Verbally Blind

Although it may seem that the last few posts are discussing mostly the problems I have being understood by others, it's really a completely equal two-way smashup. True, I can't get a lot of "content" through in any attempt at detailed discussion. But the corollary ... is that I miss SO much of the "intended" communications of those around me that they send to me. I just can't "grok" the meanings they want to get into my head anymore than they seem able to "grok" mine.

And it's dastardly ... bizarre. You see, it isn't that I (or most other high-functioning Aspergians) don't get, for example,  satiric or ironic comments ... because I and "we" ... use them and enjoy such things. I/we understand most jokes and forms of humor, and both respond to and employ these things in ways so close to the Neruro-Typical or "Enty" way of doing it that we tend to do pretty well (at least most of the time!) within these forms of the obviously different-from-dictionary word usage. These "altered meaning" practices tend to be pretty obviously ... altered. We're cool with that.

Where we Spectrumites fall on our faces is in the rather normal, mundane and "straight-forward" discussions that make up the majority of human interaction. The ones everyone is presumed able to understand. The "face value" comments and statements, that it turns out ... aren't nearly as "face value" as they supposedly are.

Or perhaps, that's really the problem ... for the Enty population,  face is valuable. It's nearly everything. Remember those paragraphs explaining how Enty's take all that sensorial data in along with the words? In their brains, it's all inter-connected and the words only "mean" what the totality of data says they mean. In our brains, out on our spectrum, it isn't. Oh, really ANGRY faces we see ... and really any "something" faces. We do see them. Though even then, as we note internally that the person is in whatever emotional state they are showing, we only see it as a side-detail to the conversation. The words are still the words, right?

No ... the words aren't just the words. They never ... or rarely ... are. And it's in the most subtle facial/vocal/breath/body/eye-corner details, in the more "bland" or straight-forward-seeming sentences and comments ... that those other details matter far more than the words. That those other details give the intended meaning to the words. So often completely at digression from a straight literal dictionary translation of the words stated, if done word-by-word.

I, and others on the spectrum, can neither "see" nor interpret those very important data bits any more than a blind person can tell you how many posters are stuck to the wall by just looking at the wall. In both cases, the wiring simply isn't there. Even knowing this is the process, there's no way I can guess either. I don't see (in literal reality) those subtle shifts at the corners of the eyes. And if I do see them, I've no way to understand how to interpret them, from the thousands of meanings they could have.

I'm damn near "verbally blind", as are most of my "ilk". And that's a right uncomfortable thing to be.

Autism/Aspergers vs "Normal" Communication Part II

John Elder Robison has an example of how differently we Spectrumites communicate from EnTy's, about our typical lack of complex motives when we on the Spectrum speak. His example: If we tell someone that the red dress they're wearing today makes them look fat (or if we've learned some sophistication, "heavy") and the blue dress they wore yesterday doesn't, it's simply a direct attempt to help them look their best. We're only passing on useful information. They should go home and put the blue dress back on.

There's no emotional content nor any other implication intended within the comment. It is a purely factual communication. Direct, simple, straightforward, and most importantly to us, useful for the other person. The best kind of communication, right? They should even thank us for it.

However, what most EnTy's will "hear" is that we intentended to insult them, and they will never ... ever ... believe otherwise. And worse, they'll KNOW that any attempt by us to "explain" our silly excuse for reasoning is just a show of  how STUPID we think they are (that we think they'd believe such crap!). Once they've taken a comment 'wrong', there's no recovery possible, or at least, likely.

Mr. Robison's example is straight-forward and in some ways comical, and I know many EnTy's will consider it perhaps 'extreme'. My experience is similar to Mr. Robison's, but ... in real life it goes ever so much farther than his example. Everything I say to an EnTy is processed in the same way. Every instruction to an employee, every suggestion in a meeting, every conversational comment to clients or friends ... it is all processed this way by the other side, in a way which I can neither natively understand, predict, nor accomplish on my own.

Even in this, as I'm trying to be precise in an attempt to communicate clearly, I will probably fail with many (or probably most) of the people who may ever read this LONG epistle. It will be all sorts of things "wrong" but not the right things "right". Because I've found, even in written language, there's something different about the way En-Ty's perceive my words that I can't ... fathom.

The few times I've had "successes" at getting much meaning across have been only a partial success ... a few percent of the idea made it across. It's been rare to actually get any complex idea absorbed in a way that it is still useful to others in the way that I meant it, so that they acted on it as I had envisioned. And as always, if I try to correct the perceptions of what I'd said, people get puzzled ... then they get ticked at me.

