16 May 2011
by Bruce (born 2b me)
in Asperger's, Asperger's Syndrome, autism, burnout
Tags: anxiety, Asperger's, Asperger's Syndrome, autism, Social Anxiety

- Sorry, I can’t hear what you are saying!!
Caveat.
I wouldn’t want to undermine anyone’s confidence in their medications or their therapist, so please stick with what works for you. As in my earlier post entitled “Asperger’s without Social Anxiety?” I am only sharing my own preliminary thoughts (hopefully as a conversation starter), and I make no claim to expertise.
Fear of flying.
It seems that if someone has a scary flying experience, or becomes overly aware of some plane crashes, or picks up on the fear of others, they may learn to fear flying. I believe this type of fear can usually be remedied with Cognitive Behaviour Therapy, Systematic Desensitization, and medications. There do seem to be good success rates for courses of therapy (and meds) designed to cure fear of flying.
Fear of Socializing.
The same approach (CBT, SD, and meds), should work equally well for simple learned fear of socializing, namely “normal” Social Anxiety. A learned fear of elevators could be similarly treated.
Fear of bumping into trees when blind.
However if a person is blind and has developed a fear of bumping into trees, the above treatment protocol will not restore their sight. It may give them more confidence to go out and risk an encounter with a tree, but it won’t give them any more ability to see the tree. I think you can guess where I’m going with this….
Fears experienced by Aspies/auties.
My layman’s theory is that Aspie/autie brains are wired in a way that causes excessive levels of anxiety. Perhaps even the brain’s biochemical environment is conducive to overactivity. I think our brains are just naturally extremely active, and therefore always more highly stressed and anxious than neurotypical brains.
Also, an overactive, stressed brain will be less able to process incoming information from a social encounter, at the speed of the encounter. Hence, social encounters will be stressful. I often find myself not looking at the person with whom I am interacting because I prefer to gaze on a blank surface while processing the words I have just heard. This reduces the amount of information I need to think about. So I don’t even see the non-verbal signals to begin with.
I also think our brains’ peculiar wiring or chemistry may account for some of the difficulties in reading the non-verbal components that make up seventy-to-ninety-five percent of communication emanating from neurotypicals.
Do therapy and meds work?
I think learning some coping strategies, such as taking breaks from social situations in order to recoup, may be beneficial. And Cognitive Behavioural Therapy may help a person accept their Aspieness, and feel better about themselves, as a result of reframing or countering their negative self-image. It may also help them to give themselves permission to take the needed breaks without feeling bad about it.
My guess is that therapy and meds may have their benefits, but they won’t fix the wiring. They may teach me, or help me, to better navigate through the trees, but will they make my blind eyes see?
Let me “fix” you.
I would be wary of any therapist whose attitude is to dismiss the realities of Asperger’s/autism and whose goal is to “fix” me or make me more “normal.” I no longer want help to be more ”normal.” I may appreciate coaching to be the very best Aspie that I can possibly be. But more “normal”? No thanks, I’d rather be me! (But more about “passing” in my next post in this series.)
My experience with Ativan.
I have tried prescription Ativan for generalized anxiety and social anxiety. It does seem to help me to relax a bit. But I am tapering off Ativan, as I no longer wish to be on it. My doctor says there are better meds for Social Anxiety, but hope to try without meds. If I can’t cope, then I will reconsider meds.
I think it is possible that Ativan may help me to converse more in social situations, and to be less anxious, but I doubt it has any real influence on my ability to send or receive the non-verbal components of communication. In other words, it doesn’t cure Asperger’s!
It is possible that the overall relaxing effect may slow my brain, and therefore let it absorb and process a bit more of the social encounter, but I’m really not sure of this. I asked my wife if she had noticed any “improvement” in my socializing, and she hadn’t noticed any.
So I suspect, for me, the net result from Ativan is that, although I may sometimes talk a little more, I may not communicate any better. I am just not as concerned about my performance. I don’t do as well as I ”should,” but the meds relax me a bit, and help me to feel less bothered by my quality of socializing. However, I can see how, for me, an increase in quantity may well be considered an improvement! (Unless, of course, I am relaxing with a family member, and I am on a roll with a special interest of mine
then they may prefer less!)
(Ativan, aka Lorazepam, impacts memory (anterograde amnesia), and is addictive, so be careful if you are considering it.)
The best “treatment” I know.
Simply accepting my own Aspieness is the most relaxing therapy or “medication” that I know! I learned to do this, in the past few months, by participating in this Aspie/autie blogging community. Discovering that I may well be Aspie, and recognizing and accepting that I need to take breaks from social situations, even from my own family, and doing so without the former guilt and shame, has been a great stress reducer. And it has actually enabled me to do more, and be happier.
Please share your thoughts.
I came to Asperger’s a few months ago at sixty-five years. My experience with meds and therapy is very limited, and I have never undertaken any program to learn social skills. So I’m just expressing my very preliminary thinking here. I would love to hear about your thoughts and experiences.
