Does Asperger’s Make It Harder to Know Yourself?

A few months ago, I made the startling discovery that I don’t really know myself all that well.  In fact, I didn’t even know what I liked to eat—not without considering everyone else around me. That even sounds weird to me. As I write this, I am thinking that I have always known what I liked, and what I didn’t—remember, The Flying Christmas Fork, or I’m Not Wearing That.

When did all that change? When did I completely lose myself?

I was unable to concentrate at home, or get anything at all done. A research project was due for a New Media Writing and Publishing class I was taking, and I could not get two minutes of peace.  So, I grabbed my Ipad and left for the mall (I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go). I figured I would go get a bite to eat, and then head over to Barnes and Nobles, and work on my research.

I strolled into the food court alone, something I never do, and began walking down the line of restaurants all beckoning me to order from their places. I strolled past Primo Pizza and thought, Matty loves the pizza, maybe I should get pizza. A & D Wings, I could split a wings platter with Adam, or get some fries to share with the baby…

The trouble was that none of them were with me. I was lost. I stood there confused, and realized I had no idea what I WANTED TO EAT or WHAT I LIKED TO EAT from the food court. I hadn’t considered what I might really want for a very long time. Not wanting to waste anymore of my precious research time on my decision, I grabbed a philly cheese steak, some fries, and a coke, and then made my way to a table by the window. 

Yes—it was noisy in the food court, but at least I was armed with my ear plugs this time. I popped those babies in, and then went to work researching and nibbling on my food.  I noticed that I didn’t care much for the sandwich, why did I buy that anyway?

A further evaluation revealed my problem was larger than not knowing what I like to eat at the mall.  I no longer really knew what I liked—period.

“What do you like to do?” Someone asked. “Do you have any hobbies?”

No, and I don’t know, was all I could answer, and it was the truth.  I really didn’t know.

Do you know yourself? Do you know your likes and dislikes? I didn’t so—I’ve resolved to figure it out.

I think it is easier to list the things that we like, but harder to admit what we do not. At least, for me, it is. It is easy to say, I like to curl up by myself and read. I like to wrap myself in the softest, furriest, fuzziest blankets I can find. I like to sit here on the computer and blog surf. I like to write, and write, and write. But—what I do not like is probably less acceptable, and brings on the guilt.

It is hard to admit when we do not like things that we are supposed to like, or want to do happily. I do not intend to, or want to work a regular 9-5 job! It is out of my range of possibilities, AND I do not even have the desire. But—I do not entirely like being at home all day long either. I despise housekeeping. I hate cleaning dishes, doing laundry, vacuuming, and cooking three meals per day. These are some things that many women would love to be able to do, but I am lonely. I am frustrated, and constantly feel useless, unaccomplished, and depressed. I want OUT!

I want to get out of the house (not every day) but sometimes, or I want to be able to get some part-time daycare for the little guy so I can have some uninterrupted time to myself, to write, and accomplish something I WANT TO ACCOMPLISH. And, of course, I feel guilty for wanting that little bit of time for me. If I spent my time at a job making money (benefitting the family) then I would feel less guilty, but just so I can enjoy something I want to do—well, that is a whole other story.

Ok—I did it.

I said, one of the top things on my list of dislikes—staying home all day long, and housekeeping. I hate it, and I wish I didn’t have to do it. Are there things that you completely hate, despise, dislike, that you have not admitted even to yourself?

I have another—I do not like to talk on the phone. No, not for one single second, and so I avoid it.  I avoid calling people, I avoid answering the phone, I even avoid making necessary appointments with doctors because I can’t stand picking up that receiver!

I have even stopped calling my family on the holidays, or my dad for his birthday (shame on me). When I do call, I stress, and avoid it and put the phone call off until the last possible second. I have a load of theories as to why I hate being on the phone so intensely, but that could be a short novel in and of itself.

I’ve given two—your turn.

What do you REALLY REALLY dislike? Or like? (Even the weird stuff, I want to know—seriously.)

Do you think having difficulty knowing yourself is related to your ASD? Or is it just the actual likes and dislikes that are related? (i.e. not liking talking on the phone, or unending tasks)

Not sure what you like/dislike? I wasn’t either, but this blog post was very helpful: Getting to Know Yourself: The Greatest Discovery of All

I Wouldn’t Recognize You if You Stood on Your Head

“Everyone knows Jeannie; she just doesn’t know them.”

That was the common phrase I heard in high school.  A constant stream of hugs, smiles, and waves filled my days. I never understood how so many people that I didn’t know, knew me. 

Prosopagnosia, also known as “facial agnosia” or “face-blindness,” is a neurological disorder that makes facial recognition difficult or impossible. Two thirds of autistic children and adults have some degree of face-blindness. I live among those numbers.

