My Aspergers almost got me arrested.

Posted on January 28, 2015 by luckyotter

So I’m on jury duty today, but I got the dates confused and thought the 28th was tomorrow. I had put a time off request in at work almost a month ago for this, so when I showed up at work this morning, my boss gave me a strange look and asked what I was doing there.

“Huh?” I ask stupidly.
“Don’t you remember you had jury duty today?” My boss looks at me like I have toadstools growing out of my head.
“What? Oh–um, that was today?” I start rummaging around in my bag to find my phone so I can check the date. There’s actually a calendar right on the wall behind my boss’s head.

“Wait a second–that was on the 28th. Today’s the 28th?” I finally dig out my phone, fumble with it and it drops on the floor.
My boss is smirking at me. I’m so embarrassed. People are watching this exchange. I bend over to pick up the phone.
“Today is the 28th,” she says like she’s talking to a two year old. “You better get going or there will be a warrant out for you.”
I look at the phone. She’s right.
I’m blushing fire engine red. She’s laughing at me.
“Sorry, well, I better go then.” Frantically I pull on my jacket and scarf and leave.

I drive dangerously, above the speed limit. First I have to go home and get the paperwork that includes a free parking ticket for the courthouse. I grab what I need and get back in the car and speed downtown, weaving in and out of traffic, which is something I never do. I’m usually a very careful driver.
Parking downtown is always a nightmare, but at least I get free parking today.
I was supposed to be at the courthouse at 8:45; I make it by 9:35.
I show the woman at the desk my paperwork and mumble an apology about getting confused about what day it was. She’s surprisingly nice about it and it turns out they haven’t even started yet.
There are two cases. I don’t know yet if I’ll be called to serve.
We get a two hour lunch, enough time for me to go home and write this post. I have to be back at 1:50, so I’ll wrap this up, eat some soup and leave.

Inability to focus on the here and now and being scatterbrained is an Aspie curse that makes life very embarrassing sometimes. I’ve been accused of having no common sense, and it’s sort of true. But it’s kind of funny too. It could have been bad if my boss hadn’t reminded me. I could be in handcuffs right now.

Test driving narcissism (how I almost became a narcissist)

Posted on January 21, 2015 by luckyotter

In answering a comment on yesterday’s post, I suddenly remembered something I had forgotten.
I remembered how I almost became a narcissist. I think I was finally ready to remember. It’s part of my journey to wellness.

I immediately began digging through boxes of old photos, because I was burning inside to write this post, to confess everything, and photos say a lot.

Narcissism runs in families, and although exacerbated by abuse or neglect, it can develop later in a susceptible person, and it happens because of a conscious choice the person makes. They may not actually be saying, “Okay, I’m going to be a narcissist now,” but they have been teetering on the brink of darkness and the would-be narcissist decides it’s easier to plunge right into narcissism than to keep being hurt as their true self.

3 generations of women: my maternal grandmother Anna Marie, my mother in the center, and me at age 5. (ca 1964) Our family dinners were always this stiff and formal.

Narcissists start life as Highly Sensitive People.
For a number of reasons, I’ve come to believe most narcissists started out as HSPs (highly sensitive people). I will not go into my reasoning here, but I strongly believe these are people who once felt things too much, and if they were abused, it would have been too much to bear. To survive, they constructed a false self in an effort to protect the too-sensitive self (true self) from further hurt. The problem is, for narcissists, the false front works way too well, so well that once it solidifies, it’s there forever.

Tormenting my therapist.
I remembered the therapist I had during my early 20’s. I was terribly infatuated with him, obsessed beyond all logic. This is called transference in psychotherapy and my therapist kept trying to get me to “work through it” but my crush kept intensifying. It was killing me. One day I told him I couldn’t take it anymore and walked out the door in mid session. I never saw him again.

I realize now how narcissistic I acted during my sessions with him. I was attractive and knew it so I flirted openly, tried to get him to hug me (he actually did this until he realized it was a manipulative game on my part and there was a definite sexual aspect).

One day I stormed into his office having a hissy fit because I’d found a magazine in the waiting room with his and a woman’s name on the label. I stomped in, started waving the magazine in the air demanding he tell me why he never told me he had a girlfriend. His answer was quite reasonable (and it was of course none of my business), but I sulked the whole rest of the session and refused to say anything. I’d show him!

After I quit therapy, I hoped I had hurt him. I think I was angry at him for “making” me like him too much and leaving him was my method of punishing him. Of course, my leaving therapy didn’t hurt him. I was just his annoying, demanding, manipulative little bitch of a patient and he probably couldn’t stand me. I wanted to think I was hurting him, but I was really only hurting myself.