> next post in this series:>> Passing (as “normal”).
10 May 2011
by Bruce (born 2b me)
in Asperger's Syndrome, autism
Tags: anxiety, Asperger's, autism, thought loops
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
(a story about my loopy mind)
Long-haul trucking
One of my sons, I’ll call him James (but that is not his real name), is training to be a long-haul trucker. He graduated from university with distinction, and could have gone on to graduate studies but chose not to. He worked for a couple of years in an office environment but did not enjoy that. So he quit and enrolled in a trucking school last November. He graduated and got his licence. He so impressed his instructor that he recommended him to two partners, Don and Robert (not real names) who own a small fleet that hauls for a large company. He is now being mentored on the road by these partners.
On a Saturday morning a few weeks ago, I accompanied James to the closest truck-stop where Don was meeting him for a trip from Canada to the southern states in the USA.
Farewell

- truck with “condo” behind cab
James had his backpack, sports bag full of clothes, sleeping bag and several bags of food which he passed up to Don, in the cab of the truck, to put in the sleeper (condo) behind the cab. Then as James was about to climb up into the cab, Don called out over the roaring diesel engine,
“Hey James, say goodbye to your father, you may never see him again!”
Yikes!
My anxieties spiked! My first reaction was, would I live to see my son return? My father died at 64 years of age and I am already 66. I hoped that what Don said was not prophetic! I remember looking at my grey head in the mirror a few years ago, and asking myself, “where have I seen that face before?” The answer that came to me was, “looking up at me from various coffins.” So I knew then that I had entered a new phase of life. My thought loops ensure that consciousness of death is never too far from me.
This was the first time Don had seen me. Was he struck by how old James’ dad looked? Did he think I looked on the verge of death? Did he think I might not be here when James returned? OMGoodness was I frazzled!
But after I got home it came to me that Don may well have been suggesting that James, himself, may not be returning from the trip down south. And my anxieties spiked even further! So, as I am sure you can guess, the thought loops started spinning, and they spun until James returned safely several days later.
Joking
The fact is, Don was undoubtedly kidding or teasing James. He was making a joke. But my brain processed it literally. (sigh). I wonder why?
Safely home
As it turned out, the worst thing that happened was, whilst they slept at a truck stop in a southern state, someone carved obscenities into the paint on the side of the truck.
That was a few weeks ago, and James and I are both still here, and apparently well. And I haven’t been thinking too much about death lately.
Although, as I write, I know James is in his truck up north. He is probably dodging stray moose on a northern Canadian highway, but I won’t let my mind go there!
Try not to think of a moose!!

10 Mar 2011
by Bruce (born 2b me)
in Asperger's, Asperger's Syndrome
Tags: anxiety, Asperger's, Asperger's Syndrome, basic goodness, gratefulness, gratitude, lessons, Social Anxiety, trust

Image via Wikipedia
But first a poem I wrote:
Freedom!
I was a beached hull
all grounded and dry
now like a seagull
I rise up and fly!
From all the comments on my previous post, “She Sure Picked the Wrong Guy,” I gleaned some valuable lessons which I hope to put into practice:
Lesson 1: Be kind to myself:
My chit-chat was not as bad as I had thought. Bbsmum and Angel seemed to think it was handled well enough. This is actually a recurring theme in my life. I devalue or underestimate my own performance and then hear from others that it was adequate (or sometimes even outstanding). I would have given my chit-chat about a 20%-30% grade, but I get the impression that it seems to be at least passable so that would make it a 50-60%.
If I could stop putting myself down or devaluing my contributions, and if I could rate my performance as “acceptable,” then I am sure I would be less fearful and anxious about attempting things. So the lesson here is: don’t be so hard on myself! Stop putting myself down. Be kind to myself.
Lesson 2: Don’t blame myself:
I have a tendency to blame myself, or take responsibility, for whatever is going on. I attributed the woman’s erratic departure to my poor chit-chat skills. But Diane made me aware that the behaviours of other people may have nothing at all to do with me. With this insight, I could then see that the woman’s zigzagging departure could easily have been due to her trying to locate the department in the store that she wanted to visit next, whilst being unsure as to its exact location. In other words, what I saw was the woman seeking her next destination. I, thinking she was flummoxed by my poor chit-chat, took the blame for her erratic behaviour on myself. The lesson here is for me to remember to assign responsibility for the behaviour of others to those others, and to stop automatically assuming it is always my fault.
Lesson 3: Trust:
More than one person commenting said they could relate to the notion of anxiety. I have a tendency to worry way too much, and I suffer from chronic anxieties that drive my mind into all kinds of unproductive excursions of fantasy. I easily imagine disasters are immanent. This keeps me in a chronic state of high alert which leaves me exhausted. And I put a negative interpretation on almost all unfolding occurrences. In the bookstore venture I automatically assumed the woman must be distressed by my actions. However, I now see her behaviour as indicative of someone seeking something whilst being unsure of its exact location. Nothing to do with me and certainly no need for worry or anxiety. So the lesson here is: let go of the worry and see things in a positive light. In other words: trust.
