Oh no, I’ve done it again!

It’s my first day back at work today, after a week of holiday.

I arrived at work a little after 0930, switched on the various PCs on my desk, and started to work through the large volume of email that had built up over the week.

And then it happened. It always happens.

I read an email that suggested that a fix that I had proposed for something that I was working on before my holiday was wrong. I was suddenly filled with self doubt. How could I have been so stupid? What must these people think of me for suggesting a solution that was wrong? Can I go home and curl up in a little ball now please?

I say this always happens – but of course it doesn’t always happen like the above. It is very common, however for me to arrive back at work from an absence and struggle to confidently pick things up from where I’d left them. It doesn’t take much to knock my confidence. I also find that in the short time that I’ve been away, I’ve forgotten the detail of the items I was working on.

So when I was confronted by an email that said my proposed solution was wrong in a number of ways, my natural reaction, countering my loss of detailed information about the issue was to assume what they were saying was right. A very familiar problem for me.

Lucky then, that I have something of a solution for this problem these days.

Instead of firing a quick email reply back apologising profusely for my mistakes, I held tight and went back to basics. Firstly, I wrote down what I thought the solution would be – that I’d made a bit of an error, but that it wasn’t as large as the email had suggested. This was an initial brain dump for me – a starting point of what I did remember about the problem.

I then went away and spent an hour researching and thinking about the problem once more. Then I wrote my email reply. I didn’t really know what it’d say before I wrote it – my thoughts didn’t fully make sense to me until I’d done the writing. How very typical – I can order my thoughts on paper, but not easily in my head or indeed verbally.

How well did my reply match what I thought the solution would be before I started researching? It didn’t. Not at all.

You see, I wasn’t wrong in my original solution to the issue. The colleague who had questioned it had some wrong assumptions.

Until recently, I’d have trusted the other person’s assertions, and would have written a very apologetic email back straight away, before later having to retract my apology when it became clear that I wasn’t after all wrong. That was terrible for my self esteem both at the point where I’d apologise, and also at the later point where I’d have to go back and say that sorry, I wasn’t wrong after all. Horrible.

So if I used to trust other peoples assertions in these matters, do I now trust my own? No – as you can see from my above writing, I still thought I was in the wrong. The assertions of my colleague made so much sense to me, and came from someone I trust and respect. They couldn’t be wrong, could they?

I can’t change my neurology. I’m always going to lose sight of detailed information of technical work issues after only a short period of time. I’m always going to be able to see the inherent logic in those who say my solution is wrong. Hey – if I trust the person and I no longer have the detailed information at hand to show they are wrong, who am I to argue?

Perhaps this subtly shows a larger picture of how I interact with people on a day to day basis. I either trust someone or I don’t. If I trust them, and if what they are saying sounds logical, then I assume they are right and that they are telling the truth. This is why sarcasm is often lost on me, and why I can be gullible. This is just how it works for me – it isn’t optional, and I don’t do it out of choice.

I can’t change my neurology, but I can change my response. Holding back on immediately replying in situations like this – regardless of how compulsive it feels to respond immediately – can and does often work. It doesn’t stop my initial feelings of stupidity from happening, but it does at least offer the possibility of me saving some of my precious self esteem.

I must remember to write

I’ve almost certainly said something like this before, but with my memory processes being what they are, I can’t remember if I have or not.

Yesterday was about writing for me. I wrote the last two articles for the blog – some 1700 or so words. I wrote a bunch of replies to comments, and some in-depth technical emails for work too. All in all, I spent most of the day putting my thoughts into writing.

And you know what? I felt absolutely great for having done so. I’d forgotten just how soothing I find writing.

When I got home, I felt my usual AS-over-stimulation-related tiredness from the working day, but it didn’t last anywhere near as long as it has been doing in these recent post-holiday days. I enjoyed a relaxed but not overly tired evening, and even managed a quick ten minutes of work towards my own business without putting it off or looking upon it with dread, which again is a first for this week.