Do I know you?  That is the question that runs through my head when someone I don’t recognize approaches me in public. They call me by name, ask about my children, my parents, and my work—I know I should know this person, but I do not.

When my husband and I were first married we attended a very large church in Brooklyn, NY where I often spoke to people having no idea who they were.  I didn’t think there was anything wrong with me.  I just figured that in such a large church I never ran into the same person twice.

Being greeted by hugs and kisses from strangers has always made me uncomfortable; I don’t like to be touched. To add to my discomfort the odd looks these strangers gave me when I introduced myself was unnerving.  When people approached us to talk, I assumed that my husband knew them. We talked for a while, they left, and my husband would say, “You know them, I introduced you last week.” You did? 

I met the same people at church, each Sunday, talked with them, and still did not recognize them the following week.  It’s no wonder they looked at me like I was a lunatic when I introduced myself, yet again.

When the same scene played itself out over and over again, I began to believe what I had been told my entire life.  I was a lazy, absent-minded, self-absorbed air-head, who didn’t care enough about people to remember them. Or—I was stuck up, obnoxious, too good for anyone, and just ignored people; nothing could have been further from the truth.

The first time I read about Face-blindness, I was stunned.  I had another one of those “ah ha” moments. The moments were I had to look back at my life with new eyes, evaluating it through the lens of Autism. 

It took 38 years for me to be diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome (AS), a form of high functioning Autism—38 years of confusing experiences.

When I was a child AS was not a known diagnosis in the United States. Although, well known in Europe for more than twenty years at the time, it only became a viable diagnosis in the U.S. in 1994; three years after I was out of high school, and two years after I’d dropped out of college the first time around.

What is wrong with me? Why do I have trouble recognizing faces?

We do not see with our eyes, we “see” with our brains.  All of us—with or without Autism see with our brains. Our eyes take in a snapshot but it is our brains that process all the information in the photo. It makes sense of all the patterns, categorizes them, and stores them for later use (recognition).

I fail to recognize familiar faces, but I never fail to recognize a tree, or a cat, or the shapes of clouds. Why?

A number of theories have arisen to answer this question.  Maybe because we tend to not look people in the eye, or focus on their faces, we have a hard time remembering them. It is said that autistics tend to be socially uninterested—that we don’t care enough to remember people.

Could it be an issue of weak central coherence? 

Those with weak central coherence tend to focus on details but lose track of, or don’t perceive the whole. A tendency to focus on minute details, a portion of the face or specific feature, without taking in the whole picture could be partially responsible for many autistics having have difficulty with facial recognition.  All of these theories seem viable; however, I believe there is more to it than that.

Facial recognition is isolated in the right temporal lobe in the “fusiform face area.” Non-facial recognition happens on the left side of the brain.  In other words, all other details, pieces, and patterns are processed on the left side of the brain.

Why does this matter? Autistics tend to do fairly well on pattern recognition tests—significantly better than their neuro-typical counterparts, but do poorly on facial recognition tests. The opposite is true for neuro-typical people who perform very well on facial recognition test, but do poorly in pattern recognition. In the autistic brain it seems that the “fusiform face area” does not function the way other people’s do.

 This could explain why I wouldn’t recognize you if you stood on your head—or would I? Tests showed that autistics were able to recognize faces that they viewed upside down. Researchers found that the circuitry that recognizes faces only works on faces that are right side up.  Upside down faces are routed to the left side of the brain to be processed like any other image. The upside down faces processed like patterns, and autistics recognized those facial patterns.

 “How did you know it was me?” a friend asked pulling her mask from her face.

Costume parties, for me, are like any other social gathering. If I knew you well, I recognized you. It did not matter what you used to cover your face. I recognized the contour of my friend’s hands, her ring, the shoes we bought at the mall that summer, the way she stood, and swished her head back and forth when she talked.  I spotted her from across the room, without hearing her say a word, or knowing what costume she was wearing.

Most people rely on facial features to recognize someone they know. I’ve always wondered why bank robbers wore ski masks, but did not disguise the rest of the body. And it was ridiculous that in superhero movies no one recognized their loved ones because they wore a mask over their face.  Don’t all people rely on other details to recognize people they know?

When I think of my brother, I can form a mental picture of his face in my mind. I have no problem recognizing people who I know well.  But I can also bring up just as sharp mental picture of his hands, or the way he has this one thick vein that rolls back and forth over his wrist bone.  My oldest brother has hands exactly like my mother’s, my father’s hands look exactly like his fathers, and my son’s feet are very similar to my youngest brother’s feet.  I would recognize the way the hair lies across my husband’s arms, and would recognize him even if he wore a mask. These details are as vivid as any face I can recall.

