I’ve always been a social misfit, always trying to fit in and always missing the mark. At age 59, I read "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime," and wondered why people thought Christopher was strange -- I found him to make perfect sense -- and suddenly my life made sense.
I have not been formally diagnosed and I’ll be unlikely to seek professional diagnosis as it seems pointless at age 62. I know who I am and now I’m at peace with me.
I have trouble remembering faces, hair and eye colors, though if everyone I know tossed their shoes into a pile, I’d have no trouble sorting them out. There’s a woman who works at a local store who sometimes dresses casually in jeans and athletic shoes and other times wears a skirt and dressier shoes. It took me nearly a year to be 90% sure she was one employee, not two different people.
Meetings at work are tedious and painful, why does it take people so many words to say so little, and why do they keep talking about their dogs -- I like dogs, but why do they think I’m fascinated hearing that their dog ate dog food and barked at a car yesterday?
I hate Spring because the first time we have a mild day, everybody stands around all day screaming, "OMG, it’s soooo nice out! Have you been outside yet? It’s so nice. You won’t believe how nice it is!" Then they START OPENING WINDOWS. The outside air is very different and this uninvited change overwhelms my senses. Although car windows may occasionally be opened, the passenger window must never be lower than the driver’s -- it feels like the car will fall over.
I have friends I won’t visit because they always have loud music playing in the background (well, their background). I cannot process small talk and music simultaneously. I do like music, but it’s not something to be tossed about casually. I especially like mechanically produced music, marches, and most .MID compositions because their timing is very precise and comforting.
Of course this introduction is all so incomplete, but you already knew that!