The bossy aspie vs the helpful aspie?

I'm taking over and that's that. I've waited and been patient and there is very little to show for it so, from now on, I'm the big bad boss of IT teen's job hunting.

I discussed it with RT teen and our aspie wisdom decreed that IT teen was unlikely to look for jobs by himself, let alone apply for them, so it was perfectly reasonable for me to do it and then present him with his interview shoes if necessary.

Yes, I can imagine the cringing going on at your end. For all sorts of reasons it's not really acceptable for a mother to do the job hunting for her son, is it? Reason 1, the lazy so-and-so should look for himself. Reason 2, job hunting is valuable life experience. Reason 3, it's not honest for the employers. And Reason 4, the big one, it's just too controlling, right?

Right on all counts, readers. And I'm sure there are many other reasons why IT teen should do the job hunting himself. But I've done it the right way since last summer. I've encouraged him, I've hidden his DS, I've threatened him with scenarios of what will happen if he's jobless and penniless when college finishes in July.

I've appealed to his better nature and used other people as examples of how it is possible for a teen to get a job and still be happy and fulfilled.

In short, I've done everything I can, bar kick him out onto the street until he comes back employed.

I did pause before taking over the job hunting, but then thought to myself, if I don't do it, he won't either. I comfort myself with the knowledge that once he has a job, he'll be able to do the rest by himself. He lacks confidence, you see, and is secretly petrified of going out into the world.

I understand this feeling, I really do, it's just that if he doesn't go out and work, then he won't have any money, I'll have even less money and he'll carry on being petrified because he won't have faced the fear and got to grips with it.

As for being dishonest to the employers, one thing I can reassure them and you about is that anything I say about IT teen will be true and I am only applying for jobs he can do. Anyway, he still has to do the interview himself.

I feel I should slip in a small note here: I am not usually this controlling, honest. I'm quite good at stepping back and letting the teens do their own thing. I am not a helicopter parent, I'm not a generally bossy person. Cough.

Well, okay, I have my moments. I'm not generally bossy, that's true, but if I'm on a mission to help someone, oh dear. Anyone who has been on the receiving end of my help, asked for or not, knows that it's the kind of help that makes you feel like a rhino decided to help you do your hair.

I instantly spring into action, a fully-fledged plan bursting from me as I take the reins and guide that whole shebang in the right direction. My plan will be solid and it will all be done with the best of intentions. The main problem is usually that it's done at my speed and not at yours.

To be fair, if we did it at the speed other people move, then we'd get nowhere and the shebang would still be parked up outside the saloon, with the horses dozing in the sunshine. The main reason I do barge in and 'help' is because other people complain about their situation, ask me for advice and/or help and then, for some reason, object when I actually give it.

It never ceases to surprise me that people do this. They make all the noises of wanting and needing help, but then don't want to do anything to help themselves. I've never been very good at inactive sympathy, I've always preferred fixing things. After all, what's the point of talking about something unless you want to fix it?

In the case of IT teen it would be dishonest of me to say he asked for my help. He's actively avoided my help and wriggled out of applying for jobs. He's very good at taking advantage of my poor memory and hazy grasp of time. So in deciding to help him, I was making a decision without him asking for anything.

For other people, I do now try to hold off a bit more. I see the fear in their eyes as they start to tell me something, then remember how much I might get involved. I don't want to frighten people more than necessary, so these days I try to exercise some judgement and leave the shebang standing, if that's what they want.

I say try. I know and you know and any aspie knows, trying is only one egg in the full cake and it isn't usually possible for me to hold off altogether. I must confess, if it becomes obvious someone just wants to talk and not to help themselves or change a bad situation in any way, I back off completely as I can't bear the stress of not doing anything and only talking about it.

I hope this all doesn't make me sound like a complete nightmare. In practice I am very good at problem-solving and I don't always make things worse instead of better. It just looks bad in black and white on the screen; in real-life, it's fine...

Although, if you ever see a shebang being driven hard and recklessly towards Dead Man's Pass, you'll know who's at the reins. You'll also notice how well it goes round corners and how expertly it deals with near misses. Don't take any notice of the passenger trying to get off and screaming for help. They already have help, they have ME.