For several years I worked in prisons. My co-workers often wore uniforms, and were stationed at the same posts day after day.  On a daily basis, I recognized them, said hello, knew their names—but if I saw them outside work, I did not recognize them.  If their uniform was off, or they were not where they should be (at their post), then I did not recognize them.  I processed the whole situation—the person, in uniform, sitting behind that desk. I was not processing the person’s face.  Place this same person in the supermarket, at the post office, or in the school cafeteria eating with their children, and I do not recognize them at all.

Many people have had the experience of seeing someone, and not being able to “place” their face; they the person who stands before them from somewhere, but can’t remember where. Or, they know the face and cannot recall a name. I too, have had these types of experiences with those that I have had contact with often enough to recognize something about them. But—more often than not, I simple do not recognize them at all.  There is no inkling of familiarity, no spark of recognition; it is as if I am staring into the face of a complete and total stranger.

DSM-V - New Diagnostic Criteria for ASD – What will this mean for me, an Aspie?

Asperger’s Syndrome, PPD-NOS, and Autistic Disorder will be removed from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5), which will be published and in effect in May of 2013. Those disorders will now be included under one umbrella diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD).

To be honest I am torn about the new DSM-V. On one hand I have finally found out what has been “wrong” with me my entire life. Being diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome came as quite a shock to me and many others, but in reality when the shock wore off, it was a tremendous relief.

I finally had a name for my difficulties. This will not change under the new DSM-V because I am clearly within the new diagnostic guidelines for Autism Spectrum Disorder.  In fact, I actually fit those criteria more accurately than the previous.

The part that concerns me most is the removing of the name, Asperger’s Syndrome. I understand that we as people are not a name, but it almost feels like invalidation. For 38 years I did not exist, no one saw my autism/Asperger’s, and now on some level I feel like it has happened again. I finally had a group of people to which I belonged, to identify with (Aspies), and then someone comes along and decides…well that doesn’t exist any longer.

Are we also invalidating all of Hans Asperger’s work with these autistic individuals? What about all the scientific research that has included Aspies as a group, will it still be valid? I think there are many questions rolling around in my mind that no-one can answer just yet.

On the other hand, I have noticed that with the label Asperger’s, opposed to Autism, sometimes our difficulties are minimalized.  After all, Asperger’s is a mild form of high-function autism, isn’t it?

In my short time online writing and blogging, I have had more than one comment to that “Asperger’s does not equal autism, it just doesn’t.”  Yes—we all have differing degrees of difficulties, and there is no doubt that I function differently than a person profoundly affect by autism. But, that does not mean my difficulties are not real.

One thing the new diagnostic criteria will do is label all of us autistic. No more minimalizing of those with Asperger’s or PPD-NOS, we will all be recognized for the difficulties that we do indeed have. This alone may be a good thing. 

I visited with one psychiatrist, who insisted that she’d worked with Aspergerian children and has never seen an adult with Asperger’s.  Then categorically denied that my diagnosis could be correct based on those terms without talking to me, looking at my records, or discussing my history.

Yet another doctor (a neurologist) questioned the validity of such a syndrome even existing, and this was not long ago. He went as far as to say that if they say it’s that (Asperger’s), “that means it’s all in your head.” What? My Sensory Processing Disorder is in my head? Really?

These are some of the things that MAY be corrected with the new umbrella diagnosis.  Now, let’s look at what that criterion is:

DSM-V Criteria for Diagnosis Autism Spectrum Disorder

I have borrowed the following criteria from John Elder Robinson’s blog post, How Will the DSM VChanges in Autism Affect People? I’ve added made my own highlights.

“This is the proposed definition of ASD. For a person to be diagnosed, they must meet criteria A, B, C, and D.

A. Persistent deficits in social communication and social interaction across contexts, not accounted for by general developmental delays, and manifest by all 3 of the following:

1. Deficits in social-emotional reciprocity; ranging from abnormal social approach and failure of normal back and forth conversation through reduced sharing of interests, emotions, and affect and response to total lack of initiation of social interaction,

2. Deficits in nonverbal communicative behaviors used for social interaction; ranging from poorly integrated-verbal and nonverbal communication, through abnormalities in eye contact and body-language, or deficits in understanding and use of nonverbal communication, to total lack of facial expression or gestures.

