Everything is Awesome..

No. Far from it. There’s too much hatred in the world, too much bitterness, too much “us and them”. It sometimes feels that the world is a toxic environment covered with stinking quagmires and clouds of noxious gasses. It’s too easy to fall into the trap of thinking everyone you meet is “out to get you” or only looking out for their own interests.

No, I refute this. Constantly assuming the worst isn’t healthy. I’m not a religious person by any stretch of the imagination (I used to be.. but that’s a WHOLE different story) but I must have faith (for want of a better word) that Good (for want of a better word) will prevail over Evil (for want of.. well..you get the picture!)

I like people. Genuinely, I like people. I get odd looks from commuters as I randomly smile at people. A wise old face, a happy child, a loving couple, a unique individual can often find themselves victim of a drive by smiling by this crazy old fool.

I have a particularly odd outlook on life. A personal philosophy I fashioned over many years of feeling different. It occurred to me that we are ALL different which in turn makes us ALL the same. I mean we are all unique and it is this collective uniqueness that binds us all together.

My philosophy is one fashioned from questionable physics and crude mathematics 😉 When you look at the universe from creation to now there have been numerous points where something specific had to happen to end up where we are right now (you.. sitting there.. reading this!) The right atoms had to clump together to form the galaxy, the right lumps of matter had to form to create the protoplasmic Earth. The right planetoid had to crash into Earth to knock it off kilter and give us our moon.  The right meteors and comets had to bombard the planet with the right chemicals to form the basis of life. That life had to survive many extinction level events to evolve. The right fish, the right reptile, the right mammal, the right ape then think to the more recent history. Your great-great-great-great.. .. .. great grandparents had to meet from all the people they could  have met, the right sperm had to meet the right egg at the right time, again and again and again and again down the generations until eventually, you. You right there.. was born. Mathematically speaking the odds of these specific things happening are astronomical. Ok obviously they HAD to happen otherwise we wouldn’t be here. But when you look at it from this perspective you are statistically impossible. The odds of you existing are stacked against you, yet despite the odds here you are. You are as close to a miracle as this mathematician sceptic aspie is ever going to see. And you know what else? So am I ! And your friends, your co-workers, that guy you pass on the street, the annoying politician who everyone laughs at.

We have to realise that we are the greatest treasure this universe will ever have (at least on this unremarkable blue-green planet in the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy) We have to realise that once we’re gone.. We’re gone. Never was there anyone like us before, never will there be anyone like us again. We are irreplaceable and totally unique. And in the grand scheme of things we are mayflies. We flare and burn and go out so very very quickly. Which makes every second a precious gift, every minute a fortune. Not to be wasted, not to be squandered on causing pain or discomfort, but riches to be spent telling others how wonderful they are. Helping the weak, the infirm, the frail and speaking up for those with no voices of their own, shouting down those who will seek to silence others for personal gain.

We must be proud of our differences. We must stand shoulder to shoulder and spend our time riches wisely. We are wonderful. We are beautiful.

I’m reminded of a quote from the movie V for Vendetta. Where a letter from a long departed inmate called Valerie is found and read. The last part sums up my sentiment exactly.

“What I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that even though I do not know you, and even though I may not meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you: I love you.

With all my heart

I love you”

Why I feel people hate me before they’ve ever seen me!

One word. “Atypical”

Netflix’s latest offering is a “Dark comedy” about a young 18-year-old male growing up on the Autism Spectrum and trying to get a girlfriend.

Ok.. sounds familiar (well apart from the elephant in the room that is the fact I wasn’t diagnosed Autistic until I was 46) “perhaps this could be interesting” Thinks Me.

Oh boy.. So much hatred on social media for this show. Calls to boycott it, tweet upon tweet upon tweet about how they didn’t hire an actual autist for the role, about how he’s white, about how he’s straight, about how he’s Cisgender, about how he’s a he! I’ve seen posts about “Toxic Masculinity” dear god an 18-year-old boy imagining having sex? How very dare they.

Ok, look. Sure, they could have hired an actual autist for the role. I’m not a huge fan of The Big Bang theory. People say Sheldon Cooper is “an example of someone on the spectrum” I disagree.. I think he’s an example of someone who’s an a**hole! I associate more with Leonard or Raj than any other character. My wife says I’m like Moss from The I.T. Crowd (the original British version I hurry to state!) Yes I can see that. Naïve, intelligent, awkward, loyal and at times as dim-witted as two short planks stacked together. Sums me up that does! Played perfectly by the talented Richard Ayoade I really see a lot of myself in Moss (except I don’t live with my mum any longer and actually have a social life .. of sorts) When I heard there was a show where the “hero” was autistic, not implied but actually written as autistic, I was glad. I was looking forward to the show. Then I saw the vitriol being targeted towards it.

