Autistic or emotionally immature, struggle with my conscience

One of my heroes was/is Spike Milligan.  Another one - Peter Sellers.  Both men-children.  Milligan especially.  Such a wonderful sense of the childish and the absurd.  Sellers, too, wasn't happy being 'himself', and didn't cope with it very well.  He only came alive when 'in character.'

Everyone needs to keep hold of that essential child inside.

I’m almost the same age. Shakespeare’s ages of man has been given a reboot in a female context but unfortunately from an achievement mile stone point of view rather than developmentally ... oh, and it’s very NT.

“In the interests of parity, and with profound apologies to William Shakespeare, here’s my take on the seven ages of women, 21 st century:

1. Okay, mewling and puking still, but anyone who has ever really looked at a baby can tell that she (like her infant male counterpart), is also working hard to catalogue and make sense of her surroundings, and is discovering what works to help her get what she wants.

2. Our schoolgirl has a shining morning face, but it’s also a sleepy one, since her school district mandates class attendance by 7:30 a.m. Her backpack includes her clothes for after-school gymnastics, followed by music for piano lesson, and 2 nd grade homework that takes over an hour to complete.

3. Act three finds our girl dealing with pimples; sanitary pads; instant messages; what to do about her hair, and taking SAT prep classes for three long years before the actual event. Sighing and singing, however, are still de rigeur.

4. Dressed for success, she hunts for that first job. Over and over, she hears: “You’re over-educated and under-experienced. Come back when you’ve built a good resumé.” Job as intern (unpaid), or trainee, or assistant to assistant finally obtained, she works three times as hard as everyone around her, with good effect. That’s when suspicions that “biology is destiny” begin to knock at the back door of her brain.

5. She interrupts her career in order to bear children, and then re-starts it (with difficulty) to save for their college tuitions. Or, if motherhood was not her choice, she worries that her career may be threatened by cute young things who are willing to work for almost nothing (as she once did). Success in her career has taught her a great deal, however, and she finds herself serving as mentor to younger workers, which, it turns out, is a great way to keep an eye on their ambitions.

6. She deals with the empty nest syndrome, although it seems unfair that it often strikes in conjunction with menopause. She is given to sudden tears, angers, and hot flashes. She throws out her birth control gear with a smile on her face. She ups the schedule of appointments with her hair colorist. She considers the merits of Lasik versus reading glasses. She deals with the death of loved ones, and begins to think of retirement and possibly relocation. She welcomes grandchildren or great nieces and nephews with a grateful heart. She weighs the expense and discomfort of plastic surgery against saying “what the hell,” and decides to embrace looking like her grandmother (whom she loved and thought beautiful).

7. She once hoped never to reach the age where it all falls apart, but now that she’s there, she fights like the devil to transcend it. She may be sans eyes, sans ears, and worst of all, sans car, but her sense of humor is as lively as ever. She seeks pleasure in the attentions of her family. Her sense of smell and taste and touch remain, and she is fond of stroking smooth objects (an old comforter; the bowl of a sterling silver spoon; the cat). She sniffs appreciatively at the smell of supper in the oven, although she will eat almost none of it, and the crumbs of that none will be spilled all over her. She savors her breakfast toast and bacon, something her figure-conscious younger self never allowed her to eat. And almost the last thing she says to her daughter is: “Inside, I still feel like me.”

   http://www.seniorwomen.com/articles/julia/articlesJulia031905.html

Samantha Craft pens it from an autistic point of view as the 12 stages of realisation:

“What can a late-age diagnosis offer? I can only speak of my own autistic journey, as one neurodivergent on her path of truth. In totality, if given time, I imagine my testimony would be pages thick. Yet overall, there is an overlying theme, key words that can ultimately wrap up the experience in a tight, bright bow—the color of your choice. My top twelve glad tidings, in ascending order, would include:

12. Hope
11. Connection
10. Relief
9. Understanding
8. Realization
7. Truth
6. Healing
5. Love
4. Self-Care
3. Processing
2. Recognition
1. Peace”

You still count as a girl then

I agree there should be a middle word. I'm not yet 30 so have slightly more excuse than you. Haha. I can't see my thoughts on that changing though.

I had that woman thing too during the interview, although in my case I said I didn't identify myself as being a woman. She asked whether I saw myself as a man. But that is also not the case, nor do I want to be a man.

I do think there is a word lacking between 'girl' and 'woman'. Although at 44 I should see myself as a woman I guess ️

Whether it is due to my autism or not I am definitely immature in every sense of the word. I am just a very old child. When the assessor asked me if I already identified as an autistic woman, I actually struggled with the word woman more than the word autistic. It sounds so grown up to me and I'm so not ready to be a proper adult. I am definitely emotionally immature and have always been referred to as highly strung. I struggle to let go of things.