3. Deficits in developing and maintaining relationships, appropriate to developmental level (beyond those with caregivers); ranging from difficulties adjusting behavior to suit different social contexts through difficulties in sharing imaginative play and in making friends to an apparent absence of interest in people

B. Restricted, repetitive patterns of behavior, interests, or activities as manifested by at least two of the following:

1. Stereotyped or repetitive speech, motor movements, or use of objects (such as simple motor stereotypies, echolalia, repetitive use of objects, or idiosyncratic phrases);

2. Excessive adherence to routines, ritualized patterns of verbal or nonverbal behavior, or excessive resistance to change; (such as motoric rituals, insistence on same route or food, repetitive questioning or extreme distress at small changes);

3. Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus (such as strong attachment to or preoccupation with unusual objects, excessively circumscribed or perseverative interests);

4. ** Hyper-or hypo-reactivity to sensory input or unusual interest in sensory aspects of environment (such as apparent indifference to pain/heat/cold, adverse response to specific sounds or textures, excessive smelling or touching of objects, fascination with lights or spinning objects); (emphasis mine)

**This is new

C. Symptoms must be present in early childhood (but may not become fully manifest until social demands exceed limited capacities)

D. Symptoms together limit and impair everyday functioning.”

My Thoughts

I have highlighted above some the most important things about this criterion, and what I consider to be the most concerning. 

To begin with, the first section, A, highlights social interactions and to receive/maintain a diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder, you must meet ALL THREE OF THE DEFICITS highlighted. It bothers me that autism is still being categorized so strongly as a mainly communication disorder because socializing is only the tip of the iceberg when we look at autism as a whole.

For the most part I believe that if you have a diagnosis anywhere on the spectrum you will likely retain that diagnosis given even the three socialization based criteria use such a broad non-specific language. It does give doctors much latitude in diagnosis. Who is to say what abnormal social approach is? What exactly is normal?

I think that we have an improvement of sorts in section B, where patients are required to exhibit two of the four symptoms listed. This is the first time that Hyper-or-hypo reactivity to sensory input has been included in autism diagnostic criteria.

I am extremely happy to see this added with the hope that the medical profession may be beginning to see this part of our difficulties.  If I had to pick just one aspect of my autism that gives me the most trouble, is the most disabling, and the most concerning to me, it would be my sensory issues—no contest.

I suspect the same is true for many spectrum children. From my experience, I can tell you that many meltdowns, “temper tantrums”, and outburst and complete shutdowns where I’ve closed myself off from the world were directly connected to the amount of sensory overload I experienced.

It bothers me a bit that it has taken so long for someone to recognize sensory reactivity as part of autism. Then again, it bothers me that it is effectively labeled a mental disorder and included in this manual at all, but that is a discussion for another time.

Section C: Symptoms present in early childhood; checck. Read about my childhood here.
Section D: It is subjective, but standard--impairs everyday functioning: check.
After reviewing the new criteria, I am assured that I will retain my autism diagnosis; it will just be called Autism Spectrum Disorder. I can simply say that I am autistic without explaining what Asperger's Syndrome is because most people have at least heard of autism. I am NOT worried about losing a diagnosis.; I am only losing a label that I have come to identify with and for me that is sad. I am after all, Aspie Writer.  Should I change my name?
So now that you know what the new criterion is, what are you thoughts? Do you welcome a change in diagnosis? Horrified by the invalidation of Asperger's? What will this mean for your/our children? 

The Beauty of Diagnosis; Surviving the Holidays

In addition, to all I have to be thankful for, I am thankful for my autism diagnosis.

Thanksgiving has come and gone. I am usually a panicked mess.  I love the holidays but hate the madness. I obsess about everything being perfect, every bite of food, every part of the house, everything. The amount of stress I put on myself is immeasurable, and yet, I do it every year. 

This year, however, was different. Why? I practiced the art of imperfection.

When my therapist first suggested that I "practice the art of imperfection,” I thought that it was terrible advice.  Who the heck wants to be imperfect, to do things imperfectly, not give it your all, or do it to the best of your ability.  Bad, bad, bad advice.  Maybe not—

Instead of stressing about every little thing that went wrong with my planned meal, I decided I was not going to drive myself crazy.  Company would come and go, and not know that I didn’t put chopped meat in my stuffing like I wanted to because I was too tired to run out to the store to get more when I ran out.

Normally, for me, this would have been a disaster. I would have had a meltdown. The meat was missing and the whole dinner ruined—the meat no one knew I put in there in the first place.

Some of my family drove down from NYC for Thanksgiving dinner. I was so excited they were coming, and although, I wanted everything to be perfect, I couldn’t manage it. There was too much to do, too much work to get done, too many sick children to tend to, and too little time for myself to decompress.

Before diagnosis, I blamed myself.  I didn’t try to slow down, or let things go. I didn’t let myself take care of ME. I would not take breaks from company—that was rude.  I would have never locked myself up in my bedroom for a little while just to take a rest and recharge.  I didn’t know that I NEEDED to do that.

Knowing made all the difference this year. I took small breaks, went to bed when I needed to, and didn’t stress over the little things (too much).  I was able to tell myself that I needed to be away from people, needed the quiet, and needed to sometimes let my hair down to hide the earplugs I slipped in.

