I’m not disabled!

I *could* just leave this blog entry there. Three words on the title “I’m not disabled!” and call it a day. Although I guess that’s not really why you, gentle reader, are here is it?

I’m an aspie, I’m on the autistic spectrum, I’m a mathematician, I’m a husband, I’m a punster, I’m a steampunk aficionado and I’m pretty handy in the kitchen. I’m all these things and more, but there are two things I’m most certainly not.

  1. I’m not disabled.
  2. I’m not gifted.

Over the last few weeks I’ve had well-meaning (and some NOT SO well meaning) Neurotypical types put me in one of those two categories against my will. Let me explain why I don’t feel either of those terms applies to me. (Note this is me talking about me here. I am using first person narrative here. I know some aspies and auties DO consider themselves either disabled or gifted – or both! – that’s perfectly fine. It just doesn’t apply to me).

Let me give you a bit of background here. I have an MSc in mathematics (cliché alert!) I’m a white cisgender male (cliché alert!) with an interest in sci-fi, science, puzzles and memorising facts and figures about movies (cliché aler… ooh my cliché klaxon has over heated!). Yes I’m afraid to admit I’m the poster boy for Hollywood autists. I should point out however I’m no Rainman-esque savant. I’m certainly nothing like young Simon in ‘Mercury Rising’ either. Ok yes, I bought the GCHQ puzzle book and, yes I had a good crack at some of the enigmas contained therein. I CERTAINLY couldn’t just pick up the book and decipher them with just a glance at the page! Like my MSc qualification, I had to work at them. Yet, somehow when I tell NT’s I’m a mathematician AND an aspie they sort of look at me like I’m a cheat! “Well of COURSE you passed your maths degree when you sneaked that quantum supercomputer filled with all the answers into the exams! Anyone would have passed if they did the same..” (no one actually said those exact words but I’ve had similar implied to me in the past) . Let me say two things here. 1. When I sat my exams and did my MSc I didn’t know I was on the spectrum. I was just a nerdy math obsessed geek with terrible social skills. 2. (I need to shout this) AUTISM IS NOT A GIFT!  It’s not some magic information processing system that gives the owner superhuman levels of perception and calculation! I had to study hard, revise long and was just as confused as others at times. I may have a math orientated brain but so do many many others in both AS and NT groupings. It was a long hard slog but I got there eventually. Nothing about the process was what I would call “Easy” at any time.

Conversely I’ve had people imply I’m somehow damaged goods. I’m mentally deficient and disabled. Erm… Hello! 46 years on not knowing I was on the spectrum here. I’ve held down some PRETTY DARNED IMPRESSIVE jobs in my time. I’ve owned my own flat, I’ve married and now we own our own 3 bedroom semi-detached house and a cat! I’m certainly NOT disabled. There’s nothing holding me back other than myself. I’ve had this argument put to me previously but in reference to my congenital anosmia. “Oh but you’re missing one of your five senses! Therefore you HAVE to be disabled!” again, erm no ! Does not being able to smell anything entitle me to park in the disabled bay at the supermarket? Does not being able to smell anything stop me taking a train into the city centre for a job? Or entitle me to any form of benefit? No, of course not. It doesn’t affect the way I work (it might if I was a perfume tester or a wine taster.. but I’m not and loads of NON anosmics can’t do those jobs either!) same with my autism. I don’t like crowds but I deal with them. I dislike speaking in front of the team but I do it. I get stressed by deadlines but work to clear them (and show me one NT person who DOESN’T EVER get stressed by deadlines)  My asperger’s doesn’t limit me in my day-to-day living. It might make certain things a bit harder but I still do them. I can work, travel, date, marry, party and dance like the next man. My autism is just a different way of looking at things, it’s not a disease to be cured nor a cancer to be cut out. It’s a preference for mint choc chip ice cream over vanilla,  it’s liking Jazz and hating Rap. It’s a personal way of thinking.

No I’m not gifted nor am I disabled. Who am I? I’m Pete.. pleased to make your acquaintance!

Data, My brother from another mother (and planet)

My wife and I have been rewatching all the Star Trek series on Netflix. We’ve finished the original series and are now on series 4 of The Next Generation (Henceforth referred to as ST:TNG)

Last night’s episode was “In Theory” where the Enterprise crew encounter strange dark matter deformations in space-time causing parts of the ship to phase in and out of regular space, but for me the episode is more about Data and his first “girlfriend” Ensign Jenna D’Sora.

This episode resonates so strongly with myself. Data is a friend to Ensign D’Sora, as honest as Data always is, not that he can be anyway else (in case there’s some people not familiar with the series or the character Data is a highly intelligent and analytical android devoid of emotion but with a Pinocchioesque wish to be a “real human”)

In this episode, Data tries to respond to the romantic attentions of his colleague. He’s slow to pick up on obvious signals and despite his vast knowledge he seems lost and out of his depth trying to please his partner.

I was reminded of my early dating experiences (or lack thereof) I was woefully ill prepared for the experience. One of my long time college friends still waxes lyrical with much mirth about the time we were sitting in the student campus bar and I was talking to him about how girls just didn’t seem to like me. At the same time, this girl kept coming over and interrupting me, asking me the time, asking me for a lighter (I don’t smoke), asking what course I was on , who I was with etc etc until I turned and essentially told her she was being rude and to stop bothering me and my friend and I returned to my previous conversation about how difficult it was to get attention from girls.. .. .. erm. In hindsight I see where I went wrong there.