It shames me to remember all this, but I really manipulated that therapist, and annoyed him all the time ON PURPOSE. I was sadistic…I was crushing so hard, maybe my strong feelings for him were causing me to want to hurt and anger him. I remember getting a thrill if I could see a look of hurt on his face. It made me feel more powerful–that I could do the hurting instead of always being the one to get hurt.

1977: Still a nice, sensitive, codependent girl at age 18…things were about to get ugly.

I was becoming partly dissociated from the me that is now and the me that was before. But it was all a defense against being hurt, and I knew it. I just couldn’t admit it.

I never saw my therapist’s diagnosis of me (I was there for anxiety and panic attacks) but it makes me wonder if “NPD” might have been one of the diagnoses. I’m pretty sure it was still called NPD in the early 1980s.

I think I can see the beginning of the “narcissist stare” in this photo of me from 1984. I look colder and harder than in the 1977 photo. I see this same look sometimes on my daughter, who is close to the same age I was here. I think this look can also be seen in some Borderlines.

The Danger Zone.
Sometime in my late teens and early 20s I began to act “like I didn’t care.” It was feigned but at the time my high sensitivity was shameful to me. I didn’t want it. It was my albatross, my curse. I was tired of being teased about it. So I made a choice to just act like a different person. Act like a person who didn’t give a shit about anything. I began to drink heavily and smoked a lot of weed to numb the pain of being me. I began to be over-critical of others and gossipy, something I had never been, and spread lies about people I didn’t like to anyone who would listen.

My envy of others (something I still struggle with) was off the charts. I couldn’t stand people who had more than me, were prettier or thinner than me, were smarter than me, or had a better relationship or job than me. I would spread lies and rumors about these more fortunate people. Mostly, it backfired, for my Aspieness made it almost impossible for me to maintain my masks or hold up a lie. A good narcissist has to be good at reading social cues. I wasn’t, but I sure did try.

I found it hard to feel happy for anyone. If a friend got a promotion or fell in love, I felt bitter and jealous instead of glad for them. I’d rant that they didn’t deserve it. And I actually believed this, to a point.

I imagined myself not “needing” anyone. I dated a few guys and unceremoniously dumped them, and yet I was so lonely. I longed to be in a happy relationship, but couldn’t allow myself to be vulnerable enough. I treated men like objects.

I didn’t listen to people. I interrupted them, only thinking of what I would say next. I only wanted to talk about me. Other people were becoming objects too.

I lied to people about my accomplishments (which in actuality were few), my background, my social status. But no one really believed me. I wasn’t good at this game. In fact, I sucked at it.

I think I came very close to becoming an N. Over time, this hard outer shell I’d constructed out of the ashes of my own pain ossified and grew more stable. I was forgetting what it felt like to be vulnerable and human.

There was something else too. During the time I was test driving narcissism, I suffered from severe panic attacks (which is what led me into the therapy described above). I felt like I was out of my body a lot, and that made me panic. Some of these attacks were so bad people thought I was having epileptic seizures, because when I was “out of my body,” I had trouble controlling my movements and would stumble around as if drunk, or my eyes would sort of glaze over as if I wasn’t quite “there.” To rule out epilepsy, I had an EEG done. It came out normal. The only thing I can think of is that somehow the dissociated state I was in was causing me to feel detached from my own body, because I wasn’t “myself.”

Coming back from N hell
One day when I was about 26 (and the same year I got married to my MN ex), a friend of mine from high school told me she didn’t think she could be friends with me anymore, because I was too mean and she didn’t trust me. Other people were calling me out for spreading rumors and lying and my whole flimsy construct came tumbling down. I couldn’t escape from the web of lies I’d created, and now that web threatened to engulf me. It was terrifying but was the wake up call I needed.

I finally realized I was hurting people. Even then, I hated knowing I’d hurt someone else more than I hated being hurt by others. I was overcome with guilt and shame, and realized I couldn’t keep up the mean-girl front anymore. I didn’t become a narcissist, but I came close, so close.

This wake up call catapulted me back into my normal self and the horrific panic attacks soon subsided. (I still have panic attacks from time to time, but they are specific to certain situations and nowhere near as numerous as they were from 1979 – 1984 or so.)

Choosing codependency.
I’d been balancing at the precipice, and ultimately chose codependency (sometimes now referred to as “inverted narcissism”). Looking back, that was actually a very wise choice for if I hadn’t, if my guilt had not been strong enough to stop me in my tracks, I would have been a much different person today, and would not be doing what I’m doing right now. Sharing my journey with other survivors of narcissistic abuse. It’s a contagious thing, and any of us from narcissistic families could have gone in that direction. But we didn’t. That’s why we, not the narcs, are the lucky ones.

