Published on 12, July, 2020
I am absolutely not saying that all NTs are weirdly interested, but I had an experience lately that really got on my nerves and is still bothering me.
A couple of weeks ago my grandparents had a friend to stay, and this friend used to work in schools before she retired, with autistic students and other students with special educational needs, but she was particularly keen on working with autistic students. Whilst she was at their house, my grandparents phoned me to ask if I would go over and chat to her. I'd heard them talk about her before and how "interested" she was in my being Asperger's and as I'm actually quite sensitive about the subject I wasn't sure I wanted to, but as my grandparents are amazing and I always want to please them, I said yes, sure, and went over.
So I get there and I meet the friend, and the first question she has isn't, "How are you?" She immediately asks me, "What goes on in your head?" That is the first question she asks, in that many words. I have only meet this woman sporadically throughout my life, on three occasions at most, in twenty years. I remember being taken aback at the time, but now I just feel boiling mad. Like, you wouldn't ask a neurotypical twenty-year-old girl that question, so why ask me just because I'm Aspie and you're "interested"?! Remembering the syrupy voice she used just makes me even more cross. It was as if she was talking to a five-year-old. To be honest I can't exactly remember what I said in reply, but I think I said something along the lines of, "Well, emotionally I struggle, and I get quite anxious, but apart from that nothing particularly interesting goes on in my head really. Not things that other people would find interesting anyway."
Then we got onto the subject of me being a writer, and my poetry and things, and she asked, "So could you make up a poem now for me? From your head?" And I was like, "Well, I'd have to go and sit down and write it. It wouldn't be an immediate thing." And she looked stricken and was like, "But people with conditions like yours, they can do that sort of thing, can't they? Just make things up from their heads? You must be able to."
Me: "No, really, I can't. Unfortunately. It takes time and effort. I'm not so good at being put on the spot." *Fake laughter*
She then started telling me stories about the autistic children she worked with, including one about a boy who used to imagine that he was projecting films onto the backs of his eyes from his brain and showed her by drawing a diagram (which does sound rather cool, I have to admit). Then like some excited Labrador, "Can you do that? Can you do that?" And she kept going, "Of course, I asked if I could work with children like you because I was interested. I just find you all so INTERESTING!" She proceeded to grill me, asking me about my plans to go to uni, and as I was unable to talk in detail about my mental health (aside from my Asperger's) and how it looks like it won't be possible for me to go this year, she was like, "But you must go! Because otherwise, people like you get stuck with their parents all their lives. It's so sad." Then my grandma joined in like, "I try and tell her mother not to be so over protective, she should go to university, she is easily clever enough" etc etc etc. It felt like I was being descended upon by vultures or something.
At this point I was virtually crying, as in, tears in my eyes, trying not to let them spill over. And I might suffer from emotional dysregulation, but I have gone whole therapy sessions without shedding a tear. So I was upset.
This attack ended with the friend saying, "You mustn't be so sharp with her. People like her are very sensitive, aren't you, dear? It's what comes of having such wonderful minds!"
All this happened a couple of weeks ago, but thinking about it still makes me sick to my stomach. It seemed ridiculous and kind of worrying to me that his woman was so fascinated in a medical condition. I hated the way she spoke to me, and I don't care if she was a kind old lady; it just made me angry and extremely uncomfortable. I felt like an exhibit in a zoo. To be honest, this isn't the first time that I have experienced this sort of thing: people being openly fascinated by autism, and asking me what my "power" is (er, I'm Aspie, not Supergirl!) or how quickly I can solve a maths problem (I barely scraped my necessary C at GCSE Maths, and that was with a lot of hard work and extra tuition, and on my third go at the exam!). I have to say that as a sufferer I really can't see why autism is so fascinating, and it frustrates me because again, it's the stereotypes they get excited about! Has anybody else experienced this weird fascination with autism?
Hi my friend,
Please don't feel sad. I'm used to it and can manage it. I turn the tables on these people by not thinking of myself as an oddment, but thinking of myself as unique. Special. I look at NTs mostly and think 'I'm so glad I'm not like that. I'm an original thinker. I'm not a clone.'
I had therapy for a couple of years following a decade of depression and anxiety disorder. My therapist originally thought I had BPD because I ticked most of the boxes, symptomwise. Like you, I'm a writer. At that time, I wrote a novel about what it's like to live with BPD. Since then, I got my ASC diagnosis. I now look at that novel and realise that it's all about living with autism! My mental health issues were rooted in my autism. The not fitting-in. The anxiety in certain situations. The social communication problems. The fear of disruption to routine. The need to control my environment. I honestly believe that there are many undiagnosed autistic people out there suffering from horrendous mental health problems which are improperly understood and incorrectly diagnosed. I was lucky that my therapist, eventually, recognised what she thought was autistic behaviour patterns after all, and suggested a referral for diagnosis.
You're born with ASC. It doesn't develop. What develops are the symptoms, which are borne of your trying to hard too behave like others when you're not programmed like they are. I'm fond of using the analogy that I'm like a cat in a room full of dogs. I try to be like them so that I can be accepted by them. But I fail - because I'm a cat. They, though, can't accept that I'm a cat. Instead, they see me as a failed dog! Well... I won't be a failed dog any longer. I'll be a cat. If they don't like it.... tough!
Keep writing and sharing. It's great therapy. You'll learn about yourself, as well as saying things that many people might want to hear. You'll be speaking for them. You have the voice that they don't have. That's a great gift.
Tom