Amanda

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Setting up a fretting

I try not to worry, I really do, but sometimes you just can't help it. Things are difficult, they go wrong, they promise to be a trial and I'm only human. It's natural to worry sometimes and, for some of us, it's natural to worry a lot of the time.

I am aware of this trait in myself and must admit to feeding it at times. I don't want to suffer, but I don't want to be caught unawares either. I'd rather see trouble before it comes than find out, too late, it's already here.

I wouldn't want you to think I have a bleak outlook. On the contrary, fretting to one side, I have quite an optimistic frame of mind. I put this down to hope as much as experience: I hope things will go well and celebrate when they do.

So where does this leave me as a natural worrier? Well, the urge to worry is tied up with not being surprised. Surprise, above so many things, is to be avoided. If I can avoid surprise, then I feel I have accomplished something and my natural anxiety is taken off the boil.

Even if I avoid surprise by anticipating trouble, it is still an achievement because I won't have to wonder what is coming. It may sound odd, but an aspie would rather know the giant troll is waiting behind the door, ready to eat them than not know and be eaten unexpectedly. It doesn't matter that both scenarios end in being eaten and it doesn't even matter that most people would think it preferable to be eaten without expecting it, thereby avoiding a dreadful anticipation.

Seriously, knowing you are going to be chowed up by a giant troll is much better than just having it happen. You can plan ahead, finish what you're doing, feed the cat, have a cake and, finally, go through the door and be eaten by the troll. As you pass through the ragged teeth, you don't want your last thoughts to be, 'Gosh, what a drag, I do wish I'd eaten more cake.'

And, in case you hadn't realised it, having this foresight and the ability to plan out a bad event means you perhaps have the chance to avoid the event altogether. You may decide that you're not going through that door and maybe, by the time you've done all your jobs and stuffed your face with cake and biscuits, the troll will have got bored and eaten the neighbours instead.

So, worrying about a thing can be good, you see. It takes away the sting of the unexpected and helps you to work out what you will do and how you can make it all seem better, even if it isn't. But it is also a rotten weight on the mind at times too.

Last night, I was thinking about taking my cat, Jeffrey, to the vet. He's had bad teeth and needed to have most of them taken out a couple of months ago. Since then it's been one thing after another and I have now seen most of the vets at the practice. He's had antibiotics, anti-inflammatory, special diets and so on.

I've paid one bill only to realise days later that I'll be paying another. And with no pet insurance, Jeffers has been responsible for a fair bit of worry, besides the anxiety over his health.

So, last night I started thinking, 'What if his remaining teeth need to come out? What if the antibiotics haven't worked? What if it's something else?'

I realised, then, that I was ready to worry, primed for and expecting trouble. I imagined arguing with the vet and wanting to know why they didn't just take out all his teeth, or take the last few out two weeks ago instead of sending him home with super-strength antibiotics. I imagined disputing the bill if I had to pay out another lump sum for a second operation. I imagined writing to the regulatory body for vets, in the hopes of reducing the cost. And on, and on.

Then I looked at myself and, in an indignant way, realised this wasn't normal worrying, with planning mixed in; this was bona fide fretting. There is a big difference. One has some purpose to it and can help you plan ahead, the other is one small step from a good old wallow in self-pity. And I just detest self-pity, readers, especially when I'm the one indulging in it.

I sat up a bit straighter, visualised a finger wagging and decided to put the worry to one side. I was still concerned about the whole thing, as much for Jeffrey's health as the bill, but I could see that by fretting over it, I was helping nobody and just setting myself up for bad dreams or a sleepless night.

It might all come to nothing and Jeffrey would be fine, or he might need more treatment and extra expense. Either way, I was not going to help by going over and over it, building up an immense story in my mind when what I was supposed to be doing was putting out the cat basket for morning and then taking him in for his check-up.