I think my Aspergers actually saved me. Aspies cannot read social cues and therefore can’t lie well and are bad at maintaining a workable mask. To be a narcissist would require me to use skills I did not possess. So I chose codependency because I had not been trained by my MN family to think for myself or trust my own judgment. I was trained to be Narcissistic Supply. That was a role I was much more successful at and comfortable with than my Narcissist Test Drive period.

But I think there was an advantage to my visit to the dark side too, and maybe a reason. I feel like like I understand narcissists’ motives and thinking patterns and self-hatred more than the usual non-narc ACON. Because I almost became one myself and felt a little bit of what they feel. All the money in the world wouldn’t be enough to get me to turn into darkness again. It was like a trip to hell. But I do know, they are in excruciating pain. All the time.

Refinishing a table as young wife (around 1989-1990). I didn’t know how malignant my husband was yet but he was showing signs.

Never feel guilty for feeling guilty.
If I had been able to ignore or deny my guilt or the pain of others that I’d caused myself, I think I would have crossed the line into becoming a fullblown narcissist (though maybe not a malignant one).

Most narcissists make a choice at some point, usually early in life because of abuse but sometimes later, like I almost did. But I think there is also an escape hatch: a window of time where a budding narcissist can still “get out” and redeem themselves before the door between the Ns and everyone else slams shut.

Unfortunately I still have a few narcissistic traits and think I still sometimes act a bit like one. *red face* But my ability to feel shame and guilt is very well developed, in fact too well developed (and always has been), so that overrides my N traits. Perhaps that makes me a Borderline (I was actually diagnosed with BPD comorbid with other disorders in 1996). But if I am a Borderline, I try to control those behaviors. I try to be aware of them. I think I’m doing pretty well.

Growing into me.
Now I’m changing, moving farther away from the N and B traits of my early-mid adulthood than I have ever been. I don’t envy people much anymore and am beginning to understand what it feels like to feel joy or sadness for someone else. To feel humbled by the simple but beautiful things that surround us. I’ve embraced my sensitivity and am finding rather than being a curse that brings torment and hurt, it’s a beautiful thing that allows the growth of empathy and true understanding. Instead of shame over it, now I’m proud.

The ironic thing about this is that, it’s because I like myself MORE now, that my N traits are disappearing. I used to think I was worse than a piece of dog poop stuck on the bottom of a shoe and had to go around proving I was more, much more than that. It’s not like that anymore, and I’m ever so grateful I saved myself at the 11th hour.

F*ck. Why do I have to post yet another Sam V. article?

Posted on January 18, 2015 by luckyotter

**Sigh.**

Because I’m an obsessive Aspie nutcase.

No, actually…because it’s about Narcissism and Aspergers and why these two disorders sometimes get confused, even by professionals, even though they’re not really anything alike. It’s because Aspies cannot SHOW emotion or empathy appropriately, not because they don’t FEEL it.

I’m compelled to post anything I see that talks about both these disorders since these are the two I have the most interest in, for obvious reasons.

http://www.narcissistic-abuse.com/journal72.html

Misdiagnosing Narcissism: Asperger’s Disorder

Asperger’s Disorder is often misdiagnosed as Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD), though evident as early as age 3 (while pathological narcissism cannot be safely diagnosed prior to early adolescence).

In both cases, the patient is self-centered and engrossed in a narrow range of interests and activities. Social and occupational interactions are severely hampered and conversational skills (the give and take of verbal intercourse) are primitive. The Asperger’s patient body language – eye to eye gaze, body posture, facial expressions – is constricted and artificial, akin to the narcissist’s. Nonverbal cues are virtually absent and their interpretation in others lacking.

Yet, the gulf between Asperger’s and pathological narcissism is vast.

The narcissist switches between social agility and social impairment voluntarily. His social dysfunctioning is the outcome of conscious haughtiness and the reluctance to invest scarce mental energy in cultivating relationships with inferior and unworthy others. When confronted with potential Sources of Narcissistic Supply, however, the narcissist easily regains his social skills, his charm, and his gregariousness.

Many narcissists reach the highest rungs of their community, church, firm, or voluntary organization. Most of the time, they function flawlessly – though the inevitable blowups and the grating extortion of Narcissistic Supply usually put an end to the narcissist’s career and social liaisons.

The Asperger’s patient often wants to be accepted socially, to have friends, to marry, to be sexually active, and to sire offspring. He just doesn’t have a clue how to go about it. His affect is limited. His initiative – for instance, to share his experiences with nearest and dearest or to engage in foreplay – is thwarted. His ability to divulge his emotions stilted. He is incapable or reciprocating and is largely unaware of the wishes, needs, and feelings of his interlocutors or counterparties.

