Embracing your autism-isms

posted by Jeff | Wednesday, March 29, 2023, 8:06 PM | comments: 0

I haven't written much lately about my journey since being formally diagnosed with autism and ADHD. Prior to the diagnosis, I wrote countless posts about how Simon's experience sure feels a lot like my own. I can't say that I have any massive, wholistic new world view, but I have made a great deal of room to reevaluate the context of my life and how I move forward. There's no single, grand gesture here, just a great many smaller things. So I thought that maybe I would talk a little about some of the smaller things.

Let me get this one out first: I am obsessed with texture and form. If I'm to believe the Internets, autistic folks (people with ASD? I dunno, identity politics are even worse for us) seek exposure to textures. Some of that is definitely food related, and I'll get to that, but I'm talking about the physical touch of things. I vividly remember the way a certain toothbrush felt when I was in high school, the feel of a spatula when I was a grill cook in college, and more recently, the corner of the plastic cover on every cell phone I've ever had a cover on. I will touch my phone in my pocket and rub my thumb over the corner in a borderline obsessive way. It should come as no surprise then that when MKBHD gave props to dbrand, I knew that I had to get a skin for my laptop as soon as possible. The skin even covers the touch pad, and I can't touch it enough. I am obsessed with it to the point of looking for reasons to handle my laptop. Oh, and we got these sweet drink glasses that I can fondle all day.

Closely related is form. The same laptop, I want to see and touch the precision of the hinge. When that thing is closed, that hinge is flawlessly aligned and smooth. I have a DJI gimbal for my cameras, and while I have only used it in a limited capacity, I can just observe it doing nothing for long periods of time. I also find myself wanting to handle the DJI Mic system which I've used in my recent documentary endeavors, and it's so cool. A ton of my video gear, like the Peak Design tripod, is in this category. This is a thing for so many gadgets for me.

This may seem bizarre, but even the exploration of tattoos I feel is deeply connected to the process itself. The feeling of having a needle poke you millions of times is strangely about feeling, and even more strangely kind of satisfying. That's why I rushed into my second one so quickly. It has taken a ton of restraint not to do more, with no specific direction in mind. (Though if I'm being honest, some kind of geometric design half-sleeve or even forearm ranks right up there. I can't take it with me when I eventually die, so...)

There are even visual stimuli that I can't resist. Chief among these is the things that automated lighting  can do. I bought a couple of fixtures last year and I love to break them out and I could watch them do their auto sound-driven things for hours. But I love having them do things explicitly even more. The only reason that I haven't bought more of these is because I've spent a ton on gear for my movie.

Food is a huge thing. I appreciate this more now because of Simon's general disregard for anything that isn't Annie's White Cheddar Shells, hot dogs or grilled cheese, with some reluctant tolerance of broccoli, carrots and more recently, hamburgers, but only from McDonald's. I was an incredibly picky eater as a child, and what may have made it worse was my mother's insistence on making me gag down things that I didn't want to eat. While Simon's pickiness is frustrating, I can't repeat that mistake. To this day, I honestly don't like many things, and value routine. What may have made it worse was that I stopped eating red meat in 2005 (age 32), because my cholesterol was out of control, and I was pretty sure that was a contributing reason. Now, 18 years later, I still don't eat it, and I don't see any reason to bring it back. I'm a poultry guy, and I'm sticking to that. My lunch routine is predictable, meaning I'll get a burrito bowl at T-Flats or Chipotle with just the chicken, cheese, rice and salsa/hot sauce, or at home I'll have frozen Schwan's chicken and a few tots. If I'm more ambitious, I'll go out and get Pei Wei or Bento chicken dishes. My dinner rotation, when Diana is working or not cooking, doesn't vary much.

I have become very self-aware of my social limitations, and no longer will make excuses for, or disregard them. I do not consider myself an introvert or someone who does not enjoy the company of others. Quite the opposite, I really like people. The thing that I can see more clearly now is that there is definitely a limit to how much I can interact with others before I need a break. I may host a party in my own house, and I know now that I need to have little bits of time by myself. Holiday gatherings are like that, too. The social interaction can be exhausting. Perhaps most stereotypical of the neurodiverse, eye contact is just completely fucking exhausting. I do it because I know that's what the social contract expectation is, but I don't like it. (In-person interviews are the worst, whether I'm the candidate or the manager.) Trivial interactions wear on me the most. It makes sense that most of my interpersonal relationships, whether they were romantic or otherwise, have been smaller in number but deeper in nature. I've had a single one-night-stand in my entire life, and while exciting, I remember feeling drained by it all. Funny how I go back to my college days now to see why romantic relationships were so hard for me. I had little desire to start at trivial, and wanted to go committed and deep from the start. Sadly, most women don't want that, especially in college years.

Professionally, as a manager, I necessarily have to dial myself in to deeply personal situations that include mentoring, advocacy and interest. This is a little bit like the party situation. I deeply crave these interactions, but they are somewhat taxing to me. And that's hard because I'm pretty sure that I'm good at it. I've had so many employees that I've enjoyed working with and helping them to grow. But those days where I'm in those deep interactions leave me exhausted. Before I started managing people, I had a blueprint for this, and it was coaching volleyball. Adult software developers are a piece of cake compared to teenage girls. But those girls taught me so much about what it meant to help people develop forward, and I am deeply sentimental about those experiences.

The advocacy of others whose futures I have in my charge, as it turns out, were just the surface of things. I have for my entire life felt the need to be a champion for people who are in any way disadvantaged. I never really understood where that came from until my diagnosis gave me the permission to realize that I have been in many ways... I don't know that discriminated is the right word... been treated differently from others because of who I am. It came up during the diagnostics with the psychologist, but I harbor a lifetime of resentment, anger, frustration and sadness over being treated differently or unfairly by others for what I now understand is my hard-wiring. It's even harder to reconcile as a white, hetero male raised in a Christian-ish family, because I've not had the usual socioeconomic barriers that others have had. That's why I tend to be so passionate about advocacy for those affected by racism, misogyny, homophobia, xenophobia, anti-Semitism, and any of the other "ism's" we continue to face. I may not fall into any of those categories, but I may in fact fit into a minority that is hard to identify, but has certainly faced some challenges.

What have I been doing with all of this? Again, it's less a grand gesture than a series of realizations. The only universal change that I can point to is the acceptance that I may not fit into the expectations of literally every other person that I've ever met, and that's OK. If they don't get me, it's not my fault. I will do my best to try and understand why they don't get me, but I won't let it sit in a place where I feel bad about it. The more I go down that road, the better I feel.


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