I diagnosis for you definitely would not be an excuse for not making an effort with people. It is a reason that you have found things like that difficult. Autism is a part of people - it does not define them. It isn't something that others should judge you on and certainly shouldn't be seen as an excuse. Part of what my assessor said to me was I need to start accepting me for me and not dwelling on the comments that have been made in the past such as weird, annoying etc.

I was thinking about your thread. If you get diagnosed it is not an excuse but an explanation.

If I'd been diagnosed in my teens, I wouldn't have struggled with desperately trying to be someone I am not. I only got diagnosed this year - I am 44, after a severe breakdown.

Had I been diagnosed I wouldn't have attempted to be super social and outgoing and feeling totally unhappy during the attempts. I definitely would have been less confused, would probably have had issues with being 'labelled', but I would have had more understanding and wouldn't have made decisions I couldn't handle (like going on an exchange year and crashing after three months and not knowing why and feeling like a failure). I would have had a more suitable career path too.

Hope this makes any sense.

I wouldn't see it closely connected to your background. My parents were a mix of well-off and poor working class and just wanted me to adjust and get on with it. They also didn't want me to cost them too much of their time. They just wanted to be normal, and I can also see the benefits of that approach.

So sorry to hear this - take care Martian Tom

Hang on in there Martian Tom

Feeling like that again today. 

I know how you feel. M&S have a habit of changing perfectly good clothes into inferior versions despite them being best sellers. I bought some of their joggers this year and the material is not as soft and they are lower waisted. My work clothes are now joggers, wellies and a fleece. I will struggle when I end up back in an office .....

That is me. Right when I stopped working I slipped into those and never really changed.

The labels I don't much care about.

They did change my favourite pair of jogging pants and it still bothers me.

I do live in baggy joggers and comfy tops - all with no labels.

I have to cut all the labels out of my clothes and can't bear wool, linen, polyester, chiffon, lace, lurex, polo necks. I would live in baggy joggers and go bra less if I didn't have to leave the house . Love my converse but can't look cool and wear them without socks. I do have a love of soft corduroy or velour and probably have far too much of it

If I like what is fashionable, great! If not, I just wear what I like. Dress codes can be a bummer.

I never understood fashion either. I really don't. I only wear comfortable clothes. The ones that don't itch or are tight etc.

Working in finance was hell with those shirts and black pants and looking smart. I thought I managed decently until my boss gave me a voucher for clothes as a present. I asked him if that was meant as a hint, but he just turned red.

I gave the voucher to a friend who was really into clothes.

I sympathize with you. I was told after being offered one NHS job that I was confident and outgoing at interview (totally not my real self) so they thought i would be ideal to be put in an office with a secretary who was difficult to say the least. Constantly on my back (I overheard the consultants complaining about her, saying she neded to just let me get on with my job but they didn't intervene). How I wish I hadn't put on an act at that interview, would have saved me a year of grief,  working with someone who undermined me, left all the difficult phone calls for me, rearranged my desk on my days off, had the heating on full blast and basically made my life a misery. 

My only NHS job, 20 years ago, was a nightmare.  I'd been made redundant from my last job and was doing a part-time college course to learn computing.  There, I met a chap whose wife was a medical secretary at the hospital.  I met her once and she seemed nice.  A vacancy arose in her department, and she put a word in for me.  I was interviewed by her, and got the job.  Great!  Until I actually started working with her.  It was just the two of us in a small office.  And she was the most horrendous, foot-stamping, shouting bully.  She accused me almost from day one of doing things wrong - even though I had to learn a lot of stuff very quickly.  She accused me of taking things from her desk, even though she'd simply lost them.  After a month of this, I snapped back.  I asked her to speak to me more respectfully, etc.  She simply laughed.  So I went sick.  I was off for almost three months and was in a terrible state.  I was completely traumatised by it.  I reported her, but they closed ranks around her because of her higher status and longer service.  For ages afterwards, I was scared to even go near that hospital.

Could well be that things have changed. I haven't been in the work environment for about four years now, and used to live in Belgium for some years.

I hope it has changed, but for the jobs I applied for in the past, I wouldn't have been accepted had I said anything about ASD. I just bluffed my way through back then. (Teamplayer? Yeah, sure. - I only applied for solitary positions anyway.)

My last NHS job ended horribly. I was taken on to work between two bickering teams. I was always fearful of helping one team.more than the other. Eventually the teams were split into separate offices and no one could say what team I'd go with. Each team had a different boss who wanted different things. Despite being told by both teams that I had lightened up the office there was no sympathy when I eventually broke down with all the uncertainty..my boss told me to stop crying as I was 'making it worse for myself'. I signed myself off for a week, went back in for a day but no one spoke to me and I left never to rreturn.I was working for the NHS Psychology service. Says it all really.