Asperger's on the Inside

Q: So, why did you call the book Asperger’s on the Inside? What does it mean?

A: Well, it’s not about being in jail! Ba-dum-tsh. There’s my first lame joke for the book. Wasn’t it awful?

But more seriously, I came up with the title Asperger’s on the Inside when I was trying to think of a way to describe how it feels to be an Aspie who appears very “normal” to the outside world, despite the complexities underneath. Most people have heard of that good old Asperger’s stereotype: “We Aspies say whatever comes to our minds, oblivious to whether people are interested in or offended by our comments. We talk repeatedly about a few favorite topics and don’t think to question others about their lives or interests.”

Heck, let’s take it to the full extreme and imagine that all of us have a monotone voice, unusual hair, and terribly bad dress sense. You can pick us out by our awkward postures and aversion to eye contact! But, of course, what people may not realize is that we’re not all like that. We’re human beings and learning creatures, many of us exceptionally bright. We do learn to blend and fit in (to varying degrees for different individuals), and the more apt among us do so extremely well.

Having only recently discovered my own Asperger’s Syndrome, I find it frustrating that it’s such a difficult thing to talk to people about, because it’s something I really want to discuss. I wish I could just throw casual comments about it into social conversations and have people reply, “Oh, my aunt had that,” or, “My sister’s nephew’s cousin’s brother has that. I know what that is.” But whenever I drop the A-word, people do react oddly. They either know nothing about it and think I’m confessing a concerning ailment or they assume it means I’m something that I’m not. Sometimes, it can be awkward and quite the conversation stopper.

I need a way to explain to people casually, “Yes, I have Asperger’s Syndrome, but no, I’m not the man from Trainspotting. I’m the other type of Aspie. You know, the one you’ve never heard of! Yes, that one. The one that that is nothing like the stereotype.” So I suppose that’s what I’m trying to achieve in writing this book—to show the world Asperger’s Syndrome from another point of view the best way I know how, which is by telling my personal story.

Now, before I get lost in my own little stories, one thing I did want to note about this book (which I did mention in the introduction but I’ll say again) is that I do not plan to define or list my Asperger’s traits the way a textbook would, so if you’re looking for general information or a definition of the condition, sorry, you’re reading the wrong book!

As a real person and not a stereotype or a textbook example, my personality traits are so complex, even I have a hard time determining where my personality ends and my Asperger’s begins. There’s no such thing as the Aspie side of me and the normal side of me. There’s just me! So I’m intentionally going to leave that line blurred.

But what I can do is tell it all—the positive stuff, the embarrassing stuff, and even the personal little secrets I wouldn’t normally say out loud—and let you decide what to make of it. It works out better that way anyway, because you’re in a better position than I am to know what’s usual and what’s different about my behavior. I think everything I do is normal! So you be the judge, and perhaps when you’re done, you can tell me what I’ve written that sounds odd or funny. I would be amused to hear it!

So, I guess I should explain, then, if I’m not like the Aspie stereotype, then what sort of Aspie am I, and how does Asperger’s affect me? It’s a topic I always find complicated to address.

I guess, firstly, I have to confess that I have quite a lot of Aspie traits buried down there where people can’t see—more than I sometimes even admit to myself!

I’m the sort of person who feels overwhelmed in crowds and can find dealing with other people exhausting. I’m a little stubborn—well, okay, very stubborn—and sometimes struggle to let go of really, really wanting to do everything my way. I also frequently get so lost in what I’m doing that I can forget to notice and thank those around me—a bad habit, I know.

But, of course, if you were to see me out and about, these aren’t the things that would stand out about me, especially upon first impression. I’m also friendly and polite, and I smile a lot. I can make small talk when I need to and fit in well enough in a crowd, and I have an almost charming way of saying odd but amusing things at random times.

You see, I’ve been around people thirty-something odd years now, and I did eventually learn how to temper my behavior, “eventually” being the operative word there! After having enough bad social experiences growing up (the Aspie way), it was natural for me to become a little obsessed with people-watching and figuring out how others tick, which I hear is actually not uncommon in Aspie circles!

I wanted to quote a friend of mine, Bruce Horst, here, because I think he put it well:

We who are on the spectrum are often accused of being unaware of what others are thinking or feeling, but often, this results in us figuring out the patterns to read people. Aspies often get very good at this. It’s almost a super power!

“This allows us to read between the lines in certain situations, sometimes inaccurately, but most often very accurately. It’s like we have x-ray vision that lets us see into the [human soul]^[7].”