I have survived Thanksgiving, but am still admittedly exhausted. I believe the exhaustion and need to wind down will last for the next few days, but now I know WHY I need that time.  Now, knowing that I truly NEED the time, and I am not just simply being crazy and selfish, I will take the time to recover. After all, I have to get ready for the Christmas madness, which I am already beginning to obsess over.

 **Sigh—small victories, and baby steps.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Angry Frazzled Mommy

I need this T-shirt!

It has been a crappy day, and for no particular reason that I can put my finger on.  I woke up this morning to the stupid dog barking his head off, and felt incredibly sorry that I agreed/ no advocated, to get my Aspie Teen a dog.  I am beginning to hate that dog.  He doesn’t want to be trained, chews up everything he can get his teeth into, and barks, howls and yelps until all hours of the morning.

Then for some God only knows why reason, I try to find my shoes to bring my middle son to school, and I discover I have only one black flip flop by the door, and only one black slipper.  So is someone eating one of each shoe?  Is that what is going on today?

I asked earlier this week that someone put the laundry away after I spent two days cleaning everything in the house. No one did. So that is why I couldn’t find my little guy’s socks before school and had to dig into the laundry buckets instead of opening a draw where they should have been neatly folded.

Hubby said last night before I feel asleep, well passed out is more an accurate description because I haven’t been feeling good, that he would run out and get the baby juice.  I don’t want to give him much milk because he is sick too.  I woke and there was no juice; I guess he forgot. So I dropped by the supermarket on my way home from dropping little man off at school.

I’ve been angry ever since. 

I’m yelling at Aspie Teen because I can’t take things being all over the floor.  I feel like all I do is vacuum, vacuum, and vacuum some more.  Then when I look down there are more crumbs sprawled out everywhere.  I am losing my mind.

There are still boxes unpacked, and I am coming unglued. 

Aspie Teen is not doing his school work fast enough for my taste today, so I am screaming.  More mess on the floor, so I am screaming.  Hubby didn’t make phone calls he needed to, so I am screaming.  Screaming, screaming, screaming, and screaming some more.  Why I am so damn angry today? Why am I losing my ability to cope today? I’m frustrated.  I’m sad. I’m feeling terribly guilty for all my yelling, and yet all I want to do is yell some more!

It seems no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I really suck at homemaking.  I can’t keep to a budget for any period of time.  The house work always gets away from me, and the chaos causes me not to be able to think.

Today, I feel like I want to escape, I want to run away, I don’t want to stay in the house 24/7 anymore, but what can I do?  Really? Nothing.  So that is where I am at, feeling helpless. 

And helpless = angry. I may have anger management issues.

“Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.” —Stephen King

Through My Eyes Only; Asperger's in the First Person

"Having Asperger’s is like writing in the First Person—I only see what I can see through my own eyes, and I have no knowledge what is in other people’s heads." ~ Aspie Writer

I am told that writing from the first person point of view (POV) is challenging—that many writers have difficulty not describing what their character cannot see.  For example, if someone is sneaking up behind your character with a knife, you cannot write about it.  The character does not have eyes behind her head; therefore, she cannot see who or what is sneaking up behind her.

If you are writing in the first person, you can only write what your character sees with her own eyes.  It sounds simple, but it is not.

Personally, I find it to be the easiest POV to write.  I’m told that is odd.  I think that many writers run into difficulty because they tend to describe what their characters would not notice.

If my character walked into her own bedroom, she is not thinking the russet bedspread draped perfectly over the end of the bed. If there is nothing out of place, she is not thinking anything about her bedspread.  It is just there as it always has been. 

She doesn’t describe her coppery locks because that is just what has always sat on her head.  She will only notice (and she is the one telling the story after all) what is different, wrong, or out of place.

Now if she walked into her bedroom and the bed is in disarray and the pillows tossed on the floor (not at all the way she left it), then she will tell us about the condition of that bed.  It is different, wrong, out of place—otherwise, there is never an occasion to mention it.

Luckily when you read a book, you can get insight to what other character’s think and feel by what they do—their actions, their mannerisms, the described facial expressions. Those are the things I “miss” in real life.

“Other people do not see, feel, and experience the world like I do.”

There are many things I am now learning about myself that are different than other people.  I am only now discovering, most of the time by accident that other people do not see, feel, and experience the world like I do.

The other day I was trying to explain to my doctor how I taught myself to learn.  When I was in college (the first time over 20 years ago) I practiced remembering the lectures.  I used all of my senses to do it. 

I recorded the professor’s lecture in order to replay it, using my sense of hearing to commit the material to memory. Then I read the text, using my sense of sight to brand the information into my mind.

If it was important I hand wrote the notes in order to move with the words, and use my sense of motion and touch in order to learn the information. Believe me—when I am done learning something I want to know (Aspie Keyword: want), it is branded on my brain.  I am not going to forget!