Anything else would have to wait, I decided. I needed to forget about worrying and, in doing so, also forget about planning and working things out. Sometimes, to avoid the extra anxiety, it's necessary to forgo the usual planning too. Unnatural as it felt, I had to let things be and see what happened.

So that's what I did. Changing my usual habits, I realised with some relief that all I could do was go to bed, get up in the morning and take Jeffrey to the vet without planning the detail beforehand.

And relief was the word, readers. How strange, when I love to plan ahead and not be surprised to find that by not doing so, I felt some freedom and relaxation. The surprise was on me there. I didn't know it could be a good thing to push aside the worry and decide to let things play themselves out. Is this what it's like for most people? To accept life as it comes and not always look ahead?

I'm not saying I could do it permanently and I very much doubt the relief would happen each time. I think I am a creature who likes to look ahead and needs to see what is coming. But it's good to know that, once in a while, I can do it another way and things still work out.

You'll be pleased to know that Jeffers is home and still in possession of some teeth. The antibiotics worked, though he now has to stop them because they're making him feel sick. He has to build up his eating again and, hopefully, not be back at the vet for much longer.

Now my planning can lay dormant for a time, put to one side while I carry on with the things I am used to and which don't need effort put into them. Next time that a worry comes up, I know I won't be able to resist looking at it and working out how I'm going to approach it, but I hope I'll be able to see any fretting that creeps in and threatens to take over.

I would like to think being able to step back and relax a little is not a one off and that I can, in future, worry like other people do, with less drama and more shrugging of shoulders. I'm not saying I'll turn into a lovely relaxed person (my imagination is not that good), but perhaps I don't need to be climbing the walls either, looking for a way out past the ogre.

It turns out that, just sometimes, there is no ogre and I could have just walked through the door. Now that is a surprise.

Amanda

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Please wait here while I head for the door

I'm so annoyed with myself sometimes. Not always and never in the planning stages. Just when things begin to come to fruition and there's a danger of making some progress - then I become annoying.

Why is it, when faced with any kind of imminent success my reaction is so often 'Eeek!' rather than 'Yay!'? Why should success, such a good thing, be a source of fear?

In my head, when making lots of plans, I visualise success and know that I'm working towards it. I relish the planning stage and love the anticipation. Rather like Christmas, I have a view of the end result, a hope for the outcome to be just as I imagined. And, also rather like Christmas, when it comes to the actual event, things are often less than perfect.

I think it's a pressure reaction, mainly. It's easy to plan and to imagine what might be, a little harder to put effort into making these things a reality. Then, having done all that, the actual success can inspire terror as it means you are suddenly at risk of becoming a real person, someone who has accomplished a task and may be held accountable for it.

You could be noticed and it may be remarked upon. You might find yourself the centre of attention. You may have to communicate with new people and carry on behaving like a fully-fledged person for longer than a few minutes.

More terrifying than all of this is the unspoken knowledge that being successful once means you should be successful again. If you did it this time, then you can do it again, can't you? You have finally proved yourself! Now you can toddle off and be a full member of society and do all the things normal people do.

Except that even just the hint of these expectations are enough to prevent any form of success from repeating itself. Worse, not only may it not be repeated, you might even work against that repetition, becoming the agent of your own destruction.

By breaking apart the very thing which has been successful, you ensure the pressure to continue being a success if pulled away and you can go back to being little old you with odd socks and a fridge full of sauces and nothing to add them to.

It is definitely a case of shooting yourself in the foot and is seriously annoying to those around you and to your own self, if you were being perfectly honest.

I mean, I know it's far preferable to be a success and do something right than always to be getting things wrong and making your usual mountains out of molehills. But by self-sabotaging you bring it all back to a manageable level and don't need to worry about being what other people expect.

It's rather like the reaction of many small children after their first day at school. Having done really well and enjoyed themselves, they can bask in the glow of praise from parents and teachers, deciding that this school business is okay. Then they discover they have to go every day. Every day! Over and over, still being good and doing as they are told, but now expected to behave well without being praised all the time too.

This is the shock of the normal world: do a thing well and you are praised, do it again and it becomes common-place and shouldn't need praise.

