communication – The View from a Drawbridge

Autism and Loneliness

On the spectrum and feeling isolated? You are not alone.

The following post discusses abuse and suicide and may be triggering for some. Please read on with caution.

Having only discovered that I am autistic at the age of 58, my learning curve has been rather steep. I’ve been doing a lot of reading, a lot of watching YouTube channels hosted by autistic adults, and participating in discussions in adult autism Facebook groups. I have also found that most rare and precious of things: a therapist who understands autism. Beyond that, support for autistic adults is rather thin on the ground.

Based on the above, please do not take anything I say below to be expert advice, or medical or psychiatric advice of any type. I don’t speak for everyone who is on the autism spectrum, nor would I want to. The opinions below are strictly based on my observations. So, here goes…

Having spent quite a bit of time talking to adults with autism on various Facebook groups, I have noticed three predominant themes. 1) Not being good at making and/or keeping friends. 2) Family members no longer speaking to them. 3) Not being liked at work, and/or being fired due to personality conflicts. I can relate to all these things to a certain degree.

In a blog post I wrote entitled I Should Be Smiling, I discussed how it’s not unusual for autistic people’s faces and body language to not accurately reflect their actual mood. This can cause a great deal of misunderstandings. I also discussed the concept of mirror neurons, which, very basically, is the ability to read a room. If you walk into a room with a blank expression, it apparently rattles neurotypicals, because they can’t “read” you. If they can’t read you, their instinct is to think you are weird. If they think you are weird, they prefer to avoid you.

Another thing working against the neurodivergent is the fact that many neurotypicals, at least here in the US, seem to view extroversion as a quality that is much more acceptable than introversion, and many, but not all of us, are introverted. It’s also not uncommon for many of us to be literal thinkers, so we don’t always get jokes, and we tend to be unskilled at reading between the lines. If neurotypicals said what they meant and meant what they said, the world would be much more comprehensible for neurodivergent people. I go into more detail about this in What My Autism Diagnosis Taught Me About Communication.

Throughout life, I’ve been constantly told that I need to “put myself out there” more. I should try harder. But if every single time you’ve made that effort you wound up feeling worse than you did when you started, would you consider this a viable solution? Attending more parties is not the solution. Exhausting myself by trying to act “normal” isn’t sustainable. And frankly, I do like being alone much of the time. Just not all of the time. So what to do?

The bottom line is that those of us on the autism spectrum are misunderstood more often than not. That’s isolating. It’s painful and confusing. Now, add on to that the ever-present societal message that since we are the common denominator, all of this isolation and misunderstanding must be our fault. That’s the perfect cocktail for depression and feelings of hopelessness. Could this play into the fact that our suicide rates are as much as 8 times higher than the rest of the population? It seems like a logical conclusion to draw.

Equally concerning: our life expectancy is as much as 20 years less than the rest of the population, most likely due to stress-related illness and suicide. That shocking statistic would lead to immediate action in any other test group. Definitive changes need to be made, and soon.

Personally, I’m convinced that I also have Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. This is not a condition that you’ll find on a DSM-5, so a diagnosis isn’t really available, but it’s getting more and more attention. Basically, it means that a person is hypersensitive to rejection or the possibility thereof. It can even get to the point where you start to believe that you are being rejected more often than you actually are. (Believe me, the entire world isn’t out to get you. They have much bigger fish to fry.)

I have a theory that it would be quite hard for the average autistic person to not suffer from Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, given the fact that we are so often bullied, and we’ve been rejected time after time after time. A person can only take so much. Once you have been burned, you tend to react poorly to fire.

So, having said all that, do I have some solution to all this heartbreaking isolation and loneliness? Do I have some magic bullet that would allow the neurodivergent to stop wondering why people react to them the way they do? God, I wish I did. Truly, I do. But I can at least offer some perspective that I have found comforting.

My therapist recently reminded me of something I read in an amazing book entitled, Neurotribes: The Legacy of Autism and the Future of Neurodiversity. It wasn’t that long ago that autistic people were lumped in with schizophrenics, and were therefore dumped in lunatic asylums. We’ve all heard horror stories about what those asylums were like. And with all the screaming and fear and chaos and overcrowding and abuse, that would be the perfect environment to exacerbate autistic meltdowns. And those meltdowns would then be used as justification for us being in such places.

To get a small sense of what that must have been like, my therapist suggested that I visit the grounds of the abandoned Northern State Hopsital in Seedro-Woolley, Washington. It was basically an asylum that was no better than a dumping ground for “undesirables”. It operated from 1912 to 1973. It’s on about 100 acres of land, and at its height, it housed more than 1000 people.

A lot of atrocities were committed there. Most “inmates” (as they called them), once admitted, remained there for life, often sharing wards with the violently insane. 1487 patients are buried there. Many were cremated and their ashes were stored in empty food cans. I’ll be going into more detail about this in a future post. I do hope to visit this hospital some day, if only to bear witness.