Lastly, I read the notes aloud—again, using my ears to hear, but mostly reading aloud was to feel the words.  It was this last thing that raised the doctor’s eyebrows. (Look at me, I noticed!)

Ok—you got me, no, I did not notice. I continued to ramble on, but he stopped me.

“Wait, go back,” he said. “What do you mean you feel the words?”

He did not understand what I was talking about. Apparently, I am the only person that has ever told him I can feel words. 

I can feel my words like a rhythm in my head, and I can commit the rhythm to memory, not the sound of them but the feel of the words. Their unique vibration…

Doesn’t everyone feel the words they speak? What about other people’s words? Can’t you feel the vibrations they make?

 “Great, I’m the weird one again.” I sighed.

“No, you are not weird,” he replied, “I am limited. I cannot hear or feel as much as you can.” 

An awesome answer by the way—now you see why this particular doctor is a keeper.

I was completely stunned. I never considered that other people did not feel the words. Even though I knew that others did not hear the humming of the fluorescent lights, or taste the smells they come in contact with, it never occurred to me that they didn’t feel vibrations from words and sounds.

I never mentioned feeling the words before because it is normal for me; it is just the way it has always been.  I didn’t consider it; I didn’t see it sneaking up behind me.

What else do I not see?

A new refrigerator was delivered the other day. When I opened it, I realized that one of the metal brackets that spans across the shelves on the door (the ones that would hold your milk in place) was missing.

My husband promptly called the store, who verified that the part was still sitting there, and went to pick it up after work yesterday.  Last night I immediately noticed that he had not yet put the bracket in the refrigerator even though I knew he went to pick it up. 

Today I have been in that refridgeratior a hundred times.  I noticed nothing.  When hubby came home from work tonight, he said, “You didn’t even notice that I put the bar in the refrigerator.” He was fishing for compliments.

“I must have noticed it,” I said.

 He frowned. 

That door shelf never caught my attention today.  Even after grocery shopping, and spending a lot of time opening and closing the refrigerator door, nothing stood out at me.  To me, this means he fixed it.  Why? 

My eyes are automatically draw only to what is wrong, different, or out of place—so like my fictional character nothing caught my attention, and so there was nothing to mention.  The bad part is sometimes it makes it easy to only point out the flaws in things, and people’s mistakes—but that is a topic for another day.

Moving Madness: Part I – Nothing is Ever Easy; Rage; Meltdown; Shutdown

 

I mentioned in my Stupid Wizard post in August that I wanted to move, and am happy to announce that we finally did.  In fact, we were able to find a great deal on a townhouse, closed on October 1^st, and have moved in.  Sounds all sunshine and roses doesn’t it?

This past week I’ve been fairly silent.  Two weeks before we were planning on moving, hubby was sent unexpected away for a week of training by his job; I stayed home to begin packing. When he returned home we had one week to pack the entire house (I have entirely way too much crap), get all the utilities set-up, my 8-year-old’s school transferred, and everything else that goes along with moving.  Not fun—but we were steadily plodding along.

The owner generously gave us access to the home a week before closing so that we may begin moving our things and complete whatever work we wanted done.  I was so grateful because the idea of closing on the house late in the afternoon on the first, and moving out of our rental that same day was daunting.

No Lights

First hiccup in my plan: Hubby calls the power company to turn on the electricity—easy peasy right?  Wrong!

On the Tuesday before we were scheduled to close on the house, the power company came out to install the meter.  The old one was removed because the home was empty for a while.  Unfortunately they could not turn the power on. The meter base was damaged and needed to be repaired before a new meter could be installed.

On Wednesday the repair men showed up but could not fix it; the entire meter base needed to be replaced.

On Thursday the electrician installed a new base. Great! Let’s turn on the power.  NO—the power company wanted the city to inspect the electricians work before installing the meter.  Grrrr. Permit paid for; inspection scheduled.

The inspection should take place on Friday. The city would inspect, and then send their report to the power company, who would then schedule the installation of the meter. Now, my head hurts, but it is still alright because we continued to pack and move things to the new house while there was daylight. Closing was not until Monday afternoon, and the power should be on by Monday. 

The weekend came and went. We needed to vacate our rental by Sunday (the day before the first) to make way for new tenants. There was no electricity on in the townhouse, so after we moved all our things, we checked into a hotel (Sunday night).  At least we were all able to just fall into bed without the chaos of assembling beds for the kids and wading through boxes.

 

There is nothing like being homeless, when you just purchased a home.

Monday afternoon we went to the attorney’s office, and signed the papers.  Congratulations, we now own the townhouse!  Yay! The city never did the inspection; back to the hotel.