Mind you, it doesn't matter if you praise an aspie or not. In the end, the fact of having to repeat success is all that matters. It is the repetition of this success which is the problem more than other people's reaction to it. Please yourself if you want to praise me, I'm not denying I would enjoy it. But don't expect me to link that praise with the thing I am doing, so that it means I can do it again and again.

I'm never quite sure in my own mind whether it is the pressure of expectations that puts me off continuing with plans that turn out well, or if it is the element of repetition which galls me. I hate being noticed too much, but I also hate doing the same thing over and over (unless it's a time-wasting computer game, then it's fine).

It's almost as if I expect life to be one big garage sale, full of knick-knacks and old curiosities, all being sold at super-cheap prices, all there for the taking and with some gems to be found if you know where to look.

The minute you turn life into a glossy department store, where everything has its place and I have to earn proper money to buy anything, then my nerve goes running out the door with me close behind.

I don't want the smooth, repetitive trip through life with everything new and organised into sections. I would rather pick through, searching for what I want amongst a myriad collection of life's little ironies.

So, faced with success, expectation and the need to repeat them henceforward, I am annoyingly likely to give that pained, shame-faced grin and sidle to the nearest exit. Yes, it is a kind of sabotage, but life itself is sabotage if you don't know how to play it. And I am so wary of people's faces lighting up, delighted that finally I'm doing something right.

I'd much rather surprise them with occasional right-ness than set up false expectations of me having clicked into the right way of doing things, so that from now on I will be a successful, upstanding person who never needs pulling back out of the quick sand.

Having said all of that, readers, if I could be successful quietly, without any fuss and minimal face-lighting, then I might not backtrack so readily. If I could do it on my own terms, I might yet manage the department store scenario and not need to resort to garage sales all the time.

Sometimes, it would be nice to buy new, you know?

Amanda

My books and writing blog, with free stuff.
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You can only avoid things for so long...

As a verified and authenticated Mad Cat Lady, I can tell you with confidence that cats love hierarchy. Rather like human people, cats like to know where they stand and, more importantly, who is above or below them in the pecking order (if you'll forgive the avian reference).

If you have only one or two cats, it's pretty simple to sort out who is in charge. Once you get a few, it becomes complicated and this is where cat politics come into play. (Bear with me, there is an aspiefied point to all this).

Dusty is a small cat with delicate feet and a pointy nose. On the inside, he is a great Caesar, with his troops arrayed before him. On the outside, he is still small, black and inoffensive. He took it upon himself to become top cat a few years ago, displacing Granny Miffy, a fearsome female with quick-draw-paws. Since then, he's had to keep up appearances.

He knows he has a responsibility to fend off other cats, to maintain his position, to be the leader and not the led. He sits in the garden, waiting for trouble and keeping an eye on things. As he is a small cat, he also tries to avoid trouble and would rather keep what's left of his ears, so when he sits in the garden, he faces the wrong way.

He pointedly directs himself to only look in the least busy direction, where hardly anyone ever comes. He sometimes changes position and looks at the second quietest place. Any number of cats have walked past him, unseen and unchallenged, as he focuses on the path of least resistance.

This has resulted in a lot of bother from other cats. It's only a matter of time before they notice they can do whatever they like and walk on by as if there is no one there. Only sometimes is Dusty forced to notice them and give chase.

Usually, Miffy has to dust off her spurs and go looking for trouble. Even in cat years she is getting on but no one can stand up to her for long. She's had to see off every tom in the district, while Dusty sits, staring at the back fence.

And the reason for inflicting cat stories on you? I was standing at the back door yesterday, thinking about everything I had to do before IT and RT teen go back to college and I go back to work properly. I have a mountain of washing, literally. I am now climbing to reach the washing machine and either need to wash more or install a hand rail as I nearly fell off last night.

IT teen has lots of work to finish for college, but is procrastinating (goodness knows where he gets that from) and RT teen is fully confident he has forgotten nothing for college, besides that white T-shirt I was meant to get him a fortnight ago for an Art project.

