Hello. I'm a late diagnosee (is that a word?) by a shrink last year who when running through my laundry list of symptoms was the first one in ten years to look at my depression as a symptom, not a diagnosis. Found my way here via Google having read this in the Guardian today:
I'm 50 and was diagnosed last year. Before then, I had no idea why social interaction was so hard. I thought everybody else had the same difficulties, but had overcome them. What strength of will they must have, I thought – look how easily they make eye contact; I must have a bad attitude, I simply can't be trying hard enough.
Decades ago, I learned to pretend I was coping by developing a passive, quiet exterior. I would still, when I plucked up the courage, expend enormous mental effort trying and failing to make conversation, while attempting to micro-manage disastrously inappropriate body language: standing too close, awkward gestures and a mask-like expression.
Now, I feel more lonely than ever. Diagnosis has brought increased self-knowledge, but it doesn't make things easier. Even now, I generally cannot think of a single thing to say; except, that is, for the painfully idiosyncratic responses that jam my brain.
How can they interact with each other so unselfconsciously, inhabit their lives so fully, be so comfortable in their own skin? I have tried and tried, but I cannot comprehend what life must be like for them.
I like people, I long to have friends and, most of all, to be in a relationship. The bottom line is, human beings were not meant to have to live like this. Social interaction is a basic human need.
Note: I'm not 50, I'm 40 but this really, really speaks to me.
15 Jan 2011, 2:42 pm