My friends (and I had some, a precious few) loved how utterly oblivious I could be. I would take things either too literally or opposite to how they were meant to be taken.

Example number 2. After a late party out of town a female friend asked me if I’d like to stay over at her place. As it was a long and expensive taxi fare home and I didn’t fancy sitting in a bus station for 6 hours I agreed. She showed me to her sofa bed, then pointed out the bathroom and where her room was. I thanked her and made sure I didn’t go anywhere near her room, after all why else would she have told me where it was if not to ensure I didn’t actually mistake it for the bathroom?

I was in my late 20’s when I lost my virginity (not that I was ever really that worried about that) it sort of happened and I vaguely remember being told what I was doing. I didn’t really have much say in the matter. I was TOLD I was taking her home, I was pretty much TOLD we’d be sleeping together and when I told her I didn’t really know what to do (I had book learning and knew the principles.. I lacked “practical” experience) she essentially took control while I lay there feeling a little scared and unsure of the whole thing.

Fast forward many many years and I met the woman who would become my current wife. My wife has since informed me that one of my most endearing features was my openness and honesty. The very first words I spoke to her when we first met face to face (we’d chatted online previously) was “That’s the only kiss I’ll be getting” as she handed me a Hershey’s kiss as a joke (I had developed a cold sore from nerves and blurted out that I’d not be doing any kissing in case I passed it on) She laughed this off and told me later she thought it was sweet and also slightly presumptuous. Of course, back then neither her nor I knew I was on the spectrum. With 20/20 hindsight all these amusing little titbits all coalesce into something glaringly obvious.

Data had problems with his emotions, he would often be far too honest or literal. He didn’t always understand humour or slang and often misinterpreted people’s words and actions incorrectly.

In hindsight I realise Data and I have much more in common than I first realised.

 

 

7 hours and 400 miles of Hell.

Ok, perhaps not hell but it certainly will not be fun. On Friday I’m off up to Scotland to see my parents. I don’t drive so taking the train (or at least trains plural), a cross London multi-hop stage, then a long stage from Euston to Carlisle before the last train to Dumfries (the biggest town/train station to my parents) after than it’s a good hour and a half by bus home.

My idea of ..well.. I’ve already said it.. Hell !

Don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to seeing my parents but I’m dreading the journey. It’s Monday now and my journey doesn’t start until early Friday morning but already I’m fretting. There’s rail construction going on which is causing disruption. It “shouldn’t” affect me but I’m already worrying that it will. I panic constantly about being late. I’m not as bad as I was before I moved to London/got married but I would set off an hour early… then add an hour more for safe measures… then take the train/bus etc BEFORE the one I calculated I’d need to get just on the OFF CHANCE I missed it. So the end result I’d usually be at least 2hrs early for everything.

My wife on the other hand, ambles through life and is usually late which sets me off on one of my “fun” meltdowns. Just as she’s have a positive effect on me, I’ve had one on her and now I’ll leave later than I feel is adequate and she’ll leave earlier than she feels adequate and now we arrive slightly early/on time which is a blessing.

However, back to Friday. So I’m checking the tickets in my wallet every hour or so. Like they’re just suddenly going to jump out and wander off by themselves? But I have to keep checking they’re in there. Of course, a sensible idea would be to leave them in an envelope at home, but then I’d worry about them when I’m at work. What if they’re moved? What if I can’t find them on Friday before I need to depart?

I’ve got my headphones and reading materials. And a phone charger, and a battery pack, and another battery pack just in case the battery pack and charger don’t work. (I have a drawer in my desk with AT LEAST 10 or 11 battery packs I’ve bought over the years)  “if My phone dies I’ll have no music, I’ll have to listen to all the voices on the train, I’ll have a meltdown…” (this is my thought process btw) .. “best take a third battery pack just in case!”

Ok I’m going for the weekend. Off on Friday and back following Monday. I’d best pack a weeks worth of clothes. Well you never know what might happen! But I don’t know what I’ll be doing!! ok so I’d best pack jeans AND a pair of smart trousers, oh and a couple of smarter shirts, and a jumper. Is it going to be hot or cold? Best pack another jumper and a few light summer shirts. Wet or dry? Best pack my waterproof AND my light summer jacket.

Oh dear! My rucksack is getting full and heavy now. Should I take a suitcase instead? but if I take a suitcase I’ll need to stow it in the racks away from my seat. I’ll need to keep watching it to ensure it’s still there. And if I take a suitcase how will I access my chargers etc? I’d best take a suitcase AND my rucksack for stuff I need with me.

Oh dear! how am I going to get across London carrying all this? It’s going to take me longer than I planned… I’d best plan to leave a bit earlier on Friday.

This is me fretting about everything that could go wrong about the journey. Lets not forget about the parental visit itself. No safe quiet space for me. None of my own belongings around me, parents constantly wanting to chat (they don’t yet know about my DX. I’ve never found the right moment to tell them) so it’s going to be emotional overload all weekend.

And then, of course, Next Monday.. I have to do the journey in reverse. Getting back to my London home late Monday night nice and refreshed for work the next morning.. erm?