My communications successes have mostly been in dire emergencies. It seems that the ONE time that EnTy's shut down that predictive-meaning facility is in DIRE emergencies, when most people's upper-brain functions shut down in general. Suddenly, they hear my commands as simply and exactly the words I intend them to be, follow precisely my bluntly stated commands, and ... we get through, with everyone amazed at how strange it was that I could communicate so clearly and take command so easily. But as soon as their brains relax, it's back to ... normal.

John Elder Robison and Temple Grandin and others all say that with time and experience "we" get better at getting along in EnTy society. We become functionally near enough to "normal" as to be fine and enjoy life with and among EnTy's  just dandy (or at least, close enough).

I've not found that the case. Most people I'm around don't even realize I am on that spectrum. I'm not such a display-case that it's obvious except to those with good experience in these things. One would think that being (at least in appearance) closer to "normal" than most of my true peers, I should have somewhat better communication results. Or at least, some ability to improve the quality of my communications with EnTy's to a sort-of comfortable state. Not so, at least, not with only 37 years of adult attempts.

The only way I've really found to achieve a "comfortable" state in communications with EnTy's is ... to stop almost all attempts to talk with EnTy's on anything past the weather and how old their kids are. In any subject past that, there will be miss-communications galore. At some point, I'll make what seems a simple straight-forward comment, perhaps even just a hmmm of agreement, and the conversation hits a hard STOP as they're standing there somehow completely puzzled by my response. And when I realize it's happened again, if I try to correct the "miss", it makes the personal interaction worse. So it's much easier (both socially and emotionally) to try and fade into the woodwork, to become ... less. Less obvious, less "there", and less ... me.

But that of course makes it impossible for me to get anything done that matters to me. Life is created by the doing of something worthwhile. For my business to take good care of my family (and make some sort of non-peon retirement possible) I need to be able to make things happen. And yet as I spin my mental wheels in all this analytical mud, my brain racing around trying to find SOME way to get traction and move forward somehow, all that this excellent reasoning power of my brain shows me is that ... This Is The Way It Is. This Is Why It Is. And ... It ... just ... IS.

And so far, it seems there's no way to fix it. Every communication of any length or depth I have with every Enty I meet always leaves me aware I've ... surprised them somehow. That I didn't communicate something that I'd expected, wanted, or needed to with them. That I've left them wondering about some puzzling comment or pause or whatever. And it leaves me feeling very isolated, singular, and separate.

No, I'm neither proud of nor comfortable with being a Spectrumite. It's what I am, similar to being say left-handed or long-bodied/short-legged. It just is. It is often a cause of embarrassment and emotional hurts, both for myself and sadly (and to my shame) for others. But my continual lack of ability to get traction burns.

I should be able to do better than this ... and I will always try.

Autism/Aspergers versus "Normal" Communication

In tested mental capabilities, I'm HEAVILY geared for analysis/synthesis, and that capability comes with a ton of native "horsepower". Which naturally means I look at things around me, analyze, re-think, and envision alternate ways of doing anything. That's me. That's how I see the world every minute. I analyze, I pull things apart in my head, and see if there's another way to put them back together that might be better for at least some purpose than the way things are now. And truthfully, there are always ways to improve things.

But I'm not a tin-pot dictator in some third-world country with the self-awarded title of "Colonel", wearing a cute quasi-military uniform I designed for myself. And no, I don't even have those darling aviator "shades". So I can't order anyone to follow my ideas and threaten them with torture for failing to understand me. Not even within my own business. I have to use words to illustrate and define my ideas, and make my thoughts understandable to and for those who must then help plan the implementation and carry out my ideas and goals.

I was an English Lit major in college, and compared to my peers in the department, writing was a strength. But as an adult, even though interpersonal communication seems like something I should be able to do in my sleep, it has been so often a botch-job that I learned to dread meetings. Not that my efforts always seem so "botched" by others, but that so rarely does any real depth of my intent get across the Great Divide.

As part of my continuing studies of the Autism/Aspergers spectrum, I have learned to understand some of the communications differences between those of us who are "Spectrumites" (my newly-minted term) to those who are "Neuro-typical", or "N/T's" (let's call them "En-Ty's", for short). And yes, there is a sort of code-book situation going on. A horrifying one from the vantage point of those of us on the spectrum.

