[NB: Long post, very self-indulgent, contains terrible emo poetry: read at you own risk!]

My PC is rather a mess; the hard-drive contains all the digital baggage over over 20 years of my life; more than that, it has scans and copies of a lot of stuff from before even then. Every once in a while I have a little surf through it to see what interesting goodies I can turn up. Since my diagnosis four years ago, I've started noticing some very interesting things there. I'm just going to cut and paste a couple of them. I don't think you'll have to read far before you work out why this thread is called Premonitions. "D-Day" of course, means my diagnosis day, and apologies for some of the formatting; ancient word documents don't always translate very well!

D-Day minus 6 years.

I had just started having counselling again. Noting at the first session that I was having trouble speaking about myself, the counsellor suggested that I write some notes before the next session, to give us something to go on. This is what I wrote...

Socialising

Difficult to direct my attention.

Very easily distracted. - senses overwhelmed by too much noise/movement etc.

Drift away from the conversation - can't feign interest - useless at phatic conversation.

No interest in sport, TV, cars, mortgages, soap operas, big brother....

...and most other folk have no interest in politics, surrealist art, asymmetric time signatures...

Context - hard time judging what is appropriate or expected. Body language, humour etc. that seems obvious to people goes over my head - Why don't people just talk straight?

Too slow to talk - difficult to react spontaneously - always need to think before I speak, but just don't get the time. Yet my brain seems to be doing 100mph all the time inside.

“All you have to do is be yourself”, and other lies.

Fun - what is it? Can I have some please.

Satisfaction - am I the only one looking for it?

Are conversations just a form of entertainment?

Why to I feel like I'm always being ignored, talked over etc. Surely it can't be true that the LOUDEST person is always the most interesting or most correct.

Apathy

You get out of life what you put in - I wish!

Who else cares if I do this or not? Will they actually notice anyway?

Very very good at thinking about problems/tasks, no good at getting started.

Give me a good reason why I have to do this, it seems utterly pointless to me.

Happily clean a friend's toilet if they asked, but never get around to brushing my own teeth.

I know I have some talents - shame that they seem to be ones that nobody wants.

Maybe I lost my purpose down the back of the sofa - the pacing around tells me I need to be doing something.

Relationships

How do I tell if people like me?

Setting a precedent - I never did that before, it would look odd if I started now.

Getting it wrong - am I showing too much or too little, do you want a hug, compliment, kiss, etc. please give me a clue. What did I do wrong - tell me, I can't guess. Why don't I understand these things?. Apparently I “should have known” because it was “obvious”.

Being your own person, being creative, having ideals are all really attractive and romantic - but only in Johnny Depp films, not real life.

Confrontation - no thanks.

Stunted

37 years old.

Never a partner, couldn't hold down any job, still live in a shared house like a student.

Lack of experience counts against me - Catch 22, need experience so that I can go get some experience.

Has introversion made me this way or is there something innate about it?

Do I want to be a partner, husband, father? - best not to think about it since I can't even get on the bottom rung of the ladder yet.

These problems all started so long ago, can I really rewind life 20 years and start again.

Too late, can't turn the clock back and have the experiences I missed out on.

What happened to my instincts, why do I always have to reason things out?

Escape

Being creative is not just something I do, it's somewhere I go.

Sometimes alcohol and drugs have helped - they slow my brain down.

Can't stand the urban environment, when it all gets too much - RUN AWAY to the hills.

Fantasy world - inside my imagination it all works out beautifully, I like it in there.

Need my fantasies to get me through the hours of insomnia.

Normality

Apparently there's no such thing as normal - so why do people think I'm odd?

Synaesthetic stuff - I know it's not the drugs, so are my senses supposed to do that? Is it just sleep deprivation?

How many hours a day does a “normal” person spend having imaginary conversations?

How many miles of pacing up and down does the average person get through in a day?

Why do people find outward appearances so important?

My literal mindedness and honesty seem to confuse people - what makes them so suspicious - is it just because I don't tell them what they want to hear?

[The counselling ended only a couple of sessions later. The therapist did write to my doctor suggesting that my resistance to therapy might mean that something else should be looked for, but nothing happened.]

