An Aspie Life:

Catherina
Catherina
Nov 3 · 17 min read

I have felt that I was perhaps 'just a little different’. Not when I was a young girl. At that stage in life we are largely not self-critical enough, self-aware enough, to make these judgments. But my experience is no less, there.

Not that I’m making myself an island: we all sit among our own little islands in life’s great harbor of confusion and of many, many boats… and hey for the most part we’re just trying to stay afloat, right? Day to day in our own varied ways. And I certainly haven’t felt like Nancy normal (if she actually exists) for the majority of my personal existence here on earth this far.

And, I guess, we can only really speak for ourselves huh?

My Mum knew it when I was a wee gal, and would come home, invariably, every day from school, sobbing into my dirty little hands. After a time it became predictable for her. In fact after my very first complete school day at the grand old age if 5 (which I had been very excited about) I came home distraught, sobbing that the other kids in my class and in the playground were mean and rude: it was too loud and busy there and I NEVER wanted to go back. My poor Mum frequently had a great deal of difficulty in encouraging me to go to school half the time, implemented strategies to help me, and I take my hat off to her for actually getting me there. There were many, many tantrums and a vast number or tears shed. And more often than not (unfortunately it seems there had to be) rewards or incentives for being there. In all honesty this didn’t really alter much for me in the next few years, but I came to know school as something to be endured.

I look such a happy child in most of the photos of me growing up. Usually active doing something in our garden at home, or playing outside on a Holiday at my grandparents country-side house down South. Or nursing a nearby neighborhood cat. Or dressing up my younger brother, admittedly with some resistance on his part.

Yet school itself, the daily process of getting, going there and being uprooted from my safe familiar territory of a home where I knew to be safe with Mum and my younger brother, without the kids that tormented me for things I did not grasp (but they did) it terrified me. Felt like torture actually and I didn’t understand why some of these other kids were so mean to me, picking on me for being 'weird’. I also played the violin, which several kids also mocked. My parents are both musicians and I learned Suzuki style. Music has always made sense to me. It is maths, really.

I didn’t talk much at school those first few years either. Despite the teachers’ general agreement that I was bright and seemed onto it academically, I was also shy to a fault, hesitant to join in, and quickly completed my work then would daydream (or fidget about, and ask to go to the bathroom where I would sit and daydream). The bathroom was often my personal salvation.

I quickly learned that it was safer to be seen and not heard at primary... or when I had to, to speak minimally. I was 'shy’, always licking my lips (a nervous habit which made me look like I had constant cold sores growing up) and tucking my hear behind my ear, looking at my feet most of the time. I was not much of a girlie girl and did not understand why an interest in dolls and pink frivolities was necessary. It seemed entirely stupid- another kind of game-to me. Nor did I understand the point and absolution in a game of tag or chasing some dumb ball around a field for ages, yelling at each other. This just seemed like more conflict to my simplistic child’s mind. And I would often sit on the steps in the playground at recess, overwhelmed by the noise of other children yelling and looking forward to going inside when it was a bit quieter. Sometimes I would go and sit on the bottom field by myself, attempting to read a book with my teeth gritted, trying to filter out the shrieking and yelling of the other kids, most of whom were supremely unbothered by the noise. I developed counting patterns and rhythmic tapping to settle and distract me when stressed. Often I would start to cry, feeling so lost and out of place when most of my peers appeared to be having fun. I wondered why I wasn’t, why I couldn’t seem to join in and enjoy with them the activities inherent to their enjoyment and well-being. I wondered often if there were others out there that felt like me, little black sheep.

I remember having an absolute meltdown when I was about 6 and my lovely Dad tried to get me into this little pink dress to attend a birthday party. I pointed out (quite logically in my mind) that ALL the boys could wear pants and run around, getting muddy and having fun. I wanted to join in with them, dress practically and comfortably and not wear a dress, restrained 'like a silly girl’. I remember being told that like it or not, I WAS a girl, and when the occasion called for it would dress accordingly. Predictably, there were fits of tears on my part before party time.

Mum tells me even as a baby I was hyper alert, on edge and super attuned to routine. I would cry and cry if this deviated. My father used to play the piano to me and there were particular Chopin and Lizst pieces I would happily dance and stomp my little feet about to and gurgle along to, happily, for hours.

One of the rudimentary signs of a child with Asperger’s or high functioning Autism is a hypersensitivity to noise, an obsession with and utter need for and reliance on routine. This does not deviate. To me, my routine was not at all obsessive, IS not obsessive- it is simply what lets me carry on in a safe, unpanicked place. And I never get bored of it, no matter how many times I do it. I will still find excuses not to meet friends in the mornings so I can complete my routine, then go out feeling safer to meet them. Brunch? Absolutely no no. Lunch? Doable.