In verbal conversations, most "En-Ty" brains absorb the words they hear as only part of the context of the situation they hear them in. That context is a very complex compendium of their own sensory perceptions of the face, body, breath-patterns, vocal and other 'inflections' they perceive from the one who's speaking. From all this, and AS the words and sensory perceptions come in, they determine what is the most likely motive that one who would use such words would have for saying those words in that way in this situation here and now. THEN, having deduced the true motive behind the words being used, they determine the true or intended meaning of the person who just said the words they heard.

Let's recap: first, they take everything they've mentally and sensorially experienced/noticed/perceived from the speaker (with the actual words being only a small part of the total input); from the total received intake they then they deduce a motive for the communication; THEN they determine what the true or intended meaning of the comment was ... from the motive and perceptions of delivery they just deduced.

EnTy's do all this instantly, and most of them don't even have a clue that this is the process they use to give meaning to the words they hear. It truly is an amazing bit of mental gymnastics, exceeding the capability of a quad-core computer chip in near-instantaneous processing speed. Brains can be marvelous devices, you know.

But there is a horrific part in all this for us Spectrumites. We're mostly to COMPLETELY oblivious to all of this "extra" mental thought-processing. Not because we haven't bothered to learn it, as so many folks tell us. But because our brains aren't hard-wired to do it as theirs are. After studying this communications dissimilarity for a couple years, I can logically understand how it works, but I cannot possibly apply that knowledge in "real-time". I don't have the automatic sensor-connection between the parts of the brain that control my eyes and ears to my "thinking" section that would make all those data-bits (that don't seem at all inter-connected to my brain) somehow affect the meaning of the words I hear. In many situations, this action by EnTy's seems to completely replace the meaning of the literal words with another "thought" entirely, one in complete opposition to the stated words. I can't figure out how to do that.

Nor can any EnTy for whom this is "natural", turn the process off when they're around someone who doesn't share the ability. In fact, those who do this most strongly are highly likely to insist that they DON'T do any such thing at all. It is probable they will take great offense at the mere implication that they would. And so, they insist we've just made a statement that bears no relation we of the Spectrum can tell to any words, thoughts, or understanding we've ever had in our lives. Let alone the words we just said. It's often infuriating to both sides. What a life, eh?

LIving a Spectrumite Life in an En-Ty World

Some of my peers choose humorous ways to talk about living as a member of the Aspergers/Autism "spectrum", such as John Elder Robison's self-created title as a "Free-range Aspergian". That has a bit of whimsy, of "cuteness" to it, doesn't it? Mr. Robison and Temple Grandin (another noted Autistic/"Spectrumite") even make the point both in their books and their lecture appearances that they wouldn't want to change anything about themselves or their presence "on the spectrum". They're comfortable being who and what they are. They feel of those of us with Autism/Aspergers ... conditions? ... have also been given enough advantages over "Neuro-Typicals" that they prefer life on the spectrum. Or, as I call it, being a "Spectrumite" versus being an "En-Ty".

For me, learning about my own hardwired limitations as a Spectrumite these last couple years has been brutal. Just as brutal as living on that spectrum has been for lo these 58 years. Yes, I finally have some understanding of how and why interpersonal communications and relations for my entire life have been ... "odd". For both myself and everyone around me, as I'm very aware that I do continually cause confusion and discomfort in others. I understand why some people react so strongly, so negatively,  on just being in a room with me. Why so many attempts at simple conversations go so ... uncomfortable. In three sentences or less.

But for all those years before "understanding" attacked, I kept up an optimism that someday, somehow, I'd figure out how to blend in with most people. How to get along, have "normal" conversations at parties and professional meetings; even how to relate with people without seeing the faces of this or that person simply cringe upon seeing me for the first time, and before I've even said a word to them. Because, yes, I've always seen this happen, and yes, it has always hurt. Not everyone reacts to me with such dismay, and yes, I have managed a few friends over the years. But I've not seen my friends and acquaintances receive such reactions ever. I do.

As someone who'd been a Secondary-Education/English Lit major in college, and an acquaintance of people with Autistic/Aspergers kids, I knew of the existence of the "Spectrum". But it was out there, of course, not ... here. Then a few years back, in short succession I had both a 5-year old son and a 26 year old daughter (a grad-school  student in a Lutheran Seminary) diagnosed as "on the spectrum". For him, the diagnosis was high-functioning Autism; for her, Aspergers.

For an involved dad like myself, this was quite a jolt. As a very active parent, I set out to learn the differences, the determining factors, of being "on the spectrum" as opposed to being "normal", with my typically intense ability to focus and absorb. What did this mean in REAL terms, and ... how does one mitigate the known problems? What do you do after the diagnosis?

