Now that the dust is settling

It’s been a few months, since I blogged here. So, I guess I’m due. I’ve been really busy on a handful of personal projects that have really taken off. Some of them have good potential to do others some good. And that’s great. Of course, it takes a very different skillset to market and sell things, versus designing and building them.

I’m in the process of looking for folks who can help me with the former — the people stuff, y’know?

If I put my mind to it, I can definitely sell. The problem is, Alexithymia gets in the way, and I literally can’t tell how I’m doing on a sale. Plus, auditory processing issues keep me from hearing clearly what people are saying to me. The whole sales process is nuanced and people-centric, so while I could apply myself and learn how to do it, I tend to stay in my little comfort zone of designing, architecting, and building tools and applications. Because I can. It’s comfortable. I do it very well.

Still, it seems like it’s time to expand my skills somewhat. And get more into sales and marketing. So, I’ve been doing a bit of that new training. It’s interesting. Confusing. But I’ll figure it out.

As usual, I digress. Meandering on a Sunday morning.

I’ve been rediscovering some old passions I used to have. Languages (not English). Reading and writing in them.

I’ve also been reaching out to meet new people online, connecting with like-minded people who are learning the same new skills I am. It’s pretty cool.

And it also gets to be a little much. I’m far more comfortable being non-verbal and coding away, building applications, testing them, retesting, tweaking, etc. I can (and do) spend hours at a time focused on just that. Being in the zone. Finding Flow. Just being able to reset my mind back to its normal state, after being bombarded by people and phone calls all week.

My job, ironically, now consists almost entirely of talking to people on the phone all day, every day. It’s the last thing I have any interest in doing. Plus, many people have thick accents, and it’s hard for me to listen and understand. So, I pretty much fake my way through it and pretend I know what’s going on. I’m not sure anyone realizes just how … “simulated” … my work performance is. But that’s what it is — a performance. And it’s paying off, since I’m probably going to get a promotion.

But geezizfukkinchrist, it’s so depleting. Yeah, I need a new job. But I’m so exhausted from just trying to maintain, who has the energy to go out and stir up something new? Plus, how will I know it’s not even worse somewhere else?

Well, I don’t need to figure that all out right now. I get my bonus at the end of March, and after that I can start thinking about other things to do with my life.

In the meantime, I’m just coding away, having fun with it, and reading non-English works by people who think very differently from the mainstream.

#Autistic preparation for the weeks to come

It’s that time again. Holidays are upon me, and the inevitable questions arise. Are we coming to Thanksgiving dinner? Are we making the trip down to states located 8 and 16 hours away from us? Will we make the drive? Are we coming to Thanksgiving dinner?

It’s so … complicated. I’m just coming off a month’s worth of travel, if you include all the preparation (which I do). Going on trips for work is a lot of effort and requires a monumental amount of energy. But then you follow that up with an 11-day trip out of the country to parts unknown, surrounded by thousands of strangers (many of whom want to interact and won’t let you get away from them without exchanging at least some words – gods help me)… and that’s just waaaay too much.

But wait – there’s more! Thanksgiving is just around the corner, metaphorically speaking. And that means even more excitement. Family. Friends. Traveling to places that aren’t friendly to queers. (That’d be my partner and me — big ole queers – and proud of it!) Houses that aren’t accessible for my partner, who’s got significant mobility issues and needs a scooter to travel distances more than 20 feet. Scents and sounds and all sorts of sensory overwhelm. And lots of people wearing perfumes because they think it smells great.

… Let me pause for a moment to get myself something to eat, because just thinking about it is driving my blood pressure up, and I’m feeling just a tad hypoglycemic …

…

…

Okay, that’s better. I got my cereal and another cup of water, and I’m good.

So, where was I? Oh, yeah… the holidays. When everything gets so frantic and amped-up that I feel like I’m under constant attack. By everything. There’s way too much color at holiday times. What is it with all the red? And sparkly things. Sheesh. You’d think we were all a bunch of magpies. Then again, some people are, so…

Probably the worst thing about it all is how demanding everyone gets. Needy. Hypersocial. With lots of unspoken rules about how you behave (or don’t), that don’t necessarily apply the rest of the year – so I can’t practice. Do I wish people Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas or Blessed Yule or Happy Kwanzaa, or what? I tend to stick with “Happy Holidays”, since it covers everybody generically. The last thing I want to be is non-inclusive and obnoxious, but people don’t make it easy. Especially folks who seem to belong to the secret club that teaches them the secret handshake from a very young age.

Sigh. I get tired, just thinking about it — and look, it’s nearly time for my afternoon nap! That’ll be welcome change. I’m still really tired from my October-November travel. So, I’m probably in no shape to be saying/blogging anything, right now, but you’re kind of stuck with me for the next few paragraphs, ha-ha!

So, back to my complaining… 😉

Actually, let me rephrase – back to my discourse. I’ve been through 52 holiday seasons, thus far. This will be my 53rd. By now, I have figured out a few things.

