Hello from Nevada

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Hello All!

I'm new to this forum. I'm also relatively new in my acceptance that I'm autistic. I'm 57 years old and I didn't receive a clinical diagnosis of autism until just 4 years ago.

I used to have problems with chronic depression largely because of my frustration over the fact that I could never fit in. While others had wide circles of friends and were always happy and busy, I struggled to have more than 2-3 friends.

While others went out on frequent dates that in some cases lead to courtship, romance, marriage, and families, my dates were far and few between. Most of my infrequent first dates rarely led to 2nd dates. The few women I've known over the years have typically ended our relationships with the words, "I love you like a brother." (sigh)

While others were acclaimed by their workplace colleagues as being loved and respected by all, few colleagues ever took notice of me.

In terms of friends, I've had some really bad experiences. In one case, after a friend told me that he was behind on his rent and that his utilities had been turned off for non-payment, I paid his back rent. I paid his past due utilities along with a re-connection fee. I even took him out to dinner at a steakhouse and gave him $100 to buy groceries to restock his refrigerator.

When this friend's birthday rolled around, I took him out to dinner and gave him a present. He came over to my home for Thanksgiving Dinner. He was there for Christmas as well and I was happy to give him a Christmas present ... and then I belatedly noticed that he had no Christmas present for me. My birthday had come and gone and he hadn't even noticed. Although he came to my home every Saturday for dinner, not once did he ever invite me to dinner at his home. He never even offered to treat me to dinner at a restaurant.

One day he borrowed several thousand dollars from me to buy an electric wheelchair for a disabled friend of his who was seriously obese. I gave him the money with the understanding that this was a loan. After all, I didn't know this woman nor was she one of my friends. My friend ... whom I will call George which is not his real name, readily agreed to pay me in small installments each month.

After 6 months without any repayment, I broached the subject of the loan and got an earful about how I was "all about the money" and how I was greedy and selfish.

Our friendship ended soon thereafter.

Most of my friendships have been like this ... with people who take and take and take and never give anything in exchange.

Why did I have such terrible friends? Why was I so bad at judging character? I was honest, hard working, and well educated. Why didn't I have a large circle of friends? Why didn't I have a wife or at least a girlfriend? What was wrong with me?

I was abroad in the Middle East for several years. I was in Saudi Arabia as a civilian during the 1st Gulf War when Iraqi scud missiles were being fired at my community in Dhahran. When the civil defense sirens began wailing their warning of in-coming missiles, I'd roll out of bed, grab my poison gas mask, and make a beeline down the stairs and into my "bomb shelter" which was the walk-in closet under the stairs.

When sirens sounded an alert at work, I'd duck and cover under my desk ... waiting for an explosion that thankfully never came.

I was also in Beirut when the Israeli Air Force bombed the city. I spent the night under a heavy desk in my apartment. From the floor looking up over the window sill, I could hear the ack-ack-ack of a Syrian anti-aircraft gun and see tracer fire flashing into the sky as wave after wave of fighters screamed overhead. The Israelis flew so low that my entire building shook with the force of their passage.

In the distance I could hear explosions and the wailing sirens of first responders ... and just when I thought that it might be safe to come out from under my desk, the anti-aircraft guns would again light up the sky and the building would tremble as another wave of fighters roared overhead.

In the morning I found that the only people who had reported to work were my foreign coworkers ... a New Zealand couple, a Venezuelan, an Aussie, a Brit, a Canadian, and a handful of Americans. The Lebanese, who after 17 years of Civil War probably had more common sense than we foreigners, had fled for the surrounding hills.

When the international airport reopened a few days later, I was on one of the first evacuation flights out of the country. I came back to the States and promptly had a problem with PTSD, post traumatic stress disorder.

I was visiting my friend in North Carolina, the one whose mortgage and utility bills I had paid, when I was caught outside in a thunderstorm. When the sky went BOOM, I had a flashback and the next thing I knew, I was face down on the wet pavement shouting, "IN-COMING!"