What my therapist was telling me was that the way we were once treated was disgusting, unacceptable, and in many cases criminal. All such asylums have now been closed, once Reagan threw those patients out on the street to fend for themselves, but the beliefs that lurked behind our institutionalization are still alive and well. We are still marginalized, and most people and bureaucracies are currently making no effort whatsoever to understand or accommodate us.

Society has been stigmatizing us from the very start. The isolation remains. This must change.

But for now, I’m taking comfort in the knowledge that all of this rejection and isolation has a long and poisonous history, and it is not our fault. That’s a start. Maybe in another 100 years, society will finally catch up and understand that differences are not a reason for people to be shunned. Maybe by then, people will realize that it’s highly beneficial for all concerned to take a little extra effort to understand those of us who are different.

Maybe someday diversity will not be considered a dirty word by so many people. Maybe by then people will appreciate the many contributions that people on the spectrum have made. (I’ll be writing about that in a future post.)

I hope this post will give people who share the spectrum with me a little reassurance by way of an increased insight into why so many of us suffer from such ill treatment. I hope it will help them see that it is not our fault. And thanks to the internet, we increasingly have each other to remind ourselves that we’re good people, too.

We are here. We matter. And, at least online if nowhere else, we are not alone.

If you or someone you love is contemplating suicide, first of all, know that it’s never a good idea to make a permanent decision during an emotional meltdown. Having said that, please call 988 (or the crisis line equivalent in your country) for compassion, support, understanding, and referrals for more of the same.

Like the way my neurodivergent mind works? Then you’ll enjoy my book! It’s not about autism, but it’s full of unique insights on gratitude. http://amzn.to/2mlPVh5

What My Autism Diagnosis Has Taught Me About Communication

I just can’t win with these neurotypicals.

For 57 years, I walked through life not knowing that I was on the autism spectrum. When I finally got the diagnosis, it turned my world upside down, but mostly in a good way. Some of the people in my life asked me why I had bothered to open this can of worms at this late date, because clearly I had been coping up to this point. To that I say, “Would you be willing to just cope with life? Wouldn’t you want to set the bar a bit higher than that for yourself?”

I know I do. So I searched for answers and found them in autism. Suddenly, many of the things that I’ve struggled with throughout my life made much more sense. I will admit, though, that the learning curve has been rather steep since then.

But I did learn a big lesson this week, and it has to do with the way I communicate. My whole life I’ve had the best of intentions when talking to people, so I never understood why I have such a hard time making friends. More often than not, I am misunderstood and/or distrusted. It’s been a great source of pain throughout my life. It has also been a great source of frustration for me, because I could never figure out what was “wrong” with me. I mean, yeah, there’s my sometimes incomprehensible body language and facial expressions that throw people off, but I sensed that this went deeper.

Here’s how I thought I was communicating: 1)Someone tells a story that I find fascinating, and I tell them so, enthusiastically. 2) Their story reminds me of something that happened in my life, or something that I’ve researched for my blog, so I tell them about it. 3) By doing this, I thought I was showing interest in what they were saying, and expanding upon their interest with my story, thus revealing a little about myself. It was my way of saying, “See? We have something in common!”

I thought this type of exchange would bring me closer to people, but it rarely did. In fact, there’s one couple that always exchanges a look and a smirk when I do that. It feels to me like they are “mean girling” me, and it really hurts my feelings.

I finally got some insight from one of the many autism groups that I’m in on Facebook, and it was later confirmed by my therapist. I wish I had learned this about 50 years ago, because it might have saved me a lot of pain and anguish. It will be hard for me to make a change at this late date, but here’s the crux of the matter:

It seems that many people on the spectrum like to communicate by exchanging information. I know I do. I thrive on it. I love learning new things and sharing the things I’ve learned. I honestly believe that everyone has had fascinating experiences and I enjoy having my horizons broadened.

Apparently, though, many neurotypicals do not communicate that way. In fact, they find these information exchanges obnoxious. It never occurred to me that by giving them a similar story back, they think that I’m trying to “one up” them, and then they dismiss me as being arrogant or only interested in talking about myself. Or, if I provide them with additional information on a subject, they feel stupid for not having already known that information, and they associate me with making them feel bad, or they think I’m trying to prove that I’m smarter than they are, and they resent it. Another possibility is that they are finding what I’m saying to either be extremely boring or they think I’m lying.

Jeez, I just can’t win with these neurotypicals. But now I get why I have trouble making friends. They perceive my well-intentioned anecdotes, my overall fascination with trivia and learning and sharing knowledge, and my desire to find the why of things and then share what I’ve found, to instead be proof of arrogance, a sense of superiority, and a talent for being an insufferable bore or a bullsh*t artist.

Well, ouch. If those things were actually true about me, I wouldn’t want to be my friend either. But I swear on all that’s holy that it never occurred to me to share this information to make people feel inferior in any way, and I always thought I told interesting stories. It’s ripping my heart out to think that people perceive me as being capable of ill intentions.

Unfortunately, another thing I’m learning is that once people form an opinion about you, rightly or wrongly, it’s very hard to get them to change it. That, too, would have been good to know about 50 years ago. I wouldn’t have wasted half my life desperately trying to be understood. (And apparently many neurotypicals interpret that as me being defensive, and that, in turn, somehow confirms their suspicions about me. And ‘round and ‘round we go.)