1. Stay focused. Keep my eyes on the prize – January. Like the picture above, keep the focus on where I’m going, and let the rest of the details just fade to the periphery.
2. Take care of myself. I’m not a turkey, so I’m under no obligation to end up “dinner” for someone else. I have a choice about what I do with my holidays, and if that means disappointing or alienating people in my family, then so be it. If they can’t be bothered to extend themselves to my partner and me, then why should we extend ourselves to them? I have to make sure to eat right, exercise regularly, keep conscious and conscientious about my habits, and just be easy with myself, as the weeks unfold.
3. Do what I can, and leave the rest. I have to take care of myself, as I’ve said, and I can’t be indulging every single convention, for the sake of fitting in. Yes, yes, I know what’s done, this time of year. Parties. Shopping. Gifts to out-gift all other gift-givers. Social extravaganzas. And I’m not a fan. Surely, there must be a far better way. If one doesn’t come ready-made, I’ll come up with one, myself.
4. Leave it. Seriously. Leave the rest of the world to its machinations and gyrations, and just settle into my own Autistic ways. I have a lot of vacation time left from this year (especially if we don’t go away for Thanksgiving), which means I’ll have time to really immerse myself in the stuff I love the most. And get some things done. That would be the most delightful and wonderful thing of all. To actually be able to complete some of the projects I’ve started. Oh, glory and joy. How fantastic would that be! A grrl can dream.
5. Go back to bed. I haven’t been sleeping enough. I haven’t been resting enough. It’s taking a toll.

Speaking of which… I’m gonna sign off now and wander back to bed. I just have to wait for the wash to do its final spin, then I can toss it in the dryer and head off to my dark, dark room.

And that’s about the most I can manage for the next few hours.

Which is fine.

Perfectly fine.

66 hours till my descent into the lower rings of hell

Not that I’m counting, or anything.

Except… I am.

In a little less than three days, I’ll be lugging my “carry-on” to my car, putting it on the back seat in a position that will make it easy to grab, when I finally find a parking space at the airport garage and get ready to jog to my departing terminal. My partner will be standing at the window overlooking the driveway, and she’ll turn away as I pull out onto the road. It’s bad luck to watch someone drive away, she says. She’s always said that. And I picked up on the habit, too, years ago.

I’ll make my way to the airport, driving the 45 minutes in a constant state of low-level anxiety, since I’ve cut it so close — either got stuck in a freak snowstorm, or went to the wrong terminal — and nearly missed my flight at least once. For all the times I’ve flown for business, I’ve been later than I liked a bunch of times, but I’ve only cut it razor-thin close once. But once was enough. Yes, they held the plane for me, and for that I’m grateful, but the mortification… all the irritated eyes on me, some of them my own colleauges, because a bunch of us were flying to the same convention for work… that’s something I’ll probably never live down.

At least, not in my own mind.

This trip is a rough one. The stakes are higher than most trips I take, although it seems like every single business trip has increasing levels of criticality. I don’t travel for pleasure — at least not like this, with planes, trains, and automobiles. My idea of travel for pleasure is a three-hour drive to the beach and a week of stationary, stable routine, with plenty of healthy food, long beach hikes, and spontaneous naps sandwiched between sunrises and sunsets over the ocean.

This trip will not be like that. I’m crossing the country — the whole continent — and my routine will be the main casualty. Try as I might, each time, I can never seem to get enough exercise or eat the right food. And every morning and every in-between break during the conference, there will be nothing but different configurations of sugar and carbs and chocolate and caffeine stacked high on wide silver platters, all of which are poison to me. I’ll be stuck talking to people. I’ll have to mix and mingle. I’ll have to go to the cocktail reception, possibly get stuck at a group dinner. Help. Help.

h e l p

I’m also staying in an upscale hotel in a city whose development represents just about every aspect of 21st Century “modernization” to which I object. 25 years ago, when I lived there, the city was smaller. Funkier. More human. A place where people on the margins of life could go about their business and be left alone by other people on the fringe who simply nodded and passed by. Now, it’s built up, tricked out, pimped within an inch of its life… chock full of respectable mainstream people flush with the glory of high tech ventures, rolling in cash and flaunting it, oblivious to anything other than their own milestones and timelines and key performance indicators.

Into the midst of this I shall go — to the heart of it all — becoming yet another corpuscle in the lifeblood of that city, that industry, those trends. And I shall play my role as a “willing” participant who embraces the future arm-in-arm with the Overlords who decide who gets a place at the table. I shall have a place at the table, because I do a damned good impression of someone who belongs there.

I do such a good impression that my crunchy granola cousins who live out there don’t really want to see me, when I say I’m coming to visit. They’re polite about it, of course. “Oh, really… that’s great…” they say on Facebook when I message them. But the last few times I was there, it was clear they consider me a part of the problem, one of the high tech interlopers who’s taking over the Tenderloin and driving up rents for everyone else. Crowding out People of Color from the neighborhoods they filled, before the gentrifying real estate prospectors got hold of them. Gold rush. It’s always a gold rush out there, and they think I’m part of it.

What they don’t realize is that I’m horrified by what I see, the trends that have emerged over the past 15 years, the ways that the industry I work in has trashed lives and wrecked communities. In all honesty, it’s trashed my life more than once. And community? I hear about it, I talk about it, I imagine it, but it’s been a long, long time since I experienced anything like that under the watchful eye of The Owners who need to make sure we’re getting our work done on time.

What my cousins don’t realize is that if I could avoid doing this trip, I would. I hate what’s happened to the city. I detest what’s become of the people, all wandering around the streets with their eyes glued to their mobile phone screens as they meander across wide crosswalks and do their zombie stagger down the sidewalk. I hate the hype, the shine, the glitz, the glass and steel.

I wouldn’t go anywhere near it, if I didn’t have to.

And I would never see my cousins again. That would be a relief for everyone, because I know I embarrass myself around them by talking too much… by my clumsy, domineering pacing… my conversational roughness… my lack of spontaneity when they talk about things they care about (but I know nothing about). I’m just another white high tech dominator showing up to kill their buzz.

But I have to go.

The reasons are complex, of course. What is there in my life that isn’t? I have to go, because I’ve been told I should. Because my boss said I should. And I know I should. I run a program that’s based on the technology company that’s hosting this conference. It’s a user conference. I’m a user. I’m supposed to have a high profile. I’m supposed to be a “Player”. I’m supposed to make my presence felt. It’s what someone in my position does — makes their presence felt. Show up and participate. Engage. Contribute.

