So, round two with a therapist has just occurred. Actually, it happened a couple of hours ago, and when I came home, I started talking my mother's ear off about it, which (wisely stated by my mother) may be even more helpful than going to a therapist.
But, let's back up. I wasn't as terrified as the first time I went, especially because as I entered the building, I was exactly on time, and because I thought I knew more of what to expect. I was also eager to explain the breakthroughs I've had over the last couple weeks, about autism, of course. But I found I had a very hard time talking to him. He kept asking me questions, which, to me, sounded like he doubted me, which meant he either thought I was stupid, or a liar, neither of which being an accurate description of me. As the session went on, I got more and more tense, feeling like I had to convince him that I was autistic, like I was in court or something. I started adding qualifiers to make my statements sound less... I don't know, convicted... so that he would stop giving me that look, stop telling me that I probably don't have autism.
I got so upset that I gave up showing him the evidence that I had so carefully cultivated over the past couple weeks, because it's really hard to focus and organize your thoughts when someone is (unintentionally) calling you a liar. I admitted to him that I was getting paranoid, and that it seemed like he didn't believe a word I said, and he said that of course he believed me, he was just asking questions. I explained that I cannot lie. I'm not sure if I told him that that was a common characteristic for people on the spectrum, but it is. We want to give true and accurate statements. I told him that I couldn't lie even if it were to protect me, or help me feel more at ease, or give me a break. For instance, I know someone over the "age of consent", who will lie to creepy guys and say that she "just turned sixteen!" because she looks young, and then they can't make a move on her. I've wanted to do that. Just lie, to get myself out of a sticky situation. But I can't. In my experiences with sign language and Deaf culture, some of my friends who speak ASL have pretended they were deaf, either to see what it was like and how people would react, or just because they didn't feel like dealing with people. I can't do that. If I'm going to "turn my voice off" to "be Deaf" for a day, I can't not tell people. I've actually had to do that for an assignment, in my sign language class, and I felt so horrible about it, I couldn't stand it.
So he's nodding throughout all of this, taking it in, and then I just had to tell him the truth (how can I not?) that being honest doesn't always make other people around me, because they don't want to hear the truth. They want it snuck in. But when people ask me "do I look good in this outfit?" when they don't, I can't just say "yes." I find something, anything good about the outfit, and tell them that thing. If they truly did want to know if their outfit looks bad, then I have to figure out a way to tell them, without hurting their feelings, which usually includes saying something good (which is true) along with the bad (which is, of course, also true). But when I said this, he said "oh, so you do lie," and I was astounded. He wasn't listening at all, was he? I don't want to hurt people. I want them to be happy, and I want them to accept me. I also cannot lie. So, I have figured out that you don't always tell people the whole truth. You have to keep some of it to yourself. But I would never, ever tell a flat out lie. Granted, some people say that deceiving includes omission of truth, which is why sometimes I have a problem with that anyway, but I'm super good at keeping my mouth shut.
He told me that I most likely don't have autism, because autism involves repetitive behavior, such as tapping your face (as he demonstrated). Either he was oblivious, or choosing to ignore my rapidly tapping foot, and the fact that I had my arms clenched around my torso, which I do to keep me from touching and tapping and picking. It's my natural defense pose, whenever I'm in public, to keep from doing things out of the ordinary. I explained to him that I keep it pretty well contained in public, that when other people are looking at me, I can keep the "repetitive behavior" in places where they won't see, like tapping my teeth or wiggling my toes in my shoes. He didn't look like he believed me.
So, I'm paranoid. Okay. It could be because I have a hard time reading people's faces, so I can't tell how genuine they are being with me. But I don't like being interrogated. I know, he was only trying to better understand what's going on with me, and how I think, so that he could help me. But my Aspie brain (and I don't care WHAT anybody else says, I am an Aspie) couldn't understand why he wouldn't just accept the research I've done on my own, and move on.
This isn't the first time this has happened. I remember when I was starting to obsess about hair for real (I've been learning stuff about it since I was six, but it didn't really become a special interest until I was about fourteen). I was constantly drinking in any information I could get on hair. In a very short period, I knew how it worked, the general idea of how to keep it healthy (and some things you should never, EVER do). I knew the difference between curly and straight hair, and how to take care of them. And, I knew all about styling. (this was before I started cutting and dyeing hair) Well, my friend got into an argument with her mother about how often you should shampoo. I was taken aback that her mother wouldn't know something so simple as the fact that shampooing damages your hair, and you should only do it when you absolutely had to. I chimed in (something I don't normally do) and explained that the daughter was right, and I told her why. She just kind of walked away. I have no idea if she listened to me, which was weird, because I knew I was right. Anyway, that wasn't where I was going with this.
The incident that I'm going for was a little while afterwards, when one of my friends was talking about getting her hair done for the prom. I offered to do it: I'd been wanting some new hair to play with, and I was certain that whatever she wanted done, I could do, or figure out in a matter of days. (it only took a day or two to learn how to do a beehive for one of my friend's costume party) But she said as nicely as she could, that she'd rather go to a professional for that kind of thing. I was so confused. I may not have had many years with hair, but it was obvious that I could do whatever she wanted, because I knew so much, and could easily learn more in plenty of time for the dance. I didn't say anything, because I thought it was a given how much I knew about the subject. Looking back, I realize this wasn't the case. Since I barely spoke two words to any of my friends, how could they know that I was interested in hair? Since I had never done their hair, how could they know what I was capable of? But I didn't understand that. I always thought that whatever I knew was common knowledge, and that I was either on par with, or a little behind, everyone else in the world. So I let it go.