At this point I’m sorely tempted to just give up and live in a cave somewhere. Attempting to communicate in a way that is acceptable to the masses is just too much effort for too little return. And I’m not going to lie, most of the time I prefer solitude anyway.

But I suspect that Dear Husband and my dogs wouldn’t like cave dwelling. That, and all the books I have stored to put in my little free library would get covered in mildew. So I soldier on, and continue to be misunderstood.

I asked my therapist about new communication strategies, and he said that people love to talk about themselves, so I should ask questions about what they’re saying, even if I already know the answers, and keep any additional info to myself. Eventually they might be so gratified by my interest that maybe, just maybe, they’ll want to learn things about (and from) me, too.

I plan to practice this new strategy in future conversations, but it’s going to kill me. If will feel strange (and more than a bit ironic) to be disingenuous in order to be trusted and liked. And if it works, it means that the bottom line is that people don’t really care what I have to say or what I think, and that, in turn, will make me like them a bit less.

It turns out that people just want to be heard and praised and validated. Here I thought I was a raconteur, only to find out that that’s something to be avoided. I’ll have to bite my tongue a lot.

And of course, of course I only discover this communication strategy after moving to the Pacific Northwest, where the apparent cultural norm is not to ask too many questions, or people will think you are prying. (The slogan for the state of Washington should be, “I’m Happy to Help, but Mind Your Own Business.”)

So where does that leave me? Ugh. This is just too hard. At least I’m not having to date anymore.

______________________

I would love your insight regarding my next communication hurdle, dear reader. Here it is: When I offer to help someone on a chore or a project, if they say no, I believe that they truly don’t want help. Usually I’ll add, “Well, let me know if you need me for anything.” and then I go on my merry way.

I’m now learning that this sometimes makes people irritated or frustrated with me or disappointed in me, or something similarly “I’ve-screwed-up-again-ish”. Is there some unwritten rule that if someone says they don’t need help, you’re supposed to keep asking? How many no’s are required for you to take no for an answer? How far apart are you supposed to spread your inquiries in order to avoid sounding like a myna bird? Or are you supposed to get pushy and help despite their protests?

I seem to be lost in a labyrinth of neurotypical subtext, and the Minotaur is hot on my heels. I’d love your thoughts on the matter in the comments below. Thanks as always, dear reader.

Like the way my neurodivergent mind works? Then you’ll enjoy my book! http://amzn.to/2mlPVh5

Mmm…

You’ll be amazed how effective it is.

My mother taught me many things, but the one lesson I use on a daily basis is what I call “The Power of Mmm…”

When I was young, she explained to me that people always want to think that you agree with them. Therefore, when they say something outrageous or silly or downright stupid, and you don’t have the energy or the desire to get into a debate, you simply respond, “Mmm…” and it’s like a get out of jail free card.

They will interpret your response as, “I couldn’t agree more!” or “How fascinating!” and they’ll be satisfied and move on to other things.

In fact, my mmm could be interpreted in a variety of ways. For example, it might mean, “Oh my God, please shut up, you idiot.” That’s the kind of mmm I give when someone says something like, “You know, Biden stole the election…”

It’s also my stock response when someone starts talking about sports. In that case, mmm means “Rah, rah, rah. Yay team. Whatever.”

When a coworker said, “I once ate manatee meat,” my mmm was a desperate attempt to not react in horror about something that happened in the past that can’t be changed and is likely to never happen again (thank goodness).

I’ve also used mmm as a response to “Do these shorts make me look fat?” or “Isn’t he cute?” or “I sure do miss polyester bellbottoms!”

And the older I get, the more mmm becomes, “I wasn’t really paying enough attention to weigh in on this topic.”

The only downside to the mmm gambit is that once you employ it regularly, you quickly realize that most people don’t really care what you think. They just want to be heard and validated, and if you provide just enough framework, they’ll do all the heavy lifting themselves.

Try it. You’ll be amazed at how effective it is. Consider it a free gift from my mom.

Mmm…

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You Neurotypicals Sure Do Talk Funny

“Get to the point!!!!”

Sometimes I feel as though I’m in a foreign country, even in my own town. Usually that’s because I’m with a group of neurotypical people who are speaking in their neurotypical ways, and I just don’t get it. On days when I’m tired, they may as well be speaking Esperanto, for all the sense it makes to my overwhelmed autistic brain. It can be disconcerting on the best of days, and completely isolating on the worst.

When neurotypicals hear me speak, they often describe me as blunt. To them, that means I must be being rude. But no. I’m just taking a direct path to the point I wish to make. I don’t like to waste time with abstractions and vagaries and metaphors. However, I do like to be sure I’m giving you all the pertinent details, and it seems that many NTs find that boring.

If you think I ask too many questions simply to be contrary, you’re wrong. I’m asking those questions to understand. I’m trying to get to those pertinent details that you seem to think are unnecessary.