For me, I have people I need to get back to about work, I have parcels to send, I am now faced with all the housework I ignored for the fortnight of our Easter break. Amongst all this, my mother has had a big birthday, so there were things to organise for that, as well as days out and other jobs which threw routines out of the window and left me wondering what I was meant to do next.

So, what have I done about all this? Figuratively, I have looked at the back of the garden, while it all gathered behind me. When I was standing at the back door yesterday, I spotted Dusty in his favourite place, surrounded by tall grass, a nice bush coming into bud in front of him. Birds cheeped around and about and he was washing his ankle.

I realised then, that I have been doing a lot of the same thing. Insert me doing what I like, instead of doing what I need and my approach has been much the same. I have thoroughly enjoyed ignoring the things which needed my attention. I have spent all my time relaxing in my favourite spots, pretending not to hear or see anything awkward that needed to be dealt with. In metaphorical terms, I have done nothing but admire the view and wash my ankles for a fortnight.

Now, as things pick up pace and I can't ignore them any longer, my attention is forced back to what I should have been doing all along. It's no good just waiting and hoping your Granny Miffy will come along and sort them for you - even though this is often what grannies and other family members do. Sometimes, you have to shift yourself from that comfy patch and take action.

Dusty is still relevant even when he actually does act because unfortunately, in true aspie style, when he launches himself at the task in hand, he often comes in with another notch on his ear and the sound of Miffy cleaning up his mess while he hides in the kitchen.

I'm sure, like me, he decides it will be a long time before he does anything like that again and agrees with himself that sitting in the garden and washing his ankle is a much better plan than chasing scary things and trying to assert himself in the world.

Where this leaves me and other aspies, I don't know. We all have responsibilities we need to address, it's just a part of life But what if we come away with a sore ear and a dented ego? What incentive is there to try again?

Not much, frankly, except that we have little choice. If your Granny Miffy won't do it for you, you have to do it yourself and hope it turns out okay. It's not ideal to hide in plain sight and hope no one bothers you as they just end up either taking you for granted or ignoring you. As far as other people are concerned, if you aren't visible enough, you have no use or role in the world.

You don't necessarily have to be top of the heap, or even a dynamic and vital part of the mix. But you should try to do what you can, without spending too much time closeted away where you feel safe. Like Dusty in his garden, our safe places are often not what they seem and are more open and obvious to other people than we would like to think.

It's far better to risk the occasional look around and see if there is anything that needs your attention before it launches at you or eats all your birds. And you know, even if your Granny is a quick-draw-paw, wouldn't it be nice to let her take it easy once in a while?

Amanda

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How are aspies awkward? Let me count the ways.

Actually, shall I just count the ways we're not awkward instead? It would be a lot quicker and might come across as more positive? Or am I just being awkward now?

All right then, but this list is not my final decision and I'm sure if you asked a non-aspie, then the awkwardness list would become an epic fantasy novel, with dragons, battle-hardened maidens, songs around camp-fires, sprites in jars, no toilet facilities and too much protein.

The aspie is awkward in their physical attitude: We droop, we mooch, we bump into things, we get in the way, we trip over thin air, we drop stuff, we touch the TV and the house falls into darkness. If there is an awkward way to do something, we don't need to find it, it finds us.

Even aspies who are good with their hands will open the door the wrong way going into the shop, let it fall back accidentally against the little old lady then step on her as they turn back, trying to put things right.

The dog will be let loose as the lead slips through the fingers, the knife will chop the thumb and not the cheese, cleaning the toilet will always end badly, emptying the bin will mean cleaning the floor.

The aspie is awkward on the inside too: I don't understand, I misunderstand, I say whatever comes into my head, I tell you what I really think, I find something funny at the wrong moment, I cry at sad adverts, I don't cry when I'm supposed to, I thought you wanted me to do this?

I feel sad at the precisely wrong moment, I feel happy when you need empathy, I forget something important and remember every detail of last night's Hoarders. I thought you wanted my honest opinion?

