Getting Caught With Your Hand in the Cookie Jar

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Coming Out

Whoa, it's been almost 6 months since my last blog post! Sorry about that! They will be more regular from now on, promise!

Today I want to talk about coming out of the closet, and I don't mean as gay: I'm not gay and there is already plenty published on that subject. No, instead I want to talk about coming out about the "thoughts" that I had growing up that I felt were somehow wrong; these thoughts were generally related to my obsessions. In fact, they were usually my obsessions themselves that I felt were wrong. My parents didn't openly question the obsessions I tended to have with movies and television shows until I hit adolescence, but long before that I was aware that such persistent and constant thoughts about one thing were not "normal."

For example, when I first saw Back to the Future and Back to the Future Part II at age 9, I was hooked immediately. Obsessed. Couldn't get my mind off the movies. The day after seeing them, I just wanted to talk about them non-stop. But because I was so aware of how strong and unrelenting this desire was to intensely revisit these movies the day after seeing them-- and how odd such a desire was-- I barely spoke two words about them. 

As another example, when I first saw The Addams Family movie at age 11 I became obsessed with it, much in the same way I was with the BTTF movies. Uncle Fester was my favorite character (Doc Brown was my favorite in the BTTF movies; I think Christopher Lloyd's frenetic characters just appealed to me!). On a children's radio show that I was listening to, a girl who called in mentioned in passing that she did not like The Addams Family. (For those of you not familiar with the plot, please read this article in Wikipedia before continuing reading the blog entry). The girl stated that the Uncle Fester that was in the movie turned out to be an impostor. Instead of laughing it off, I obsessed over this for several months until my older cousin cleared it up for me. I think it bothered me because I felt that the "parallel universe" in which my obsessions lived was at least in my control, but this girl's statement threatened that control. The idea of my being that grossly wrong in my comprehension of the movie was unacceptable. 

My next obsession, from ages 12-14, was the Cold War comedy The Russians are Coming! The Russians are Coming! I always greatly enjoyed the background music composed for the film, particularly the scene in which the Russians first come ashore. Of course, the soundtrack was not available. One day, when I was 13, I set up a tapedeck next to the television to record when scenes with the soundtrack came on. I did this one day when I was home alone. Why? Even though my parents wouldn't have given it a second thought, I thought it was weird that I wanted the music from a film so obscure to my generation. Let's not forget the fact that I knew that being obsessed with this movie was bizarre. Whenever I listened to the music, I did so on my Walkman so my parents wouldn't hear it and ask what it was. 

If I, as the person experiencing them, had a hard time accepting these weird thoughts as "normal," why in the world should I have confided in my parents about them? Eventually I did come out of the closet, but very slowly. At age 14, I began talking to my Dad a little about my obsession with The Russians are Coming! The Russians are Coming!, but I didn't talk to him about recording the music. At age 16, I began speaking to my parents (usually through tears) about my obsessions in general and how "wrong" I felt they were. They tried to assure me that nothing was wrong but I knew that they were just trying to make me feel better. They had no idea what obsession meant, at least as I defined it.

When did I finally come out about my obsession over Uncle Fester's authenticity? At age 18, nearly SEVEN YEARS after the incident occurred. I was THAT embarrassed about it! Keep in mind how long seven years is when you were a kid. In tears, I confessed to my dad about how long this weird concern had, well, festered inside me and how I knew that it was "abnormal." My dad asked me, "Why didn't you just ask us if it was the real Uncle Fester or not?" Why? Let's put it this way: My parents were concerned about my obsessions in general. They-- especially my mother-- would have been freaked out had I asked them 3 months or so after seeing The Addams Family whether or not it was the real Uncle Fester. And I'm not being paranoid. Even as a kid, I was fully aware that they thought there was something psychologically wrong with me. Years later, Dad may have thought that my asking the question was a non-issue, but I guarantee in the context of my 11-year-old self he would have wondered why I needed to ask that question.