And here’s the best way to drive me absolutely crazy: don’t answer a question. This is even worse now that so much of our communication is in writing. I assume most neurotypicals think they can get away with avoiding awkward questions simply by not answering them. That’s a lot harder to do when you’re face to face, but all too easy to do via text or email. Just because it’s easy doesn’t make it right.

If you’re ignoring my question, I can only conclude that you find it irrelevant, which is extremely rude and dismissive. Or perhaps you are afraid I won’t like the answer. But I wouldn’t be asking the question if I didn’t feel the need for an answer. Don’t cut me off from information just because direct communication makes you squirm. It’s the only way for me to know what’s going on.

From my point of view, NTs can be frustrating, because they seem to want me to read between the lines and jump to the same conclusions that they jump to. Inside, I’m screaming, “Get to the point!!!!” But my therapist assures me that neurotypical people often don’t know what their point is. That was eye-opening. They are so busy being subtle and vague so as not to ruffle feathers that they aren’t even sure what it is that they want or need or feel. That must be exhausting.

Why can’t you take responsibility for your own message? Don’t make me have to solve a puzzle to figure out what you’re trying to say. Just say it. I suppose if you’re vague enough and someone takes offense to your message, you can backpedal furiously and claim that’s not what you meant. It must be nice to have that amount of social wiggle room. I just find it a lot easier to say what I mean and mean what I say, and consequences be damned.

That is not me trying to be obstinate or manipulative. It’s not me being selfish or acting stupid to avoid doing something. It’s me being autistic and devoid of an agenda.

Please stop trying to force me to become neurotypical, because it’s not possible. It’s time to let go of the fantasy that autistic people can just snap out of it with the proper amount of nagging. We just don’t speak your language fluently, and we can’t seem to drop the neurodiverse “accent” just because it annoys you. And here’s a big ol’ scoop of food for thought for you: we shouldn’t have to.

And then there’s the whole body language thing. I’m focused on your words. I can’t be bothered to take in the change of the shape of your smile or the way your head is tilted. For me, it’s all about the words.

In fact, it’s so much about the words for me that I wish you wouldn’t focus on my body language either, because it’ll be confusing to you. I may not be looking you in the eye, but I’m paying close attention to what you’re saying. I may not be smiling, but that doesn’t mean I’m unhappy or disapproving or judging. It usually means I’m concentrating on your words so much that I forget that my face needs to be doing something in order for you to feel comfortable. Sorry.

Also, I have a very capable brain, but it has a slow processor. I often have to mull things over, or let them sink in, before I can respond. If I’m pausing, it’s not a sign of disagreement or dim-wittedness. It’s more like a slower wifi speed. The information may be moving at a snail’s pace, but it still has value. And if you are a fast talker, my anxiety goes through the roof and my processing time gets even slower. That often makes people get impatient with me, and that makes them talk even faster, which… well, I’m sure you can see the downward spiral toward total communication meltdown.

If your speech is peppered with the current pop culture references or cutting edge slang, odds are very good that you’ll have lost me. I’ve been described in many ways, but I’m fairly certain that no one has ever accused me of having my finger on the pulse of society. (Not that I’d want to anyway.)

I’ll also be the last person in the room to get a joke, and I find that humiliating because then I seem to become the joke. I particularly hate sarcasm, because it feels like cruelty to me. It’s like lingual bait and switch. People that use that form of humor are enjoying the fact that they are confusing people, and from my perspective, that’s just mean. I’m the easiest mark you’ll ever find. Let’s just concede that you won and that I don’t have a whip-crack mind. Let’s move on, shall we? Too much of that “making others look stupid” tactic and I’ll start avoiding you.

I am a very literal person. If you state an opinion, about me or anything else, I assume that’s really what you believe, because that’s how I process opinions. I’ve taken people literally my whole life, so I find it really hard to think they’re not doing the same when I speak. So, to avoid confusion, you can rest assured that I mean what I say. I speak my truth, always.

Also, if you ask for my opinion, I’ll give it to you. Why does that cause so much resentment? You asked. I don’t read between the lines, where it apparently says, “I don’t really want your opinion. I just don’t want to hurt your feelings, and in exchange I expect you to reflect the opinion that will be most agreeable to me.”

I’m rather new at autistic awareness, but what I’m finding is that neurotypical people are offended when they’re told the truth, and neurodivergent people are confused and offended when they’re told a lie. Of course, no two people are exactly alike. Your results may vary. But now that I’m more aware of our differences and similarities, that’s the conclusion I have arrived at. I don’t thrive in a lying world. I can’t understand why anyone would prefer that.

Here are a few examples of what it’s like to interact with others, from my neurodivergent perspective:

During spring break in college, I brought a friend home with me. She had to share a bedroom with my sister. At one point my sister wanted to go to bed early, and my friend said, “Would you mind if I left the light on and read a book?” My sister said, “Sure! No problem. Turn the light on any time.”