Tuesday we checked out of the hotel, and by this time I was going seriously broke. Moving, attorneys, down payments, utility deposits, moving costs, eating out, and hotels!  Seriously broke, and no city inspector in sight.

After spending most of the morning on the phone with different city offices, we found out they hadn’t even scheduled the inspection! They wanted to wait until Wednesday, which meant no power until at least Thursday—not good. 

Persistence paid off. We did get someone to agree to come out that same day to inspect the electrical work, and the power company agreed to send a crew out as soon as the inspection report was in their possession foregoing the “at least one business day wait.”

It was late afternoon before the inspector showed, but everything went well and we were assured that he would be sending the report to progress energy the minute he got back to the office. He told us to go ahead and call the power company (the wait-time is usually at least 20-30 minutes), and by the time I had someone on the phone they would have the report.  Great—no hotel tonight!

The phone beeped only a few moments after a customer service representative answered my call; it was the inspector.

“I am sending the report now.  It is going through the fax as we speak,” he said.

It was nice of him to call me. I returned to the customer service rep., who I got to put on hold for a change, and asked him to check for the inspection report.  That had it!

“I am sorry Ma’am, this report says Unit 21—you need service for Unit 20.” What?? I have my copy of the inspection report and it clearly says Unit 20!

“I am sorry; we cannot send anyone out there until the city resends the corrected paperwork.”

My eye is twitching.

Of course, the inspector was out of the office when hubby called back to ask him to resend the paperwork. The clerk was not at all helpful, would not try to contact him, and continued to just send the calls to his voicemail.  What did she care, she was going to home to a house with electricity!

Foot is flapping. 

Frustration = Anger building 

Rage Meltdown?

I felt like a pressure cooker. I called the city office myself. I know that I asked if the inspector had a cellphone they could contact him on and have him call us, or give him the message. It was approaching five o'clock and I was concerned that progress energy would not send anyone out to install the meter if I didn’t call them back before six.

To be honest, I don’t remember what she said, but I know it could not have been good because the next thing I remember is her telling me, “you’re not gonna call here and curse at me!”

My cellphone paid the price when I flung it across the room.  Did I curse at her? I don’t know…maybe…it is possible since I cannot remember.  I didn’t remember during then, or two second afterwards, or now. 

“Well, did you curse at her?” Hubby asked. 

“I don’t know!”

My insides were shaking. I wanted to scream, to break things, to toss all the boxes piled in the living room with no lights onto the floor and kick them! My hands trembled. I clasped my fingers behind my aching neck and squeezed my head with arms. I had both forearms squeezing my temples, my elbows together in front of my face—desperately trying to breathe—to control the massive rage meltdown that I felt like was coming. 

Rage meltdowns are rare for me. But, one thing I know is like a bull I see red, and then it all goes black. I don’t remember what I said, or did afterwards. Thankfully, I can count on one hand the times I can remember having full-blown rage meltdowns—most occurring in my teenage years.

The anger took me by surprise. I was too tired, too frustrate, too overwhelmed, and my body and brain were rebelling.  With my hands on the back of my neck, and my face buried between my arms, I rocked and rocked and rocked and rocked until the tears fell. This is what usually does happen.

Shutting down

Deep breaths…tears…all the energy draining from my body at the same time. I felt dizzy, and laid my head down on the sofa. It was like my entire system was just shutting off; it was overloaded; circuit boards fried—a robot shorting out.

I don’t know how I can go from being so angry to asleep in such a short amount of time! In fact, I don’t even remember falling asleep.

I slept for about an hour.

When I woke I was nauseous and still groggy.  Hubby informed me that the inspector called him back, progress energy received the correct report, and were sending someone out tonight (it was already after six). Our power would be on in a few hours. We left to get some dinner.

 

A Voice in a Fake World; Asperger's on the Inside--Social Frustration

A Voice in a Fake World; Asperger’s on the Inside

A simple invite to a coffee shop can be an overwhelming experience for an Aspie, those of us with Asperger’s Syndrome. The coffee machine frothing, customers placing orders, the door opening and shutting letting in the distracting sounds from the outside are just a few of the background noises that my senses fail to filter out. All the sounds come at me at the same time, all wanting my immediate attention.

I desperately want to stick my orange and green foam earplugs into my ears, but that would be rude. Besides, they make me look the bride of Frankenstein. I slip my hand into my pocket and squish them between my fingers instead. The cushiony feel of them between my fingertips makes me feel better; a stress ball and security blanket in one.

Several women sit at the table sipping lattes and discussing their kids, the neighbor’s new boyfriend, and the latest church gossip. It all sounds like noise, jumbled words that all blend together, and I cannot hone in on any one voice, on any one topic, or any one conversation. I fidget in my seat. I'm lost and I can't keep up, so I say nothing; I have no voice.  