Awkward decisions: It seemed like a good idea at the time, it made perfect sense, I didn't think of that, I thought you'd enjoy it, I didn't think you wanted it any more, I forgot it was worth that much money, I gave it to the dog, I cancelled, I paid before checking, I wanted it to be a surprise, I thought you liked cats, I never said I was a hairdresser.

Awkward lifestyle: I don't do crowds, I need my own space, I don't need much money, I've forgotten to pay the bills, I love this job, I've quit, I've become a vegetarian, I have allergies, it's not clean enough, but I can see the germs! I can't leave the house, I'll live in the attic, I can't, I have to go to Comicon, I'm living as a wizard now.

Awkward obsessions: I love this, I'm sharing it with you, I'm sharing it with him too, I'm sharing it with the person next to me on the bus, I'm sharing it online, I'm sharing it with anyone who'll listen...What? That old thing? No, that's history, I love something else now. I'll share it with you!

Awkward finances: I have no money, I'll work it out, I'll be fine, I have enough, I've got a plan, I've managed, I forgot about that, I'll make a budget, I'll pay you back, I have no idea what that is, I have no money.

Awkward romance: I like you, I like like you, I maybe love you, I'll just stand over here, I'm at the door for the breeze, I'll be back in a minute, I'll see you later, I was busy, I ran out of money, I forgot, I misunderstood, I was too sad, I was too busy running, I became a vegetarian, have we met before?

Annoying noises: The mystery noise in the car when we go round a corner, the roof in the rain, my feet in the supermarket, what you do when you chew, that drip no one else can hear, everyone else's voice, ever.

Awkward everything: What? I wasn't listening, did you want something? I don't know, I was thinking about something else. I'll think about it. No, I won't forget, honest.

At this point in the proceedings, I was a very brave aspie and asked IT teen what was the most awkward thing about me. I was completely confident that he would come up with something that was not on the list. Apparently, the most awkward thing about me is: always being ill.

Humph. Okay, there might be a slight touch of the hypochondriac about me but if I'm ill, then I'm ill, right? Except that when I'm really ill, I don't notice so I guess that proves the other times are mainly me being awkward? Oh dear, I'll maybe not ask next time.

So, there we are readers, the very non-definitive but mostly inclusive list of Aspie Awkwardness. Just like IT teen, I'm sure your friends, family and best beloveds could come up with personalised reasons why you are awkward - if you're brave enough to ask.

For me, I think I'm going to walk the dogs and try not to drop the lead, lose the car keys, fall in the hedge, forget the poop bags, ramble about latest obsession....

Amanda

My books and writing blog, with free stuff.
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Getting the wrong end of the stick...and waving it

In other words, taking something completely the wrong way or misunderstanding what your own senses are telling you. It's very easily done, can cause great confusion and is often exasperating to everyone else.

A small example: I was sitting in my car when I heard a man whistling, the kind you do to get someone's attention. He kept repeating it and I was looking to see where he was. A few seconds later I spotted him. It was an older gent, in a bright pink jacket with a shopping bag. He was moving along the pavement at speed, doing a jig as he went. He was bent slightly, laughing and was focused on the man walking ahead of him, who was oblivious to being followed.

The older man was speeding up and would soon reach his target. He had his head lower now and if he didn't slow down, he'd barrel right into the back of the man in front. I waited to see what would happen, wondering if he was going to jump on him, or head butt him, or even hit him with the carrier bag. Whatever, he certainly looked like he was having fun.

Then, at the last second, the man in front crossed the road and the older gent's target was revealed to be a woman waiting at the very end of the road, patiently watching him do his jig as he came towards her. He slowed in front of her, laughing and gave her a little bow, then the shopping bag.

Everything he had done was for her. He had whistled to get her attention then entertained her with his running jig. He never had any interest in the innocent man walking in front of him and, luckily, the man didn't hear him or look behind at the wrong moment.

All became clear, this time, and it made sense. If I had looked past the man in front, I might have seen the woman and understood, but once I had in my mind the scenario I thought was right, I stopped looking for another explanation. As far as I was concerned, the older gent was about to spring some kind of surprise on the other man and even though this behaviour was out of the ordinary, it still never occurred to me to look for a different answer.

