“I hope I can read this tomorrow without getting upset,” a friend of mine recently wrote in a chat. Inside my brain, I felt the cogwheels start creaking and gaining momentum. I scrolled up the chat history to see if I wrote something stupid, inconsiderate, tactless, offensive.
Nope, none that I could attribute her reaction to.
This was my usual reaction for years and years, Thinking, “Did I say something stupid?” I would go into defense mode, wonder if {person} was about to unfriend me, ready for the inevitable scolding.
In recent months, however, I learned better. I simply asked, “How do you mean that?” Her answer was a simple, “I just went over a speech I prepared. As it is quite emotional, I am not sure if I can read that on a lectern without bursting out in tears.”
Then It dawned on me: By virtue of my aspieness, or whatever trait in my persona is responsible for this, I take many things literally. And if there is some ambiguity, I am ready, eager even, to interpret it in the worst possible way.
Mostly, I was ready to concede that I was saying something ignorant, that I did something wrong, that it must be my fault. What ultimately made it painfully clear was the fact that I, not being a native English speaker, mentally translated the “upset” in the least favourable way, in the translation we have learned in school: “angry”. (To all you English teachers: you owe me a pint now.)
So there I had it – not only did I interpret the sentence according to my happy-to-be-bashed condition, I also translated the “offensive” word accordingly. And my logical reaction (cue Spock Eyebrow) was that I must have done something wrong. Because everything makes perfect sense this way, now doesn’t it?
A similar source of frustration surfaced when I was eating out with my wife. It was a cold Novembery evening, and we went to some reasonably un-posh French restaurant. On the menu, I spotted Soupe à l’oignon (“onion soup” doesn’t do this delicacy justice), and somewhere later down the list they had Clams Marinière.
Wifey and I chit-chat, comment the menu, and she asks me if I had found something. I told her yes, I’d be ordering soup and the mussels. “Are you sure you want two ‘wet’ courses?” she asks.
And all I can do is roll my eyes and think, there we go again– I am not even able to order my meal in a restaurant. “Why sorry, I didn’t know I needed coaching when ordering from a menu,” I blurted out, and she got sad and whispered, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to lecture you. You can have peanut butter on it if you want, for all I care.”
Needless to say, it took a considerable effort from both of us to steer that boat into calmer waters.
Why? Why? Why is it that I constantly jump to the worst-case-scenario conclusions? A “normal” person might say “Yeah, odd, innit?” or “Sure bet I do! I am a Neanderthal.” Instead, I feel attacked, I feel the urge to not only explain but rather defend my decisions.
I can dismantle and reassemble a motorbike, sew a party gown, bake a three-tiered wedding cake, and all that shit– but as soon as someone comes and wonders about a decision of mine, I’m toast. I feel accused.
And it’s not just my own decisions:
Scenario: The family goes on a vacation. I am the Person With The Wallet (and the Black Belt in Computing), thus I am to book hotels in advance along a loose itinerary. I do as commissioned, we pack, we fly, we fetch the rental car (“it is a tad big/small/sporty/old-peopley”), we drive interstate (“bland”), country roads (“slow”), we arrive (“…this?”), dine (some moans about the menu), and sleep (“stiff mattress”)… you get the point.
Why, why, why the heck do I think I have to assume responsibility for someone else’s car rental flyer, someone else’s roads, someone else’s hotel, someone else’s shithole town? My mind knows, knows it, and yet I feel attacked and offended if someone (rightly so, partly, there are shithole towns) is not happy with something along their route.
I have analysed this back and forth, some people helpfully suggested I might be a borderliner and my limbic system was out of whack, and my best guess as to why someone might react this my way is this:
- you “do” something, and thus you assume responsibility for your deed
- your logic dictates that all that cascades down from your initial “doing” (booking → hotel → food) is your responsibility, too
(I learned that many religious books have similar concepts) - your silly brain wiring will always choose the most negative interpretation because…
- … a co-morbitity of your spectrum disorder are issues with self-esteem, depression, and countless other consequences
So, there you have it.
Now, what paths will get you out of that swamp of self-fulfilling prophecies?
(I was about to make one list for autistics and one for their partner, ;but hey, they were congruent)
- Give each other the Benefit of the Doubt. Most folks mean well. And repeat this mantra ad nauseam until it “sticks.”
- Check your attitude. Is it non-judgmental? Most people can’t easily slide out of their skin and might take offense at being lectured for what they assumed to be good.
- Assume responsibility for your immediate action, like suggesting to eat out. Refuse responsibility further down the road. It’s not your fault if the menu is not to your partner’s liking.
- It is not always about you. Even if you are the only person your partner can address their rant to.
- Be gentle with failures and mishaps. Not everyone is a gifted handmaid, or a cook– a competent President, even.
- “The Others” are not your enemies. This is not a conspiracy.