When understanding doesn't help

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I have all these weird and bad memories of being rejected or shut out or treated strangely - four decades worth - and now I have this diagnosis which finally makes the whole thing comprehensible.

So what?

If they had known I was autistic, would those people have liked me more? Rejected me less? Would I have been able to avoid doing whatever it was that alienated them?

It doesn't make any difference. I am still not able to connect the way I would like. Other will still find me odd in an off-putting way.

I have these moments of keen recall of these particular moments, and now I realize what was going on, but it doesn't make it less painful.

I guess I can use the knowledge to forgive the people who were particularly sh***y to me, but it really doesn't help.

Does anyone wrestle with the same moments of recognition/realization and come up with something more positive?

These thoughts are depressing me this morning.

yes.

no, i don't think it would have changed how people treated me. i'm 48 and back in the day there was little support or intervention or reporting to identify children of abuse or "different" children unless they were below a certain intelligence threshold and then they got in special ed.

however it would have changed my perception of the abuse, the bullying, the teasing. maybe not so much the abuse - that was traumatizing regardless. i knew that was bad and wrong, but it still effected my sense of self-worth. the rest of it though - the messages i got, not only that i was bad and different and defective, but that it was a reflection of my *personal choice* - not only in childhood, but later from poorly trained therapists - that might have changed. i think it would have, because it already has changed my self-perception.

i am able to have compassion for myself where before i felt only disappointment and self-loathing. why was i different? what was wrong with me? was i just a bad person? i didn't have any respect for myself because of the choices i thought i was making. or i just felt resentment and anger toward those who i believed were responsible for my defectiveness, who had broken me. i still feel angry about the abuse, and how it's limited my life today through severe complex PTSD, but now i also know that some of it was NOT that i was truly defective, immature, selfish, weak, but that i am DIFFERENT and there are ways of working with those differences and valuing those differences. i no longer see myself as purely compulsive - i have special interests and that is normal *for me*. i no longer see myself as weak but rather incredibly strong. i no longer seem myself as defective, merely in a minority of the population that is misunderstood. i am not selfish and self-centered (necessarily) - i am self-protective and self-focussed because i feel vulnerable and alone and struggle to understand myself. i may not have the "maturity" of many of my peers, but I have my own unique way of being and seeing the world, and there is nothing inherently wrong with it; in fact i can value that i retain a certain youthful freshness of outlook (not all the time, not when i am feeling worn down, but i can recapture it in a way i'm not sure NT's can) and out-right youthfullness in spite of my nearly white hair. nobody thinks i'm nearly as old as i am.

i hope some part of that helps. i'm not sure that captures everything for me, i'm not 100% clear on why knowing my condition helps, but it does seem to help.

I struggle constantly with feeling sad and overwhelmed. I think it's because every time I have found a bit of peace, one or more people have seen that this woman (me) is doing annoying things (I've no idea what) and felt irritated enough they needed to try to stop me.

There are certainly many bullies in the world, there are also many people who are very decent. And I think most adults want to see themselves as good. It's hard to explain what I mean, because there definitely can be in some people a need to knock others over, and what I feel is that it is hard to let myself trust or let go of the bad because when I do, the decent people don't see me as knocked down and they are prone to attacking, too, so I get hurt more. And feel betrayed as now, those I started to trust are in on the bullying. Despite all the bullies, there are also the people who won't attack when I'm down, at least not directly and not at that moment. But when doing ok, people feel comfortable expressing their annoyance about the pettiest things!

So, for me, as long as I have the experience and belief that allowing myself not to be afraid and overwhelmed by traumatic memories will invite further assaults on me, I know I can't feel happy, it's impossible. I don't know whether you have the same experience, but since your mind, like mine, is keeping you focused on the dangerous and frightening aspects of the world, I suspect you, like me, may have a mind that is trying to protect you from being further hurt. And the constant mini assaults don't help much either.

I see a therapist who recommended EMDR, but I think they are afraid to try it on me because they have trouble reading and understanding my weird (I've tried to learn to be feminine to fit in, so when I seem Aspie it's apparently weird) reactions to things. I don't know if EMDR is an option for you, it doesn't seem to be for me. I've read good things about it for what I think you are describing. And one doesn't seem to need a formal PTSD diagnosis for it to be used and help.