Inevitably, Asperger’s patients are perceived by others to be cold, eccentric, insensitive, indifferent, repulsive, exploitative or emotionally-absent. To avoid the pain of rejection, they confine themselves to solitary activities – but, unlike the schizoid, not by choice. They limit their world to a single topic, hobby, or person and dive in with the greatest, all-consuming intensity, excluding all other matters and everyone else.. It is a form of hurt-control and pain regulation. [This describes me so much it’s creepy]

Thus, while the narcissist avoids pain by excluding, devaluing, and discarding others – the Asperger’s patient achieves the same result by withdrawing and by passionately incorporating in his universe only one or two people and one or two subjects of interest. Both narcissists and Asperger’s patients are prone to react with depression to perceived slights and injuries – but Asperger’s patients are far more at risk of self-harm and suicide.

The use of language is another differentiating factor.

The narcissist is a skilled communicator. He uses language as an instrument to obtain Narcissistic Supply or as a weapon to obliterate his “enemies” and discarded sources with. Cerebral narcissists derive Narcissistic Supply from the consummate use they make of their innate verbosity.

Not so the Asperger’s patient. He is equally verbose at times (and taciturn on other occasions) but his topics are few and, thus, tediously repetitive. He is unlikely to obey conversational rules and etiquette (for instance, to let others speak in turn). Nor is the Asperger’s patient able to decipher nonverbal cues and gestures or to monitor his own misbehavior on such occasions. Narcissists are similarly inconsiderate – but only towards those who cannot possibly serve as Sources of Narcissistic Supply.

As usual, he’s right on the money about this. His description of the Aspergers patient is me in a nutshell. I highlighted the relevant parts. Most of these Aspie behaviors are also seen in Narcissists, but for very different, almost opposite reasons.

Dammit, Sam.
*sigh*

The Social Rules I Break

Posted on January 13, 2015 by luckyotter

Fivehundredpoundpeep’s blog is so wonderful I wish I could reblog everything she writes, but this one really stood out to me, and being that tonight I just don’t feel like writing much, this will stand in for an original article (which I may do later anyway if I have time).

This article is about how this narcissistic abuse survivor (one who had truly evil parents, even worse than my mother) copes as an Aspie living in our shallow, narcissistic, materialistic society that seems to have no respect anymore for the things in life that really matter. We live in a world that expects us to wear a fake smile and pretend everything is la-de-da even when it ain’t so. Go ahead and break their dumb rules, Peep! They deserve to be broken.

The Social Rules I Break!

1. Never talk about anything too negative or intense or intellectual.

Aspies cope by analyzing things, this means fully facing reality and dealing with the way life really is. Smiling stoicism is not our natural setting. It is our suck it up and avoid getting beaten up default setting among strangers. It’s hard. Why are things like this? Sometimes the human world seems like it is run like the animal world, and if any individual exhibits any weakness, they are pecked to death like in the chicken world.

One thing I notice some neurotypicals get into, is that one is never to share or display pain or vulnerability. Maybe there is the good reason for that for self protection from narcs but it helps the narcissists rule, because no one has the ability to talk about anything real. Sometimes, I feel like I have to censor myself constantly around some neurotypicals. One thing about our society is the powers that be want the serfs to smile and not cause trouble. Don’t help them out. No one is feeling their feelings. No one’s crying and patting heads in the American Hunger Games.

There is some scary stuff happening in our society where talking about troubles means you are a bad person. New philosophies are teaching people that anyone who has bad things happen to them is at fault. The Bible admits that life is full of tribulation. The graveyard whistlers don’t want to admit that poverty or bad things can happen to them so they want you to shut up so they can shut their eyes to the human pain around them and play their video games or live in fantasy. A lot of our world now is manufactured around Roman “bread and circuses” and well, no one is supposed to be bawling their eyes out in the circus or discussing the stampeding barbarians outside of the tent.

You are to keep the smile on at all times. I can see emotions becoming a thing of a past in our growing narcissistic world. All emotions but anger and glee will be canceled out. Watch an old movie sometime and notice a few people cry in there, or feel loss. Men of the 1950s have no problem speaking of romantic love. People cry. You will know that the emotional landscape has been extremely altered even since the 1980s. Us Aspies are outsiders and are viewing this stuff. An old Aspies sees these wide changes, while many within the heating up pot are clueless.

Aspies are being really oppressed by the appearances oriented society we have now, where we are told to hide any bad stuff. However it goes deeper then this, there is a severe anti-intellectualism now in our culture. If you are an intellectual in America, you are written off as a “nerd”. I remember this started sometime around the 1980s with the “Revenge of the Nerds”. Only weirdos and social ingrates sit around and talk about history or obesity conspiracy. While I can explore theories and topics with many Aspie friends and maybe one or two good-minded neurotypicals, the majority of neurotypicals seem angered by intellectual forays. You can even avoid religious and other topics and discuss a neutral one, and still manage to anger a few people without meaning too. One Aspie incredible joy is intellectual banter and discovery, so it gets very sad that around some neurotypicals, this joyful part of our personality is to be suppressed. I know among my family, discussing any intellectual endeavors fell flat. The most neutral thing pissed them off. They seemed bored, wanting to show something off instead.

