btbnnyr wrote:
Considering how important this "autistic aloneness" is, it's surprising that it hasn't made its way into all the books about autism.
When I was a kid, I was a classic example of the autistic child who was completely socially aloof and completely ignored people, so I'll try to explain what it was like for the OP.
The outwards behavior was that I appeared to be in my own world and took no notice of others. People called my name, and I didn't answer. It was like they were not there. I displayed no reaction whatsoever. People spoke to me, and I didn't speak back, even to questions addressed to me. Again like they were not there. I didn't look at them either. No acknowledgment of their presence. But if they gave me explicit directions to do something, e.g. tuck my shirt into my pants, I could do it, but did not give any indication that I was going to comply before complying. I never initiated any communications with anyone. I never greeted my parents when they appeared in the room. When I was a baby, I never responded to my parents playing with me over my crib.
On the inside, what it felt like was this: There was no difference between people and objects in my mind, and I didn't know that there was such a thing as communication. When people called my name, I heard my name, and that was it. It was like I had heard a car passing on the street. End processing. There was no social meaning to the sound of my name. The idea of responding didn't occur to me, and the sound of my name meant nothing beyond the sound itself. Same for when people spoke to me about anything. The idea of responding didn't occur to me, but if they said to do something that I knew how to do from connecting the action with the sound of the words to do the action, then I could do it, no problem. My mother always used the same words when she told me to do each thing, so I could do what she wanted just fine. The teachers at preschool and school sometimes used different words, so that was sometimes a problem for me, and I just gave the appearance of not hearing them at all.
So this whole time that I was effectively alone in my own world, was I struggling to communicate? Did I feel locked-in? Did I suffer from being so alone? No, not at all. Because I had no idea what communication was. How I could miss something that I didn't know existed? Everything was great, and I had a very happy childhood. I did my few activities alone and hyperfocused. I felt happy to be living almost entirely in my own mind, with brief forays into the external world to have my physical needs taken care of. I had bad motor skills as a kid, so my parents didn't expect me to do much physical stuff. They didn't want me to, for fear of accidents. I was totally happy in my own internal world. In my mind, everything was great. I was learning a lot from my reading and drawing and block-stacking and lining stuff up. I taught myself arithmetic before age three from arranging piles of dirt into patterns. There was no need at all to connect with another person, and I was not aware that such a need existed.
As a child, I was alone and happy. On the outside, I appeared to be "locked-in", a description that could not be farther from the truth. On the inside, that was the best time in my life, before the 8-10 age range when I started to take notice of people, because I was totally free from what I now call the "social prison". If given a choice between being "locked-in" to myself or being "locked-in" to the social prison, then I would definitely choose freedom.
Sorry this post is kind of incoherent. I just blabbed it here, without really organizing my thoughts on the topic.
No this post is really interesting, in my opinion. I can't say I felt exactly the same way you did but the way you expressed it triggered a lot of nostalgia in me. I felt a tiny bit differently, I remember that "hearing my name" thing, but in my head, even though I wasn't turning my eyes to the person's face or indicating in any way that I had heard them, I remember holding the sound in my head, ready to hear what would follow. Sometimes nothing followed, the person kept saying my name (probably waiting for me to look at them, i now realize of course) and I stopped holding on to the sound, thinking "it was nothing". Like someone had said my name by accident or something. I remember when people said an actual sentence to me, responding in my head or, more exactly, thinking about it. "go put this in your bedroom": -" well, so where exactly would it go, wait what does she mean, what am I supposed to take then? " and if I had no idea of the steps necessary , I would just do nothing at all and go back to more important things. Like my book.
I wasn't ever sad at the time, I became sad when , around the same age as you, I started trying to interact and make friends, because it seemed like it was expected of me. But before 7 or 8 years ol, I don't remember ever being sad, i remember the warmth of my blanket, the life and laughter in the books I used to read, I felt safe.
26 Oct 2011, 9:54 am