Let’s face it, Aspie or no as humans we all have our little sequences. That stabilize and anchor us, provide basis in our weekly schedule and comfort in predictability to fall back on. There is, however, a great amount of variability in this routine degree of importance, how functional it is in enabling us to function well in our everyday life. I now understand better (from research I have done) that back then for me my lack of interest in toys that the other children enjoyed (and wanted) is and was common, leaving an Aspie child feeling even more in the outer ring. Because these toys, however silly they seemed to me, do in fact heighten childhood bonds and create an avenue of shared experience together. I could never, ever understand why most of my peers were so excited with this or that doll/Walkman/gitzit, likewise had no interest or care much in what I wore. Save not wanting very much to wear dresses. I had 2 little friends I would play with, and they were both boys.

Point in case, that word 'functional’. Having high functioning autism means we can function well enough from day to day without support, as opposed to the way someone with pure autism requires support. It doesn’t mean that some of us don’t have break downs once or twice a day (on average) trying to filter out the extraneous noise and variables designed around a world of brains that are for the most part, not autistic ones. Because my brain is not 'wrong' (neither is yours), it is just less common. So on the whole, society is designed better to handle and suit the non-aspergers. But roadworks, people coughing, a motorbike blasting by loudly on the road, someone letting their dog leap up all over me on the sidewalk when I want to just kick it’s invasion away, these are just of the few things I talk of.

As soon as I grasped the concept of money and my parents buying this or that for me, I just equated toys as money spent on something that would soon be a lost interest in, while a classic book would always be there. My lovely mum made me these great handmade clothes, and going to a decile 10 this invited more scrutiny from the cooler kids.

To be Aspie is to frequently see the big picture in life. And obsess, distracted, by small, inconsequential details.

Research also suggests that while under-performing in some major sensory and processing areas, Aspie brains also process BETTER some types of information than neuro-typical people, for the most parts these being the fields of Maths, Music and Science. As I said before, Music essentially is Maths isn’t it, its construct, relative majors, formula and pattern. Aspies seem (as a general rule) to exhibit average to higher end intelligence (IQ), lower than acerage emotional intelligence and people-reading skills (EQ). Have an ability to read quickly, process (and retain) large amounts of information. To be independent thinkers and learners, detail-oriented (but sometimes missing the glaringly obvious), have ability to do the same task/s over and OVER again without getting bored or making invasive errors where a person might usually tired of said repetitive task. Aspies tend to have a unique sense of humor, to grasp onto situational irony (but be poor readers of sarcasm) to play with language and take delight in puns and idioms. Aspies tend to be unconventional and tolerant of differences in others, advocates for the underdog or wronged party, accepting of quirkiness or seeming imperfections in others. Aspies have a tendency to believe the best in people, sometimes to the point of naivety.

Aspies often have an innate desire and ability to tell the truth. Or what they perceive as the truth of the matter, even if it is not entirely appropriate, or tactful to be honest in a situation (where sometimes required to preserve one’s self-interest). I have had uncountable cases of the latter where I have divulged something (fact or personal experience) I had judged as being relevant and adding value to a conversation. Only to have people say ‘ you shouldn’t have said THAT’ or ‘it is true but you shouldn’t have shared THAT’ and each and every time have felt like the silly labrador who has been scolded for digging a hole in his neighbour’s front flower bed, when he only meant to be helpful. Mind you other times I get 'ha, that is what we are all thinking and didn’t say’.

Because ‘reading between the lines’? A subtle shift in facial expressions that may convey an opposition the words that come out of someone’s mouth? NOT something so much that Aspies are good at interpreting. I often find it difficult when I have to ask a (verbal) question to check where I stand with someone- and they get annoyed because I have had to ask a question seemingly (to them) an answer should have been blatant, simple and obvious. But that is where unspoken communications can go amiss. I feel truly blessed to have some dear friends these days. And can safely say that they are the good type of people that really do mean exactly as they say most of the time. Less reading and interpretation required…

A tendency to slip up repetitively, be it in conversation with friends or day to day moments in our lives, gloss over the small details (although at times obsess unnecessarily over them and where we may have missed the point) in failing to read between these invisible chartered lines. And wonder why we concern ourselves with such small, insignificant factors all the time, in this great sphere of the universe of life. I remember thinking once when a popular classmate at junior high school took great delight in making fun of my shoes for being 'weird and ugly’ (I found them comfortable and functional) that it was so trivial a thing she spoke of when we had just learned about all the people, among them children, who were dying of HIV in Africa. I was most upset to hear about their suffering and couldn’t comprehend how she could possibly focus on something so inconsequential as my shoes at this time. And yet this was my experience and fixation, versus hers, what she apparently deemed more important... And supposedly those on the Autistic spectrum are less compassionate? Less empathetic? Well in my opinion nothing could be further from the truth. But it is about perceived adequate display of emotion, isn’t it.