Lesson 4: Take risks:
This post sat in my draft folder for several weeks. I seemed to be in a state of paralysis, having difficulty writing posts or comments. It all seemed too stressful and exhausting. Often when I tried commenting I found myself trashing my efforts before posting the comment. And the night after posting “She sure picked the wrong guy” I found myself waking up a few times feeling very warm and anxious. If I had gotten any warmer I would have broken out in a sweat. I have no idea why this was happening as my thoughts provided me with no explanation, but I know it was related to the post. I was determined to trash the post once I got up. However, when I turned on my computer I saw some more friendly, helpful comments had been added and I realized yet again that people in Aspie Bloggyland can be trusted. It is safe to reveal my inner workings here. I learned this lesson before with my post, “Sudden jerking of arms and yelling,” which I risked publishing even though I had never told a single person on the planet about this “secret,” and it was well and kindly received in Aspie Bloggyland. So not only did I learn what may be behind my sudden jerking of arms and yelling, I also learned that my Bloggyland friends can be trusted.
Lesson 5: Don’t forget my lessons:
When I look at these lessons I realize that at different times in my life I have seen them before. It seems to take a lot of repetition before a lesson sticks. The lessons from “Sudden jerking of arms…” seemed to have evaporated from my mind when I was in a panic over “She sure picked….” I am hoping to remember to review this post from time to time so the lessons will remain fresh. My chances of actually applying them should then increase.
Lesson 6: Practice:
Clay suggested that I practice my chit-chat skills. I resisted the suggestion due to the stress involved, but I recognize the wisdom in the suggestion. After all, how do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice, practice, practice!
Conclusion:
I am very grateful to have this safe place here in Aspie Bloggyland in which I can talk about things on my mind and receive good advice and friendly support from people who can relate. Blogging what is on my mind is certainly worth the risk. The payoff is liberation!
P.S. If you commented on my last post and you weren’t specifically mentioned here by name, please rest assured that I really do appreciate your comment, I just wasn’t able to weave everything into the fabric of this post. I am very grateful to all who have commented since I began this blog.
01 Dec 2010
by Bruce (born 2b me)
in acceptance, Asperger's, autism
Tags: anxiety, Asperger's, autism, belonging, community, compassion, gratefulness, marginalization, sadness
Marginalization: I have been thinking of how I am drawn to the stories of people who have been in some way marginalized by the mainstream society. This marginalization may have involved exclusion, exploitation and even genocide. Examples would be the Jews of Europe down through history but particularly during the Holocaust, Native Americans (First Nations people) who were forced onto reservations and whose culture and language were attacked, and African-Americans who were made slaves (and only in my lifetime gained civil rights).
Compassion: I find these people, and some other groups, touch my heart in a special way. I absorb their stories, and tears of compassion fill my eyes.
Puzzle: For a long time I puzzled over why I was affected so much by these particular people’s stories. I am unable to let go, and I seem to be very strongly impacted.
Insight: Then this morning I had a sudden flash of insight: I too have been marginalized all my life! Not to the extent of the people I mentioned above, but nevertheless marginalized. So I can relate to, and identify with, their position in society. And therefore I can, to some degree, feel their pain.
Periphery: I have always felt I was on the periphery of any group. I never quite fit in. I don’t excel at social chit-chat. I can’t keep up with conversations in a group. I have difficulty connecting. I miss much of the seventy to ninety-percent of communication that occurs non-verbally. I avoid noise and bright lights. I have always seen things differently to the crowd. I have been like the one who said “the emperor has no clothes”. I have seen through the nonsense, but this has not made me popular.
Autism: And what has put me in this marginalized position? Simply being Aspie! I know what it is like to be on the outside looking in, feeling ignored, being misunderstood. This has enabled me to identify with, and feel for, the marginalized people mentioned above, even though their marginalization is far greater than mine. It has given me a sense of compassion I might not otherwise have acquired. So now one more puzzling aspect of my life has been explained by Asberger’s Syndrome!
Sadness, anxiety: To recognize the fact of my own marginalization brings up some unpleasant feelings (sadness, anxiety). It is sad for me to think I have to give up my dream of someday fitting in socially. It is also scary to acknowledge actually being a social misfit in society, rather than simply assuming it was a choice, or due to inaction on my part.
Acceptance, action: I used to think if I simply tried harder I would be able to fit in socially. Now I am faced with the fact of a difference in brain wiring, which makes it difficult for me to understand much of neurotypical communication. I need to apply some of that compassion I mentioned to myself. Probably, being on the periphery will always be a fact of life for me. So now I have to accept that, and act accordingly — plan to live the rest of my life as an Aspie, with all its wonderful plusses and its minuses too. Understanding my “limitations” may help me to better strategize my interactions with neurotypicals. I can spend some social time talking to Aspie/auties on the internet since we understand each other.
Grateful: And so I am grateful to have found support and encouragement for the journey in this Aspie/autie blogging community, and in my family too.
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