Words

Words are all I have, especially at times like there when nothing else seems to make any sense. 26 letters strung together in endless combinations that paint a picture of who I am, and what I offer, and where I fit into this confusing world. My tone betrays me, my eyes lie, my face denies the truth, but my words never do. They march on across these pages with nary a care for the tears that might roll down my face or the furrowed brow that signals irritation. Here my words carry more weight than the way I say them. Here it all makes sense.

As unpredictable as I find the world, I know that I am the same. Taught through social conditioning to search for the hidden meaning behind the things people say, the delivery has come to mean more than the words themselves, and delivery is something I fall pathetically short at. In a society where body language and social cues are such an integral part of the way we interpret each other I’m like a fish out of water.

I have difficulties communicating nonverbally and using tone of voice and facial expression in context. I often frown during enjoying conversation because it occurs to me that I need to do something later. I’ll smile while someone is recounting their horrible day because I thought of something that might cheer them up later. Learning to ignore this in favor of the words I am choosing must be difficult when it’s so deeply ingrained right from the beginning that these are the things that tell the real story.

I do my best communicating in the dark, in the shadows where my words are all there are. In the middle of the night I can talk for hours and never skip a beat, the words just pour from my mind in endless waves of consistent thought. Stripped of the uncertainty, the dichotomy between what I say and how I say it, they flow like poetry. Sorted and ordered on paper they start to tell a story untainted by the lies told by my eyes and hands, the honesty of these carefully chosen letters shines through, no longer hidden beneath the grime of mixed signals that mars my every attempt to express myself face to face.

The other side of the glass

They can’t see me. They’ve never been able to see me where I sit on this side of the looking glass, so close to their reality I can reach out and brush it with my fingertips if I tried. I wont, it just leaves me lost and bewildered in the wake of confusion that rushes swiftly through my mind as I try to decipher a world that assaults every sense I have. I can walk beside them and what they see is a warped reflection of the truth, cast in the image they desire to perceive, but never do they open their eyes and see the extent of the fiction they have created. Heaped with a burden of expectations I always seem to fall behind, losing my companions to the crowd that surges around us and defines the edges between my world and theirs. Unable to keep up with the flow of socializing it’s easier to just fade away.

I’ve spent most of my life creeping around the edges. I’m a social voyeur living vicariously through those who do it with such ease. It fascinates me, the way people interact, and I view life like one big sociology study. Sitting quietly in the background taking mental notes on what people are saying and the way they are acting, no one would even notice I’m there unless I stood up to speak and although I have a lot to say I’m rarely sure how to say it.

I feel myself retreating, looking for the way out, disconnecting from their side of the veil a little more each day. The desire to meet them on their terms is an ebbing tide that shows no signs of returning. My pride insists on acceptance and there are only a few who can see past the smoke and mirrors to recognize the value of the real person that hides inside. Those who can respect me for my differences I’ll meet halfway, for their differences deserve to be respected in turn. Those who would continue to heap futile expectations on me should know that they heap them on a husk of what was once there to be burdened.

I still want that connection. It’s the biggest dichotomy in my life. My need to be left alone and my need to connect with the world at large tug me in opposite directions some times when I want to reach out and touch someone nearby. I’m lucky, now, that I have someone who chooses to exist beside me, grant me that human touch I desire so badly, to do it on my terms and see it for what its worth, to appreciate the things I have to offer. I’m lucky to have met someone whose needs run so parallel and yet opposite to my own that we find strength and satiation in the flash floods that consume us. Someone who can see the reality Through Glass.

The "cure" for my "problem"

I’m baffled by the concepts of normal, and typical, and common sense that isn’t common and doesn’t often make any sense at all. I don’t understand the world’s propensity towards dishonesty and untruth. “Honest to a fault” is the most ludicrous thing I have ever heard. Whose fault are we talking about here and why does the truth need to be anyone’s fault at all? Why can’t the truth just be what it is? I spend my life asking these questions, and haven’t found an answer yet.