I want to dive deep into the ocean, while many neurotypicals are telling me to stay in the puddle, and splash. Am I too intense? Maybe. I like humor, jokes and funny movies like anyone else, but I feel so repressed at times. Often in the world, I am this very quiet person. I learned long ago opening my mouth got me in trouble more often then not. Sometimes I bounce between “just being me and letting the chips fall where they may” and running back to the corner to hide. I can’t handle having endless enemies and fighting endless battles. I like blogging because I can talk about things openly.

2. Maintain your Status.

Status is too important to to many out there. I don’t feel like playing the king or queen of the mountain games. If I had money, all of you know, I would not going to spend it on a giant McMansion in the suburbs with a double sink and granite counters in the kitchen. Boring! Aspies usually are bored to death via competition. It bores us or troubles us. We derive no joy from smashed up opponents on the ballfield. I never wanted to destroy anyone else to get their bennies or climb to the top. Status to me seemed a useless thing but it is so important in our world. Sometimes I have told Asperger friends my theory that a lot [not all] of neurotypicals operate according to status. Many of their mental and emotional battles are hierarchy maneuvers that a great deal of energy is dedicated to.

Whose on top? Whose on bottom? Who cares! Sadly here too, with our growing narcissistic society this has only grown worse. The narcissists want to be in charge and want control. One thing that will happen to Aspies is sometimes they will get thrown under the bus, because they may be a threat to someone’s status. Every little Aspie remembers the people in school who would be nice to you in private but pick on you in front of the bullies. Going back to the pecking chickens again, group status and dynamics have some really poison attributes to them. This is how conformity is demanded and expected and any “stand-outs” smashed down with a hammer.

Our entire world world is based on status, and well this is one reason some Aspies may really suffer. While we want to be left alone in peace and just want to do our jobs in the work place, this doesn’t happen. The games and drama to establish the social order and status seem never ending. I always had the thought before, if all these narc and social pecking order games were ended, that society could advance somewhere more decent. You would have your flying cars and cured diseases because Marge and Sally and George and Henry would be busier working and innovating rather then fighting, backstabbing and reporting each other to the boss.

There is always someone who is going to have a higher grade point or or more money. Aspies are more loner types. We do not feel like playing the “Big Cheese” or selling ourselves. Perhaps this is a bad thing and why too many Aspies who lack sellable savant or computer skills, end up broke. The world sometimes feels like a bunch of screaming matches where the narcs are on the stage screaming “Look at me, dammit!”, the non-narc enablers in the audience and some of us decided to leave the theatre while being sick of it all. A lot of status seeking is empty to the Christian and those with a more spiritual mind-set, but as I look out in the world, that is what so much of it is about.

3. Conform in dress, opinion and thought.

I’m failing that one big time. As I age, I realize there are many people who simply aren’t going to like me for the opinions I hold. There are times in life where I have found out someone has flat out hated my guts. These are people I never had one argument or debate with in my entire life. How did this happen? They hate me because I’m different.

Surprise, Surprise! Us Aspies can offend some neurotypicals just by just being ALIVE! If you are Aspie trust me it will happen. I know I’m not politically correct, and everyone’s cup of tea, but one thing Aspies have to develop is a thick skin, especially if you are going to fly all your weirdo flags. People either love you or hate you when you are an Aspie. There are many times where I am simply hated for breaking some social rule I don’t know about. I try to be nice, so wasn’t rude to anyone. Sometimes just being me is enough to make this happen. Sometimes it is because I simply do not conform.

I have noticed too many people’s opinions all match now. There are the independent thinkers who don’t fit in the Republican or Democratic box, but have you noticed over the last 30 years people started to match their official demographics. I’ve had people get mad at me for things they thought I believed based on demographical assumptions.

Don’t get me started on dress. I noticed someone wrote that manufacturers had streamlined the clothes for the global market, and that is why fashion creativity for the average person died on the alter of expediency. I’m old enough to remember different styles and colors and patterns. People get mad sometimes now if you don’t dress like them. If you see a person with an individual style, don’t lose them, it means something today.

The herd expects too much conformity now. You think the 1950s were the conformity society, they couldn’t beat the 2010s. While they advertised fake freedom and “choices” for the masses via entertainment, actually the screws got tightened down more.

There is a reason weird Uncle Charlie or Aunt Lucy could still get some kind of job 50 years ago but sit unemployed now. There’s a reason it feels so hard to make friends. I get this complaint from non-Aspies. There’s a reason going to work at the office feels like a session of mental gladiators and a back-stab fest. Something is really wrong. The cultural rules have grown tighter and tighter and life I would say has gotten tough for the Aspie in this way, even if there is more discussion of disability rights and cultural awareness on the surface level.