Well, that's coming out, Aspie style. I suspect these stories are more common than one would think. Anybody who has similar anecdotes, please tell them!

P.S. I have since obtained from eBay a tape of the soundtrack from The Russians are Coming! The Russians are Coming! My parents are not only aware that I have it but that I also imported it into my computer so I can listen to it on my iPod.

...It's Just Common Sense!

Thanks for coming! I'm gradually moving my blog to Substack! You can check out this post here!

Oops! I Breathed in the Wrong Direction!

When I was a kid, I experienced far fewer social conflicts online than in real life. That's because real life involves the social nuances of body language and voice tone. Today, my social conflicts are almost exclusively online. Usually, it pans out like this: I meet somebody through Facebook or reunite with somebody I haven't seen since childhood. We chat online once in a while. Sometimes, that person will even say, "I really like talking to you."  Next thing I know, the person has unfriended me or even blocked me. Usually, I just let it go, depending on who that person is and whether or not I had any real past with them, online or off, even if just for one summer at camp (I'm sentimental and nostalgic to a fault). Sometimes, however, I do ask for an explanation (if there is a way to contact that person) and I might even get one if I'm lucky. 

The top reason people have unfriended/blocked me is because I'm an atheist. I don't even have to ask to find out that this is the reason. Once, I was chatting online with someone I met through a mutual acquaintance who died. She wished me a Happy Easter. I told her I was Jewish, a Jewish atheist, to be exact. She asked me what that meant. I told her that I don't believe in God but I still value the Jewish culture in which I grew up. BAM! I was blocked. Other people have unfriended/blocked me because... gasp... I tagged them in photos. That's right, I tagged them in photos in which they are fifteen years old and not professional looking. When I contact them and ask them why, they say things like, "I'm not comfortable with being tagged." Well, gee, how about simply telling me that and NOT unfriending me? 

Probably the must hurtful of these situations happened about four years ago when I reunited with an old friend from camp online. We hit it off immediately and I developed a crush on him. I didn't tell him, of course, but he figured it out. He stopped answering my emails. He blocked me. A few months later, he unblocked me and accepted my friend request... but would not talk to me. He eventually blocked me again. For a whole year I drove myself crazy trying to figure out what the hell was going on. 

Just as hurtful (albeit for different reasons), my best friend from childhood, who I knew since 1992, stopped talking to me in 2008. I packed up and moved to NYC from my hometown in Pennsylvania in 1999, but we still saw each other about once a year. I knew she was going to get married in '08, and she definitely made it clear that I was going to be there. This was in 2007, the last time we spoke. 2008 came and went without an invitation. She rejected my friend request on MySpace. She no longer returned calls or answered emails. To this day I have no idea what happened. I even sent her an email asking her nicely why she did not invite me to the wedding or even talk to me anymore. I made it clear that I was hurt. No response. I still don't know what her rationale was for shutting me out, but I do know that it is not my fault. 

When these things happen, and inevitably hurt, I always hear, "Let it go." Sure. "Let it go." So I guess I should just say to myself, "Oh, fiddlesticks. I breathed in the wrong direction and some ultra sensitive person is shutting me out without explanation. I'll just let it go and make sure not to breathe in the wrong direction next time." I would suspect that this online drama is not unique to those with Asperger's Syndrome, but perhaps it bothers us more because we do not take friendship for granted. Perhaps, too, many are sentimental to a fault, as I am. In any case, I want to tell anybody who's reading this to be more sensitive to the person on the other side during this online nonsense. "Ignoring," is not communication, and "blocking," is little different than saying, "F--- you." Both say, "You are nothing to me." In online communication, you rarely know what happens at the other end, so this is not a case of missing body language or other cues. This is simply being kept in the dark. 

I am sure I speak for a lot of people-- with and without Asperger's Syndrome-- when I say that it is frustrating and irritating. It's like an online meme that I saw the other day: "I'm sorry that I did something that made YOU feel that I have to apologize."