The sun shines through the glass sending blinding rays directly at our table; no-one else notices. I slip my sunglasses over my eyes. We are just a tad too close to the restrooms, and when the door swings open the faint smell of urine mixes with the smell of cappuccino in the air. My stomach churns, jumps, and I try not to heave; no-one else smells it.

The conversation fades into the background as I retreat into my own world. I have nothing to contribute, no idle chitchat to add. My mind is wondering—contemplating the next chapter of my book, my next blog post, the mound of books that I want to get back home to read.  Back home to my computer screen. I love my computer—all my friends live in there, the people who I can talk to, the ones like me, the ones who understand me.   

My cellphone dings, and I smile on the inside. I steal a glance at the phone; do not be rude! A little square green face pops onto the screen. I know I received a text message. Another ding, a small envelope—an email is waiting. A tiny pastel blue bird chirps—a new tweet mentioned me.  The royal blue “F” indicating a new Facebook message or comment has my fingers tapping the screen, forgetting where I am. What do my virtual friends have to say?   

Their words are in black and white, I can read them, process them, take a breath, and think about what I would like to say. I respond in my time, without pressure, without chitchat, with earplugs in, with quiet contemplation. They speak in turn, one message to read at a time, and if I miss a word I can go back and reread it again. No strange looks for wearing my sunglasses indoors, or odd stares because I didn’t get the joke. If I am overwhelmed I don’t have to respond immediately; I can breathe; I can be me.

In my virtual world I have a voice. I can “talk” without worrying about how I sound, if I spoke out of turn, or unwittingly offended someone. I can put my words to the page in a logical order, say what I mean, and mean what I say. In my fake world, I am real, I am alive, and I have something worthwhile to say. In the real world, I am fake, voiceless, a mannequin, posing, pretending to fit in. I grasp for logic, meaning, and order--but there is none. 

The conversation died down, but I hadn’t noticed. Purses were gathered, and coffee cups cleared. “We’ll have to do this again soon,” followed by a polite smile. Was she talking to me? Soon? How soon, when?

“Um, Ok,” I say. I sling the strap to my purple purse across my shoulder, unclip my car keys from the belt loop on my jeans, grab my phone from the table, stick it into my back pocket, and head for the door—glad that my coffee with strangers is over. Exhausted.

The next time I am invited to attend, I say I will, but won't show up.

The Adderall Experiment: Irritation and Headaches

Is Adderall causing my irritation and headaches—or is it hunger?

 

ADD is one of the only diagnoses that had stood after my Asperger’s Diagnosis. 

It was originally among the host of other “disorders” that doctor’s labeled me with before figuring out that I had autism. It only took thirty-eight years!

The arrays of diagnoses, all wrong, have been thrown by the waste side where they belong, but still the ADD lingers. I wonder though if this too may not be entirely accurate because the problems I experience can also, once again, be explained by my Asperger’s.

I’ve been on Adderall for many years, since 2006. Lately, I’ve noticed that I am calmer on days that I do not take the medication. I am less irritable, get less headaches, and am less angry when interrupted a million times by the kids. Granted—I may be more scatter brained those days, but I am beginning to wonder if the Adderall is literally getting on my nerves.

Adderall or Hunger?

“I have two theories”, I told my doctor. I am either more irritable because of the Adderall, OR because when I am on Adderall, I forget to eat more often.

Forgetting to eat has always been an issue for me, especially if I am engrossed in an activity or project.  If you do not interrupt me and remind me to eat, I simply forget. I hardly ever feel hunger, so I don’t have that innate warning system to remind me that I need food.  When I am increasingly irritable, easily overloaded, and my senses are super-charged and approaching meltdown, I usually realize that I haven’t eaten anything for a while!

I am not sure exactly what the overload—lack of food connection is, maybe it is a blood sugar issue.  I am borderline diabetic, and I am very sensitive to the changes in my blood sugar levels.

So those are my two theories.  Adderall curbs my hunger, and then I never feel hungry. It helps me to hyper-focus on my tasks, again, making it easy for me to forget to eat. That could be causing my ridiculous moodiness.  Or, it is simply that the Adderall, being a stimulant, is irritating my nervous system.

The good thing is this is a theory I can test.  My task now is to take my Adderall for the next week or so, and MAKE SURE that I eat regularly (that is going to be a challenge), five small meals per day to see if my irritation is calmed down when I get a sufficient amount of food.

I have already tried not taking the medication for a week, and was significantly calmer—BUT I ate more as well, so no conclusions there.

Does anyone else take Adderall, and have difficulty with irritation? Or, have overloads triggered by hunger? Headaches?

I’m frustrated, but determined to find the culprit. I hate being irritated all the time, and I am getting on my own nerves!