I guess the only other positive thing I can say is that I experienced as much or more pain when I was younger and before I learned about ASD. And I didn't feel I fit in, but I also believed it might be possible to connect. Thinking abut myself as autistic and damaged and defective is me bullying myself, and periodically I realize the reality how much I have overcome and learned and wonder, how did the price tag for being able to learn to play a role in the world more so as people want become that I could not ever fit in or be acceptable? Only it isn't, it's what I do in pursuit of acceptance by others of labeling everything unusual I do as autistic and bad rather than accepting and enjoying. I don't know how so can't tell you what to do to achieve this, but I do think from the patterns that people accepted me less but also more before I saw myself as broken. And I think we have to see ourselves as somehow being likable and worth befriending to get past the disconnect that comes with always trying to adapt to become acceptable in a neurotypical world. We have to somehow keep trying, to not try so hard to change, and people have to see us placing value on ourselves rather than seeing ourselves as social misfits

I hope I haven't offended you, I don't know how much of this applies to you, but maybe something helps a bit.

I've been through the same moments post diagnosis.

The hardest part of forgiveness for me, wasn't actually the forgiveness of those who were sh***y to me. It was my parents and family.

I realized that they had seen so many things about me, but had just completely failed to connect the dots that I was f****d up. This wasn't only with the autism but also with my mood cycling, and being transgender. I came out to them that I was transgender, and then my AS/HFA took over and I couldn't stand breaking my routine and dealing with everyone about it, I lied and said I was cured of it. They were flat out told by the psych I hadn't resolved it, but they let it go and did nothing to push me to get it figured out.

I had to connect the dots all on my own. It was somewhat amusing with each thing about me. When I figured each out, and let them know, the sudden realizations they had about my childhood. How they finally got why I had the problems I had. But it also hurt. How did my parents drop the ball on not one thing but three things with me? My mother admitted to knowing I had mood cycles and for some reason stopped pursuing a diagnosis for me after her initial attempt. She also admitted that from a very young-age I cross-dressed quite a bit at home, and at day-car with the play clothes, and at my grandmothers house with the play clothes. My grandmother had a life size doll of a small girl. I was the same size when I was four. I stole the clothes off it to go outside and change into them. I got caught and I was told I wasn't supposed to wear these clothes, I was then asked why, and I said, I just wanted to be pretty like the girl-doll. I attempted to put myself in the special ed class in the 2nd grade because I knew I was different, and my parents laughed but didn't question why I did this. I was bombarded throughout my childhood that I was special, and unique and different from others, which is nice in a quaint way, but absolutely useless for dealing with problems. Why did I have to go to speech therapy as a kid when I was told there was nothing wrong with me, and although I'm better for it today, still have speech issues. Why was I constantly bullied, and teased. Why was I getting into fights,detention, and suspension after getting pushed into the corner by the other sh***y children and breaking. Why did I attempt suicide when I was 14. Why didn't my parents figure any god damn thing out and do something about it?

I struggled with this. I loved them because they did so many good things for me in life. Yet I felt a disgust and hatred was interwoven with the love because I knew I was f****d up and I knew they could have done something, yet hadn't.

I then had to look at everything that was going on at the time, and I finally grasped what life and human nature was. My parents were just as messed up as my brother and I. I feel my mother also has AS. She has so many of the symptoms but won't go see a psych for it. Both of my parents did things that weren't the best or brightest they could for themselves or for my brother and I. The way my father describes the marriage, he only went after my mother because she was convenient. He also later admitted he was Gay, and I feel, he got married because he wanted to hide it from friends, family and church.

I realized that they were just has human, and as prone to making mistakes as anyone else. They lost that perfection I viewed them with as parents. They are people. They are human. And I found I couldn't fault them for being capable of messing up.

I reached that point where I could remove the pain and disgust towards them. Everyone else also became easier to do this for. Everyone who was sh***y to me, or hurt me, is human, and they didn't make the best choice they could have at the moment. Anything could explain away why they did what they did to me. This isn't to say they were justified, but I realized the how of it and that the why wasn't all that important. Some mistakes are minor and easily glossed over. Some mistakes are life-long and affect many.

Like you say, I still don't connect. People are still sh***y.

I do what I need to for survival. I avoid what hurts. I go for what I can enjoy. I still have issues.

But I don't have to hold the hate and disgust within me towards others.