Respect my boundaries!

Posted on January 12, 2015 by luckyotter

My daughter is either a somatic histrionic narcissist (same as my mother) or has borderline personality disorder (BPD) in addition to diagnosed PTSD and bipolar disorder. She would be somatic if she’s got NPD because she’s obsessed with clothes and shopping and she takes more selfies than every Hollywood starlet put together in one room. She’s very attractive and she knows it and has been able to use her looks to get what she wants, at least from males.

But due to her intense mood swings and the fact she does show some empathy and remorse, then she’s also likely to be be a borderline, a related Cluster B disorder which is more common in women than in men (narcissism is more common in men) but has much in common with NPD. Whatever she is, she’s a high maintenance drama queen. I’ve joked with her that she’d be perfect for a reality show like “Bad Girls Club,” but to be honest, I could definitely see someone like her on a show like that!

Of course I love my daughter dearly and enjoy her company too (she can be a lot of fun and easy to talk to, which is why she makes friends easily) but her disorders definitely make her difficult to deal with, especially now that she’s moved back in with me.

She has been home for almost two weeks. Things have been going swimmingly (okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration) and there have been no real problems. I read her the riot act on her return and she agreed to some new rules. She does not appear to be doing drugs and is taking steps to get her life in order, including seeing a therapist this week. I told her if I saw pain pills or any other evidence of hard drugs, there was the door.

But tonight she invaded my boundaries. She had gone to the mall with some friends, and came home in an upbeat mood, which was fine, but my daughter also gets a little obsessive and impatient when she’s excited and happy, and has a bad habit of not respecting my boundaries. I also think she’d had a drink or two.

Because there are only two bedrooms (my roommate has the other one) and I took over Molly’s bedroom when she had moved in with Paul (and I won’t give it up!) she has been having to sleep on the couch in the living room. She’s turned it into a large bedroom and it actually looks nice, if a bit cluttered. I almost never have company anyway, so it’s not like I really need a living room.

But tonight when she got home at about 10:30 she wanted to pull some more of her things from my room (things she never uses and didn’t need tonight). I told her it was late, I have to be up early for work (and to drive her to the DMV) and I needed some alone-time before going to bed. I needed time online too. As an Aspie, she knows if I don’t get my “alone time” I get very cranky and snappish. I do not like my Aspie routine to be interrupted. She knows this well.

But she kept rummaging around in all the drawers and pulled boxes out of the closet, tossed shoes and bags and papers and stray clothes all over the floor, messed up my things in the process, and was making a racket doing so. I must have told her three times or more to please do this tomorrow, but she wouldn’t listen and kept saying “one more minute!” But it wasn’t one more minute, it wasn’t three more minutes or five or twenty: this shit went on for almost an hour. I was ready to scream and pull my hair out.

When she finally finished tearing my room apart looking for her things, she took them into the living room. Then she decided she needed to find a place to plug in her humidifier (she suffers from dry sinuses and mild asthma). She proceeded to start unplugging things from the wall, including the damned router. It took me another twenty minutes to get connected to the Internet again. I actually burst into tears of frustration (the kind of tears I shed more than any other kind–it’s almost impossible for me to cry when I’m sad).

It wasn’t that this was something that couldn’t be fixed easily, but I’d had more than enough. I was so stressed and completely frustrated with my daughter and the chaos she was creating and the boundaries she was violating due to her inability to wait for anything. She wants what she wants when she wants it.

In a near rage, tears streaming, I’m afraid I snapped and told her I wished she never moved back in because she had no respect for my boundaries or anything else. She started to cry, and I told her I was sorry and apologized. She asked me if I really meant what I said and I told her no truthfully. I explained again why I need my quiet time at night and why it was a bad time for her to decide to redecorate. She said she understood…but does she?

Time will tell.

Well, this is out of the box thinking…

Posted on January 11, 2015 by luckyotter

I just saw this comment under the Youtube comments for “I, Psychopath” (the documentary about Sam Vaknin). I don’t agree with most of it, but I think it does give us something to think about in terms of autism’s relationship to psychopathy. The writer of the comment may be onto something about autism being nature’s solution to psychopathy. There does seem to be some kind of correlation between psychopathic/narcissistic parents and children with Aspergers or autism. I don’t know if any study has ever been done on this.

I do not think Vaknin has Aspergers syndrome (which I was informed today is no longer called that–the updated DSM now identifies Aspergers as “autism spectrum disorder.” I prefer “Aspergers” so I will continue to use it) I think his schizoid traits make him seem like someone with Aspergers at times.