I wound up seeing a doctor who referred me to a psychiatrist. I was diagnosed with chronic depression along with a sleep disorder. The doctor did not diagnose me with autism. That diagnosis came some 14 years later.

Fast forward to my diagnosis of autism some four years ago ... I must say that this was the BEST NEWS I had ever had. The knowledge that I was autistic explained so many things. It explained why I didn't have many friends and why my relationships ended in failure. It explained why I was never really comfortable with going out and why I preferred the quiet serenity of my home.

My depression which had dogged me ever since my evacuation from Beirut went pfft and disappeared like fog on a hot day.

Since knowledge is power, I subsequently did several things.

I transferred jobs and moved from a large crowded city to a quiet rural town. I used the move as an excuse to end the few friendships I had. I also told my new boss about my autism and since my disability is protected under the ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act), my employer has provided me with some reasonable accommodations that have included excusing me from the occasional loud and noisy meeting.

Since I know that I'm neurologically predisposed towards being a reclusive introvert, I've given myself permission to embrace a reclusive lifestyle. I presently have home and work. When I'm home, I turn my phone off. I lock my door and won't answer it unless I'm expecting a service call. I don't go anywhere over weekends and holidays. I keep to myself and live quietly with 5 cats.

I couldn't be more content.

I am happiest when I'm home and I don't have to interact with anyone. I know there are other people on the spectrum who like being around others and who want to have friends and family. I'm not one of those people. I need my quiet alone time to rest and to emotionally recover so that on the morrow I will have the strength to sally forth and to return to work.

This lifestyle is admittedly not ideal. The biggest problem with being a reclusive introvert is that when unexpected things happen (usually involving my relations with other people), I don't have friends with whom I might discuss the whys and wherefore and meaning of what happened. Since I'm living in a rural area and have really cruddy health insurance that's so bad that many providers are now refusing to accept this insurance for fear that they won't be paid, I have no access to a local therapist.

I tried on-line therapy ... but that did not work very well.

Since I have a near phobia regarding the use of phones and will only used phones for work related calls or during emergencies which include home repairs and pest control, I asked one on-line therapist if we could chat on a private board rather than talking over the phone. Although the therapist readily agreed, she somehow FORGOT and called my cell phone which was turned off. I waited for her in the designated chatroom for 15 minutes, but she never came. She sent me several emails which I deleted without having read them. Although I'm sure that she's sorry about what happened, I couldn't work with her anymore since I had trust issues.

Another on-line therapy service told me to write as much as I wanted and my therapist would respond. I wrote three pages for my first session and the only response I had was, "I can see you're concerned about this. How do you feel?"

HOW DID I FEEL? I had just written three pages about how I felt! Why was I getting what felt like a canned generic response?

When I complained to customer service, I was told that if I wanted more of a response, I needed to upgrade my service. I found myself thinking, right ... if I upgrade my service, does this mean that instead of getting a 2 sentence canned answer, I'll get a three or four sentence response? No thanks.

(double sigh)

With this being said, things could be worse. I could still be stressed out from having to live in a big city. I could still be stuck in the same old friendships with ungrateful moochers who thought that I was "all about the money." I could be financially destitute and homeless like those unfortunate souls on the street corners (even out here in my rural area) who carry signs that say, "Hard times. Anything helps."

My life isn't perfect but I'm reasonably well off.

I'm also grateful to have found this site.

Regards,

David

Welcome to Wrong Planet!

Welcome to Wrong Planet,

I did not discover I was on the spectrum until the 11th month of my 63rd year. Like you, I also was delighted as I finally had an explanation for why things were so weird in my life. When I was much younger, I worked night shift in a hospital and we had Vietnam vets working with us. When lightning struck the window, they hit the floor and were under the table before the thunder arrived. So I don't think you are alone in that.

There are a lot of interesting people on this forum and I think you will find others who have similar problems.