Don’t misunderstand me, I understand where they are all coming from.  I see your points and, in part, I agree with them.  But let’s just step back for a second. Take a look as someone who *IS* a white straight cisgender male on the autistic spectrum. (heck worse than that.. I’m middle aged AND middle class) When I see people saying how they’re not interested in seeing “toxic male cisgendered straight guys with all their ill-gotten privileges” I feel like they’re saying “Pete? I don’t like who you are.. I don’t like what you are and I don’t think anyone needs to hear anything you have to say. Please delete your twitter and blog immediately!

Intellectually I KNOW they’re not personally attacking me. But my aspie side find it hard to separate the words from the meaning. When I was 18 I wanted nothing more than a girlfriend. I was “lucky” I had a high school girlfriend. We’d hold hands. I was 18… other boys my age were bragging about their conquests. I didn’t want that. I was happy holding hands. I got a peck on the cheek once; I still remember that nearly 30 years later.  I had my first “proper” girlfriend when I was in my very late 20’s/early 30’s . Which is why I can’t watch the comedy “The 40 year old virgin” .. I wasn’t quite that bad but, really, not far off and it’s not really a fun nor funny experience. I wasn’t preoccupied with sex, I’d rather have someone to cuddle and chat with. (I love cuddles)

Ok, So Atypical isn’t ideal. Surely an autistic hero is better than a NT hero? Even if he is being played by an NT actor? (I grew up in the Sean Connery/Roger Moore Bond era. How’s that for an unrealistic view of toxic masculinity and overly sexed NT heroes?)  I was looking forward to having ONE fictional character I could call my own. One like me. Not identical, not a carbon copy, but someone with SOMETHING in common.

And now I feel that I should be ashamed of who I am, Curse me for being born male, damn me for being born white and a hex on my head for being straight! I cannot help these things, this is who I am. Warts and all. I do my best to acknowledge my privileges and do my best to signal boost, promote and support others of all groups. So why do I feel hated?

This whole Atypical thing is making me very low. I’m sinking into a deep funk. So much so I’ve recently blocked any tweets mentioning it, I’m not going to watch the show, I’m also not going to listen to anyone telling me I’m not entitled to my say.

I’m feeling truly lost.

The Discovery

Wow. this is almost exactly the same process I went through. The experiences at school, the feeling of hopelessness, the panic attacks, the slow drip drip of realisation that you share similarities with descriptions of people in books and on the internet. The fear of going to the doctor with your “theory” and getting validation. I identify with this so much. You should *ALL* go check out her blog.

Finally Knowing Me: An Autistic Life

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Although I was completely unaware of what was about to happen in my life, with hindsight, there were a few clues. And some people have since commented that they weren’t completely surprised by the outcome.

Looking back, there were occasional messages and odd comments made, I assumed, in jest. I largely ignored these, assuming crossed wires or fanciful imaginings. Panic attacks. Stress. That is all. I get so many messages telling me that eating more vegetables or taking some magic supplement or giving up gluten or wine or whatever would solve all my problems that I tend to smile and say thank you and leave it at that.

There was also some stuff on the internet. A video of a kid in a shopping centre. It’s supposed to show something. I don’t understand it. I just assume it’s a bit rubbish. Then a quiz. Just for a lark. Internet quizzes…

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Aspie without a Spoon!

I only realised that I was on the spectrum late last year but I have friends who have had various debilitating conditions both mental and physical and, as such, was introduced to the “Spoon Theory”. Gradually phrases entered my lexicon “out of spoons” “Me and my fellow spoonies” etc and I never really questioned it. I never really understood it either but it wasn’t for me to question someone else’s world view.

Then I got diagnosed autistic. Ok, no biggie. I’m still me! I’ve not changed overnight! I’m still the same old weird nerdy guy with his encyclopaedic knowledge of movies, an interest in word play and a penchant for math puzzles and Rubik cubes. I hadn’t been swapped for a shape shifting replicant from the planet Autismia! However, suddenly friends and colleagues who knew suddenly kept “giving me spoons” (not LITERALLY you understand) I’d have a bad day and a friend would say to me “Aw you out of spoons?” .. I’d have a meltdown and I’d be offered a break to “Regather my spoons” Spoons, spoons, spoons – they followed me everywhere.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not “dissing” spoon theory. I understand where it comes from. From Wikipedia

The spoon theory is a disability metaphor used to explain the reduced amount of energy available for activities of daily living and productive tasks that may result from disability or chronic illness. Spoons are a tangible unit of measurement used to track how much energy a person has throughout a given day.

Ok. I get that! It’s an arbitrary unit of measurement. Could be spoons, buttons, paper clips or bananas! I’m a mathematician. I’m used to arbitrary symbols representing numbers.

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Euler’s identity anyone?

 

But to me, spoons made no sense. As a single home owner 15 years ago I had to buy all the mod cons for my new apartment. I bought cutlery. Never once did I feel depressed or worn down because all my knives, forks or spoons were in the dishwasher! If I ran out of spoons I washed some up.

I couldn’t get my head around the spoon analogy.