Vaknin is a very important figure in terms of how his introspection allows us to see what is really happening in our evolution. After a few years reading about narcissism and psychopathy, as well as Autism, and coming to the conclusion that Autism is nature’s solution for psychopathy (I am an autists born in a family that is experiencing this transition), to my eyes, Vaknin seems to embody the bridging that is occurring. One thing that seems to be a reality is that autists may be born into families where we also find psychopathy, most likely a generation or two back. The shift to the emotional awareness presenting in the burgeoning of the enteric brain, which incorporates genetic changes changing the heart itself into a motor for cognition is what informs Autism, but because many autists are so sick or dysfunctional, it is hard to get people to see that it could have any evolutionary logic behind it. Perhaps the dysfunction is nature’s way of keeping the tremendous emotional authenticity and power it brings under wraps.
. Vaknin has all the traits of Asperger’s. This is not to say that there are no vestiges of the narcissism or psychopathy that may run in his family, but his journey itself speaks of what is going on.

Can a narcissist also be on the autism spectrum?
The topic this commenter raised brings me to something I’ve been wanting to write about for awhile now: can a narcissist also be autistic or Aspie?

This is a tricky question, because the way I see it, autism (Aspergers) is like a mirror image of narcissism. Although people with Aspergers have been accused by many of lacking empathy (which I disputed in this blog post), they generally do not. The reason they may seem unempathic is because they don’t express their emotions very well, but most Aspies are very sensitive to the feelings of those around them and can be easily overwhelmed. Conversely, a narcissist can’t feel the emotions of others well, but is usually good at pretending they can. An Aspie is not capable of pretending to be something they are not. So a narcissist may seem more empathic than an Aspie, even though the opposite is the case.

So can someone be both?

I would say yes. However, an Aspie narcissist will not wear masks very well or know which ones would benefit them most since they will not be able to read social cues, which a “successful” narcissist must be able to do. So while an Aspie may be a narcissist, they will be very bad at hiding their true motives and therefore not very dangerous. A narcissistic Aspie is probably more likely to be a “needy” narcissist–the kind of narcissist who acts as pitiful as they can and feel entitled and demand to be taken care of and catered to due to their “helplessness.”

Forever alone.

Posted on January 6, 2015 by luckyotter

I have always been attracted to narcissistic men. And them to me. I spent 28 years (7 of those AFTER we divorced) living with a malignant narcissist substance abuser and raising children with him. Before Michael, I had three serious boyfriends, and only one was not a narcissist (but was severely bipolar).

When I was in my twenties, all I wanted to do was marry and have babies–this wasn’t considered cool or forward thinking at the time (the 1980s). I wasn’t really focused on having a career like most young women my age.

I think my oddly timed longing for normal family life was because more than anything in the world, I longed to be part of a family that would not be like the one I came from, a close, functional family whose members truly loved and cared for one another. I had grand fantasies of Perfect Family Life–3-4 perfect, normal kids; a perfect, normal husband with no serious mental disorders or drug or alcohol issues; and a beautiful home with plenty of old school charm in a safe neighborhood. My Perfect Mate would be an honest, loyal husband and father who loved animals and long walks and would care deeply about all of us. Of course there would be pets too, probably a large friendly dog like a Golden Retriever. I wanted the damned Brady Bunch.

I know, you’re probably ready to vomit all over your keyboard. Chill. I’m stopping right here. I cringe when I think about how naive and clueless I was.

Does anyone remember this commercial from about 2007-09? If you’re a nausea-prone ACON you may want to take some Pepto first.

Well, this was the family I wanted to make, back in the 1980s.

30 odd years later: I hate that damned commercial with its perky, perfect, cute-but-not-beautiful soccer mom–a woman who undoubtedly had loving parents who raised her with consistency and lots of hugs and support, a woman who has extended family members like cousins or aunts or an uncle she is close to, and also has lots of friends. She also has an advanced degree in something like sociology or art history. She was popular at school, not Mean Girl/cheerleader-popular, but the next tier down from that–she was one of the honor roll kids where the girls all played volleyball or were in the Drama Club, and the guys all looked like Ferris Bueller and were Theater Nerds. But these second-tier, almost-popular kids were actually nice to everyone (unlike the top tier of popular kids who really weren’t so much popular as they were feared and respected–because they consisted largely of narcs and their sycophants) and you wanted to hate them but you couldn’t because they were always so darned nice.

Instead of pursuing her career in art history or writing a book about The Sociology of Art History, this perky redhaired 30-something has chosen to stay home with her growing brood of ginger kids, each one more red haired than the last. Her infuriating announcements of big moves (to MEMPHIS!), promotions at work, home enlargements, weeks-long family vacations, learning how to speak French, and especially…ESPECIALLY!..the group shot at the end showing the whole family focusing on Perky Soccer Mom bouncing the the new baby on her hip at the end–not just any baby, but a gorgeous fat healthy good natured baby girl with an adorable grin who probably sports fire engine red hair under that white cap–made me want to throw a brick at my TV screen.