During those studies, with the focus and passion that (I would soon learn) those of us on that spectrum are so often capable of, and with the firm (if unappreciated!) nudge of a close friend, I came to the inevitable if startlingly uncomfortable conclusion: two of my children, my self, and my late father all existed on that same spectrum. I didn't like the conclusion one little bit. But ... I am an analysis whiz. It is one of the few things I'm hot at. And once I started looking at the possibility of my own 'existence' as a Spectrumite, I couldn't find any missing pieces. All I found was supportive evidence. Solid supportive evidence. A lot of solid, supportive evidence.

When I first mentioned this idea (of my "inclusion") during a meeting with our son's teachers and specialists they had no reaction at all. Or rather, not verbally. They just looked sideways at each other, and ... the meeting moved on. It seemed it had been obvious to them earlier in our 'relationship'. Checking in with a couple of them later ... well, yes ... they had all noticed the rather obvious link, and had even discussed it among themselves long before it had occurred to me.

Would a test be useful, I mused? (Note: I was still looking for an "out", a possibility that my conclusion was wrong.) The response was disheartening: Um ... well ... no, not really, it would mostly be a waste of time and money; I was certainly welcome to go get tested, but ... the direct answer was that while I may not look and seem to most people to be "obviously suffering" from Autism/Aspergers, to someone who works in the field ... I light up the indicator lights all over the board. Bluntly, if this is a game of tag, I'm "it".

As I noted at the beginning, both John Robison Elder and Temple Grandin are comfortable with (or actually prefer) being a Spectrumite to being an En-Ty. At the present time, I can't join them "there". Maybe someday. I've been so aware my whole life of the difficulties I have both in business and personal situations, of some interference with my ability to communicate specific meanings and ideas on a predictable, solid basis to other humans, that finding out that there really is no solution to my problem isn't ... comforting. I've struggled mightily with the loss of hope. I've have many damn rough days and nights.

I've had to realize that for all it's prowess and capabilities, my brain doesn't use language quite like any of the En-Ty's I know or work with. Not even my wife and closest friends. This limits everything I try to do to such an extent that at times I wonder why I even bother trying anything. Having learned it's a permanent hard-wiring problem, I keep looking for the equivalent of a software "patch". Some way to actually get my thoughts out "there" such that others can understand the depth and width of what I try to communicate.

I'm not having any luck. Knowing the cause hasn't provided (at least yet) any assistance at amelioration. There has been a ton of new emotional baggage to work through, not least of which is the realization that ... this is permanent. There may be no fix for my communication/interpersonal struggles.

The supposed definition of insanity is trying the same action over and over and expecting a different outcome. But all I've got left is to keep trying to improve my ability to communicate with the En-Ty world I live in, and hope that eventually I'll find a way to maybe double the percentage of accurate  'content' I manage to get across. Someday, someway, I'll maybe hit a 4% -transmission of ideas to someone. It ain't much ... but it would be better than I'm getting now. It would be ... something.

It would bring so much hope back ...

Always re-newing ...

The Brits talk of repairing things differently than we ... well, actually, they talk about EVERYTHING differently than we do. One of their verbiage "intriguities" that I love, is when they replace a part on a car motor for instance, they don't "replace" it, they "re-new" it. As in, "Anytime one removes the cylindre-head, one must re-new the gaskets before replacing the cylindre-head upon the motor-block."

Besides the cool "re" endings rather than our "er" spelling, "re-newing" has such a gentle, loving touch-sound to it. You're not junking an old part, you're lovingly re-creating or fondly improving the ... device? ... at hand.

And so these days, I am constantly re-newing so much ... from software to websites to even the way a professional views their business 'model' ... and my website has been getting a LOT of attention from me over the last few days.

My site is not only my personal professional presence on the web, it's also the test bed for the Haugen's Galleri brand that the wife and I share. I started it once upon a time, but it's nearly completely identified with Miriam these days. It's her home for her 'tribe', as she's discovering, built upon "mothering". Our "tribes" are so different, yet ... my experiments in web presence can be applied to bring hers along as well.

I've not completed all the changes I'm in the midst of trotting out on my Showit-based current site, yet I'm already working on the replacement for it. The 'nex-gen' sites we have will be based on WordPress. I'll be able to add a seamless connection to SmugMug galleries and online preview/sales that we will use for certain clients and events. It's a continual process, never ending.