So, my tip to myself, which I will of course instantly forget, and will probably not rediscover from this post at any point in the future – is to write whenever I can. Only writing truely clears out my thought processes, allowing me to feel relaxed, less stressed and thoroughly less over-stimulated.

I’m on holiday again next week with my family, this time in Scotland. I’m going to take my laptop with me, and will try to write a couple of articles whilst I’m there. It will be interesting to see how my exhaustion levels compare at the end of the week versus how they were at the end of last weeks holiday.

Tools of the trade

In the front left pocket of my jeans is a pen. And my mobile phone. Oh, and a tiny little USB thumb drive with data for things I’m working on. That last item is a new addition in the last couple of months.

In the front right pocket of my jeans are all my coins, and some used tissues. I know. The tissues should really be in the bin. If I need to take my watch off – like when I bath the kids, for instance – it goes in that pocket too, despite me wearing it on my left wrist.

In the back right pocket of my jeans are receipts that I’ve not dealt with yet. The back left pocket of my jeans is always empty.

In my coat, the left hand inside pocket has my wallet, and my list book. The inside right pocket has any keys I happen to have with me.

Predictable.

Comfortable.

Of course, when I’m at work, the pen, the list book and my phone will all be in front of me on my work table – but that’s predictable too.

I’m fussy about the tools I use.

The pen is a Fisher Space Pen, in brushed chrome. I love its simple lines, its small size when shut, and the feel of the brushed metal in my hand. I can of course depend on it to write on anything too.

The list book is a Italian leather-bound lined CIAK Notebook. Its small enough to fit into my coat pocket, yet large enough to be useful. The paper is thick and a lovely cream colour. It is a pleasure to use.

I carry the pen and the book because I need a list to help me organise my day. The list tells a tale of predictability too.

Each day gets it’s own double page in the book.

At the top of right hand page, I write the date:

Wednesday 20090806

My head likes the logic of the date format  use, which has come from my life in IT. If you view the date as a number in its own right, then the number will always be bigger than it was yesterday. I always underline it too. This date format can have hours minutes and seconds added to it too without the incremental pattern breaking, though clearly this level of detail isn’t needed here.

Below the date is a blank line, and then a list of items that I need to do for work that day. I leave a space at the start of the line for a priority number that I can add later, and then I draw a little check box, and then write the task. I use a number of shorthand tricks:

□ #5437: @PC – What needed?
□ Call @TG – place order?
□ AHU4: Fault. Raise call?

At the bottom of the right hand page I write a letter to indicate which shift I am on at work, and then my actual start and end times. Below this I’ll note any time taken for lunch, and next to the time worked I’ll tot up the total for the day, when it’s time for me to go home:

L: 0945 – 1815    8h15m
15m lunch

Above this, I leave a blank line, and then write my list of tasks for the day that are non work related, back up the page towards the other set of tasks.

With my lists written, I can then prioritise. The priorities go before the checkbox, as I mentioned above. I use the following:

* 1 2 3

I hand draw the star as a five pointer, and it generally indicates something I really have to get done. You can guess how priorities 1 to 3 stack up after this.

Occasionally I draw a star with a circle round it. This is used rarely and indicates something that really really really needs to get done that day

I don’t always tackle the list in the order of priority I have assigned. They are my rules, so I can break them as much as I like too. Generally, if I have a 1 or 2 priority item that I know will only take a few minutes to complete, I’ll do that before I tackle a star item that I know will take longer. I have no hard and fast rules about whether work items should be tackled before non-work items.

When I complete an item, the check box for it gets a tick, and I feel a degree of satisfaction.

If some event of interest happens at work, that I might need to refer back to at a later date, I write it between the two lists on the right hand page.

As the day progresses, I’ll start to use the left hand page in the list book. This serves multiple purposes.