It's a small example of how wrong you can be, or at least, how wrong I can be. I am often wrong like this, either getting mixed up with what people are telling me or want me to do or coming up with reasons for things which bear little resemblance to the truth. And all of this is complicated by my tendency to choose an outlandish reason, or response, instead of an ordinary one.

I mean, why would a gentleman of a certain age jig along the pavement to jump on a stranger? Is it not more rational that I had missed a detail and he had a good reason for acting as he did? Does this mean I see it as more reasonable, in my own world view, for him to do something odd than something normal?

Maybe, although I tend to think people behave very oddly a lot of the time and they're not really doing anything extraordinary. It's just they seem odd to me, so I don't file it away as common behaviour, even if it is.

A few years ago, I was sitting in my regular Saturday morning lesson with a student I knew well. It was pouring down outside, the kind of heavy rain that makes you feel it never does anything else and other weather exists only on the Moon. It was Summer and we were bemoaning the weather, in true British fashion, both of us distracted from the lesson by the way it was beating against the window.

Then my student pointed across the street and said, 'There he is again.' I looked and saw a man in the front garden of a little bungalow over the road. He was wearing a jacket with no hood and had a bag in his hand.

'What's he doing?' I asked.

'Gardening,' my student said in a sardonic voice. 'If it's weather like this, he comes out and does gardening, then if it's sunny, he's never there.'

We watched the man for a minute longer. He had the bag ready to put prunings into and was clipping at the roses near the gate. A couple of times he wiped his hand across his brow then carried on. If we weren't peering at him through heavy rain, it would have looked like a normal activity.

Losing interest, my student turned away, finishing with, 'No one else is daft enough to be out in this weather.'

That's when it struck me. The possible reason for the man's strange behaviour was that, in this downpour, he was guaranteed privacy to do his gardening. His little garden fronted onto the pavement at a busy section near the cross roads. If he had been there in sunshine, lots of people might have passed and he would have had an audience.

Does avoiding an audience when you're pruning roses seem like a reasonable excuse for getting soaked to the skin? It did for me; I could see the attraction of not having to worry in case someone went past, but I also admitted it wasn't as likely for other people to be avoiding company in the same way I might.

I took another look at him and noticed, despite the rain and the occasional shake of the head, he seemed quite content. He moved about the garden and did what he had to without hurrying. He was at peace, in the pouring rain. Just him and the weather, enjoying the day.

That time I probably did get it right, as my student lived in a busy and not always peaceful area. If you were a quiet person who didn't want any trouble, I can well see why you might garden in the rain. So, my aspie thinking gave me a possible right answer that time, but perhaps only because I was applying it to someone with the same motivations as myself.

In normal situations, it's often safe to assume that aspie thinking does not help when it comes to understanding non-aspie folk. They seem to operate under different rules, unspoken motivations drive them and they expect everyone to share their world view.

It becomes second nature to think something and keep it to yourself, having experienced too often the disbelief and laughter when you put forward an opinion on what something means, which is totally off the wall for other people. Very occasionally, if you're lucky, they take what you say as a joke and laugh with you instead of at you.

So, even though I often misunderstand things, I find myself hesitating and trying to re-think, in case I have it wrong again. It causes an annoying type of hesitation which aggravates other people. They ask you a question or want you do something and you dither, re-processing what was just said or done to see if you have it right.

If you feel unsure enough, you might risk asking them to repeat themselves, which often makes things worse as they take you to be a fool who can understand nothing and should be left to their own devices. Or, if you're completely sure you got it right (but actually have it wrong), you may cause even more trouble by reacting in the wrong way or saying something inappropriate.

It's a confusing mess at times, never improved by seeing the world in a different way so that even if you see it the right way today, you'll still doubt yourself tomorrow. But it does make life much more interesting, you know. It's easy to see a madman in the rain, rusting his shears, but better to see a private man with a solution to a problem no one else understands.