And I love this quote, because I think describes me to a T ^[8]. As someone who is just fascinated by why other people interact the way they do, I can’t stop analyzing and finding the patterns in people’s behavior. Even lying in bed at night when I ought to be sleeping, my mind is often ridiculously active, running over the goings-on of the day.

Go to sleep, Michelle. But what was so-and-so feeling to do and say X? Why would she say that? Go to sleep, Michelle. Oh, maybe she was thinking Y. But would she have said that if that were the case? Go to sleep, Michelle. You’ll regret this in the morning!

But I can’t turn it off. It’s like an itch I have to scratch. My obsession. And it’s such a great one, because it’s the thing that has allowed me to understand others and fit in as well as I do. This is how I function. So despite the insomnia, I love that my mind does this.

So, you might ask, if I’ve become good at fitting in with people nowadays, as I keep saying, then why do I even need to mention Asperger’s Syndrome? Isn’t it no longer a consideration?

But that is where people misunderstand. It’s not as simple as that.

Even if I could perfect all social interaction and have it down to an art, I will never think the way a neurotypical ^[9] person does. My brain just processes everything so differently. This can allow me to do some fantastic things. I’m certainly blessed with more than a few Aspie talents, which I will definitely talk about later. But “the gift,” as one of my Aspie friends likes to refer to it, also has some downsides that others don’t see, the things that are happening on the inside.

For example: Boy, can I get exhausted from all the mental effort involved in staying socially aware! Every time I talk to more than one person at a time, every time I talk to someone when there are things going on in the background, every time I deal with strangers (whom I’ve not yet learnt to read), it’s an intellectual effort which I can only sustain for so long. Yet in a typical workplace, this is something people are expected to do all day long.

I can be overstimulated by lights, sounds, trying to process too much information at once, etc. Lots of things I encounter frustrate me. I have a need for an orderly, calm environment, and every time someone forces me to deal with things differently (their way), I have to suppress frustration. I find other people’s methods of doing things haphazard and stressful. Even just having to think all the time about which words are the right ones to say so as not to offend others—it’s so tiring!

There are also serious emotional consequences to having to be so in control of one’s behavior. I hate that I spend so much time pretending to be something that I’m not. It really dulls my personality, and I feel boring and unremarkable whenever I get stuck in an unfamiliar group. Some days—usually after particularly tiring events—I can get frustrated about how I came across as such a nobody. I stand there. I’m awkward. I don’t really talk to anyone. Sometimes, I hate that side of me and wish I could make myself go away, as impossible as that is.

I want to be someone who is lively and relatable and connect with others in a way that they’ll like and remember. You know those people, with big, alive personalities. But so often, I just can’t break out of my unease and think of appropriate things to say.

I remember describing to a fellow Aspie online once how I can get trapped in an awful downward spiral. I have days where I feel sad that so few people love me and accept me for who I am, yet I don’t show people who I am, because I know it won’t be acceptable. It’s self-perpetuating.

To the few people in my life who have gotten to know me better on a one-on-one level, the “real me” does start to emerge. I’m quirky, playful, and very cheeky. I make mischievous comments and have fun with people. I see beauty in the things around me and believe in kindness and compassion toward others. My motto could be, “Seek first to understand before you judge.” I won’t engage in lying, manipulation, or meanness, regardless of what the people around me are doing. I refuse. Openness, honesty, and kindness is my only style.

There are so many things about me that most people don’t see. I’m drawn to the natural world—the bright green of new leaves, the sound of water flowing over rocks, a beetle climbing up a tree, the bark, the patterns in its wings, the joy of taking a walk in the evening once it has started to get dark. I pick out little obscure notes in a song and immerse myself in the melody, forgetting the world around me. I’m idealistic.

I wish this side of me could shine and I could say to the world, “Look. This is who I am, and some of it is magical.” But I don’t know how to convey it to a neurotypical crowd. Being an Aspie is so much of who I am, but to the neurotypicals in my life, it’s a secret I carry with me. I am neurotypical on the outside and Asperger’s on the inside, something I still have no idea how to reveal.

Q:		So, why did you call the book Asperger’s on the Inside? What does it mean?
A:		Well, it’s not about being in jail! Ba-dum-tsh. There’s my first lame joke for the book. Wasn’t it awful?

	We who are on the spectrum are often accused of being unaware of what others are thinking or feeling, but often, this results in us figuring out the patterns to read people. Aspies often get very good at this. It’s almost a super power!
	“This allows us to read between the lines in certain situations, sometimes inaccurately, but most often very accurately. It’s like we have x-ray vision that lets us see into the [human soul]^[7].”