Firstly, starting at the bottom, and working up, I’ll list items I’ve spent:

□ Cash in +50
□ Lunch 4.23c
□ Tesco 78.45d -> 16 clothes + groceries

There’s that shorthand again. The ‘c’ or ‘d’ after the amount indicates cash or debit card, and I categorise how our money is spent (Hey – they are just more lists when it comes right down to it). Eventually this all feeds into Wesabe, where I track our spending habits. At that point, the check box will get a tick.

At the top of the left hand page, I’ll often add events happening that day:

* @1030: Team conf call
* Collect A from Nursery on way home

The rest of the page is used for whatever it is needed for. This could be work or non-work related notes, or more frequently sub lists where a work-related list item is broken down into smaller items, each with their own check boxes so I know what I’ve got done.

Weekends are of course rather simpler. There is just one list, and no work times to note.

So there you have it.

You know, until I actually wrote about it just now, I really wasn’t aware of just how much effort I’ve put into devising this system. If you’re not autistic then you’ll probably think I’m crazy to have thought about this so much. If you’re on the spectrum, then I hope that you’ll see just how much order it adds to my life, and can appreciate how much it helps me to get things done.

Announcements

I flicked through our local free weekly paper last night.

Like free newspapers everywhere (I suspect), it is a mixture of the major local news and sports stories from the last week, which previously appeared in the local daily paper; adverts, and a couple of pages full of births, deaths, weddings, memorials and coming-of-age announcements.

I always look at these family announcements with a sense of bewilderment and a little horror. They are so completely not what I would do. In a very real sense, I don’t understand the rationale behind people placing these messages for thousands of people to read.

If, in life, you were very popular and well known, I can see why your family might place an advert in the local paper to inform people that you’d died. So too  can I appreciate why you might want to remember someone who died on that day in a previous year, although I can’t imagine why you need the world to know that you are remembering that person, and clearly the person concerned isn’t going to be reading the paper and looking pleased that you’ve remembered. Those with large social circles may want to advertise the birth of their child too so that everyone gets to hear about it, but in a sense this feels to me like they are being rather boastful.

But why tell people you’ve got married? Surely those that want or need to know will already know, because they were at the wedding? And do parents really place adds to state that their children have turned eighteen for any reason other than to embarrass them? Not if the childhood photos used are anything to go by. I find that frequently these coming-of-age announcements tell a sad but all too modern story too. First there is the boxed advert from mum and siblings. Then there is the nearly identical second box from dad and step-siblings. This feels wrong – like the clearly now divorced parents are trying to get one up on each other. Competitive families seem to mention pets too (unless they have named their children oddly), and sometimes have boxed ads from various sets of grandparents. Why? What does it achieve?

All of this rang a bell with an article I read earlier in the week on Saja’s blog. Saja says:

I don’t miss people. For most of my life, that’s been my dirty little secret. What kind of horrible, cold, selfish person doesn’t miss the people she loves?

Well, me for a start. I found Saja’s sentiments to be spot on. This is how it is for me too.

I miss the things that people do when they aren’t around, but I don’t miss the person – not even those close to me.

I think this might explain why it doesn’t occur to me to phone people to stay in touch, or to arrange to go out and socialise. It’s part of that different experience of social interaction that I have versus non-autistic people.

There’s more too. I don’t miss people, and I don’t celebrate them either. I send people birthday cards because it is expected, and I’ve programmed my on-line calander to remind me to do so. I’m not sending birthday cards to celebrate the persons birthday, nor to say that I’m thinking about them.

It really does sound cold and selfish, doesn’t it?

But it isn’t – not to me. I’m not being deliberately selfish or unfeeling. I’m just being me – that’s just the way it works for me.

And maybe it explains my lack of understanding of the newspaper announcement pages. I wouldn’t make announcements in this way because I don’t naturally miss nor celebrate people.

But most people do. I shouldn’t frown on those who place the multiple announcements from their fractured families. Yes, they are telling the world that their family is broken into pieces, but they are also all stating that they care about someone and want the world to know it.

That’s quite touching, even to my autistic brain.