It helps in that the new understanding, this paradigm shift, can help you to side step problems in the future. Also, over time, it helps you to redefine the past. Some of your problems were self-inflicted, and now you can do something about it. Most of them were probably not your fault, and legitimately shifting the blame makes a difference.

What good is it to make the shift from a geocentric paradigm to a heliocentric paradigm? It doesn't really change any of the concrete realities in the life on an individual in this moment but, then again, it changes everything.

I have my own "maturity." I'm good at some things and stink at others. Using the word, "immaturity" implies that it's something you can alter.
(Analagy time: My mother, in her prime, was five-foot-nothin. I don't know how tall she is now. She is not "immature." She's just short. She doesn't need time or drugs or therapy to "grow up." She doesn't need to be motivated or harrassed or punished. Intervention would not have changed her when she was a kid, and it certainly won't change anything now. At the age of 85, this is it, and it ain't gonna to change.)

I don't know anything about EMDR, but I do have an argument with "PTSD" in general.
"POST" is the operative word in "Post Traumatic Stress." If the problem still exists; if you haven't found a solution and know for a fact that it will happen again; if it's not in the past, it is not "Post."

If it is not truly "Post," then it is not a "Disorder" at all.
Most of the time, when I hear someone talk about PTS, I hear, "Please give me drugs so that I can better tolerate that wolf while he chews my leg off," or "Please give me therapy and all the BS you've got so that I won't be afraid to ram my head into that brick wall. Again."

Fear has survival value. Why would anyone even want to get over it when the threat is still very real? If you are still living in that war zone, you need to be on your toes. If the someone who hurt you is still alive, or if the situation is still a reality that can hurt you again, you should be afraid so that you can protect yourself.

Then comes understanding and/or forgiveness, if possible. I needed, first of all, to get away from my parents. I needed to change the actual, physical reality. Years later, I needed to find a way to forgive them. Or rather, my mother. My father was beyond forgiveness (and is conveniently gone now) and I can accept that and move on.

If the reality has really changed, if they can't hurt you any more, and you are still having nightmares that serve no rational purpose, then talking about "PTSD" would make sense.

I get no comfort looking at the past, other than comparing myself back then to who I am now. It shows me that it is possible for me to improve my social skills (and everything else). Knowing that I can make my life better give me hope for the future. My past is a horror story emotionally. I try not to go back there unless I absolutely have to.

I do have to say that understanding AS has helped me to forgive myself for my shortcoming. I realize that I was doing the best that I could. I didn't get diagnosed until well into adulthood. You don't know what you don't know. You know what I mean?

This realization has fallen on me like a ton of bricks this year.

I guess the thing about understanding the past is that you are supposed to be able to learn from it so that you don't repeat the sam mistakes.

The understanding I have now is that I haven't understood a lot of what was going on around me all my life and that I can't learn from what I don't perceive. The only lessons is to know that I probably won't understand what is going in the future either.

It all seems a bit bleak and depressing.

Well, yes. But. What it does do is allow you to say to people: "Here is a range of things I will not notice because I cannot. Not because I'm not trying, or I'm selfish, or obstinate, or what have you: neurologically, cannot, do not have the nerve endings for these things. So if you want to save us both a lot of hurt and frustration, here's what to expect from me, and what you can't expect from me."

There is going to remain a slice of the population -- a largish slice -- that doesn't believe it's a real thing and that you are in fact making excuses. Avoid those people as far as you possibly can. They're the same people who don't believe that depression is real, a whole bunch of other disorders are real, and they're essentially meanspirited people who think the rest of the world is trying to rob them. That, or they have miserable conceptions of what "disorder" means and can't stand to think one exists in anyone in their circles. (My own mother-in-law, a psychologist, refused to believe her son was mentally ill even after he'd been placed on disability for it. Kept sending him job clippings. The man wasn't able to work fulltime for another seven years.)

So just stay away from these people. But the rest -- you know, the diagnosis will allow them more insight, and (one hopes) an easier mode of living together. Will there be bumps from that understanding, probably. That Ashley whosis book, the one where she's talking about her husband -- holy crap, did the first part of it sound offensive. And frankly, what I read of the rest of it -- who died and left her king explainer? But it did sound like the two of them were getting somewhere.