But that's what it felt like. Obviously, I hadn't even begun to show him who I was, because when I try to express myself, especially about myself, it's extremely difficult to do so. Especially out loud. Extra especially when it's all spur of the moment question/answer responses. I can prepare you a speech. I can. It might not all come out very well, but I can do it. But if you ask me to tell you things that I've never put in words before, and you want to hear it now, well, I get flustered. Confused. I mix things up. I have a hard time remember what I've said out loud and what I haven't, and I can never be sure what all a person knows about me, because I can't remember who I told and who I didn't.
The fact that he kept saying "I don't even know why you need therapy" didn't help one iota. The fact that I can't answer simple questions about myself, in a safe, and controlled environment, should be a clear indicator that I need help. But I couldn't say that, oh, no, because it is one of the biggest, most ingrained rules of engagement that I know, that you can't say "I'm having a hard time," or "I don't understand," or most of all, "can somebody please help me?" I ended up being more flustered, depressed, and confused walking out of his office than I did walking in.
I did, however, have a great conversation with my mother, afterwards. I think it was because I was so "warmed up" after struggling with my therapist, and stewing over it the whole ride home. I said a lot of things to her, about myself, that I haven't ever said out loud, which was fantastic. My mom is so great. Since she has Tourette's she can understand where I'm coming from. She said that she's struggled with the same thing, with her doctors, about her condition. She would sit there, with the doctor looking right at her, telling them she had Tourette's, and they'd say, "No, you don't." This was absurd, to me, because I know my mother. I've seen her, my whole life, when she's just relaxing on the couch, or trying to concentrate. She's constantly ticking and tapping (and stimming, if you can apply that to Tourette's, which I think you should). It's only in public that she keeps it contained. When she's in public, she sits with her arms and legs crossed, clenched together, to keep from stimming. It's not a natural position. She is not at ease. She is contained. She trained herself to do this, because she was constantly mocked as a kid, for the "weird things" she always did. And now, when she tries to tell people about it, they won't believe her, because she's trained herself so well.
I don't know how much my therapist knows about autism. I don't want to second-guess him, or put him down, because, to be honest, I don't know what I don't know about psycology. How could I? So how can I know if he's good at what he does, or not? But I felt like he didn't know at all, or thought I didn't know myself at all, and that's just disheartening. What I wanted to say, which I couldn't get into words fast enough was this:
Autism isn't its symptoms. It's a way of thinking. If you took two North Americans, from the same area, who had the same language and cultural background, and dropped them off in a foreign country, their reactions would be different. I'm a military brat: I've been all over the world. I speak three languages, and I've studied quite a lot about cultures and people. I adapt to my surroundings. There's a lot of people like that: when they go to a new country, they study the language and the culture, they pick up on mannerisms, try the food, make native friends. They don't think like a native, but they know how to act like one, with some work. If they've got the talent, and they work at it enough, if they care enough about it, they will blend in. They will become invisible. But what about the other North American? I've seen this too: put them in a strange country, and they'll say "I don't know what you're saying, speak English." They'll say "no" to the sushi and ask for a hamburger. They'll look for other American's to be friends with, or they won't deal with anyone at all.
That's exactly what it is. Some autistic people either can't or won't figure out how to deal with the NT world. I don't blame them. A lot of things they do don't make sense, and usually they won't try to work with you and the difficulties you have. They just write you off as "weird" and move on, not bothering to see what you have to offer. But some of us, us "high functioning" autistic people, have gone native. Some of us blend in better than others, some of us have an easier time with the language or cultural oddities. We don't always get why you do the things you do, but we copy you anyway, because we want to blend in. We want friends. We're willing to meet you halfway, or in some cases, more than halfway. To some, I seem completely normal. I eat whatever food they give me, I hug random people, I laugh at their jokes, and talk about things they like to talk about. But all of these things aren't easy or natural for me. I had to develop them, through years of study and practice. I made a lot of sacrifices, put myself in extremely uncomfortable situations, and never feeling truly close to anyone, because I did what I had to to look and act like "one of them". It's all fake. It's all acting. It's why I did so well in my acting and performance classes: it's because I've been working on it my whole life. It's why, after I started taking acting and performance classes, that I seemed even more open and outgoing than ever before, because, not only was I doing things that made me happy, I was also learning how to better perform.
Now, I'm stuck halfway. I can't tell people I'm normal, because it's not really true, and I can't tell people I'm weird, because they won't believe me anymore. Even a trained professional won't believe me. Maybe he can't help me at all, because I don't know how to let him. But, writing this blog has been a HUGE blessing. I'm starting to be able to be more open about myself, not just to me, but to other people. I've started talking to my family about the "weird" things, even though I know that a lot of times, they will laugh at me. I've been hanging out at WrongPlanet, and AspiesCentral, talking to other people who think like me, and who are going through similar issues, and I've been more and more comfortable telling them about myself. It's been pretty amazing.
I hope I'm autistic. My therapist did an evaluation, and he's going to tell me about it when he gets the results, so I'll know for sure. I don't know what it'll do, to have that "stamp of approval", but it would be really nice if one person could believe me. My little sister expressed doubts about my autism, and I felt like other people wanted to disprove it as well. They don't see what it's done for me, to be a part of this community. This is the first label someone's stuck on me that I actually feel good about. And I want it to stay. Part of me wants to say I'm autistic, even if the test comes back negative. But I know that isn't practical. I just feel like someone just walked up to me and said "Santa Claus may or may not be coming by this Christmas. I'll let you know in a couple of weeks."
Here's hoping for Christmas presents this year.
Penny
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