Hi all
My name is bungleton and I'm pretty damn sure I have Aspergers.
I say pretty damn sure because from age 15 I started to self-medicate with the usual alcohol/drug combo to combat a depression that's been around for as long as I can remember. I've tried posting on ASD forums before to be told 'that's not an ASD' (describing anomolies in my visual field like seeing glowing patterns delineated in carpets, constantly changing, as well as the curious feeling of my perception extending around my head in a halo...)
Okay, so that stuff might not have anything to do with Aspergers or whatnot but it's definitely interesting. About 3-4 years ago my friend helped conduct a study as part of her psychology degree on 'autistic traits in the visual field,' as in it covered things like tracking objects, differentiating the direction of different objects moving against each other etc.
I was in the high 'risk' category at the outcome of the tests (I begged her to take note of my tracking number and tell me my score. When she asked if I was interested I jumped at it, as I've always felt 'different' and sure as hell have been told that I am by my peers. To a degree it's a treasured trait of mine, many of my friends have taken to referring to certain kinds of music as 'bungleton music,' the same with art (generally if it's f*****g weird, repetetive and geometric.)
So that was the start. My friend said 'you scored high on these tests but don't worry about it...' I wasn't worried at all, I was elated. Finally, a thread to tug at. Reading further into the spectrum I discovered that depression, anxiety and a pervasive sense of lonelines are often felt as a result of living with an ASD. Check, check, check. Particularly the loneliness part. It's insane. Crushing. I'm sure many of you reading this know what I'm talking about which is comforting.
I could write for days on my own perceived symptoms, and I guess it's probably a good time to reiterate that I'm formally undiagnosed, but the more I read about this and that relating to being on the spectrum the more I feel a surge of emotion and empathy towards the sensations described. I f*****g hate the TV, I used to watch it but now it makes me feel ill, both on a philosophical level (systematic dumbing down of the population, standard conspiracy stuff here,) and aurally- the way that ads in particular are processed, compressed etc. drives me up the wall. I'm currently sitting in my room upstairs and my housemate's downstairs watching the TV. I can't hear the box itself too well but he giggles at whatever vacuuous s**t is on every so often and that sound cuts right through me. I often get really pissed off with him because he speaks too quickly and in a thick accent, so I can't hear a word he's saying. I feel terrible about that because externally, I'm just being a dickhead and short-tempered.
I think that's one of the main things that has driven me to engage with this community-- sound sensitivity. Lack of 'filters,' whatever you want to call it. Everything coming in at once. With over a years' sobriety now and having tapered off with my drug use to now not wanting to use at all, I appear to have broken through some threshold in the last few weeks and now everything's f*****g in-tense. Being in public is a protracted panic attack. I quite rudely took a week of sick leave because the last shift I did nearly saw me throwing a full-blown rage tantrum because I was being closed in (I'm a kitchenhand in a small kitchen, there were 7 front of house staff who seemed to be coming in at exactly the same time, constantly blocking my exit path... I often walk the length of the kitchen because I can't stand being cornered,) and to me, the noise was exceedingly loud, nails-in-the-eardrums loud...
Also... Social defecits, oh yes indeed. Being around people is exhausting and I constantly feel that I'm letting everyone down when I have to take extended isolation breaks. I'm at a bit of a loss because right here, right now, in my room with my laptop, typing this, surrounded by fabric from my latest artistic venture (patchwork! It's amazing!!) chocolate (female-related comfort food, you bet I'll be getting to that soon enough,) and the wordy tomes 'Alcoholism - the Biochemical Connection' and 'The Autistic Mind' by Temple Grandin and Richard Panek (I select books for purchase by walking into bookstores and looking straight at shelves. When I am meant to buy something, it's just THERE,) I am content; well, mostly content... As content as I can be after that whole thing where you think a potential relationship thing's going grand and then suddenly it's all seemingly something that's been in your own perception...
This post is severely disorganised, hey... Lots to relate. I hope it reads well enough to follow.
One of the things that spurred me into seriously researching ASD came about a year after the visual tests described above. I'd started seeing a psychologist in regards to suicidal depression, and early on in the piece referred to me as a 'philosopher,' and 'high-functioning.' I remember tweaking at the term 'high-functioning,' as I'd only ever heard it used in relation to autism before. That's where it started to click a bit more for me, and I read a bit more into it. That's where behaviours which I engage in when alone or in public and in full freak-out mode, like rocking, hand waving, vocalisations (either word fragments or 'EE!', 'AH!' like Cezanne from Cube,) started to make a bit more sense. As a child I used to do things like climb between my mattress and the bed base etc... The other night when I was having a big obsessive depressive attack about this poor girl whom I have taken a shining to, I ended up on the floor and goddamnit, if I could have ground myself into the carpet any further I would have...
I spoke to another psychologist about it, describing the perceptual halo and visual disturbances, high anxiety and sound sensitivity etc and she told me not to think about whether I'm autistic or whatnot. She didn't want me labelling myself or denying my ability to accomplish certain things on account of an ASD which is fair enough, but doesn't account for the fact that I obsess about things f*****g big-time. This was about the time I posted on an ASD forum and was quite curtly told 'that's not ASD,' which discouraged me for a while... But f**k... I can't deny it. It makes too much sense.