Please, God, make it stop. My pleas would sound more convincing, if I actually believed in God, but there we are… How ironic. Me praying to a perhaps-non-existent God for release from a situation I got myself into.

Anyway, in the end, I’m sure it won’t be the unexpurgated horror show I anticipate. None of these situations are. And the one mitigating thing in all of it is the fact that I’ll be presenting at this conference. In front of a room full of my professional peers… even a few superiors. Putting on a show. Putting in a good word for a product I detest, singing the praises of a vendor whose people are the bane of my existence and who have cost me a lot of sleep, over the past year and a half. It’s fair — and accurate — to say that I hate them — ALL of them — with a cold blue flame, and if they were hanging off a cliff and I were the only one who could save them, I’d actually have to give it a lot of thought to decide what to do.

It’s that bad, my attitude towards them. I, a hopeless benefactor who has stopped traffic to move a tiny baby snapping turtle off the road, am questioning whether I’d spare a human life. How low I’ve sunk…

But yet, I’m doing this. I’ve got a pretty compelling presentation pulled together, along with a colleague (whom I also detest with a cold blue flame — ha ha — because she’s so hellish to work with), and we’re gonna rock the room, I’m tellin’ you. How could we not? Once I get up there, in front of the room, I’ll turn on the charm, crank up the compelling use cases, and do my seasoned best to put us all in the most glowing light possible.

I’ve done this a lot, actually. I’ve presented professionally and for fun a lot of times. More times than I realize. I’ve done “roadshows” at work, making the rounds to different offices to present mission-critical information to top-performing teams. I’ve spoken at funerals (I seem to be really good at that, actually). I’ve spoken at special interest groups. I was in Toastmasters for a while. And I’ve gone on the radio to talk about current events in the USA with people far from this country who couldn’t figure out what the hell we were up to, over here.

I love to present, actually. It’s scripted. It’s focused. And I’m usually well-practiced. I get to talk about the things I love and know a lot about, and people get swept up in my excitement. I’m allowed to be geeky and nerdy and a subject matter expert. After all, that’s why I’m there. And this presentation is the one thing grounding me, for this trip.

It might sound strange, coming from someone who dreads being around people, but think about it — my whole trip will be organized around that presentation. And I’ll be identifiable as a presenter, which will give me an identity that people respect. After the talk, I’ll be recognized as a subject matter expert, and people will reach out to talk about my presentation with me — an area of conversation I’m ready and willing to discuss. And best of all, my co-presenter is a legitimately awful presenter. She’s going to make me look really, really good. It will be the sweetest balancing of the scales of justice, considering how miserable she’s made my life over the past 18 months with her incompetence, lack of transparency, and outright sabotage.

So, I’m hanging all my hopes on that talk. It’s only an hour, but it’s got my full attention. It will focus me. It will center me. It will make me a star. And the company I detest, whose product I’ll be praising, will owe me big-time for it. They’ll know it. I’ll know it. Again, the scales of justice will get just a little more ballast.

If I weren’t Autistic, I couldn’t pull any of this off. Because I wouldn’t have the practice I’ve gotten at functioning through the pain, the frustration, the anger, the rage. I very likely wouldn’t have the tolerance for all of that, as well as the deliberately honed ability to not only “fake it till I make it”, but actually outperform anyone who truly likes and believes in what they’re doing. I feel the way I feel. I think what I think. But I still do the job that’s required of me. I still perform, regardless of the anguish. I outperform, perhaps because of it. And in the end, no one is the wiser for it.

There’s a reason I keep this blog anonymous.

No one can know.

No one can ever know.

Thank heavens. In 48 minutes, it begins again – my regular #autistic routine

This is part of my new garden. It’s 8′ x 10′, and it took me 90 minutes to turn over with a shovel. Yeah, I’m a bad-ass 😉

I had such great plans for this past long weekend. But, of course, things turned out very differently than my designs. No surprises there. And yet, I am perpetually surprised when things don’t live up to my engineered ideals.

You’d think I’d learn.

But nah.

I had been hoping / planning / intending to spend my time intentionally. I was in serious need of some relaxing and recuperating after the prior week. I wanted to catch up on my reading, do some gardening, relax, nap, eat interesting food which I’d prepare at a leisurely pace, and have a generally restorative time. Maybe make hamburgers on Memorial Day. Watch a movie on Sunday afternoon. Call my parents.

Instead, I had a busy Saturday morning, got all “socialled-out” by interactions at the community garden, including some faux pas along with some connections. I met some of my co-gardeners in the space we share. We all have at least one 8-foot x 10-foot plot. Some of us have two plots. We’re a diverse group – an elderly Chinese man who only speaks Mandarin, an elderly white hippie-ish couple, a Black woman whose mother helps her out, an Asian-Caucasian bi-racial couple with two girls, and the older white guy who runs the place.

The elderly Chinese man communicates with us by dictating to Google Translate and showing us the text translations. At first, he was showing me Chinese-Russian translations, and I couldn’t explain that I couldn’t read them. Then I got my phone in the action, and after I explained to him that he wasn’t translating to English, he changed his settings, and all was right with the world. I also showed it to the other gardeners, who thought they needed an app to do it. But no – Google will translate text, and you can dictate the text for it to translate, so we were all fully enabled and empowered within a few hours’ time..