The only way to achieve balance in my life is by being honest with myself and the people around me about who I am and what I need. I tried bluffing, I tried faking it, I tried pretending I was just like the rest of them. I tried and failed, but I tried and succeeded with surprising frequency as well, only to return home still overwhelmed and miserable in the long run, drug down by the pressures of the role I was playing day after day after day. I tried to be someone I wasn’t for the sake of the mass majority that they could continue to be comfortable in their idea of what was right and normal and the best thing for everybody, but the truth still sang beneath the surface until my ears rang with its echo and my head pounded to its rhythm. The inside of my head was a raging storm of confusion as I tried to make my needs meet the standards of a world that thought I was getting by just fine. Interesting that now, as I have reached calm and balance, they think there is something wrong with me that needs to be remedied. I’ve found the cure, and they are still confused about the problem.

The only disabling thing I suffer from is judgment, the rest of my life is calm and peaceful and I’m quite content with what I have. That’s more than can be said for most people out there trying to “make it in the real world”. If I sought a cure for who I am, the things that form my personality, what would be left? What would it matter if I could enjoy having more friends if all of the things my real friends love about me were lost in the process? I have spent 30 years in self evaluation to get myself to a point where I have all the things I need to make me happy and content in my day to day life and what would be the point in throwing all of that away in order to have things I don’t really want in the first place. Really, they ought to stop trying to cure me, and start trying to accept me. It’s much more within their realm of influence.

Hiding Within

I haven’t always been reclusive. I went to regular school like any other kid and went on to college. I took my kid to school and went to my full time job every day. I went out every night and had lots of friends. To the outside world I seemed like your average young mother doing her best to get by in life, but I was screaming on the inside. It’s hard to cope with feeling this way when you have no idea what’s going on, or why you are struggling so much with things everyone else can do with ease. I understand now that its common with Asperger’s to feel this way, but back then I slowly withdrew a piece at a time trying to gain some peace and clarity in my life, and some understanding of why it all seemed so different for me.

The times I want to leave my cozy little den have dropped dramatically in the last few years. I don’t think the time I spend alone is a new need, just the further recognition of one I’ve always had. I can’t focus on anything when there are other people around, so I stay in my apartment by myself most of the time. It’s getting to the point where even that isn’t enough. Cabin fever gets the best of me because I love to be outside, but living in the city overwhelms me to the point where I have no choice but to stay indoors most of the time. Even a trip to the nearby park seems like an impossible journey when you are worried about who you might run into. The occasional dinner, family function, or errand I manage these days leave me over stimulated and exhausted. Going to the grocery store is a nightmare of lights and sounds and people that I can’t avoid because I only eat certain brands of certain foods. All I want to do when I’m done is go home and go to bed. Just the idea of going out into the hall of my building can be too much to bear sometimes.

I want to live in the woods. I want trees, and running water, and rock as far as the eye can see. I want my own little room in the attic where I can hang things from the ceiling, and paint on the walls, and fill one end with pillows for curling up and reading in. I want to be able to step outside my door without being immediately assaulted by the traffic, and the lights, and the hordes of people going this way and that. I want to be able to see the stars at night, and to sit by the fire quietly thinking. I want to live where the world can’t find me unless I let them.

Its not that I don’t want any contact with people at all, on the contrary, I am fascinated by people and desire to connect with them, I just struggle with face to face interaction and social etiquette. The few people I do interact with on a social level, including my boyfriend, are either on the spectrum or highly open minded people who can see past these weaknesses. Despite these difficulties I have found a way to connect with a broader slice of the world at large through the internet. I have found a medium where eye contact doesn’t matter and everyone is free to pursue what brings them peace and happiness, where people don’t have to ignore my tapping feet and worried expression to see the truth in my words.

Some day when my situation is a little better I can move from this city and find my little piece of heaven in the woods. Until then I will bide my time here in this apartment, adventuring out into the wide bustling world only when I have to. Those who know me will shake their heads and forgive me, just another way that Alei is different from the rest. Those who understand me will recognize that it’s what I need to do and love me all the more. The rest of the world will pass by my doorstep and never even know I’m here. Its better that way.