D-Day minus about 22-24 years.

I was playing in punk bands around this time. I had a massive splurge of song-writing, and, getting a bit fed-up with the usual agit-prop punk stuff, started writing things that were a bit more personal. I loved writing and playing, but the bands didn't last too long as my social impairments just made the gigs, and especially tours, unbearable for me. I quickly became less enamoured by the anarcho-punk scene; I kept hearing that it was all about everyone being true to themselves, yet was mocked for "looking like someones Dad" by many spiky-haired, tattooed, multi-pierced "real punks" (most of whom had never written a punk song in their lives.) There were, it is true, some beautiful people on that scene, but it seemed little different than the school gangs of my childhood, and far from being free of dogma. The following couple of song lyrics are not intended as good examples of poetry, not even whiny emo poetry; they rather embarrass me looking at them at my age (NB: really bad formatting! The music was equally all over the place; I never quite "got" why verses had to have four lines and anything but 4/4 time was sneered at, either: some bits were in a kind of mocking alter-ego voice, which doesn't quite come across either)...

Disconnection

This is a song
    about how I feel today.

Inactivity and stagnancy
    Is cynicism all that's left of me?
I've broken my mould
    now my life has no shape
Defensive individuality (BV: because this smile on my face)
    for individuality's sake? (BV: is a jaded lie)

[I can see alternatives within the "alternatives"
It's easy to be different
    BV: unless your difference is not the same.] * 3

Envy the ones that fit in
   as I condemn their conformities
The selfishness within
    wants to change their priorities
I'm so desperate
    to find my own way
(that) I've become a cliche (* 4)

It breaks my my spirit
    does anyone notice my mark?
It's hard to tell
    when I'm lurking in the dark
Who'd want to know me
   afraid I find out who doesn't
Must find other open minds
  perhaps it's my mine that isn't

I need self-confidence
    to breach the social circles
Before self-loathing
    completes this vicious circle

I'm stalled
    my motor won't start
Nothing is fun
    can't get off my ***
But when you've no pride (* 3)
    it's easier
        to hide.

Apathy

A roll call
    of emotions
Sympathy, empathy, loyalty, compassion
Do I see them around me
    do I see them within me?
Hypothetical feelings
    never venturing contact.

Proud to be different
    for difference's sake
And I'm proud of my actions
    deny the inaction
Are the words I sing
   class-warrior rhetoric?
Do they mean any more than
   news at ten soundbites?
        platitudes?

Why do I see
    so many barriers?
fashion, stereotyped music, narcotic preferences, all my petty distastes
To the
    shared experience
Which I keep
    hoping will
Destroy the isolation
    of mistrust

What am I outside?
    outside the other outcasts?
Oh to be part of
    that great unified struggle
When did I decide
    to become a recluse?

Perhaps if I find
    a purpose
Worker, fighter, musician, artist
But I know I won't
    until I destroy
Part of
    my own mind
Cobwebbed corners
    of my subconscious

Apathy
Makes Me
Stop

Help me
When the
Apathy
Makes me
Stop

These are the things
    that I need
Self-esteem, self-confidence, motivation, anger
To make the jump
    from the comforts I knew
From life as I know it
   to the freedom I crave

I'm not looking
    to the mainstream
        for my
            rewards
Should I be waiting
    to see if I was wrong
        all along
            about the afterlife?
The bit of my head
    that's writing this song
        Wants to overcome
           the bit that's holding me back
My biggest frustration
    is my own impatience
[I hope I can change
   before I get old] * 2

So to whoever it might concern
Push me
  I want to be of use
     putting to use my skills
Push me
  Personal contact
    is both the inspiration and reward
I've got thoughts
   thoughts in my head

But the thoughts in my head
   are nothing but words

The more that I read through these things, the more I realise that all my doubts about my self-reflection, the endless assurances that I was "normal", feeling that asking for help was a waste of time, the insinuation that my views of others were severely distorted by narcotics and depression, and my imaginary little black book of "things to never talk about again otherwise you'll get that look or have to pretend you were trying to be funny" (that's not just me, right?); those have done me more damage than autism ever could.

I was right all along, and no-one listened.

(and thankyou for indulging me if you read this far!)