The next day, we got home late, and my friend went into the bedroom and turned the light on. My sister sat up and screamed at her to the point that my friend ran out of the bedroom and asked to share the very uncomfortable sofa bed with me. When I tried to defend my friend to my family the next day, none of them could understand why she would take it literally when my sister said, “Sure! No problem. Turn the light on any time.” To this day, I still think, “Why wouldn’t she? That’s what you said…”

Recently, a coworker showed me, for about the 10^th time, how she cleans the bathroom sink. I couldn’t understand why she kept doing that. I learned how she cleaned the sink the first time she showed me. I didn’t see the point of all that repetition, but that’s not unusual for me. Finally, after months of this foolishness, I figured out that she wasn’t trying to show me how she cleans the sink, she was trying to show me how she wanted me to clean the sink, because she doesn’t like the way I do it.

Why didn’t she just say that? It could have saved a lot of frustration on her part. It would definitely have saved a lot of confusion on mine. So please, just cut the crap. Say what you mean. Life’s too short for all this neurotypical foolishness.

Which leads me to one other issue that seems to be the source of the bulk of my conflicts: It never occurs to me that when I express an opinion, people assume that means I want them to have the same opinion, and the result is that they become upset at that prospect. But who the hell am I to tell you what to think? I can only tell you what I think, and even though it is just my opinion, as far as I’m concerned, it’s a fact that I have that opinion, and that’s absolutely, positively as far as my thought process on the subject goes. What you do with it after that is up to you.

At the risk of sounding blunt, I have to say that you neurotypicals are the weird ones. You expect people to be clairvoyant. You weave and bob and meander and backtrack. Excuse me, but I can’t follow you. It’s all I can do to walk a straight line, here.

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Asking Questions (And Also Answering Them) While Autistic

I once sent a boss into a blind rage when he ended a statement with the phrase, “Am I right?” and I said no.

For nearly 60 years, I’ve been walking around with autism without even realizing it. I mean, I always knew I didn’t fit in. I always knew I was misunderstood. I just didn’t know why.

Now that I’ve finally been officially diagnosed, I am starting to understand many of the things that have confused me throughout life. Puzzle pieces are falling into place. When your brain processes information completely differently than the neurotypical brains in the world do, communication tends to jump the tracks quite a bit.

It’s not unusual for people to be irritated by me, or to assume I’m just being aggressive, argumentative, judgmental, or I’m acting stupid to avoid doing something, or that I’m challenging authority. They couldn’t be more wrong about my motivations, so I’m then confused and frustrated by their reaction, and I try to ask more questions to figure out what’s going on. This, in turn, is used as proof that their negative assumptions are correct.

At my current job, I’ve gotten the reputation that I “push back too much”, and the original guy who said that about me spread that poisonous misinterpretation to others, not because he was attempting to turn people against me, but simply because he thought it was true. Now, every interaction I have with certain people is viewed through that lens. That’s a recipe for failure for me, and it isn’t even a recipe of my own making.

But I have to continue to ask questions, because I need answers in order to do my job. It has gotten to where that guy and a few others have simply started ignoring my emails entirely, which is not at all helpful to my situation, and causes me a great deal of stress. It’s frustrating to go through life needing answers, and being misunderstood.

No two people are alike, and that’s also the case for those of us who are on the spectrum. I’m not speaking for all autistic people here. But I would not be surprised if what I’m saying here resonates with quite a few of them.

When I ask a question, there are only three possible reasons why I’ve asked. 1) I need information in order to understand what is going on. 2) I’m genuinely curious about a certain topic, and want to learn more. Or 3) I have figured out that when you ask questions about a person, it seems to break the ice, because people tend to appreciate talking about things in which they have expertise. It’s definitely better than awkward silence. (Figuring this out, for me, was like finding the holy grail. It’s a rare occasion when this doesn’t work, except perhaps when I ask something intrusive. I am the first to admit that I lack subtlety.)

I can assure you that I’m very literal. The question you hear is what I want to know. There is no hidden agenda (unless you count that “breaking the ice” thing).

It is only recently that I’ve come to understand that neurotypicals ask questions for those reasons as well, but they also ask them for many other reasons that I can’t really comprehend or relate to. Neurotypicals seem to live in a world of subtext, implications, and inferences. There’s this other level of language, along with body language, that flies right over my head.

It seems that questions can be quite loaded in ways I never realized. Neurotypicals, I’m told, often make extreme policy changes without even knowing why they’re doing it themselves. In those instances, they find my questions embarrassing or uncomfortable. They view them as my attempt to reveal their incompetence.

I’m not trying to be obnoxious or uncooperative, truly. I’m capable of change. But for me to do something, it has to make sense to me. If it doesn’t, I have to ask questions until it does make sense. If your response to my question causes further confusion for me, then I have to ask even more questions.

I find it all but impossible to let an illogical thing go until it finally makes sense to me. “Because I said so” throws me into “this does not compute” mode, and I tend to become incapable of functioning. At the risk of proving that I’m a total nerd, it reminds me of that scene in the original Star Trek, in the I, Mudd episode.

KIRK: He lied. Everything Harry tells you is a lie. Remember that. Everything Harry tells you is a lie.
HARRY MUDD: Listen to this carefully, Norman. I am lying.
NORMAN: You say you are lying, but if everything you say is a lie then you are telling the truth, but you cannot tell the truth because everything you say is a lie. You lie. You tell the truth. But you cannot for. Illogical! Illogical! Please explain.

