Masakados wrote:
It's been like this for a while and I've just gotten used to it. I just see life as an endurance test. Sure I have my "special interests" but they're just more things for everyone to criticize me about.
I'm not as negative in some ways (I like people... at a distance), but I have seen life as an endurance test since I can remember and I just don't care about anything I'm told I'm supposed to care about, up to and including maintenance stuff (where it's an annoyance every time I use something, but somehow not enough of an annoyance to do anything about it). Not sure if that's quite where you're at, but I'm thinking it's in the ballpark.
Masakados wrote:
I don't even get bullied though. Apparently, according to other people, people actually like me.
Never got bullied and a lot of people liked me. Frankly, I think part of the reason I didn't get bullied is the fact that I really didn't care if people liked me. I know some people on the spectrum really want friends, but I never cared that much. Since I was never trying to make friends, I was perceived as more of a cryptic cool person who makes random remarks than as someone who is trying to butt in where they're not wanted or something. So I didn't have any close friends but a lot of people were fine with hanging out with me at school or whatnot.
I didn't understand why people liked me, either. I'm female, and I don't understand why my husband puts up with me, because I by no means do all the stuff loving wives are supposed to do. All I can figure is that being undemanding and non-judgmental is a real selling point with some people. I think I am pretty judgmental about some things -- I used to challenge bullies sometimes, and then it would be all awkward because the person being bullied thought I wanted to be friends with them, when I didn't -- but I don't often bother to bring it up.
Masakados wrote:
I'm sure some of what I feel is due to age but I'm positive that isn't all.
I go on crusades and hate injustice and am passionate in that sense sometimes, but most of my life has been a battle to care about much of anything, ever. Sometimes I think it does slide into outright depression -- "I could get out of bed, but what's the point?" -- but most of the time it's more like "there is no meaning to this activity" or "what little meaning I can attach to this activity does not justify the effort of the activity." Being able to do the few things that do matter to me -- writing or research on issues that interest me, no matter how obscure, mostly -- helps a lot.
I think it's less that life has no meaning to me, and more than what gives life it's meaning for me are things everyone else thinks a waste of time. Most people get meaning out of socializing, for instance, and i don't, really. Certain relationships do matter to me, but even the ones that matter to me don't necessarily motivate me to do things that maintain them or things that other people would do if the relationship mattered to them that strongly. My husband says he's never doubted my love for him, but I think that's because he's wired a little oddly as well -- he doesn't doubt my love because he knows I've made the choice to love him and won't change my mind, where most people would need me to perform little acts of service or give them gifts or otherwise demonstrate that love on a regular basis to feel loved.
I am intellectually aware that community is important and friendships are important and yadda yadda, but doing the work to maintain these things still seems meaningless to me. Ditto more concrete maintenance kinda stuff -- of course I prefer to live somewhere clean and where repairs are made regularly, but I just don't care enough to do much about it. And so on. I do -- or did, back when I was going to school and/or working -- a lot of little daily things because it's been pounded into me that I must, wearing clean clothes and whatnot, and some of it I do because it's a habit or a ritual and I feel funny not doing it, not because I really care one way or another.
For me, apathy is not a problem so long as I can do the few things I care about often enough to avoid depression. Depression is definitely a problem, when it takes over. I kind of need to escape myself -- escape into fiction or into ideas, where I'm unaware of myself as a self -- a lot, and if I don't have the energy to do that, it's a problem, and, past a certain point, depression can make that kind of escape difficult. At the best of times, I have a bit of satisfaction that I've gotten this or that writing done, but I still don't really care about much.
As others have said, this can be a good or bad thing. Personally, I'd rather be apathetic than massively depressed and passive at one end, or anxious and angry and driven at the other, and those seem to be the only options.