I have social problems there? Sure, but so does every Aspie, no matter how comfortable the environment (and this was the first place I truly felt comfortable). I can tell you right now, however, that my social skills improved dramatically from going to Negev. 


So back to the reunion. Yes, last Sunday I went to the Alumni Day. I enjoyed just watching the kids experience the absolute freedom that camp offered, the acceptance of differences in place where there is a strong emphasis on social justice. I talked to some of the counselors, who seemed interesting. I even found out there are some kids with Asperger's syndrome, and education about AS was delivered to the counselors during orientation. 


So that was Negev. My roots. To which I returned for a few short hours.

You Can't Live Like That!

One of my biggest regrets of my life was the fact that I mostly kept to myself in high school. With undiagnosed Asperger's, I was too scared of screwing up socially and making myself a target and going through another living hell of bullying. So I kept quiet and barely spoke to people. I didn't open up. There were a few people I spoke to during homeroom and art class and gym, and even though I knew that we could probably be good friends, I never took the chance of letting them get to know me. I blended into the background while everyone else had, as the cliché goes, the best years of their lives. I wasn't miserable, but I wasn't particularly happy either.


You can't live like that. 


We need to create a world that is more understanding to people with Asperger's syndrome or their teenage and adult years will be, at best, limbo or, at worst, a living hell.

OCD vs. Obsessing

It seems to me that many people with Asperger's syndrome or who know somebody with Asperger's syndrome wonder if an Asperger's obsession is different from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD). After all, both involve excessive thoughts/actions related to one thing! Is there a difference?


Yes.


In Tony Attwood's great book The Complete Guide to Asperger's syndrome, Attwood points out a very important difference. Someone who is obsessed with trains or the Harry Potter series, for example, is getting pleasure out of the obsession. He or she is learning more about trains, how they work, and perhaps even how to build one. He or she is losing himself or herself in the world of Harry Potter to escape the real world, which is just too damned confusing! 


Someone with OCD, on the other hand, might be constantly afraid of running someone over in a car or getting a terminal illness if he does not wash his hands for exactly three minutes and forty-two seconds. These obsessions cause fear and distress, not pleasure. 


Now that you understand the difference, let me emphasize emphatically to parents that trying to end your child's obsession with trains or Harry Potter is not an option. This obsession keeps your child going, keeps him happy in a frustrating world. You must ask yourself if the reason you want it to end is because you think the child will be happier or if it is just because you are tired of hearing about it all day. If it's the former, then it's time to rethink your perception of the situation. If it's the latter, the answer is to help your child pursue his or her obsession in a constructive way. Get your train-obsessed child a model train set to play with or even encourage him to build his own model train from scratch. 


Can OCD be concurrent with Asperger's syndrome? You betcha. Attwood points out that it is sometimes an effect of the Asperger's syndrome, rather than something completely separate. I certainly think that was the case with me for many many years. Because of repeated social failures, I lived with the chronic, obsessive fear that I would mess up socially. I obsessed over things like, "Is that a genuine smile, or is that person uncomfortable?" Or, "When I told that joke and he laughed, did he think it was funny or am I going to find out the next day how deeply offended he was and that he told everybody how uncomfortable I made him?" "When I tried to engage in that conversation, did I come across as trying too hard, or was I natural?" These weren't just passing worries. I often harped on them for weeks at a time! Really, how can someone with Asperger's syndrome (undiagnosed in my childhood, in my case) NOT develop OCD? 


The fact that I grew up into a healthy, well-adjusted adult is nothing short of amazing. I guess it's because of how I'm hardwired, for whatever reason, to bounce back from setbacks and try again. It was only up until about two years ago that I obsessed about these things on a regular basis. One step that I took to overcome it was realizing that everyone makes social mistakes and not every social mistake I make is unique to Asperger's syndrome. It was then, in fact, that I realized I probably would not be diagnosed with the condition anymore because I compensated for so much. The few social mistakes I make these days are minor ones, ones that anyone can make. 


If you have a child or a friend with Asperger's who makes an obvious social mistake, such as yelling in public, "You farted!" not knowing that this is rude, don't get so worked up. If you get worked up, I can all but guarantee your child or friend will be obsessing on this for a long time. "I screwed up again. I suck at life." and so forth. Sure, someone announcing your farts in public is embarrassing, but really, is it the end of the world? Just gently remind the person not to do it anymore. Sure, it's frustrating, but I guarantee it's more frustrating for the person with Asperger's syndrome not knowing instinctively what behaviors are "appropriate" and what aren't.