Looking at me from the outside, my continual Why, Why, Why, to a neurotypical, must look like I’m a three year old who’s just wanting to get attention by being a pain in the butt. Hence, their irritation toward me.

I am well aware that my asking you a question is slowing you down or creating additional work for you. But your lack of a logical response is slowing me down and rendering me incapable of doing the task at hand. So if you want to get me out of your hair, if you want to move on to other things, just. Answer. The. Question. And then I’ll be able to get back to my logical treadmill, and the cogs of industry will spin smoothly once again.

Trust me, just having to talk about this stuff has me feeling irritated, too. If I had a penny for every time I thought, “Just answer the damned question!!!” I’d be a billionaire.

Just answering the question seems so simple to me. Ask me anything. I’ll tell you. I have no filter.

Another bone of contention when asking questions seems to have to do with social hierarchy. Apparently, some people feel that they’re high enough in the pecking order to simply be obeyed without question even if what they’re wanting from you seems to be total nonsense. Way up there, all questions are viewed as a challenge of power.

That seems absurd to me. If you are the leader, wouldn’t you want the people who work for you to understand what’s going on so that they can operate more efficiently for you? I’ve never seen a situation that ended well when people were kept in the dark. In fact, blind obedience seems really dangerous and scary to me. If I wanted to function in that realm, I’d have joined the military.

Requiring people to check their brain at the door is also extremely dismissive of people’s abilities. You’re missing out on a lot of talent that way. Why would you want to do that? WHY?

I’m not trying to be intrusive or aggressive or judgmental or insubordinate by asking that. I genuinely would like to understand. The fact that society is able to function with so many unanswered questions is beyond me.

Another thing I’m starting to realize is that neurotypicals do not like people to be direct. They like you to read between the lines, blow smoke, and make assumptions based on context. Sadly, I don’t know how to do this.

I also struggle with rhetorical questions. If you didn’t want an answer, why would you ask? That’s one of those subtle neurotypical things that is beyond my ken.

I once sent a boss into a blind rage when he ended a statement with the phrase, “Am I right?” and I said no. Then I interpreted his look of shock to mean, “Really? Please explain.” And so I did. He actually ran away from me. And I thought, “Dude… you asked.”

Another common source of confusion is that a lot of times, when it seems like a neurotypical person is asking for your opinion, they’re not wanting an honest answer, What they want is affirmation of their opinion, which you’re supposed to somehow already know. For example, if someone asks you for your opinion about a couch they just bought, they don’t want you to tell them that you dislike the color. They want you to tell them it’s great, because if they bought it, they think it’s great and they want confirmation that it’s great. Nothing less will do. NTs are often offended by the truth.

So, yeah, is it any wonder we’re so often misunderstood? Is it surprising that many autistic people can’t hold jobs or relationships, despite having no ill will toward others? Can you see why interacting with NTs can feel like walking in a mine field for us?

I hope, with this added context, you will cut the next autistic person that you encounter a little bit of slack. We’ve been run through the wringer of human discourse more than once in our lives. We’re a little bit drained.

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What are you really saying?

It pays to look deeper.

Here lately, I’ve had to really think about the ways I communicate with others. I am a literal thinker. If you say something, I assume you mean it. I’m sure my autism has a great deal to do with that. I’m starting to believe that neurotypicals don’t always mean what they say, and apparently they’re capable of figuring out when things should be taken seriously, and when they should be taken with a grain of salt. I don’t have that skill, so navigating that world can be very confusing for me. A lot of misunderstandings can and do occur.

I find it much simpler to be a straight shooter. No games. No reading between the lines. No wasted time. But apparently that makes me seem too abrupt and too rigid.

I’m also told that I overshare. I like to give details so everyone is on the same page, but it seems that many neurotypicals would prefer the broad strokes and the chance to come to their own conclusions. Anything more than that seems to cause irritation. So here I am, trying to be helpful, and instead I’m annoying.

I’m not sure I’ll ever get communication right. I hope I’m becoming more self-aware, at least. But in the end, I’ll still be who I am.

However, I can see how it can be quite handy to know what people are really trying to say. If they are expressing a concern that seems irrational, it pays to look deeper. What are they truly worried about?

This is going to take practice. But every once in a while I get it. I wrote about one of those times years ago, in a blog post entitled, A Lesson in Subtext. I’m rather proud of that post. I hope you’ll check it out.

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When Women Talk

There’s a reason we’re so often interrupted.

I just saw the most profoundly simple and yet the most intensely complex movie I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s a movie that could change us all if we let it.

It is based on the true story of a group of Mennonite women and children as young as 3 in Bolivia who have been tranquilized and brutally raped by their men and boys for years. I’ll have much more to say about this in my next blog post. First, though, let’s concentrate on this incredible movie, entitled Women Talking.

I know that discussions of this type of brutality can be triggering for some, and might make them want to avoid this movie. Let me reassure you that the abuses themselves are not shown. Just as the women in Bolivia did, the characters in this film wake up, confused, bruised, and bloody, knowing something horrible had happened, but not knowing exactly what.