The day was bright. I had a lot to do. I was tired from the week. Everybody wanted to talk. Ugh. I mean, yeah – they’re lovely people, and there are worse groups to be around – but after a few hours, I started to wear thin. Especially as people continued to engage with me and discuss their plans. I found myself getting snarky and bitchier than I normally am. Fatigue. Bright sunlight. F*cking mosquitos. Anxiety over my beans, which are being chewed on by something, not to mention the constant threat of rabbits. Fencing. I need additional fencing around my plot, because the overall fence isn’t holding up. Hm. It keeps the deer out, but not the rabbits.

We’ll have to do something about that.

I’d really rather not have to deal with people, when I’m gardening, but I asked for it. I joined a community garden, so that’s what I get. Community. Good lord, what was I thinking, spending 4 hours on a viciously bright Saturday morning, when I was still hungover from all the adrenaline rushes from the week before?

I know what I was doing: trying to Live My Best Life, that’s what.

Well, I gave it my best shot, and I’m sure not everyone will remember me as the snarky, bitchy new kid who gets prickly over the garden politics of who gets what plot (just give the old Chinese man the plot next to him – nobody’s using it, anyway! – why can’t everyone just handle things logically, instead of jockeying for position?)

After my time there, chatting about this and that, I ended up feeling pretty deflated. Everybody wanted to discuss their domestic situation… as if it matters to the seedlings in your garden, whether you have kids or living parents or nieces and nephews, or you love your job. I hate those kinds of discussions. They feel intrusive. And no, I don’t want to announce to the gardening community that I’m a big ole dyke with a disabled spouse who works too-long hours in the employ of the Masters of the Universe. What difference does it make to the health of my peppers and tomatoes? Will that information make my carrot seeds actually sprout? Nope. So, why dwell on it.

I like my conversations topical. I hate schmoozing and connecting over personal details.

Hate it, I tell you.

After I extracted myself from that awkwardness (which I’m sure seemed perfectly lovely to everyone else), I rallied and got my Saturday errands done in pretty decent order. Ran to the post office and mailed out the package my partner left on the counter. Took the trash to the dump. Went food shopping. Did some cleanup around the house. Had some lunch. Took a shower. Got a nap.

The nap helped a little, but more than anything, it reminded me how exhausted I was. What was I thinking, doing all that activity first thing on a long weekend? It wasn’t like I had an overabundance of energy, to begin with. But my Saturdays are often like that. I’m coming off an exhausting week (typically), and I have just a day to get all my most unpleasant errands done… which I do. And then I crash on Saturday afternoon (if I’m lucky). I can usually rally, but last week was pretty grueling.

Well, anyway, my plans for a lot of reading and relaxing didn’t exactly materialize. Sunday and Monday were rainy, which was fine. That’s normally a relief for me. But I was thrown off by the long weekend, for some reason. My pacing was off. And I was really tired and irritable with my partner, resulting in too much friction, too much arguing, a little yelling, a bunch of tears. I really hate when that happens, especially when it’s pretty much centered around my meltdowns. It’s like my meltdowns are whirlpools in the rapids of my life, and as I sail downstream, paddling wildly, I keep getting sucked into them… pulled down into the roiling darkness, as I’m flailing madly, trying to keep upright, trying to keep from tipping over or getting pulled into the Darkness.

The worst thing is, it often feels like my partner is sitting in the back of the boat, commanding me to keep the craft righted (not bothering to pick up a paddle, mind you). But that’s another blog post for another day – still working my way through understanding how to better handle that type of situation.

Anyway, my weekend ended up much more active than it should have been. I lost sleep, didn’t catch up on it. And the things I’d been planning on doing… well, most of them fell by the wayside. I did read a lot, though. I’m working my way through Katherine May’s The Electricity of Every Living Thing, and it’s a real pleasure – I’m nearing the end, and that saddens me. 😦

I got some writing done. I got some sleeping done. I got my exercise. But rest and recuperation? Nope. I’ll have to see if I can work that into my upcoming week — my typically structured week with the usual routine, which is so important for my regular maintenance and mental health. Three days off was a plus. But I’m glad it doesn’t happen all that often.

P.S. On a bright note, we did manage to get one of our rooms partly cleaned out and tidied up. We’ve been getting increasingly boxed in (literally) by all this stuff that we haven’t managed to either throw away or put away. Executive dysfunction, combined with exhaustion and bare-minimum interest, isn’t the most domestically beneficial state to live in. But yesterday, we actually did something about that. Bonus.

#Autistic Ninja-Level Disaffection

#AutisticNinja – You’ll only see me If I let you

I’ve been thinking a lot, lately, about how I do — and do not — fit into the world around me.

With every news cycle, every new revelation about what’s going on in the world, every new development at work (heaven help us), and every twist and turn that the world takes around me, I can’t help but think,

This has nothing to do with the things that matter most to me in my life.

And I have to say, it’s a weird feeling. To be so disenfranchised. All . The . Time. Almost as if I’m not even here. I know there are a lot of Autistic people who feel that way, too, so I’m not the only one. All the meanness, the pettiness, the fighting, the drama, the emotion-for-emotion’s sake… it’s all very tiring.

And I’ve really resented this for the longest time.

But you know what? I’m over it. I tasted the proverbial Kool-Aid, and I didn’t like the taste of it. Spat it out, in fact. I’ve been slogging along, over the years, trying to get myself to want to participate, to feel invested, to connect, to dig in and be one of the gang. But after all these years… seriously, what’s the point, anymore? I’ll do my job, I’ll pretend I’m totally into it(!), and I’ll make the best of a bad situation. But don’t expect me to buy in. Don’t expect me to believe. Expect me to perform. But sink my heart and soul into it?

Nah. Not anymore. They had their chance to win me over, and they failed. So, so badly.

This used to legitimately frighten me. I thought that if I didn’t “get onboard” (what? the Titanic?) and sign up with my soul, I wouldn’t survive. They’d cut me loose, force me out, and that would cost me my livelihood, my home… my life.