It doesn't really matter whether or not I have the wrong end of the stick or if there is a fellow aspie holding the other end and fighting me for it. I'll carry on seeing things as they appear to be, to me, only realising they are not what they seem later, when I've made the day a little stranger, or more odd, or funnier or complicated.

It's much less boring to believe that happy looking gents are about to surprise strangers than to see the reality of an unimpressed woman watching her dad jive along the pavement. She may not have appreciated his antics, but I did. So, gent in the pink coat, I salute you for not caring whether the other man saw you and dancing anyway.

We should all do our own thing, readers, whether or not we have it wrong. In the end, we can only be ourselves and let other people worry about it if they will.

Amanda

My books and writing blog, with free stuff.
Find me on Facebook.and Twitter!

Building up your worries

I was talking to my mother about stress and she pointed out that you can only deal with one bundle of worry at a time, that it was important to separate your worries out into piles and then work on taking apart one pile at a time. She used the word 'dismantling', which made me think my worries were like something I had built.

This makes sense, if you think about it. Stress and worry and all the attendant nasties that go with them are built up by us, often into a monolith, ready to tower above us and blot out the light. We don't mean it to happen, we often intend the very opposite, thinking if we examine our worries, then we can work through them and find solutions.

Somehow, so often, looking for solutions opens up all the other worries too and I realise that I have more to resolve than I first thought. Or, I realise this isn't the time when I can resolve them, either because I'm not in the right frame of mind or it just cannot be done.

This last one is a whopper: something that cannot be done. The ignorance of life! How dare it throw in my path an impossible problem! How dare it make me wait! Why should I have to exercise patience when I could be getting stuck in and making everything better (or worse)?

I often find it irritating when people talk about totally accepting their problems and having great reserves of patience. I admire the truly patient person, the one who is really at ease with the world and can step back to see the bigger picture. The other kind are the ones who profess to be this type but are, in fact, people who accept their problems and seem patient more because they give in and don't want to try to solve them than through any genuine acceptance of Fate.

I possibly sound unkind there - and I mean to be! If someone has reached a stage of despair in their life and can't see a way out, then let me help them and give them a hand to reach that first step. But if someone has reached a low stage and is using a patient, accepting manner to avoid any action, let them watch out.

I accept that I build my own worries, even when I'm looking for solutions, but I can't accept when people watch their worries pile up around them, growing ever-higher and there they are, in the middle of it all, talking about acceptance and patience.

There is a place for everything. Sometimes, I could really use some of that patient acceptance, especially when I'm so busy trying to dismantle my edifice that I create a giant pile of rubble between myself and the exit. But I think other people could sometimes use my manic rushing at a problem, if only to give them a kick-start.

So, this week I'm working on careful dismantling. I think the word 'careful' is probably as close as I can get to being patient. I know the two aren't the same thing but they did go to the same school and they share a second cousin.

If I can be careful about my problems, and look at them closely, before taking them apart, then maybe I won't end up with the pile of rubble that makes it look like I went in with a wrecking ball. I don't want to step back from my work and realise I have blocked my way, yet again, with all the things I thought I'd seen for the last time.

What I really want is to see a path through and not find I've built something impressive with my worries. That kind of building work I can do without, especially as it seems to happen when you're not looking and be waiting for you to turn around and notice it at the worst moment.

I'll dismantle one of the small things first and not look at all the pieces as I take them off. I don't want to spend all my time obsessing over the one little building project, being so careful I achieve nothing and then have to build a new thing, out of guilt and anger at myself.

I'm going to take my own advice and keep it all small. Small steps, small plans (ha!), small achievements that are solid in their foundations. I'll ease myself forward and work gradually, until it feels a little easier than before.

When I've finished, I may even take a picture, to prove to myself that sometimes, if I really want to, I can take to pieces the very things that I spent so much time putting together. And perhaps they'll stay in pieces and I can move on to something else that doesn't need so much care and won't re-build itself as soon as my back is turned.

Eventually, I may even be able to use the word 'patience' without gritting my teeth. I guess stranger things have happened.

Amanda

My books and writing blog, with free stuff.
Find me on Facebook.and Twitter!