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My models for cultural and social expectations of behavior veer between 1) a list of rules, 2) a pachinko-ball-style branching if-then decision flowchart, and 3) a thick fog through which I catch glimpses of people doing things and hear snippets of conversations, but I can never quite get a comprehensible set of guidelines.
Since I was nine or ten years old I have devoted the vast bulk of my hyperfocus and executive function to Blending In With Humans. When I was a child I was very, very bad at this. But somewhere around age forty I got decent enough at it to pass most of the casual encounters I have with humans. (By "pass" I mean I did not say or do anything that caused the person I was interacting with to respond negatively. By which I mean they did not verbally or physically indicate that they were thinking and feeling "what the fuck is wrong with you, you fucking freak," or some culturally similar phrase.) I still ran into that response about 35-50% of the time in conversation with friends, but I could modulate or retract my statements/behaviors to get through the rough moment much (not all!) of the time. I could NOT keep this Blending In program running successfully with intimate partners, though, which was rough.
The problem with Blending In With Humans is that I mirrored EVERYONE. Which meant that I did, indeed, say things and act in ways around one group that were different -- not wildly different, but noticeably different -- from my words and behaviors in another context. Because I was Blending In. My significant others would catch glimpses of the different contexts and start asking questions, like, "wait, what do you ACTUALLY think about this book," or, "but I thought you found that person insufferable, why are you having coffee with them?"
I have no idea what I want, what I value, or even who I am outside of other people's expectations.
Now that I know I am autistic, the depth and breadth of my lifelong masking is ... it's sort of shattering? I guess?
Except, you know, I have PROFOUND alexithymia, so, I mean, I guess a normal person would find it shattering?
Here is what I feel about not knowing if I have any actually values, desires, or goals outside of what other people have:
I am standing on uneven ground in a near-dark fog-filled cave. I have to move and I have no guidance. Scattered through the cave are objects. I have no hints, no idea how the objects fit together. I am supposed to create whatever I want.
I have been sitting in that dimly-lit cavern for a year and a half, unmoving.
What is there in the world to want, other than trying to make sure that people do not discovered I am a fucking alien? What goal is there in the world other than successfully hiding?
***
I have spent a lot of time in the past few weeks watching birds and plants. The woodpeckers in the yard are definitely feeding chicks, we can hear the peeping. The virginia creeper and wild grapevine keep trying to cover the front sidewalk, and I keep cutting them back. The cup plant has reached its stride and is between four and six feet tall. (It will get nine to twelve feet tall.)
Life continues apace. I am very tired of having a tracheostomy, but avoiding ICU visits is pretty awesome, so I accept the trach.
The rest of our summer is filling up, with visits and trips and such. I want to keep up with the yardwork so that when I return to it, it's not a nightmare to restore to full functionality and appearance.
Since I was nine or ten years old I have devoted the vast bulk of my hyperfocus and executive function to Blending In With Humans. When I was a child I was very, very bad at this. But somewhere around age forty I got decent enough at it to pass most of the casual encounters I have with humans. (By "pass" I mean I did not say or do anything that caused the person I was interacting with to respond negatively. By which I mean they did not verbally or physically indicate that they were thinking and feeling "what the fuck is wrong with you, you fucking freak," or some culturally similar phrase.) I still ran into that response about 35-50% of the time in conversation with friends, but I could modulate or retract my statements/behaviors to get through the rough moment much (not all!) of the time. I could NOT keep this Blending In program running successfully with intimate partners, though, which was rough.
The problem with Blending In With Humans is that I mirrored EVERYONE. Which meant that I did, indeed, say things and act in ways around one group that were different -- not wildly different, but noticeably different -- from my words and behaviors in another context. Because I was Blending In. My significant others would catch glimpses of the different contexts and start asking questions, like, "wait, what do you ACTUALLY think about this book," or, "but I thought you found that person insufferable, why are you having coffee with them?"
I have no idea what I want, what I value, or even who I am outside of other people's expectations.
Now that I know I am autistic, the depth and breadth of my lifelong masking is ... it's sort of shattering? I guess?
Except, you know, I have PROFOUND alexithymia, so, I mean, I guess a normal person would find it shattering?
Here is what I feel about not knowing if I have any actually values, desires, or goals outside of what other people have:
I am standing on uneven ground in a near-dark fog-filled cave. I have to move and I have no guidance. Scattered through the cave are objects. I have no hints, no idea how the objects fit together. I am supposed to create whatever I want.
I have been sitting in that dimly-lit cavern for a year and a half, unmoving.
What is there in the world to want, other than trying to make sure that people do not discovered I am a fucking alien? What goal is there in the world other than successfully hiding?
***
I have spent a lot of time in the past few weeks watching birds and plants. The woodpeckers in the yard are definitely feeding chicks, we can hear the peeping. The virginia creeper and wild grapevine keep trying to cover the front sidewalk, and I keep cutting them back. The cup plant has reached its stride and is between four and six feet tall. (It will get nine to twelve feet tall.)
Life continues apace. I am very tired of having a tracheostomy, but avoiding ICU visits is pretty awesome, so I accept the trach.
The rest of our summer is filling up, with visits and trips and such. I want to keep up with the yardwork so that when I return to it, it's not a nightmare to restore to full functionality and appearance.