Now, though, I see how much I really do add to every venture I participate in. I’m a really valued team member, and I bring something useful to pretty much every interaction I have. I’m an asset. Because I make a point of being an asset. Even if it causes me discomfort, even a bit of pain, I make it my job to do my part. And it shows.

And I figure, if people want me around, they’ll have to put up with me just as I am — disaffected, disillusioned, doing the best I can (of course), but not particularly invested in everything going on. I mean, seriously, there’s so much stupidity running everything.

OMG! Have you done your TPS Reports lately?!

I just can’t work up any enthusiasm for that foolishness. At all. I’m just here for the paycheck.

And I’ll do what I damn’ well please, how I damn’ well please. Because my way is waaaaaay better than anything the rest of these mediocre TPS-Report-filler-out-ers will come up with. And even the stuff I don’t know hands-down, I can — and do — learn in a matter of minutes. And they know it, too. They’re kind of in awe of me. And that’s fine. Let them be. It blinds them to my flaws, which is handy…

Anyway, it’s Sunday evening, and I had to work over the weekend, both Saturday and Sunday. Ugh. It wasn’t bad… just irritating. And I would rather have been doing things like work in my garden or go for along walk down the road. But no, had to be inside with my laptop for hours at a time. Cue the mournful violins 😉  I’m feeling sorry for myself, to be sure, and in the morning, I have to deal with my incredibly anxious boss who’s so busy “managing up” that he has no idea what any of us underlings are up to. Until he tells us to switch gears and work on something different.

Ah, me… Monday will come, and we will all suffer. Don’t care. It’s not a good use of my time to fritter away my valuable hours and life force fretting over the stupidities of others. I’ll take what good I can get from every situation:

• A steady paycheck
• Structured social interactions to meet my social needs in a predictable, formal way
• A chance to get out of the house and see what else is out there
• Maybe even a swim in the pool at the fitness center(?)

And I’ll disregard the rest, with my AutisticNinja style.

And other people take their cues from me. The funny thing is, even my non-autistic coworkers respect and admire my detachment. They have no idea how excruciatingly painful the whole deal is for me, and they’ll never know. I’m so under the radar with all this, and I’m so non-disclosing (I have enough to deal with, between chronic pain, a disabled spouse, a household to support, a nationally syndicated broadcast to get on the satellite each week, and an ever-increasing workload), the last thing I need is non-autistic people telling me, “Gosh! You don’t look autistic!” like it’s a complement. No thanks. I have no patience or energy for that. I’ll stay under the radar.

Just.

And I’ll set a fine example for all my coworkers who know in their heart-of-hearts that this is really all a bunch of crap, and we’ll take solace in each other’s company, sharing tidbits from our lives and commiserating about the sad turn of affairs that landed us in such a woe-begotten state.

Meh. Whatever. It’s a paycheck. It’s a job with a lot of glitz and glamour to it, as far as the rest of the world is concerned.

Right here, right now, I’m more focused on dinner.

It’s a lot more fun to think about than what tomorrow’s going to bring.

How much has #television contributed to the #Autism panic?

I’ve been thinking a lot, lately, about how … abruptly Autism has seemed to have emerged on the public scene. So many people getting diagnosed, supposedly in “epidemic” proportions. “Autism wasn’t a problem when I was growing up,” people say… “It must be something new — vaccinations, environmental toxins, gut health, gluten, and more.”

I’m not going down those particular ratholes, because I think there’s another factor that’s really contributing, not only to the number of people who are getting diagnosed, but in the distress that we’re experiencing because we’re Autistic.

I think it has a little bit to do with the surge in pathologization (if that’s a word) of behaviors that have been around since the beginning of time. There have always been folks like is in the general population. But society’s acceptance of our traits has dramatically decreased, over the past 40 years. And that, I believe, contributes far more to the issues and challenges we experience, than any of the commonly blamed “causes”.

Society has never been super-accepting of outliers. My ancestors fled their homes many times over many generations, as a result of local people not wanting them there. For over 1000 years, they routinely had to move along to some other locale, because people didn’t like their language, their culture, their religion, their ways. Back and forth across Europe they went, chased from one country to another, because they just didn’t fit.

So, the human race has never been strong on the whole acceptance bit.

But now… I’ve noticed a massive shift in people’s acceptance levels of traits that I grew up with, which were never seen as liabilities in the place/family of my origin, which were simply seen as differences that gave you certain strengths, where others were weak — and vice versa. It’s not just Autism traits, either — flapping, talking fast and long about fascinating subjects, being sensitive to foods, needing to stim — it’s everywhere.

When I got into high tech, 25 years ago, I was an outlier. There weren’t many women on the technical side of the house, but people made room for me. I earned my place, weirdo that I was (and yes, I am a weirdo, and proud of it!). And there wasn’t the raging sexism that I see in high tech, now.

And I think television has had a hugely influential role in all of this. Because we’ve been inundated with all the messages, for countless hours, on countless channels, about how men and women are supposed to look and behave… for how “normal” people are supposed to look and behave. Television has provided a bland, one-dimensional template for everyone to abide by, creating emotional bonds between audiences and invented characters which are the product of a media industry that’s almost mind-bogglingly homogenous. Writers of color, Autistic writers, disabled creators, people who don’t fit in the mainstream, don’t have great representation there.

And it shows.

Personally, I have to wonder how much television people who freak out over the “Autism epidemic” actually watch. The folks who “light it up blue” and support A$… how many hours have they spent in front of the glowing box (or eyes glued to a device), internalizing all the subtle, one-dimensional messages about what it means to be a human being, and how we should behave? People who cringe at the different ways people present and identify, gender-wise… who squirm at speech patterns and behaviors that don’t match what they think are right… how many of them have had their social expectations set by all the t.v. characters they connect with each day and each night?