A bigger quotient

I received an email via the contact page of the website yesterday from Anna. I thought it might be of use to many of you, so here’s what she said:

Hi James,

I’m sure you must have done the AQ test, but I recently saw this PDF
http://www.autismresearchcentre.com/docs/papers/2001_BCetal_AQ.pdf

which shows on page 5 how the 50 different questions break down into five categories – social skill, attention switching, attention to detail, communication and imagination.

Page 9 shows whether a yes or a no for each question gets you a point.

The test is on page 18-21.

It doesn’t matter whether you say definitely or slightly, so I just wrote numbers 1-50 on a bit of paper, and went through the questions writing y or n. Then you can mark it with the key from page 9, and use the details from page 5 to get the category breakdowns.

Then you can look at page 23 to see how your results compare to the AS/HFA and control groups. Page 31 has a graph plotting results for controls/HFA for just the final AQ score.

Anna is right – I took the AQ test last autumn, when I was first starting to suspect I may have AS.

I still have the piece of paper with my results on it from that day, back in September last year. I scored 30. Not a huge score, but it was far enough from the norm to add weight to my suspicions.

Armed with the above link from Anna, I thought I’d try the test again today. With nearly a year’s worth of AS knowledge and considerably better self understanding, I wondered what my result would be this time around.

I scored 43.

Interesting. On some questions I instantly knew what the expected Aspie answer was, and on others I didn’t – which I guess goes to show that I still don’t know everything about my condition even after all this time. I really tried to be honest, and I can genuinely say that many of my results have changed through a better understanding of myself, and appreciating that I don’t behave quite as normally as I thought I did a year ago.

Having said all that I’m sure my self-knowledge will have skewed my results a little in the direction of AS. There were a few questions that were clearly borderline for me, and in each case I plumped for the pro-AS response on these. Had I chosen to score these the other way I would still have got a score of around 40.

Am I any more autistic than I was a year ago? No – I’m just much more aware of how autism touches my life, and more honest about acknowledging it.

Have any of you taken the AQ for a second time? If so, did you also find that your increased self knowledge over time had changed the score?

A holiday?

I’ve spent the last week listening. Listening to how my body reacts when pushed hard. I’ve been quite surprised at what I’ve heard.

I shouldn’t be. My body reacted no differently than it ever has done. What was different this time was that I was seeing it through the eyes of Asperger’s. My old explanations for the ways in which I reacted were cast aside, and I was able to apply some of what I’ve learned over the last year or so, and reach new conclusions.

All at once it was both satisfying, and a little alarming.

So what was I doing to push myself hard? If you don’t have autism, then this isn’t going to sound very strenuous. I was on holiday with my wife and two young kids.

I’m hoping that if you are an autistic parent, you’re nodding in agreement with me now.

I’ve learned over the years that life is exhausting. It hasn’t occurred to me very often that others don’t seem to share the same level of exhaustion as I do in fairly normal situations. When I have seen it, I’ve picked a ready made excuse – I’m unfit, or I’ve been working really heard at work over the last week, and this is just my body reacting to that – I’m sure you get the picture.

Don’t get me wrong – a week packed with activities and two small kids is hard work – no two ways about it, but I wasn’t tired at the end of each day, I was exhausted.

And perhaps for the first time in my life, I really thought about what my exhaustion was. Exhaustion falls into a category I have problems with – it’s really just a concept, and you have to create your own definition. I find concepts in general to be woolly and difficult to define. I found that over the years I had created a definition of exhaustion based on my own experiences, and that my definition wasn’t quite what I thought it was.

My exhaustion wasn’t physical – that was quite surprising. I’d kind of assumed that it was. Yet I could still have gone on a long walk at the end of each and every day of the holiday, despite suffering from my own definition of exhaustion. Sure, I’d prefer to slump into a sofa and relax, but if push came to shove, my body really wasn’t that tired.

It was my mind that was exhausted. It was over-stimulated and stressed, and wanted to stop having to think about everything. And of course, that is how I process social interaction – I think about what is being said to me, and react in what I consider to be an appropriate way. After a full day of two demanding young kids, new scenery to take in and lots of people around me chatting amongst themselves, my brain was waving a little white flag and asking if it might have some quiet time to recover a little.