"Psst! Look! There's someone with REAL problems!"

Thanks for coming! I'm gradually moving my blog to Substack! You can check out this post here!

No, I DON'T Regret It

Whoa! It's been four months since my last post. Sorry about that!

Everybody has regrets. I have regrets, too, most of them involving me not standing up for myself because I had reluctantly accepted that I was in the wrong concerning whatever social disaster I found myself in. However, that is not to say that there weren't times in my childhood/early adulthood when I DID stand up for myself and stick to my principles. In fact, I have a perfect example of when I stuck by my principles, to the befuddlement of a particular family member:
Like many girls with Asperger's Syndrome, I was (and AM) a tomboy. This means much more than the stereotypical, "Oh, she plays with trucks and likes sports. She's a tomboy." I always felt like I had a male brain in some ways (this feeling, too, is a common phenomenon among girls with AS). It was only natural, then, that I strongly disliked feminine clothing. I did not ask for clothes in the boys' section, but I did pick out clothes that one would consider gender neutral. When I was in middle school, my parents told me over and over that the bullying I experienced would stop and I would make friends if only I dressed differently. While my parents didn't force me to wear what I call "boob-neckline" shirts, they did bring up my clothing taste whenever I got into a conflict with somebody, be it a simple disagreement or outright bullying. 

No matter what my parents said (and it was painful and constantly resulted in my spending several hours on the phone with my feminist cousin), I stuck to my guns and wore what felt natural and comfortable on me. I refused to put on a costume. Today my parents realize they were wrong to try to force me into girly clothes, but I have talked to a particular family member who continues to be perplexed at my stubbornness (I call it strength!). As an example of a regret he feels about not taking his parents' advice, he talks about how his parents tried to get him to play a musical instrument. He didn't stick with musical lessons and his parents didn't try to make him. He regrets that they did not force him to. This is a classic case of apples and oranges. One involves trying to get their kid a hobby, and another is trying to get the kid to present themselves as something they're not, to lie to themselves and the world.

It is also important to realize that actions that are good for one kid are not good for another. Forcing me into music would have been not only a bad idea but also a pointless one as I developed several hobbies on my own without anybody's prodding. I was drawing and writing from a very early age, and in adolescence I grew interested in languages; I taught myself French I during the last three weeks of 9th grade so I could get into French II the following year. Forcing my relative to take music lessons might have been a good idea because he did not pursue hobbies as readily, let alone as intensely, as I.

Likewise, forcing someone, who feels she has a more masculine brain, to dress girly can be psychologically damaging. Why would that girl want to please the kids who bully her? That's answering to the bullies and affirming their behavior. Also, why would she even want people like that as friends? And no, this is not me as an adult critically dissecting it; I analyzed it intensely by the time I  was fourteen or fifteen. Prior to that, probably by the time I was about ten, I saw the blatant hypocrisy in the way adults would tell kids, "Just be yourself," when there were clearly hundreds of pages of fine print attached to that philosophy. Now, if there is a girl with Asperger's Syndrome who is feminine inside and wants to learn to dress like the other girls, then steering her in that direction is a good idea. 

So what did I tell my relative? No, I don't regret sticking by my principles. Why should I regret being true to myself and not blindly taking advice that hurt? I don't regret it, not in the slightest.

For the record, the bullying stopped when I finally had the guts to stand up to the bullies. 

Your Child's Rights

As I get ready to revise my book for parents of children with Asperger's Syndrome, I find that a lot of wounds have been reopened. A few parts of the book deal with the horrendous bullying that I endured, particularly in middle school.  I relate stories about being humiliated in ways that boggle the imagination. In addition to being taunted, I had clay thrown at me in ninth grade ceramics class. I was also hit, kicked, shoved, and, in one case, even strangled. While other kids worried about who they were going with to the next dance, I worried about whether I could get through just one day without being abused, both emotionally and physically. A few times, I told my parents that I wished I was dead (which I didn't mean), and a few times I told them that I wished I hadn't been born (which I sometimes did mean).