I have to wonder.

And I have to admit, I really despair, when I see what kinds of characters are on t.v., as well as in movies. For the sake of drama and an unfolding story, embarrassingly immature people are trotted out for our “entertainment”, their foolishness normalized, their vacuity standardized, their shallowness presented regularly as “how people really are”. It’s depressing. And when you toss in the music and laugh tracks and subtle ways creators and producers use to entice viewers and hold their attention… Ugh… even more depressing.

Over the past years, I’ve been watching less and less television. I watch a few shows regularly, but mostly I watch movies (which are slightly better, but also have their shortcomings). And the more time I spend away from it, the more tolerant I find I am. That includes tolerance for myself. I’m not as intensely sensitized to the ways I differ from others (of course, menopause helps, because I’m no longer hormonally inclined to give a damn what others think). I’m more tolerant of others, as well. Differences don’t bother me, the way they used to — and the way they bother others.

Because my templates for acceptable human behavior haven’t been defined by a handful of white, middle-class collaborators who live in their own little bubble and work behind closed doors.

And I have to wonder, if more people just didn’t watch t.v. and let it tell them what it means to be human, how much more human could we actually become — and allow others to be?

Settling into December

This is how I’m feeling, right now. I’m actually in a very good space, after having  been incredibly busy for the past few days. I’ve got things some important things sorted out — and that’s taken a lot of pressure off me. Sweet.

I’ve got my back yard all raked and mostly free of leaves. My front yard just needs to be raked, but I’ll be able to do that in another hour or so, when the sun is up and I can see what I’m doing. I got my car inspected yesterday. And I’ve made up my mind about a conundrum that’s been dogging me for several weeks, now.

The biggest “win” was changing my annual physical from next Monday afternoon to this Friday morning. I need to get certain measurements taken, so I can get a discount on my health insurance. U.S. insurers are all into “helping” us manage our healthcare, which really means they’re funneling us down a path that they’ll pay for, and that they approve of (saints preserve us). I can save $700 a year, if I record my blood pressure, blood glucose, waist measurement, and a handful of other biometrics… do a health review and identify some steps I can take to improve with the company’s on-site health and fitness consultant. It’s tiresome and feels intrusive, and I object to it on principle. But … $700. You know?

Fortunately, I’ve managed to keep my most serious ills out of the official system. Nobody believed me, anyway, when I told them how much pain I was in, for so many years. Nobody believed me about a range of other health issues I’ve had. It made it much harder for me to manage my situation, but it also forced me to improvise and come up with genuine, lasting changes that have solved many of the issues at the root.

No doctor could have — or would have — gone down the routes I’ve taken. And even the ones who helped me, here and there, often doubted my approach. Until they saw it actually worked — and better than what they’d suggested. Ha.

Anyway, switching my appointment from Monday afternoon to Friday is a Really Big Deal for me. I have the day off work on Friday, and my appointment is at 10:30 a.m., so doing the fasting thing for my blood test won’t be a problem. And I won’t have to take time off work and deal with rush hour traffic, so that relieves another couple of huge stressors. Yeah, this is pretty big for me, even though other people wouldn’t think it was such a huge deal. But It Is!!! And I’m so happy and relieved that it worked out.

This month, I have every Friday off work, as well as the Thursday before Christmas. Then I have the week off between Christmas and New Years. This is the first year I’ve ever had this, and it is really wonderful. It takes the pressure off in a big way, and that’s good, because I have a bunch of stuff I need to take care of — get some bodywork done on one of the cars, and then get it inspected. Christmas shopping. Coming up with gifts I actually want for myself, so I can tell my partner. Cleaning my study, which has become a storage area for all the reading materials I’ve been meaning to read. Catching up with my reading. Catching up on my exercise. Catching up on my sleep. Catching up with my writing. Catching up, period.

It’s amazing what a little time off will do. This full-time working stuff is not for me, to be quite honest. But here I am… until further notice.

Anyway, this is a month for me to settle in and prepare for the New Year. I have Stuff I Want To Accomplish, and it looks like it’s actually going to get done. That makes me very happy. Very happy, indeed.

Now, off I go on another “leg” of my trek to the far metaphorical mountains, where my destiny awaits.

Systems are gonna save my a$$ today

Oh, my heavens, do I feel terrible today!

I had a really busy weekend, starting with an autism conference where Temple Grandin was the keynote speaker, and there were three workshops (and lunch and coffee and water and snacks). It was great hearing Dr. Grandin speak in person, and I really appreciated a lot that she had to say — especially about the importance of getting autistic kids working when they’re young, say at 11 years of age.

I know I was always “worked” as a kid — in my family, you pitched in and did your part with the gardening, weeding, yard work, and so forth. And that translated to doing yardwork for neighbors and doing a paper route when I was 12. I have worked since I was 12, really, holding down a long series of part-time jobs when I was in school, and then seamlessly transferring to full-time work after I left (er, dropped out after 4 interminable, traumatic years of) college.

It was just done that way, when I was growing up. You just worked. Everybody worked. It was non-negotiable. So, hearing parents now talk about how their kids aren’t able to get jobs… I just don’t know how that happens.

Anyway, after that, I went to a workshop talking about research done on the “invisible generation” of autistic folks — late-diagnosed individuals over the age of 50, who have spent their/our lives pretty confused and confounded and often disadvantaged because of dealing with that whole autistic business in a world that frankly just doesn’t give a sh*t about understanding us, let alone accommodating our “variations”. I almost broke down in tears a couple of times when the researchers were presenting their findings. I was in a room full of people, of course, so I didn’t. But I came close. Especially when they were reading the commentary.