Thanks for taking the time to read my somewhat long post and for taking the time to reply.

I suspect that there are quite a few of us older folk who were never diagnosed. You and I grew up at a time when seeing a shrink was a cause for social stigma. It simply wasn't done.

The only reason I learned that I was autistic was that the special ed coordinator told me that I'd be getting a new student who was autistic. I didn't know what autism was, so I googled it. As I read through the symptoms, I began to think that this sounded a lot like me.

I took two different self-diagnosis tests which indicated that I was autistic. I subsequently saw a clinical psychologist for a confirmed diagnosis.

When I told my family, one of my cousins said, "Geez Dave ... you're only finding about this now? We've know this for years." (Eye roll) As to how my cousins knew, one of their best friends was autistic and he allegedly had character traits that were quite similar to mine.



That was really an eye opener for me. I used to think that only members of the Armed Forces had PTSD. As it turns out, civilians who live in a war zone can also get PTSD.

When I asked the doctor why I hadn't had problems while living abroad, he speculated that it was BECAUSE I was living abroad that I kept my emotional guard up. After returning stateside, I let my guard down and was slammed with flashbacks that were apparently triggered by the crash of thunder.



This is good to know. I've only been on this site for a few days and I've found it to be quite welcoming. I especially appreciate the fact that I haven't encountered any trolls. I really don't understand why some forums are overrun with cyber-bullies. One of the apparent downsides to the internet is that anonymity has emboldened some people to say and do things that they would NEVER do in real life if they were face to face with the person they were picking on.

Hi, David. Your opening post was interesting and quite well written. I suggest that you challenge yourself to a couple of changes, that are possible for autistic people although not always comfortable. You were quite dismissive of the therapist who did not reach you in that chat place. My first thought was, "this was a deviation from her normal routine, and she just plain FORGOT." The second online therapy place, you were unforgiving of her boilerplate response "I can see you are concerned... how do you feel?" Again, though unsatisfying to you, this is a somewhat standard therapy maneuver.

So the challenge is, you should give more second chances, if you want to improve your social support. Not like buying a complete stranger a mobility scooter, but like responding directly to the therapists you rejected, and letting them know how you FEEL. (Note: you probably have an element of alexithymia "no words for feelings" as it is characteristic of autistic people, and this is something the therapist would have gauged from your response.")

The second challenge is to work on having some friendships, however limited. Sooner or later, at your age, you are going to need more social support. Living alone in quiet solitude sounds serene, but it won't provide you your growth.

Anyway, this subforum is about saying hello, which you've done and I've done. I know I have responded to another post of yours in another subforum. I like your writing style and hope to engage with you more.

Have a great day!

My initial reaction was to think, "Ewwww ... NO!"

I realize that this reaction was entirely reflexive.

I will think about it.

I used to be on SeniorPeopleMeet. I didn't get many emails and most people I wrote to ignored me. I went on a couple of dates ... this was BEFORE I learned I was autistic. Nothing panned out.

After learning I was autistic, I updated my profile to include this fact and within 24 hours I had over a dozen emails from women who wanted to start a conversation with me.

My reaction was to panic and to cancel my membership.

To this day I have no idea who these people were or why they wanted to talk to me. I'm not even curious as to why they were writing to me.

I will think about what you said. At this point, my lifestyle is so ingrained and comfortable that it's rather like wearing a favorite pair of bedroom slippers or a bathrobe.

I'm not motivated to change. Intellectually I agree that my lifestyle choice may be sub-optimal. To some extent I feel like a little kid, pulling the covers over his head and whining, "But I don't wanna." (sigh)

Ugh ... and this thought just triggered a flashback of my mother screaming at me to get up for school and my father flipping the bed over so that I tumbled onto the floor.

I hope I can get this thought out of my head otherwise I'll have to sleep on my lazy boy recliner tonight instead of sleeping in my bed.

(sigh)