One thing my ex did that was great -- before I understood what was up with him, and he was applying for jobs and asking me to read his cover letters and resumes, he'd stop me cold when I'd say things like, "Well, obviously -- " and the like. And explain that none of this was obvious to him, and that I had to explain like all of it was new, because he had never been able to understand what people were looking for and why, and that he used to rely on his sister to read his resumes, and he was just following her advice. (His sister was a wealthy housewife in a part of the country where you don't toot your own horn, you rent your own Jumbotron. She'd never actually had a job.) Also that people "obviouslyed" him all the time, and it was cruel of them and he resented it deeply. It made me stop and think about what I was saying, and what I was expecting of him, and that it was indeed unthinking and unfair.

I don't think it's reasonable to expect that sort of reaction all the time, but it can make a difference.

In some areas you will always be deficient. In other areas, you are completely competent. Knowing that helps. In social situations, you can learn when you need to hold back, and which types of moments are the most dangerous. You can also learn to trust certain friends and relatives who seem to always be right about social issues. In science (or whatever your best interests are) you can trust yourself. You can learn to go with your strengths whenever possible and play down the weaknesses. Go where you can bloom.

I also think it's easy to lose sight of what you can do when you're focused on what you're missing, socially. I've spent a lot of time -- a lot -- beating myself up for not having achieved what I thought I ought to've achieved. Ideas generated in college, during a bombastic time, and in the company of seriously rich kids whose families have helped them all the way through. In absolutely no way was I prepared to do the sort of jobs I thought were part of the obvious trajectory -- these high-powered things are for people who already know how to operate in strong, tight networks of wealthy people, or who are unusually acute, socially, and can figure it out on the fly. And who have backing from their rich families.

And 25 years on, here I am, a single mom, no family, almost completely isolated socially, functioning poorly in a backwater university science department, trying to live amongst the curdled and the formerly ambitious who've come here to see their careers die, because in truth it was (for almost all of them) the very best they could do.

The thing is, though, I know what I'm good at. I have a sense of just how good I am, too. The things that make me that good are bound up inextricably, I suspect, with the things that make me a poor backwater university staff person. They -- combined with the facts of no money and single motherhood -- also mean I work slowly, very slowly. And that success will come late if it comes at all. I also know that whether people find me and what I have to say valuable depends largely on how panicked they are. People are pretty panicked these days, and I don't see signs that this is improving. But that's not a reflection on me.

AS is deeply inconvenient, and if you're not careful, you can harm people you love. But for the rest...some perspective is not a bad thing.

Thanks, Tarantella64.

A little bit of perspective is not bad. I was kind of hoping it would be more good--but not bad is better than bad.

I want to be a better husband, father, friend and worker. I wish I could see clearly enough to know when I am doing badly in time to forestall/divert/avoid that and create the space to do something better.

But the introspective journey that followed the diagnosis has only made it very clear that while I do see somethings with extreme clarity, there are other areas where I have massive blind spots.

I guess I need to stop thinking about it and go back to doing the best I can in every situation.

It seems like I was able to do pretty well in youth, then just get by in middle age and now that I am nearing 50, things are falling apart. I wish I knew how to turn that around. I am going to try to take Opi's advice about nutrition and sleep.

Yes.

Tarantella's recent posts that I've seen have helped me get that buying into the idea we are awful for minor social missteps is possibly the reason things are harder as one gets older and sees more.

Because people want us normal, yes, but most of all, what people want is life to be easier and anything we do makes it harder, they don't like us. Anything we do makes their life easier, they do.

There's a lot of need in the world. It's a tool, it will help you. Otherwise people destroy you. But I'm not thinking normal is what they are after from us anymore, that's too literal an interpretation.

People just want their lives easier. Give that to them, they are happy.

Thanks Waterfalls, I had not seen it with this instrumental perspective.

That's a very wise, evidence-based perspective: working in concert with the self-interest of others is almost always a good idea.

I guess the key is not to grind up abrasively against those areas where their interests are opaque.

Me, too. I used to be hot. Then not so hot. Then passable. Then old. People respond to the way you look more than anything else. For the most part, no one cares what you do as long as you look good doing it.

When I was in my 20's, I didn't know why things were working and figured it was because I was doing an adequate job. I can see now why they put up with me then, and why they don't any more. By the time you get old, you need to be really, really good at what you do or no one will tolerate it.

wow this is a great point. nicely put too.

i also am enjoying tarantella's posts (and yours (Adamantium) and Waterfalls).

Last edited by Opi on 30 Mar 2014, 3:15 pm, edited 1 time in total.