For a long time, they are not believed. (The hysterical woman trope will plague us for centuries.) Then one night one of the rapists is caught, and he gives up the name of 8 others. Never having had to deal with such horrific crimes before, the colony leaders decide to give these criminals to the government for prosecution.

It appears that justice will be served. But based on their religious beliefs, the women in this colony know they will be expected to forgive these heinous acts if the men confess and repent. They are expected to look the other way and not speak of the violence that has washed over them in bloody waves. And they have a 2 day window in which they are expected to make this adjustment.

So, while the rest of the colony men are dragging the criminals into the city, many of the women and girls gather together in a hayloft to decide how to move forward. They are faced with three choices. Do nothing. Stay and Fight. Leave.

Soon, it becomes quite clear that they cannot do nothing. One woman points out that her 4-year-old daughter was one of the victims. What woman could stand by and do nothing under those circumstances? And the fact that domestic violence and incest run rampant in the community as well can no longer be ignored.

Do they want to stay and fight and build a colony that’s more equitable, that allows women to have a voice, that provides them with literacy and an education and gives them the opportunity to say no, or do they want leave everything they’ve ever known and go into a strange world plotted out only on maps that they have never even seen?

The debate becomes more complicated as the movie progresses. Do they raise their small boys in the shadows of their violent fathers, or do they teach them a new way? At what age do boys become potentially dangerous? 10? 13? 15? Is their freedom and the ability to keep their children safe more important to them than tradition and family and the comfort of the things that they’ve always known? How will they support themselves when they can’t even read?

In addition, until now they have never had the words to speak about their bodies and how they should be treated. Can they ever be silenced again? Many of these women have fallen pregnant due to these rapes. Will they be able to love these children?

I won’t further spoil the movie for you, but I urge you to see it. Even though these women live vastly different lives than most of us do, the movie’s themes will still resonate with most women. Especially the central theme, which is that women are discouraged from talking in general.

There’s a reason why we are so often interrupted, ignored, discounted, dismissed, overruled, and left out of the discussion entirely. Women talking, especially to one another, gives us strength, determination, knowledge, insight and courage. Women talking allows us to see possibilities that we’re often too busy or too undermined to contemplate on our own. Women talking equates to power, and many elements of society are very threatened when we access this power in any way.

Do you ever wonder why women make up approximately half the population of the world, and yet we are the oppressed minorities, to one degree or another, in every single country? In my opinion, it all boils down to two things: childbearing and communication. The powers that be actively work to take control of our reproductive rights, and more subtly, keep us separated as much as they can.

Some countries and religions would prefer that we have as many children as possible whether we like it or not. From their emotionless standpoint, children are valuable commodities, as they become our future workers, soldiers, and consumers. Our wombs are the factories in which these commodities are produced.

There’s also the societal “side benefit” that pregnancy, to a certain extent, incapacitates us for 9 months each time. Yes, it’s possible to still work and carry on with life in that condition, but let’s face it, most of us would not be running any marathons in the third trimester or building houses or winning any fights should we be forced to defend ourselves. And afterward, it’s really hard to become a captain of industry when you have a toddler in tow. Meanwhile, a scary percentage of men don’t provide the child support that they should, which forces many women into a level of poverty that they should never have to endure.

Other societal factions go to the opposite extreme and attempt to prevent us from having children even when we want them. Perhaps they have concerns about overpopulation. Maybe they view certain women as being unfit to reproduce. Eugenics is alive and well, as is forced sterilization.

We don’t discuss any of these topics nearly as often as we should. Even so, most women know that the struggle with these issues is worldwide. It is the ultimate power play to make our voices go unheard.

We Americans are taught to believe that we have more freedom than any other people on earth, but that’s a lie. Our health care system is abysmal for starters, which undermines this country’s very foundation. And the illusion that women’s rights are taken seriously has been challenged by the fact that there is such an insane pay gap between genders, and to make matters worse, Roe vs. Wade has always been under threat and has now been overturned. We should not overlook the fact that men’s bodies are not restricted in any way by legislation, and they never will be.

I haven’t felt like an American citizen since that moment when my right to choose was stripped from me, and I doubt I ever will feel like one again. Women, in general, are only tolerated if they can be controlled. And what better way to restrict a woman than by taking control of a bodily function?

Keeping us from talking to one another is a part of that control. We don’t seem to notice it as much as the reproductive rights issue, but it’s still pervasive. Men still hang out. They go to bars, they watch sports. It’s much less accepted when women do those things. Instead, we’re kept so busy that we barely notice that we don’t get together very often. We’re expected to stay home and make sandwiches and change diapers. At work we are pitted against one another, fighting over what few breadcrumbs the men see fit to toss in our direction. This, too, is a form of control.

It is important for each one of us to think about the things that tie us down and the things that allow us to fly. We could fly a lot higher if we were more cohesive, but ultimately, each woman has to choose her own path and remember that as she does so, she is also forging a better path for the young women of the future. If things remain as they are, these changes will be so incremental that we’ll barely notice them in our lifetimes. And it’s quite obvious that we’re more than capable of backsliding. We must remain vigilant if we want to make any progress at all.