Finally got the chance to bring up the situation in its' entirety with my regular psych, (who loves using analogies from the Hitchhikers' Guide and most recently discussed the Litany Against Fear from Dune as a contemplation for surviving anxiety/depressive episodes without drugs,) I'd messaged him about a year and a half ago saying I wanted to discuss this very issue with him, but haven't had the chance to follow up until this week. Finally got to talk to him about it and he said 'Oh yeah, definitely... Either Aspergers or ADHD.' Which is for the most part a very positive thing. The only things that get me down are my inability to get certain things done (basically anything that involves coordinating forms, applications etc,) without falling into a very disorganised mess and those god damned romantic relationships... Arrrgh so here we go.
I've gotten quite used to girls not sharing an interest in me. My interests are eccentric to say the least, I'm terrible at interpreting non-verbal cues, I have what is referred to as 'one-itis,' as in to say when I meet a girl that I like, I am interested only in her, and automatically click into obsessive thought mode which I find very hard to break out of, nigh on impossible.
Anyway. Met this wonderful girl at a party about a month ago. There I was, being really f*****g awkward in one corner of the room, making half-arsed conversation with people I knew, largely distracted by the music in the background and the crowd of noisy drunk people in the center of the room. I had brought my full-colour laser and was mostly watching how quickly it strobes to make the geometric shapes it was painting on the wall. I noticed that there's a very thin thread through each of the patterns where the laser must return to its' default position to redraw the shapes. Uhh... Anyway.
She was at the other end of the room and instantly caught my eye because she looked precisely as awkward as I felt, half-engaging in conversation and generally looking like she wanted to go home. I resolved to speak to her. My chance came later in the night, when she was in an open conversation with a friend. I walked up and made a comment; she GLARED at me. I faded into the background. Later on I found myself listening to the music that was on with my friend the laser; most of the people were gone and I actually got the chance to talk to her. I brute-forced my way into engaging her in conversation, and it actually turned out that we have a lot of common interests, things like drug policy and particularly, fast dance music. I put some dark psytrance on and we danced until my phone ran out of battery. The next morning we sat outside and talked for another 4 hours, straight, about all sorts of things... The conversation was easy, we were both fully engaged, her body language seemed really open??
Anyhow. I've seen her 5 times since then, we've gone for dinner mostly, went to see a play the other week, last night we hung out and watched Evangelion, I worked on a patch while she worked on her own designs. It was really nice, really comfortable, though she was definitely a bit reserved. When I left I tried to give her an extra hug to try and communicate some of the feeling I have towards her. It went awkwardly. As though she wanted but didn't want the contact.
Naturally there were tears on the way home, but rather than defaulting to the 'why why why won't anyone like me' train of thought, I resolved to try and understand it from her perspective. At least a little. I went home and continued reading Temple's book and articles on ASD, particularly trying to find out about initiating a romantic relationship with an ASD. I have had precisely one girlfriend in the last 9 years, which lasted about 5-6 months and imploded spectacularly when I was told she'd been going home with someone else for a month or so. Getting over the hurt from that was f****d, but hey, it led to me getting sober. Now that the high tide of addiction has receded, the underlying mental issues which drove me to drink have been exposed.
Anyway, the answer came to me this morning. I felt some significance, even from meeting her, in how awkward we both are (we bonded particularly fiercely over how we hate 'people,') and from our conversations. I don't feel alone when I'm with her, which kinda sucks because it seems that I was wrong about the reciprocation of my feelings towards her. I messaged her basically asking if the second hug was too much for her and she said that she finds it hard to express/receive affection (severely paraphrased,) even sneaking out of parties so she doesn't have to hug people goodbye.
I took her out for dinner tonight and had reached the conclusion that I needed to know either way because I'm kinda sick of the whole trying to get this physical lovesick feeling out of me, probably better to just get it over with. So I did it the only way I know how. As we parted I said, 'wait... I have... 3 words... Are we dating?'
She paused and said, 'No. We aren't. It seems like we've been going on dates... But we aren't.' and that was it. She messaged me later apologising 'for being a weirdo' and I asked for clarification but, no reply as yet. Likely going to be one of those things where I get a bit of a heartbreaking message in the next couple of days or nothing at all.
So now I'm home, eating chocolate and surrounded by these items of comfort. I can't help but wonder if we bonded because we process the world in a similar way, but I feel the aching desire to EXPRESS love and she can't handle it so internalises it. I guess maybe that's my hope, that maybe she's just really internally focused and maybe she does love me but can't show it, maybe not yet... But I fear that's just insanity or my own obsessive desire for human contact and a meaningful romantic relationship with someone who understands me.
I'm sorry for the novel... I guess typing this is better than the urge I had to go to an arts night where I know I could have scored some pot and started smoking cigarettes again. For now...
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing....only I will remain
25 Sep 2014, 7:53 am
Anyway, I hope you find the answers you are looking for.
