Asperger's on the Inside

I think it’s a common misconception that because someone has Autism or Asperger’s Syndrome, they’re fine with (or even prefer) being alone for long periods. It’s true that we Aspies do have a higher tolerance for being by ourselves than most and can very much enjoy having downtime to focus on our own things, but for me, there’s definitely a limit to how much isolation I can stand, and I know I’m not the only Aspie who feels this social need.

Despite our tendency to appear aloof or disinterested, we Aspies are still social creatures with real human needs. We need company and companionship as much as anyone else does, at least in the right quantities given our lifestyle.

Now, I know that for some Aspies, that quantity appears to be zero, zilch, zip! Yep, there’s always an Aspie I bump into here or there who talks about how they’ve just had enough of people and wish that everyone would just leave them alone and stop pressuring them to go to things. (It’s usually said in a grumpy tone!) But you have to consider how much time a person already spends around others in their day-to-day lives; i.e., work, home life, hobbies, etc.

I, too, remember how, back in the days when I was studying and working, I had no real desire for social contact at all. The day-after-day exhaustion of dealing with strangers and colleagues more than filled my desire for socialization, and in my downtime, I just needed to recharge. An occasional lunch with my friends was enjoyable, but a party after work? Forget it, unless you were someone I was really close to and the group was small.

Sometimes I would go to these things because I felt an obligation to for one reason or another, but rarely for pleasure. Heck, when I was working in the city, sometimes I would even go find a quiet staircase in the train station at lunch just to be where nobody else was. Back then, I really appreciated the time I had to just sit with my own thoughts or work on little things that were important to me.

Then I ceased working, and I was thrown into a whole different world.

Admittedly, for the first few weeks, it was bliss—endless hours of precious alone time for me. But soon after, the boredom and isolation set in. I needed stimulation. I needed someone to talk to, to air all these thoughts in my head. Being alone for days on end is like torture.

I’m not just being melodramatic. It can really make you start to go crazy, and I don’t think people can fully understand the strength of this frustration until they’ve experienced it for themselves. It leads rapidly to depression, not unlike solitary confinement. I never thought that I was the kind of person who would feel that way, but it turns out I am.

Later, wandering on to the online Aspie forums, I was surprised to discover that it wasn’t just me who felt that way. There are so many desperately lonely Aspies out there, writing post after post of bleak and intense stories in which other people are rejecting them—posts about those who they thought were friends walking away, posts about those new people they wanted to get to know but never found a way to approach.

I read a handful of suicidal posts from those who were so painfully alone, they didn’t want to go on. And all I could do was empathize. Yes, an Aspie empathizing. Because these were feelings I could relate to and therefore understand.

I remember writing, myself, once about how sometimes I feel as if I’m in a glass box. I know the world is out there. I can see it, in a blurry way, through the glass. I can hear muffled sounds and the laughter of others, and I know there are things I would want to be a part of—special interest groups, social organizations, gatherings that are right for me—but I have no idea how to find them or reach them, as I’m trapped in this cage.

How do people know where to go and what to do? What events are coming up? I browsed the internet endlessly but came up with little that is realistic. I guess most small, private events that I would enjoy aren’t advertised there. Is it word of mouth? I’m generally out of that loop. Another lady wrote about how she felt trapped in a glass jar and couldn’t get the lid off or keep it off. It was a similar analogy to mine.

I remember writing in another post about how I sometimes felt I had a voice in my head just screaming and how I couldn’t go to sleep because the screaming was too loud. Of course, it wasn’t a real voice (I don’t hallucinate). It was more an auditory representation that perfectly described a feeling or frustration I felt and couldn’t otherwise express. The feeling was so strong, I couldn’t tune it out.

Upon writing this, I’m happy to relay that I haven’t had this feeling in a long time. My life has picked up a lot since that point, and I have a few close people I can reach out to now. It’s not the problem that it used to be, but sometimes I think of how many others must still be suffering out there, isolated and alone. Too many. I wish there was something we could do to fix this.