A pattern emerged. I spent the day working hard, with all of my mental resources firing on full power. At the end of each afternoon, we’d return to my sister-in-law’s house where we were staying for the week, and I’d crash. I’d just slump onto a seat and do nothing for as long as I could get away with it. My brain would do it’s best to block out most of the noise and I’d spend some time reading a newspaper, or on the Internet. A little antisocial? Yes. Necessary? Yes.

After a while, I’d either need to make myself move again, to help with food, or to bath the kids, or I’d reach a point where I felt better again, and ready to join in with the real world once more. Left to my own devices, this took somewhere between an hour and ninety minutes.

Each day the pattern repeated. And then, on Saturday, we had a final day out, and I drove us home – a not inconsiderable four and a half hours or so of driving, mostly on motorways. Saturday was a long day, and we didn’t reach home until around 9pm. By the time the kids were bathed and in bed, and the car unpacked, it was nearer 10pm.

Boy did it show on Sunday. The kids gave us something of a lie in in the morning, and the first few hours of the day went ok for me. I felt tired, but on the whole not too bad. The problems hit around lunch time. My energy dipped, and my brain was telling me it needed quiet time, and lots of it. I became grumpy and snappy at the kids.

We needed to get some food in after our week away, and my wife, who will be looking after the kids single-handed for most of this week asked if she could go on her own, leaving the kids with me. I agreed. Logic told me it was unfair not to. I spent the next two hours playing board games with the kids on the carpet in the lounge – I didn’t have the energy for much else. This worked well – the kids felt engaged with the games, and for the most part behaved themselves. I felt wiped out the whole time, and much of the interaction felt like a lot of effort. What my brain really wanted to do, incidentally, was pursue a special interest. We’d visited the wonderful Brooklands Museum one day in the week, and my brain told me it wanted to go away and research the undeniably interesting history of the birth place of both British motorsport and aviation. I craved this, I’m sure, as a means of escaping from having to interact with anyone. I resisted.

Two hours later, my wife arrived home, and asked if I would cook tea. Feeling really overstimulated, and wanting to do nothing other than go somewhere quiet, I humphed and reluctantly agreed. I agreed, because it meant that I didn’t have to entertain the kids. On the whole, a good move.

After eating, we settled down as a family to watch a film. This, surprisingly, worked wonders. Our entertainment was Disney’s Herbie Fully Loaded. Easy viewing. The light-hearted nature of the film really helped to untangle my brain enormously. I could focus on one input, and forget all the others for an hour and a half.

Wonderful.

I’ve learnt a lot over the last week. It isn’t the fact that I had a busy week at work that means I’m tired when I go on holiday. I don’t feel wiped out at the end of a busy day of holiday because my blood sugars are low, or because I didn’t sleep well the night before. I experience all of these things because I have autism, and I spend my holiday time running at 100% of brain capacity. That’s why I crash at the end of each day. And that’s also why the day after I get home from holiday is really not at all pleasant. My brain needs a proper holiday – not the sort of holiday it had for the previous week.

I need to explain all this to my wife, but I’m feeling reluctant to do so. I’ve set the scene a little over the last day or so, but haven’t really tackled the issue head on. I feel silly and a little pathetic, perhaps because my wife too is tired after our week away. Like I said earlier – a weeks holiday with two small kids is hard work, whether or not you are autistic. So I’m not looking forward to explaining all of the above to my wife.

There’s good news here too, though. In seeing my tiredness for what it really is, I can work towards solutions that will help reduce the problem. I can’t rely on getting time alone to recuperate each day – not with a young family and tired wife, but perhaps we can watch more films together at the end of our holiday days. That really did work well for me, and it kept the kids amused too.

Has anyone got any other suggestions for activities we might try that would keep the kids occupied and allow me some time to calm my overstimulated brain down at the same time?