"Asperger's and Death Part II" or "Confronting Your Own Discomfort"

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Define Maturity!

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Are You SURE You Have Asperger's Syndrome?

Being the highest of the high-functioning on the autism spectrum is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it's great that in adulthood that my symptoms are sub-clinical and I can finally relax and not worry that every little thing I do is going to set people off due to a miscommunication. I make friends with ease and I am very personable. On the other hand, because of these skills that I now have, lots of people who I meet for the first time don't believe me when I say that I have Asperger's syndrome. Yes, it's true that I diagnosed myself initially before seeking confirmation from a therapist, but I'm not the type of person that sees one little trait that vaguely fits my personality and makes a diagnosis. It is true, sometimes people do that. "Oh, I'm fascinated with numbers. I must have Asperger's syndrome," someone might say, not thinking about the label that they're misapplying to themselves. But I'm not like that.

People who knew me from summer camp or from school, with whom I reunite on Facebook, often say this when I tell them I have Asperger's syndrome: "That explains a lot." And it does! People who I'm just getting to know today can't see that I have it because I've compensated for most of the problems that come with it. Just because they can't see the struggles and the pain I endured while trying to navigate the social world throughout the vast majority of my life (a lot of it was trial and error) does not mean that these things didn't happen. Asperger's syndrome is the only logical explanation for the social problems I had throughout my childhood and part of my adulthood. Some people become sub-clinical in adulthood (AS advocate Michael John Carley comes to mind-- I used to go to his support group and I never would have guessed he has AS). A child may have a dyslexia that makes reading a headache, but upon adulthood that same person may read with near total fluency. On the other hand, some dyslexic people rely on audiobooks in adulthood. 

Like dyslexia, autism is a spectrum. And I think the highest functioning people have it the hardest growing up because they appear to be "normal." That is, "normal" kids who are stubborn, uncooperative, ill-mannered, rude, etc. When a child fits the stereotypical AS traits-- talking about trains, flapping hands, taking idiomatic expressions literally-- then people may see the AS more clearly and be more accommodating. Let's raise consciousness. For those of you who are the highest of the high-functioning, I'd like to hear from you.

Smiling

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OCD vs. Obsessing

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Sometimes a Cigar is Just a Cigar

Many therapists-- and people in general-- like to analyze things that that have no deep meaning when they don't understand them. I think part of the reason is that what they don't understand makes them uncomfortable. Whatever the case, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, as Sigmund Freud (who I otherwise think was a bag of hot air) said.


Growing up with undiagnosed Asperger's syndrome, I encountered over-analysis from my first therapist, Dr. Klein, and sometimes my own parents, a lot. For example, I was never a huggy person, except with animals. Give me a dog or cat and I will hug it, kiss it, and tell it I love it. I very rarely hug other people. My mother struggled to figure out why I would shower the family dog with love and affection but would never hug even my own parents. I struggled, too, because I had enough insight to know that most people liked to hug and be hugged. I felt like there was something wrong with me. Finally, my father came up with a very simple answer: "I don't see what's not to understand. The dog is soft and furry. People are not." Isn't it funny how the most straightforward, simple answer is often the correct one?


Dr. Klein, my clueless therapist I saw when I was 11-14 years old, analyzed a lot of silly things. I often showed him a lot of drawings I did, and one day I brought one that I colored in. He said, "I've noticed that you're coloring in your drawings now. Why?" Why? I felt like it. Coloring is a labor-intensive process and isn't as much of a creative endeavor as actual drawing, so I rarely did it. But once in a while I felt like it and did it because it made my artwork look better. Why was this worth analyzing?


Around that time I was into The Addams Family type humor. I drew a lot of pictures and comics that rivaled the violence in Itchy and Scratchy on The Simpsons. Once again, my father saw it for what it was: I thought it was funny. But he was still a little concerned, mostly because I did it so often. My mother, on the other hand, was terrified. Dr. Klein? Well, he didn't act freaked out like my mother did but I could tell he was still shocked. He thought I was doing it to "blow off steam." Many people think that if a child draws violent pictures it means he or she wants to hurt people or is venting in some way. No. Not in my case. All of the characters that I drew in violent pictures were either characters out of The Addams Family or characters of my own creation: They were MADE UP. I never drew real people getting hurt. Besides, I just had a strange sense of humor. I still do. I like humor that deviates into the wicked and absurd: I'm a huge fan of South Park. 


Sometimes there are reasons to be concerned about somebody's behavior, sense of humor, and so forth and you may want to analyze. But bear in mind that sometimes, more often than you would think, a cigar is just a cigar.

Asperger's and Death

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