I can not tell you how upset I get by others perceived suffering, by the suffering of animals. It is all about scale and relativity of emotion: how emotion is expressed: how upset we as Aspies may get when the little factors in our day, 'extraneous variables' if you will call them, get thrown at us (spanners in the works) and we occasionally go into meltdown mode.

Another fascinating difference between autistic, be it high functioning or not, and non autistic people is sensory issues. Literally my WHOLE life (particularly in winter) and my parents will reiterate this, I would get people saying ‘arent you cold?’ I find it kind of annoying sometimes but just smile and shake my head. No, most of the time unless it is 5 degrees, I am not cold. Certain fabrics, turtlenecks, scarves, fiddly buttons, an absolute no no. I have broken buttons on tops before in changing rooms in an absolute panic to get the top off. Because senses alter accordingly. Interestingly enough yes I have a painful bowel condition (and did you know that bowel issues are the top main health issue for Autistic people, they talk about the gut brain connection). And I also often get people saying, doesn’t that HURT? Points at large bleeding blister on heel, blood running down my keg, etc. Maybe a bit but again, the ability to push this small discomfort, so insignificant compatibly, is a sensory thing. Some senses overreactive while others underreactive. I like my drinks hot and people often comment when I buy my coffee how they don’t understand how I can drink it at such a scalding temperature so fast. Again, sensory differences. Because some things are so incredibly heightened while others are simply, muted.

Moving to a private school when I was ten or so meant that I had the tools to really get ahead and came top in many of my classes. I also made some friends, helped lead the orchestra towards the end of year 8, and had a sense of belonging. Coming up to 14 I decided I was sick of the small school (and somewhat catty group of girls) changed to a public secondary school where I met and made some fantastic girl friends, one or two of them a ‘bit quirky’ like me. These girls now women, scattered about the globe, I still feel I share a bond with and love to bits.

And here is the Crux of it.

When you have high functioning autism you may give no outward sign you have any type of disability. Some may even think of you as 'gifted' or 'clever' as I have had people occasionally describe me. But inside, so very many days and so very many ways, you are a whirlwind pool of panicked confusion. Frequently in an overwhelming panic, and I mean literally a PANIC about rising to do the day and getting myself to work. Coping with people and their many cross-meanings, what excess factors will pop up in today: will something interrupt the haven of my routine. Sometimes managing an involuntary change in said routine, continually attempting to figure the world out. Trying to figure PEOPLE out. Trying to filter out the extraneous noise that is often SO MUCH LOUDER to people on the autistic spectrum. This from a girl who has been to one loud concert (or rather half a loud concert, and that was enough thank you very much) in her 30 years.

I still have days where I walk along the street and a motor bike roars past or there is a loud, invasive noise and it stresses me out to the point that I stamp my foot hard on the pavement (something which may look odd or random to onlookers). Other times intermittently I cover my ears, screw up my eyes and shriek in an attempt to relieve alarm. Not always mind you, just on a bad day. I have had a massive panic attack on a bus before when a road was closed, the driver took an altered route and wouldn’t let me off the bus where I knew and expected to get off. Meltdown. People staring at me.

There are times when someone is walking behind me and I simply cannot bear the sound of their high heels on the pavement. People sniffing repetitively. People coughing loudly, particularly on public transport. Unbearable. Earphones are a godsend. Waiting at traffic lights while all the buttons 'bep, bep' and I am paused in hiatus as I wait to cross the road- my stomach clenches and my nails bite into my palms and I often have to fight against the impulse to run headlong onto the road in front of a car.

So do I have a routine? Hell yeah. It is instrumental to my safety and well-being as my concrete anchor: me against the unpredictable variables that sneakily creep into life every day. I can not enunciate how crucial my anchor is to my safety. I have had days where I can’t do my routine where I fake it as much as I can but am a trembling mess of jelly inside. And I have had days where I can’t do my routine then frankly, I am not in a safe headspace and have to call on support. Travel scares the fuck out of me for this very reason. The last two times I have been travelling the weight has just dropped off me because I am so anxious and unsettled my appetite vanishes and I get what I call my ‘snake tummy' (anxiety so bad it feels akin to food poisoning). If you get BAD anxiety you will likely know what I speak of.

