A not-so-mild form of autism

I’ve read many times that Asperger’s Syndrome is a mild form of Autism.

In really simple metrics this is true, but at the same time, that is an entirely unhelpful comment.

My reasoning here is that if you tell someone that you have a mild form of autism, then they will likely think that it has little impact on you, especially as those of us with Asperger’s are often good at hiding most of the visible signs of it. Unfortunately, whilst the condition may present as mild, that’s a long way from the truth of how it affects those of us with it.

I’m happy to state that my Asperger’s doesn’t cause me a lot of the problems that more profound autism does – I seek out social interaction at times, and can communicate well with people a lot of the time, especially in writing – but it does still cause me a lot of problems, in practically every area of my life.

Over the years I have adapted and learned techniques like mimicry to help me deal and fit in with the normal world, yet just because I appear to fit in most of the time doesn’t mean that my life is plain sailing.

I don’t think I’m overstating things to say that my life has frequently been hard going, and I expect it to remain so. I’m not saying this to elicit responses of ‘poor you’ – it’s not about that at all. I’m just trying to point out how those of us with Asperger’s tend to have to fight our way throughout life just to live a reasonably normal existence. It’s hard work a lot of the time.

There are many things that make it hard work. Here are a few examples:

People are unpredictable to me, and they often act in ways I don’t see coming. You could view this as an over-trusting type of nature if you like – to me it’s simply that I don’t have much of a natural ability to read people. Sometimes they can read me all too well, and take advantage of that. This unpredictability has caused me considerable anxiety and depression over the years.

Work is difficult – it is expected that I’ll be flexible and work on various different projects at the same time, and be able to literally drop something and immediately run with another if the need arises. I find this very difficult to do, as I’m much more naturally oriented to work on a single thing in immense detail. Time runs away with me, and my forward planning skills aren’t great either.

Phone conferences and meetings with more than a couple of other people in them stress me enormously, as I can’t follow input from multiple people well, and I suffer from the slow and immediate data processing style that many Aspies seem to have. This means that I may be slow to come up with timely input into meetings, and tend to get left behind when meetings move onto new subjects, as I’m still processing what was being said a minute or two previously. Allow me go away and think about what was said in a meeting however, and I’ll often provide valuable input as an afterthought.

As forward planning is a constant battle for me, providing a fun and relaxing home life for my wife and kids is something of a constant battle. It’s extremely unusual for me to think ahead and book a night out with my wife – even something straight forward like going to the cinema or out for a meal. What are we going to do this coming weekend? I don’t know, and I still won’t on Saturday morning, most weeks. Family holidays don’t occur to me either, so it usually falls to my wife to pick up the pieces and be the constant social secretary of the family. Doing all of this work on her own annoys her, and rightly so. It frustrates me, as I don’t neglect these things on purpose, they simply don’t occur to me.

My lack of natural social flair and the anxiety that has sprung up around it makes my life difficult too. I go through short patches of trying to force myself to be more sociable, usually by accepting invitations to social events via tools like Facebook. I typically don’t enjoy them though. The social world is very alien to me, I feel dislocated much of the time, and tend to get drunk far too quickly in the hope that it’ll remove some of the feeling of otherness from me. It rarely does. I feel the normal feelings of needing to connect with others – the need to have friends, yet in reality I don’t have any. Barring my wife, not one true friend. That hurts, yet despite many efforts over the years I’ve not succeeded in keeping friendships going over any length of time.

Whilst the above gives a flavour of some of the ways that Asperger’s has impacted on my life, there are many many more examples.

With all the above doom and and gloom, you might expect me to hate Asperger’s, and to jump at the chance to look for a cure.

Not a bit of it.

Firstly, I don’t believe there is a cure for Autism Spectrum Disorders – I think they a genetic cause.

Secondly, and most importantly, Asperger’s makes me who I am. It doesn’t define every aspect of me, but it has had a large input on making me the man I am today. And despite of the problems I face, I like me. I’m a worthwhile person, and my life has purpose. I have a lovely wife and two great kids.

I may have had to battle through life, but so far I’ve won. I may not be financially rich, but I feel rich as a person. I see the wonderful tiny repeating patterns in leaves on trees, and the beautiful colours in spring meadows, and all sorts of other things that most people seem to overlook.

Asperger’s may be mild when compared to some other forms of Autism, but it’s affect on those who have it is far from mild – it’s all encompassing and causes life-long challenges. At the same time it bestows unusual and useful skills which can provide a lot of pleasure both to ourselves and to others.

I wouldn’t change my Asperger’s even if I could.

I wouldn’t call it a mild form of autism either, it’s too pervasive for that.

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