Ah yes, re-newing my business model, web presence, and view of Life on a continual basis ...and the accompanying image is of model Kailey Glodt, one of my favorite subjects to photograph.
Neil

I can't hold back Spring ...

Or Life either. For all I love Winter, it is the ... pause ... that is most dear. The quietude. The peacefulness, actually ... the now. Yes, I love watching the storms roll in and barrel their way across the landscape from the windows, but note, it is watching the storms that I love. Observing. Seeing. The marvelous and ever-changing view neither requires nor asks any action on my part.

Especially if the weather outside is frightful, I sit inside and simply enjoy the view and the passing of time. A most delicious day is one spent by the fireplace with good music and good books and a view of the roiling storms passing through, expending their fury on the lands surrounding. A good companion or two make the passing time even more enjoyable, and these are the moments that are most wondrous for me. Comforting and satisfying to my soul.

The world and the weather simply move on by, and unless I need to repair damage to something, I am unaffected by them except for the pleasure they provide me. Add a glass of fine liquid, say fresh coffee mixed to my taste, a single-malt Scotch, or glass of Merlot and the passing of time is heavenly. And again, peaceful.

But now, Spring comes. And with it, Busy-ness. Hecticity. Action. Things need doing. So many things need doing ... there's Growth everywhere, much of which needs controlling, like the grass and the fruit trees wanting to sprout new limbs EVERYWHERE ... and so much action is required of me. I can't merely sit and watch, as to keep my lands and buildings looking well and being well I must become very active. There's so much to do.

Life is so busy. So not-peaceful. So exuberant and un-controlled and so often, un-expected. Spring flings us into the pell-mell rush of summer, with all its excesses. Its newness. Just as I get comfortable with the now it is gone, never to come again. It bounces me back and forth and forces me to venture OUT.

THERE. Where the unexpected and the new play and frolic while awaiting their favorite game, the ambush of the quietude and the peace of the pause.

I can't hold back Spring, of course, any more than I can hold back Life. Why all this rush to the future? What's wrong with ... now? Ever must I steel myself for the ongoing rush of Life when Spring comes a'calling. It's that time again ... to put away the joy and comfort of Peace, and brace myself for the brash bruising that is Spring and Summer. For another year.

For the Love of January ...

I'm noticing right now, how totally BUMMED I am that it is already February ... and it's made me think a bit. Why is it so much a downer for me? This isn't at all in jest, for this is what I do feel most sincerely, and with every fiber of my being. And so I've been pondering this for the whole month of January: why do I feel most at home and in-balance with the world around me in a month most others seem to dread?

I love the "feel" of December: I'm a total Advent junkie, hooked and NEVER looking for a "cure". I find myself only wishing December was twice as long as it is every year. Still, that doesn't say anything about January. As I thought and puzzled about my love of January, I noted to myself how odd it was because nothing happens in January, really. And I found the answer within that statement. Hercule Poirot loves to have the ever-factual and direct Captain Hastings about while he is solving crimes as Captain Hastings will always make the most obvious and seeming-less useless observation of something. Yet in that statement, some little fact pops up that stirs Poirot's famous little grey cells of brain-matter to connect other seemingly un-related dots. Voila, we learn something!

And so the understanding came from within that observation to myself that it's strange to love January (as I must do). The obvious following thought is this: nothing really happens during the month, so how could one "love" ... nothing? As with Poirot and his Hastings', right there in the obvious I found my answer. I realized that I love the peaceful-ness of January, the pause in the year, when it seems every thing "stops". Nothing's growing, we stay in-doors and hunker down of an evening by the fire with a good book, some music, a movie or so on the television/dvd player.
Me, the person who always wanted to be out and about when younger ... wants little more than a quiet evening at home, a fire, and a few loved ones close by. What a change from the "Neil" of thirty years ago!

By the end of February buds and shoots and the first bulb-flowers are appearing, and the pace gets dizzyingly faster week by week. LIFE just gets very busy, hecticity abounds, and off we go for another roller-coaster ride through the year. I watch others as they THRILL to this, the "coming-alive" of the world around us, as I've heard it described, and I note how different I am. How different I am from even what *I* used to be.

I now love the pause, the contemplative time, the inward-ness of January. I love the storms outside and the fire inside, the sense of snugging down to let the world go by. To think unfettered by the need to "do" whatever it is that needs done today. To feel, to sense, and to float in the pool of the Quiet of Now.
I do get my month of that each year, but it's never enough. And as I get older, I find I want that month to be longer.
Robert Neil Haugen,
1 February, 2010