I won’t tell you what the women in the movie decide to do. You’ll have to see for yourself. I will tell you that the real life women in Bolivia have made entirely different choices. I’ll discuss that in the next post.

I urge you to see Women Talking. I was disappointed that it didn’t win an Oscar for best picture, but it was up against some stiff competition. As with life, timing can be everything.

I will leave you with this: The last sentence in the movie, spoken by a woman to an infant, is, “your story will be different from ours.” It is up to us to determine whether that will be good news or bad, but I’m choosing to look at it as cause for hope.

Three cheers for differences.

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Body Talk

Ignore your body at your own peril.

Your body is speaking to you all the time.

Feeling tightness in the neck and shoulders? “Girl, you’re stressed out.”

Grinding your teeth in your sleep? “Um… I told you you were stressed out. When are you going to do something about it?”

Stomach issues? “Stop eating that crap. I don’t like it.”

Hungover? “Less is more, idiot.”

I’d call this “body language”, but the phrase has already been taken. Nevertheless, there’s communication going on, whether you choose to listen or not. But ignore it at your own peril.

I’ve known a lot of people (usually guys but not always), who like to ignore their bodies. They’ll power through. They won’t go to the doctor. They’ll ignore pain for as long as they can, until the damage is irreversible. “Oh, I have a tumor the size of a basketball? No wonder I’ve been feeling funny. I guess I have a week to live now. Pity.”

Nine times out of ten, it’s guys who sport those melon-sized cysts on the Dr. Pimple Popper videos. What woman would willingly walk around with a second head growing out of her neck unless she was forced to due to lack of health insurance? I mean, come on, guys. Why would you let anything get so out of control?

But to be fair, for the life of me, I never can understand those women who don’t know they are pregnant until the baby pops out. Talk about denial. I mean… how… Oh, I could go off on a tangent here, but you can already imagine.

Not only should you listen to what your body is trying to tell you, but you should also take the time to initiate the conversation. Meditate. Sit alone and be still and open to hearing what is being said. Because let’s face it, without our bodies, we’re done. And it’s not like you can trade it in for a new model.

I’m guessing there were a whole bunch of red flags flying for this one.

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The Annihilation of Space

We can now talk to just about anyone on the planet any time that we want to.

I just finished a Pokemon Go battle with some friends I’ve made therein. They are from Guatemala, the Netherlands, Poland, and South Africa. Of course I don’t know them by name, and I don’t know what they look like, and I never will. That’s fine. But it makes me smile to think that for a few minutes there, five of us, from different parts of the planet, were focused on one task. I wish my mother were alive to see that. It’s truly miraculous.

In this internet age, not a day goes by when I’m not in communication with someone from another country. I administer several Facebook groups. I know people from all over in the virtual world of Second Life. I have friends that I talk to on Skype. I have relatives in many parts of the globe. The miles no longer matter.

On my drive home the other night, I heard an interview with Steve Inskeep. He was talking about his latest book, Imperfect Union. It sounds like a fascinating read. But one of the things he discussed was that moment when Samuel Morse sent the first telegraph message from Washington DC to Baltimore. “WHAT HATH GOD WROUGHT” indeed.

There’s no way to overstate what a big deal that was. It was also an election year, 1844, and soon news of the debates were being sent over those miles, in real time. That was unheard of. Inskeep says people were calling it the “annihilation of space” at the time.

We’ve been annihilating space ever since. We can now talk to just about anyone on the planet any time that we want to. News spreads around the globe in record time. (Unfortunately, drone strikes can also be done remotely. Every rose has its thorn.)

What I love most about this destruction of space is that evildoers have a lot less space in which to get away with things. We all have cell phones. You might have been able to anonymously kneel on someone’s neck in years past, but not anymore. There’s nowhere for scumbags to hide. We will see your face.

Perhaps someday we’ll be able to annihilate injustice, too. I’d like to think that’s coming. I wish it would hurry up.

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Trees Know More Than You Think

They remember. They learn.

I just read a fascinating article, entitled, “Never Underestimate the Intelligence of Trees” by Brandon Keim. It was both gripping and educational from beginning to end. I strongly urge you to read it.

Here are but a few of the things I learned from this article:

There is a fungal/root connection that allows nutrients to flow, but it also connects trees to each other.
They form networks with mother trees at the center of communities, exchanging nutrients and water.
Plants communicate. They perceive and receive messages, and will change their behaviors based on those messages.
They remember. They learn.
When a forest is under attack, it actually emits a defense chemistry that you can smell.
Trees can recognize seedlings that are related to them, and give advantages to those seedlings over those of a “stranger”. They are capable of making that choice.
When a plant is stressed out, it releases serotonin, just like we do.
If you clip a plant’s leaves or put a bunch of bugs on them, their neurochemistry changes. They send warning messages to their neighbors.

Mind officially blown. I think I’ll be seeing my next hike in the woods entirely differently. Hopefully this new mindset will give me comfort, rather than the creeps. Like I’m being watched. Like their talking about me. Hmm…

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