Then, a couple of days ago someone mentioned on twitter that they couldn’t get the spoons thing either. To them it was Jenga blocks. You have a tall stable tower of Jenga blocks. Everything takes a block away. Dentist visit? Remove a block! Meeting at work? Remove a block! Problem with the plumbing? Remove 3 blocks!! Over the course of a day the tower gets more and more precarious, full of holes and unstable. Eventually you have something that removes that last crucial block. It might be something mundane, like the sandwich shop running out of Tuna and sweetcorn mayo filling. Suddenly your entire tower comes crashing down.

Capture

Link to the original tweet that inspired this post.

I’ve never crashed into a heap over running out of spoons, but a tower of bricks falling into a chaotic heap because of a small thing happening is a much more appropriate analogy for me.

By all means, keep your spoons, forks, paper clips, pencils, umbrellas, coins, batteries, unicorn dust or Midi-chlorians. Whatever works for you! It’s all good.

For me, I’m all about the Jenga!

Now if you excuse me, I’ve got a tower to rebuild.

Jenga_distorted

 

Cleanliness is next to Aspieness..

Dirt, Mess..

I hate it. No really. Ever since I was a young child I’ve had problems with “dirt” . Dirt in this context can be ANYTHING from mud, paint, blood or even something like dough or flour !

As a child I remember the circus coming to town. I bugged my mum and dad for weeks to take me and in the end they relented and took me to the circus. Standing outside the big top I was getting excited to see all the wondrous things inside.. until that was I saw what was happening at the ticket office. The “ticket” was actually an ink stamp on the back of the hand. Suddenly, I didn’t want to go in. I remember the anger of my parents after me begging to go for ages suddenly changing my mind last-minute. of course, back then I didn’t know I was on the spectrum so I had no “excuse” i just didn’t want to go in. I remember saying something about seeing something inside I didn’t like. I didn’t want to admit to not wanting to go in because of a silly ink stamp.

I developed a habit of washing my hands. Wash hands before you touch something, wash hands after you touch something, wash your hands before you wash your hands. It spiralled out of control. Before I realised it I had a problem. I was washing my hands constantly.  My hands were cracked and dry, I’d carry a bottle of alcohol hand sanitiser around with me and apply it constantly. My fingers would crack and bleed and therefore make my hands “dirty” again. I’d wash some more.

Now I’m 47, I’ve mostly got over this strange aversion. Don’t get me wrong. I still dislike getting messy but now I tolerate it better. My wife loves me to make bread (something I’m surprisingly good at apparently!) Every time I add the liquid to the flour and yeast and get my hands in there to mix it I wince. As soon as the dough is kneaded and rising I HAVE to wash my hands. I can tolerate it for as long as it’s necessary but not a moment longer. My cooking apron has towelling inserts on the side for wiping. After I’ve baked I swear you could bake my apron and get a 2nd bread/cake out of it XD

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My aversion to getting “mess” on me has some very odd spin-offs. I’m .. hmm.. I won’t say Frightened, but I’m certainly uncomfortable around tattoos ! The idea of getting ink on you that you can NEVER wash off fills me with dread. The idea of me getting a tattoo is bad enough but for some odd reason if there’s someone with tattoos near me I really don’t want to go near them, I CERTAINLY don’t want to touch them. I know logically and intellectually that the tattoo can’t jump off their skin onto mine, but there’s that strange childhood dread of getting dirty screaming in the back of my mind. It’s really illogical and I feel silly for saying it. I know some very nice decent people with many many tattoos on their person. I love them dearly.. but still there’s that slight revulsion attached to the friendship I feel deeply ashamed and embarrassed about.

My old OCD tendencies are gone for the most part. My hands have healed although now I suffer from eczema/dermatitis no doubt brought on by the years of me mistreating my hands. I have this strange repulsion to getting paint on me.. I’ve painted the house many times, but it takes me about 50% longer than it should on account of the number of times I have to go wash my hands.

I still don’t like clubs/events where I need to get a hand stamp. And as for the circus? Well, I did eventually get to one only to realise I was afraid of the clowns. No, not for the usual reasons.. all that face paint you see.. .. .. .. 😉

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I was just trying to be friendly 

Ooof. This hit me right in the feels. Recent events on Twitter were caused by similar events. I wish people had more awareness of how hard I/we try to fit in and how I/we don’t always get it right. (hugs)

the silent wave

Maybe I tried a little too hard.

Maybe I agreed a little too often. Maybe I smiled a little too wide. Maybe I laughed a little too loud.

Maybe I hung around a little too long.

Maybe I said yes a little too eagerly. Maybe I offered a little too much of myself. Maybe I talked a little too much. Maybe I shared a little too soon. Maybe I was a little too honest/bold.

Maybe I tried to help a little too strongly. Maybe I tried to please a little too much. Maybe I bent a little too far. Maybe I went a little too far.

Maybe I obsessed a little too much. Maybe I replayed that conversation a few too many times. Maybe I listened a little too intently. Maybe I came across a little too intense. Maybe I nodded a little too vigorously.

Maybe I was a little…

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