I just realized it's been a little while since I've been on here. The combination of school, and my renewed drawing obsession has taken time away from my writing. But I just had a small thought today, which I want to write about.
I was hanging out with my friends after classes today (yes, I know, "Penny has friends?" Well, I'm pretty sure I do, but I still haven't found the rule book, and I've noticed it's not kosher to flat out ask people if they're you're friends) I have two in particular that I've begun to spend extra time with again, thanks to school, who share my passion for music. In fact, I suspect that one of them might be on the spectrum, like me but it's subtle enough he might never have been diagnosed, and so it might be considered rude for me to ask. My two friends, who we'll call Male M and Female M, have been dating for a few months now, and it's been fascinating watching their relationship. I don't stare (because that's creepy), but I've never had the opportunity to study couples in their natural habitat. They're almost always in physical contact with each other: holding hands, touching shoulders, hugging. It makes me uncomfortable just watching this, but they find happiness being close to each other. I'll never fully understand neurotypicals, I guess. It makes me worry about my future relationships: is it a requirement to touch each other so much? It certainly seems so. While we all make sacrifices for our partners, I'm not sure that should be one of them, in my case. It just feels wrong to me.
But more on that later.
My thought today sprung from a conversation I was having with M&M, and our mutual friend, L. L was complaining about how he was such a bad musician (which is absurd), and I was only half listening to him. I was analyzing what I know about him, along with everything I've learned over the summer, and I realized that L might actually be autistic. He is incredibly focused when it comes to his instrument, and he's very knowledgeable. He practices 6-8 hours a day, as a student, when most of us don't even make it a full 60 minutes before we give up and watch TV. In addition to that, he has, as one of the M's phrased it, "no filter". He says whatever comes into his mind, even if it's blunt, rude, or even insulting. Last semester he had an annoying habit of cussing for no reason, because he thought it was funny.
None of this automatically makes L autistic, and I wouldn't say that to him unless I was absolutely sure, (and I thought it would do him good to know. Some people don't want to know they're autistic) but I've gotten into the rather nasty habit of trying to diagnose my friends and family with autism or Asperger's. I don't know what they're life is like, or how they think. I could be completely wrong. I should stop trying to "categorize" people, and just treat them all as people, giving them the benefit of the doubt when they slip up. Which is what I try to do anyway. But as an Aspie, I like to understand things at a molecular level, especially when it comes to psychology.
Anyway. I was thinking about how it was possible that he was autistic, when Male M brings up that L seemed to be "kind of autistic." Which brought me to a halt, even though I wasn't saying anything out loud. As if no one in the world knew about autism but me. Fun fact: Male M is interested in psychology, in addition to music, and likes to read psychology textbooks for fun (like me). Wanna guess which M I suspect is an Aspie? Anyway, when M said this, L was affronted and disgusted. He said something along the lines of "no way I'm like that," which had everyone talking at once in an instant. We all flustered, saying "there's nothing wrong with being autistic," and I thought "here's my shot! This is the perfect segue to telling my friends that I'm an autist!" But I froze. I've been trying to decide whether or not I should tell certain people in my life about my autism (I know, I told a ballet classroom full of strangers, but that's a clean slate, plus, we were asked to share something weird about ourselves. I've know L, M&M for at least a year, some of them longer, and I don't know if I have passed the appropriate time period in which I explain certain aspects of my personality).
I have not yet decided if I should tell anyone "I'm autistic!" or just say things like "Oh, yeah, I'm horrible with names," or "I'm super focused on stuff like this!" That actually makes sense, for acquaintances, because a lot of people don't know what autism really means (I sure didn't), but they do know what "don't touch me like that, it makes me uncomfortable" means. But what about the people close to me? Anyway, I was standing there, trying to decide whether or not it was time to "bare my soul" to a bunch of people or not, but before I could make up my mind, the moment passed. I managed to blurt out "You could be autistic, L," putting as much positive emotion into that sentence as I could, but I didn't say anything else. I wanted to, man, did I want to. But I didn't know if it was time yet, or if it ever would be time. How do you know? How do you know if someone's ready to know things like that about you--or if they even want or need to know?
As I've been writing this, something has occurred to me. My friends, M&M in particular, know I'm weird. They know I have a weird sense of humor, they know I obsessive and geek out over stuff, like music, art, and Harry Potter. They seem to instinctively know not to touch me (possibly because I don't touch them)(well, with one exception, but she loves to get into everyone's personal space, and I've come to expect that from her). They don't seem to be disturbed when I go completely silent for long periods, which makes me more comfortable, and I express myself easier afterwards. They don't know I'm autistic (I assume), but it doesn't matter to them. All they know about me, is that I'm me, whatever that entails, and they like me for it.
So, do I need to tell them? Actually, probably not. Except for the psychology buffs, they probably don't care either way, and it wouldn't necessarily help them understand or interact with me better. I might tell Male M one day, because one of his special interests is psychology, and because if he's autistic, he might want to know. Although, if he knows about autism at all, he may already know for himself.
Just like my other special interests, my autism is pretty much only important to me. Having facts and details thrown at you about something that doesn't really matter to you makes for a boring and frankly, sometimes disturbing conversation (remind me to tell you about the warfare buff I ran into at a war memorial. My autistic brain can't forget a word he said, and it is nasty stuff). I think if someone brings it up, I might tell them, but I'm seeing it as less and less of a good idea for me to "throw it in someone's face." In the meantime, I'm going to revel in the new realization that my friends like me, quirks and all, without any conceivable reason to explain them.
Neurotypicals are weird, but they have their good qualities, and plenty of them.
Penny
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