The overarching thought that came out of that session was:

Nobody understands just how brutal life has been to some of us.

Nor do they really get just how strong we truly are.

Or how fortunate they are, that so many of us have learned to overcome what they’ve thrown at us.

It’s their loss that they don’t know… but we’re the ones who pay the price.

Sheesh. People really suck, sometimes.

Well, anyway, after that, it was time for lunch, and surprisingly, we were all herded into a large room with two long tables full of sandwiches for us to choose from. I prefer gluten-free, and I’d marked that on my registration form, but apparently, they didn’t accommodate that. The way the form was presented, it looked like I’d have a choice of specific lunches. But everybody was all just thrown together — three mini-sandwich options, a bag of chips, and a cookie.

😦

For someone who’s trying to avoid gluten and processed sugar and processed foods, in general, it wasn’t a peak experience.

After that, my experience got a little worse. I attended a workshop on employment, and the speaker was a “transition specialist” for autistic folks in high school (and college?). She was all about the Disability of Autism, deficits in Theory of Mind (if you read this blog much, you probably know what I think of that), and pointing out “inexplicable” responses by young autistic adults to her directions.

I found it a little insulting, to be honest. Fortunately/unfortunately, my processing speed was slower after that lunch (plus, I was really tired from working full-time for the four days prior), so my outrage wasn’t very well-defined or articulate. I considered approaching her afterwards and introducing myself as an autistic woman who’s been fully employed since 1988, but there was a line. And she had a really bad cold. I wasn’t taking any chances getting sick from her, especially since she seemed pretty set in her ideas and there probably wasn’t any chance I’d make a difference in that moment.

Maybe I’ll send her an email.

Or not.

The last session I attended was “Understanding Gender Identity and Sexual Orientation as it Overlaps with Autism: A Strengths Based Approach”, but it turned out to be about being trans and autistic and what kinds of issues autistic trans folks face everyday. In terms of being awareness-raising and informative, I give it an A+. The problem is, it wasn’t what the program said it was about, and by the end of the day, I literally couldn’t switch gears and adjust to the disconnect between my expectations and the reality of the situation. So, I felt like there was a void left that I really regretted.

It surprised me a little that the autistic folks who were presenting would change up the structure and nature of their talk. They’re clearly on a different part of the spectrum than I, when it comes to that stuff. If I were doing the talk, I’d hew to the line so literally… But that’s me.

Saturday was full. Yeah. Then I had to do some chores at home and go out and pick up supper. I got in bed early and slept like a rock for nearly 10 hours, which was a rare treat.

Sunday was a jam-packed sprint, as I tried to catch up on everything I’d not been able to do the day before. Getting my job-search stuff together. Coordinating other projects I’m working on. A whole lot of yard work. Plus, taking down old Christmas lights and putting up new ones. Getting the ornaments out… heck, just finding where the ornaments were, to begin with… Getting the outside tree situated…

We’ve had our Christmas tree outside every year, since a few years ago, because of sensory sensitivities. Ironically, it’s my partner, not me, who’s sensitive to the smell of the tree. She can’t handle it. And I get it. So, I set up the tree on the deck, where we can see it from the kitchen while we’re cooking and washing up. It’s nice there. I string lights on it, and it makes a nice colorful glow in the dark.

After that last rush, I made us some late brunch, and then we watched football all evening. Our interests in t.v. have really diverged over the past years, and football or other sports are about the only things we can watch together without annoying one of us. It works.

So, anyway… systems.

That’s what I was going to write about.

As a result of all that excitement over the weekend, I’m pretty much shot, today. Fried. Shaky and hypersensitive. All my sensory stuff is whacked out, and while my eyesight and hearing is ever so keen, and my tactile defensiveness is really up there, I still feel like I’m floating in an electric bubble, with all my movements feeling like they’re 2 seconds behind my impulses. My body is numb and tingling, as it gets sometimes when I’ve been whacked out on adrenaline too long.  And I’m having a hell of a time typing. It feels surreal. (did I say that before?) like I’m enveloped in a thick blanket of goo that’s slowing me down, but amplifying my every sensation at the same time.

Not that I can accommodate my own limitations today. I have to get my car inspected. Its sticker is 4 days overdue, and I can’t afford the ticket. I have to get my work done, which involves a lot of data analysis and thinking really hard. I have to change my doctor’s appointment to early in the morning so I can get my blood glucose tested while fasting, so I can get a discount on my health insurance. And I have to prepare for a presentation I’m doing tonight. It’s gonna be a long day, and not being able to type is a real problem.

But I have my systems to keep me going, keep me on track, and make sure I’m getting everything done. I have my email, my calendar, my reminders, and my checklists. I have my to-do priorities, and I have my pace pretty well figured out. All I have to do now, is follow my own plan. If I can do that, I’ll be fine.

Put myself on autopilot, keep myself hydrated, keep going, and hope for the best.

Thank heavens for my systems.

More work… looking forward to winter

Just hanging there. Taunting me…

It’s November. Nearly halfway over. And the leaves are still hanging on my trees. I need them to fall, so I can rake them up and get on with my life. I don’t mind raking. All my neighbors either use leaf blowers or they drive their riding mowers around their yards, sucking up the leaves into the compartment behind the mower.

I have a leaf blower. But I hate it. It’s loud. I need to get some ear protectors for when I use it, but better yet – never use it at all.

Fall is work time for me. Cleaning up the yard, raking, cleaning out the garage. And of course, finishing up the year at work. I have to be on a conference call in another 30 minutes — 8:00 a.m. on a Saturday is not my favorite time to be working, but we have work that needs to get pushed out to the world, and this is just part of the whole scene.