Concerned with my ‘interferent’’high levels of anxiety, my mother and GP started me on an anti-anxiety medication when I was 14, when I basically stopped eating (depressed) at the time. The anxiety is always there- but my anchor, my routine, is the counter weight. for the last decade, exercise is my magic medicine, I would say. From being a young girl I also developed a pattern of going to the bathroom (whether I needed to actually go or not) to escape when people and noise became too much for my brain. I probably spent hours a week (when I should have been in class, both at school, and then University) in the bathroom, avoiding people and noise.

The autistic brain is both figuratively and literally wired a bit differently. When Aspies get upset, there are, seriously, MORE neurological signals directed through our brain stem YELLING (not politely or reservedly informing) us how upset we are. Have you ever heard of an autistic meltdown? Well, yeah, go figure. There are certain situations even as a grown woman I avoid like the plague, because I know they are what they initiate... Weddings are one of the most HELLISH experiences I can compare, most anxiety provoking situations I can describe for me, seemingly endless hours of intense social interaction- plus alcohol (I am not a fan of alcohol which makes people’s already confusing behaviour EVEN MORE UNPREDICTABLE)- and every wedding I have attended to date has been a very emotionally wrought occasion. But it is so important to be there to support the ones I love.

Good hour at this wedding followed by massive panic attacks 3 hours in and going home early ahead of my family… 7 hour wedding no go!

Autistic, particularly high functioning Autistic and Aspie adults are more likely to have depression and suicidal thoughts. I have had times in my life when seemingly small things have tipped me over the edge, well perhaps seemingly small to someone else anyway, and I have felt suicidal about it, a complete waste of time, space, energy and resources: so eager to 'read between the lines' yet at the end of the day, yet feeling thick as a plank of wood, feeling I often have to fake getting it, only seeming to comprehend directly what is coming out of someone’s mouth and falling up short elsewhere. And I love people. I want to understand them, their differences, their story. But it is verbal. If someone goes quiet and doesn’t tell me what is going on I have NO FRICKIN’ IDEA.

The funny thing about language is that in no way is it inherent as some would have us believe us be. It is learned. And yet some of us simply HAVE to learn to act, about the things we deem as being inconsequential, stupid, shallow and a waste of time- even though straight up and genuine is how we roll. This has been one of the most painful realizations in my life for me. Though I mean what j say and say what I mean, people often lie, cheat, grudge, prejudice and bully. They smile at you and say something nice and then you find out later it was not a nice smile and they have backstabbed you. It is beyond me. And yet it is.

Things like, I don't know, someone asking you something in a seemingly nice way but giving you that look where there eyes slide behind you and quickly glance and make eye contact with someone else. When you are open, genuine and honest with a person and they take the information you have given them out of context and spin and twist it slightly and tell someone or many and it comes back to bite you and you are bewildered at the complexities of human nature. Or someone asks for your complete honest opinion, you give it as your integrity would have you do so, but then they are resultantly upset or huffy afterwards.

Frankly, I do not understand why some people get so much joy in twisting things all the way around. It is utterly beyond me. But my world is for the most part black and white. For some of us it is yin and yang. For some of us…

I know, unfortunately, there are many shades of grey. Certainly more than 50 Shades. Luckily these days there are certain things I will ask my Mum for advice on because I know for sure she will give me an honest, objective, non-Aspie insight. Clothing is a big one. Situational appropriate dress always seemed so unimportant to me in the scheme of things so if in doubt of what I should wear for a particular occasion, I ask good old Mum. I also hate getting my hair done, my parents also have to literally take me to the hairdressed I cannot stand having my head touched. Having my nails done is something I view as torturous, I don’t like people fussing with my appearance. I did the Wearable Arts as a dancer and model while I was younger and much as I loved the dancing, the movement and expressiveness of being in the show, the number of hours we had to spend sitting having our hair poked at, make up done, being groomed and prodded, nearly did me in.

And here's the thing. Some beautiful accepting people will like us as we are. Others critique, pick and scrutinize until we feel we are not good enough as we are, with the neurological setup we invariably exhibit as is our individual disposition. You can't cure someone of their personality!

A beautiful, fierce and intelligent lady once said to me, you and I we have our differences- yours just happens to have a label on it. She is right in that with as many brains and people as we have in this world, a certain proportion are Aspie. I don’t believe this actually makes us wrong. We all bring different gifts to the table. You, me, all of us. It is about understanding ourselves and working with these differences to be our best selves- despite being a little bit weird. I share with you because we are all loveable, whole beings- despite our labels, despite our flaws. And by sharing our experience we can dispel and lessen this stigma and judgment.

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