A Match made in Heaven

As a neurotypical have you ever been the odd one out? Yesterday I had the pleasure of experiencing this. I call it a pleasure, because I have learned to enjoy my ‘out of the square’ experiences, thanks to living in my neurodiverse family.   While I am the odd one out in my family, what made this experience more delightful was that it involved someone who was not a part of my family.

I had gone to pick up my Aspie teenage daughter Humphrey, from her Aspie teenage friend’s house. I shall call him Wilbur (yes, he actually is male). I stood at the kitchen bench while I waited for Humphrey and Wilbur to finish their poorly timed lunch break. Humphrey wandered over to the kitchen cupboard to retrieve herself a cup. I felt that tug-o-war within. One end was held by my horror that Humphrey was helping herself to someone else’s cupboard without asking first. The other end was held by my delight that she felt so comfortable in a place other than her own space at home.

Unable to resist I announced in a sarcastic tone, “I am so glad you’re comfortable enough to help yourself to Wilbur’s cupboards.” Humphrey, picking up my subtle wrist slap (she’d had enough of them over the years to read the intention) responded with, “I don’t like people having to do things for me.”

As I processed and related to her sentiment, and was about to respond, Wilbur piped up excited by his discovery, “Excellent! I don’t like to do things for people! We are a match made in heaven!”

God I love Aspie logic! They make so much sense! Where else would a conversation like this evolve other than an Aspie kitchen? The sublime honesty, the pleasure in things fitting together, the authentic sharing. It was a delight to witness. No mind reading, no subtle inferences (other than my sarcastic interjection), no shoulds or oughts, rights or wrongs. No offence given and none taken. Complete acceptance of the way that it is. And it is exactly the way it is. I love learning from Aspies.

An Aspie Gem

I received a wonderful dose of reality checking this morning. Sometimes we can overestimate how important, how central we are in the life of our Aspies. In fact, we can get quite caught up in the story that we are essential to their functioning, and therefore we station ourselves nearby, and make ourselves constantly available.  We are like a mobile tower, except we receive Aspie signals. This role usually evolved as we struggled early on in our lives together. There have indeed been times when we have been very necessary.

Despite many of us coming to realise this role's capacity to enable the Aspies in our vicinity, we may still slip into it like a favourite old coat. Being central has helped us anticipate, respond and keep order in our house over the years. Not to mention, how it has helped reduce everyone’s anxiety, including our own.   

As a self appointed receiver of Aspie frequencies, I regularly assume my family members need to know where I am at all times, and also when I will not be available to fulfil their needs or their whims (and what they should do because of it). It was while wearing this favourite old coat this morning, that I began to inform my Aspie husband Jomphrey, of what I would be doing, “After breakfast, I am doing some tidying before I start work on my computer....... in case you were wondering,” I added casually. 

Jomphrey stared at me blankly before replying, “But I never wonder.”

Pause. Instantaneously, my thoughts scattered in several directions. One pulled me to that place I frequented for many years (BAC – Before Autism Consciousness); that place of the mortally offended, “You never think about me, selfish thoughtless man!” This neural pathway was deeply embedded. But I knew this was not about selfishness and thoughtlessness. Jomphrey’s head was full of thoughts about rocks, exercise, and interesting sounds. I had long accepted that no matter how still I stood, I could not pass off as a rock.

Another thought went to the place of awe, “My goodness, another pearl has dropped out of his mouth!” His truthfulness, his immediacy, never ceased to shock and amaze me. It was a good thing I was learning to enjoy the truth more than the ‘kind’ white lies that many of us latch onto to break a fall. Jomphrey would have struggled to show interest or answer with, “Thanks, I appreciate you keeping me in the loop.” Within seconds of Jomphrey’s real answer, I knew that my information sharing was superfluous. In my ‘helpful haze’ I had forgotten.

And then my final thought went to the place of recognition and relief, “Yes! That’s right! I am not the centre of his universe!”  The truth be known, I am barely in the same solar system at times. I do not need to orbit around him (or our Aspie daughter Humphrey) like a planet (or a servant). I had been once again assuming I was existing for them. What a lovely reminder for me that I can have my own pocket of space. I had just been given permission to be the centre of my own universe too. And what a tremendous feeling that was. You gotta love those Aspie gems.

The Blurt

It is hard to imagine that we could reframe a ‘blurt’ into something worthy. We have all been on the end of a ‘blurt’ from our Aspie, and after we got over the shock, the hurt or the outrage, we may have felt sure we had to stop the flow of blurts into the world. There is a reason blurt rhymes with hurt.

Yet while we have all been victims of the ‘blurt’, we have all been the perpetrator of the ‘blurt’ too. We have all had times when our mouth has had its own agenda, and some cosmic force used us as a puppet. It has happened to the best of us, and rarely do we have the intent to cause the harm it seems to.

It is interesting then, that when we are on the receiving end of a ‘blurt’, we can feel mortally wounded. Perhaps it is because we know deep down, that what comes forth from the mouth of the blurter, comes from some other place. A place where there is less time to add layers of distortion or untruth upon it. The words arrive without the interference of the censor button, and are delivered straight in the space between blurter and blurtee. Blurted words lay there between one person’s surprise and another’s humiliation (especially if we have a usually working censor). These words may be more authentic and truthful than we care to know. Like salt on a wound, they sting our most tender spots.

What is considered a ‘blurt’ from an Aspie, is really authenticity. It is unadulterated, clean thoughts straight from their heads. If we can learn to get over ourselves and stop judging the package it arrived in, we will see the gold. The Aspie has delivered a message that could be exactly what we needed to hear. It has been my experience over and over. Of course we probably won’t like what we hear. There is a reason the ‘blurt’ is so unpopular. But if we can put down our pride for a moment, we may realise that it is a little gift. Horribly wrapped, but a gift nevertheless.

Just the other day, Humphrey (my now 15 year old ASD daughter) took an out loud note of my ‘back bosoms’. You know that little roll of fat that appears over your bra strap? It makes for a double muffin top; one down over our jeans and one higher up our back.

Now while I could have run with this in many directions, I found myself standing in front of her with my hands up in surrender, “You got me on that one!” I knew those air chips were not really air because the more I ate of them, the bigger those back bosoms grew. I just wanted to pretend it was something else that was completely out of my control. You know, like a middle aged spread or a thyroid condition. I had hoped only I noticed them. Clearly I was not the only one.

Who knows how many air chips I may have gone on to consume? I could have got as far as ankle bosoms and diabetes. Thanks to Humphrey’s lack of diplomacy, I got the reality check that no one else in their social politeness was going to give me. And it didn’t look like I was going to give one to myself.

Maybe it is not ‘shame on the Aspie’ for blurting, but ‘shame on us’ for pretending. Coating our truths in layers of fairy floss, the truth is hard to find. I am not advocating the hurtful blurt, but I am offering another possible way to see the ‘blurt’. We will never fully control what comes out of another’s mouth, nor do we have the right. We can however, control how we see it, where we put it, and what we do with it in response when it comes our way.

And we can support our Aspie loved ones to own their own Truth as their reality, their view, as opposed to an absolute one and only reality. We can encourage them to offer their truth accordingly, and in a way that may be more palatable for a world unready for such intense honesty. And while we are at it, instead of pretending not to see in order to avoid offending others, we can commit to sharing honestly and lovingly for the benefit of us all. There is a part for each of us to play.