I also get a break for Thanksgiving week, as well as Christmas week. I get full weeks off, each time, which is pretty amazing. In past years, I had maybe one extra day off before Thanksgiving, and another day off after that. And for Christmas, it was always a challenge trying to juggle work and holiday celebrations. Combined with lots of driving to see relatives, various holiday gatherings with friends and workmates, etc. etc.

Not this year, though. This year, I get a break, which will be most welcome.

And I’m going to make the most of it.

I’m really looking forward to this winter, I have to say. The darkness, the cold… When it gets below freezing, I feel the best. I actually feel much better, the colder it is. If it’s just above freezing, it feels cold to me. I think my internal heating only “kicks on” when it’s bitter cold outside.

Later, after my call is done, I can go outside, maybe do a little more raking (even though all the leaves aren’t down, yet), and run some other errands. I’ve got a list. Of course I have a list.

I also have a handful of other things I need to do. Like shop for food and visit my friendly neighborhood health food store to pick up non-mainstream health supplies. It will be good to get out. I’ve been practically merged with my work laptop for most of my waking hours, for the past 5 days, and this morning will be more of the same.

I could really use a full day off. Heck, I could use two days off, where I don’t have to do anything for anybody else, and I can move at my own pace. But that’s not going to happen for another week, at least. No, wait – it’s going to be longer than that, because Thanksgiving week, I’ll be traveling to visit family several states away. So, it’s more like three weeks, till I catch a break.

Even then, I’m not sure it’s going to be very relaxing. Because these deadlines I’m on right now are leading up to new features and functionality on my employer’s website, and that will keep me on my toes, tracking how it’s going and reporting in to people On High about what’s good, what’s bad, and what needs to change.

What a pain in the a** it all is.

Well, anyway, this is what I get paid the big bucks for. And I’ll just need to find a way to manage this whole thing and spin it properly so the People In Charge continue to have full faith in me. I just need to come up with good systems for reporting, so I don’t have to constantly scramble to keep the People In Charge appraised of what’s what — just let the systems run themselves and report out from there.

Oh, that reminds me… there’s something else I need to do for Monday. I promised someone I’d get them numbers. Guess I should do that.

I’ve digressed.

I have a lot going on. It’s overwhelming, if I think about it. But if I just keep my lists and I take good care of myself (extra rest, not worrying about getting everything perfect all the time), it’s totally do-able.

I just need to do what needs to be done. And that’s something I do really well.

So, that’s something.

Now, if only those leaves would fall … before the snow comes along.

Using all this energy *in* my favor – not against me

This is pretty much how I’m feeling, these days. Jammed up.

Blocked.

Stopped in traffic, when I should be moving forward, consistently, cleanly, systematically.

If I were left to my own devices, I could totally do that.

But … people.

People and logistics. And politics. It’s all blocking my path. And it’s exhausting. So, I don’t have as much energy to get all creative ‘n’ that and come up with innovative new ideas. The best I can do is slog through. And for this Autistic, that’s about the worst thing anybody can ask me to do.

I’m a sprinter. As well as a marathoner. And I need to sprint periodically, to really stretch myself and get things accomplished. Right now, I’m stuck in the herd with a bunch of non-Autistic folks who have ulterior motives and political agendas.

And it’s next to impossible to get anything done.

How frustrating.

Well, it’s not all bad. Once I get done with my whining and complaining, I can see just how much of an opportunity this is for me. I’ve been wanting to make a significant change in my life for some time, but I’ve held off because I could always tolerate how things were. I’m not talking about being satisfied and fulfilled and doing my best work. I’m talking about just not being too depressed by my situation to move, and being able to maintain at the most basic level to “pass” as someone who’s happy and productive and content where they are in life.

All that acting gets tiring.

So, being in this stupidly impossible situation is giving me motivation to do something about it. And I am. I’ve gone through my projects list and picked a few that I’m going to complete over the next year — and a few that I’m going to focus on through the end of the year. I do well with deadlines, especially when I set them. And I have to say, my methodology and my approaches are really, really good. I generally can’t pull out all the stops and really GO with it, around the people I work with, because they just don’t operate at the same level as I.

That’s not me being arrogant or egotistical. It’s me being honest. I’ve worked in too many high-stakes positions before, with companies that were at the top of their industries, and I’ve been doing this a long time. So, I’m just trained that way. Many, if not most, of the folks I work with are 10-15 years younger than me. They haven’t been through the “meat-grinders” that I have. They haven’t been worn down to nothing, burnished and polished, quite the same way I have. And it shows.

And there’s very little I can say or do that makes any sense to them, because they don’t have that history and that perspective.

So, I just do my own thing in my own way. I inject every bit of professionalism and experience into my own projects, that I miss on a daily basis. Because I’m a coder and a user experience designer and a tester and a sys admin, I can set things up for myself that meet my standards and make sense to me. Every bit of laxness, every bit of excuse-making and risk-aversion I experience at the office, I counteract with my own work on the side. And that’s the one thing that saves me, really. It does my spirit good.

Some people have kids they live for. They’ll go through anything because they love them. I suspect that’s one of the reasons that people I work with are so willing to tolerate all the B.S. that takes place each day — they’re doing it for their kids. Well, I don’t have any kids. All I have is my work, and the fruits thereof. Sacrificing my sanity for the sake of … anything … well, that doesn’t make much sense to me.

So, rather than letting it bother me, I just channel my frustration into other things.

And get on with creating the kind of work and life I want to have.

If the rest of the world can’t accommodate me (and they can’t/won’t), I’ll carve out a space for myself. Everybody else can do what they like.

I need to do what I like, as well.

And that’s that.