Aspergers & Getting Older

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Can Aspergers make you worse or bad when you get older? I read that you can control it when you younger.

I would imagine it gets better over time as your learn and such

The Aspergers is probably the same but added stress, responsibilities, and expectations and the natural slowing down of aging can make aspie traits more intense. This is known as "Autistic Burnout".

It feels the same to me, but as I age I find myself not putting in the effort to hide it.

My problem is I am starting to need help as age catches up with me and there is nothing. All of the autistic services seem to be geared towards kids so the "they" act like I should not exist for another 30 years.

A lot of people care less what others think of them as they get older, so maybe it applies to Aspies too. Some of us might just stop trying to mask our symptoms and not care so much any more, especially as you get to an old age.

In the meantime, as a 27-year-old, I feel I have come a long way and some of my social skills are as good as an average NT. Social approval is very important to me, and the more I fit in, the happier I feel about myself.

I would imagine the Aspie lifecycle is as individual as Aspies ourselves.

I was obviously "different" as a child, though back then the understanding of neurodivergence was far more rudimentary...I was intelligent enough that my parents opted not to have me institutionalized, and they found ways to help me through the worst parts, including convincing friends and family that my meltdowns were a perfectly normal response for a high-strung genius child. (Seriously, I'm not a genius. This was their rationalization, and one of the greatest gifts I've ever been given was their rock-solid conviction that my brand of different didn't mean "less than".)

In terms of social ability I hit my peak in my early to mid twenties, and that was also in many ways a convergence of lucky breaks. I was in an area where the gender ratio was roughly 25 guys to 1 woman, so the bar was set pretty low in terms of getting masculine attention/admiration. For all my odd ways, I was a fairly pretty thing, and in that atmosphere my habit of shutting down and ignoring people for extended periods came across as "playing hard to get". It amazed me then, it amazes me still, that someone as awkward and difficult as I am spent almost a decade as one of the popular people. Mind-blowing.

Past that I've become progressively less likely to hide what I am. I'm far less hesitant to tell people I just don't have it in me to run the Human Simulator program today, and those who love me (I'm lucky enough to have a small but dedicated group) understand. They don't snub me, they don't leave...they let me sit in the corner and read a book and be part of the furniture until I'm able to be more personable again.

I guess I see our coping skills as a line with a generally uphill trend over time, while our "I care enough to spend energy on coping skills" is more like a bell curve (with a sharper rise to the left and a longer downhill taper to the right).

It was thought that I should be institutionalized, too.

Luckily, my mother "saw something in my eyes," and refused to institutionalize me.

I didn't say a word until age 5 1/2. I seemed oblivious to everything until that age.

I was described as a "vegetable" by at least one doctor.

20 years ago I spent half the time ranting but had the sense that I was doing something constructive.These days during a meltdown I'm more able to observe myself, the collapse of my persona, the multiplying glitches.
At 45 I'm less reactive, but my reasoning is sketchy as ever.

one either learns to love the reflection in the mirror, and make peace with one's own self as company, or perish.

I wouldn’t say that I “love” myself—but I do believe that I’m “pretty all right.”

^^^^as they say, that's "close enough for gov't work."

I do love myself - but I know it's not due to any quality in me, like innate optimism or irrepressible spirit or anything like that.

My parents gave me that, by adoring me and pulling me through my half-crazy formative years secure in the knowledge that I was smart, special, and pretty near worshiped.

I've tried to give my boys the same start. I'm willing to admit that while I do love myself just as I am...I'm glad they're not Aspies. They're bright, good-looking, and just weird enough to be really fun.

I'm going to visit my nephews tomorrow, they are 3 and aspie or something similar. They are twins so they will always have each other for support. When I take them to the park they want to play near the other children but they don't connect, that's when I feel sad for them. They don't really stay together much without some prompting, and I've got to stop from scootering off in different directions and getting right in the middle of other kids' games.
They haven't started to mask any of their behaviour yet and I pick up other peoples mannerisms so I always feel more aspie after being around them

At 70, despite the frailty of age and various physical ailments, my life has never been so good. I wish I had been born 70!

^ For all the ups, for all the downs, I am past regret. It is what it is, and everyday I get one shot to make the best of it. For the good things, past and present, I feel blessed. For the bad things, I survived them, and what didn't kill me made me stronger. As long as there is love in your life - whether it is love for nature, for people, of from others, or a beloved creature, then the heart and soul are nourished, and that nourishment at any age is a very important factor in well being.

70? Really? You inspire me.

(Claradoon inspires me too )