The most painful parts of these memories deal not with the humiliation itself, but with my parents' responses to the humiliation. Like many girls with Asperger's Syndrome, I was (and still am) a tomboy. Between the ages of 13 and 17 I wore my hair back almost constantly; between the ages of 13 and 15 it was literally constantly. I wore T-shirts/sweatshirts and jeans to school. I liked the way the clothes hung off of my then-scrawny frame; I liked looking like a tomboy-- it was who I was. When forced to dress up in skirts and blouses for the holidays I felt very uncomfortable, but at least those episodes were over in just a few hours. My parents responded to the bullying by telling me that I needed to learn to look-- and act-- more feminine. What they did not know was that this was not an option for me any more than was writing with my left hand. The idea of taking my mother's advice and wearing skirts, form-fitting jeans and low-cut shirts-- or "boob neckline" shirts, as I jokingly call them-- was terrifying to me. When I say that I was a tomboy, I don't mean that I was a girl who liked to play with boys' toys (my toys were more gender-neutral, if anything) or that I was a girl who liked to play sports (I stunk at them). I mean that when I declared myself a tomboy I made a very emphatic and firm statement about my gender identity. To add insult to injury, there was another tomboy at school who dressed similarly to me and never got bullied. When I tried to cite this as evidence that my clothes weren't causing the bullying, my parents just brushed it off.


I was left confused and shaky by my parents' advice-- which they did not just dispense once but literally every time I was bullied or shunned in some way. I felt like my summers at left-leaning Camp Negev-- where I had friends and there was a lot of talk about gender identity-- were my only salvation. (Today I compare it to Harry Potter going to Hogwarts.) First of all, it is profoundly naive to think that the bullying would have suddenly ended had I started dressing in skirts, form-fitting jeans and "boob-neckline" shirts, especially since the way I dressed was the one thing that was rarely criticized in school. Secondly, why the hell would I have wanted to be friends with people whose friendships were contingent on the way I dressed? Third, and most importantly, the message that I was getting was that I was bringing these problems on myself-- that I was the problem, not the bullies. I wanted to be accepted for who I was, and I constantly got the message that this expectation was unrealistic. 


My parents, who have since realized the huge mistake they made by giving me this advice, had no idea how tormented I was by their criticisms about my taste in clothes. To this day I still have dreams about fighting with them about it which cumulate in my waking up screaming. However, one of the people who is reading my manuscript (a relative of mine), who generally makes criticisms on my book that I agree with, made comments that basically implied that I should have taken my parents' advice, even wondering why I wouldn't change my style of dress to stop the bullying. Yes, he still believes, as my parents did, that this was the reason I was bullied. 


No matter what reason your child is bullied, you cannot tell her-- or imply-- that she is bringing the bullying on herself and that she needs to change, even if you think doing so will improve her own safety (if she wants to change, that's a different story). Schools are funded by your tax dollars which are not just paying for your child's education. They are paying for the staff to create a safe environment for your child. And you may have to go up to the school and complain to the teachers (which my parents did, despite their criticisms). If it falls on deaf ears, then you must go to the principal. If that doesn't work, then go to the superintendent. Keep pushing until something gives. At any rate, if the staff cannot create a safe environment for your child, then they have shirked their duties and have quietly sent the bullies the message that what they are doing is okay; trust me, bullies can tell when a teacher thinks another student is weird. If your child's safety is contingent upon her making some change in her personality and appearance that causes her great discomfort, then that is not justice! It is not!


Today I am happy and well-adjusted, but had I gotten the message from my parents that I was okay, then their support would have made handling the bullying that much easier. Had the school actually made a concerted effort to create a safe environment for me, then I would have never found myself wishing I hadn't been born. 


No kid should have to think like that.