I know this is just a commercial and those people are actors, but…I ACTUALLY KNOW FAMILIES LIKE THIS. Of course I don’t know what goes on behind closed doors (and everyone has their dark secrets), but because the members of these families always seem happy and relaxed and everyone seems to love everyone else, with not a molecule of narcissism anywhere to be seen, the skeletons in their closets don’t come out to haunt them all that much. They are probably covered with dust from disuse.

I’m assuming here that the reason this thoroughly obnoxious commercial was so popular (it ran for almost 3 years), is not because it depicts the idealized family everyone strives to create, but rather, because many people can actually relate to this smugly contented woman and her tall, dark and handsome husband, their perfect dog, their big colonial house, and their large brood of gingers.

I longed for this family because having this family would vindicate my dysfunctional and narcissistic family of origin. It was the family that would bring me Justice.

I never got that family, because I fell in love with a malignant narcissist, who in every imaginable way at the beginning, convinced me he was the Perfect Boyfriend, and later the Perfect Fiance. We made two highly intelligent but troubled kids (well, one is a lot less so but lives almost 700 miles away).
And now I am Forever Alone.

But I’m alright with that. More than alright.

In my past relationships, I never saw any of the red flags. I knew nothing of red flags back then other than the physical kind that signal physical danger. The most useful psychological advice about men and relationships I got in the early-mid 1980s was from articles and fluff quizzes (such as “What Does his Lovemaking Say About his Character?”) in magazines like Cosmopolitan and Glamour.

I was never attracted to “bad boys.” I chose men who had good jobs, prospects and didn’t stink or break the law. But sometimes these “perfect” guys can be anything but perfect, and because they put on such a convincing and impressive mask of normality, you don’t suspect their true motives until it’s too late. I always seemed to gravitate to the devils dressed in white.

I’m not going to recount the downward spiral that led to the dissolution of our marriage, drug addiction, troubled kids, and all the rest because I’ve done that already ad nauseam (if you must know my story of being married to a malignant narc, click on the links under “My Story”).

So I’ve done a 180 from the naive, romantic starry eyed girl I was in the 1980s–the girl who was uncool enough at the time to want a family and babies and a normal life with people who were not psychopathic or addicted to drugs or alcohol (today that would make me Taylor Swift–how times have changed). I no longer want a relationship. I relish my solitude.

I still get crushes, and plenty of them (I have one now), and just as in my teens and twenties, they still tend to be intense. My crushes are pleasurable to me but they are mine alone to enjoy, not something to be shared with the object of my infatuation. I know, I’m weird. I have an excuse to be weird and avoidant though, because I’m Aspie with Avoidant Personality Disorder. I enjoy my dreams and fantasies far more than my reality, and why ruin a good fantasy by trying to make it real?

That’s why I think my mind makes sure my crushes are never on people I know personally or have to see all the time, and instead chooses men who are inaccessible for one reason or another. Famous people are the safest of all, because I do not ever not have to meet them and either (a) face rejection; or (b) worse: not be rejected but gradually find out they are really just another sick malignantly narcissistic tool who will fly me to the moon and feed me fresh blackberries dipped in cognac, and then ever so insidiously proceed to turn my life into one resembling incarceration in a Turkish prison before I know what even hit me.

I’ve been there, done that. I am no longer of childbearing age, and though I look far younger and fitter than my 55 years, I realize I’m not going to look this good too much longer. At my age, there’s a feeling that you just don’t have what it takes to attract a man anymore, even when it’s not true. Because I look better now than I have since my mid-late 30s. Sure, maybe a woman of a certain age can’t attract the 20-somethings anymore, but what middle aged woman in her right mind really wants a 20-something for anything but a quick fling, anyway? In my case my wariness and self consciousness is due to the low self esteem that’s lived with me my entire life like some parasitic twin I’ve grown so used to I sometimes forget it’s there. Hating yourself is a tough habit to break.

But the real problem isn’t my fear of losing my sexual desirability (which is already well on its way over the other side of the mountain), it’s the simple fact that I don’t trust men (or anyone) enough to become intimate with one. As an Aspie, I have trouble reading social cues, which means I often miss the important red flags and warning signs of a narcissist who is love bombing me and wooing me into his black den of misery. And more than that–I want to believe them. I want to give them the benefit of the doubt. I never learned from my past mistakes.

So no longer is “love” my passion in life or my goal. I figure I will die single and alone, but very possibly, happy. Hopefully by the time I die, I will have written a book or two that helped others, gave others joy, and brings me a nice income so I can buy my own small, quaint, quirky home near my son in Florida, somewhere near the beach.

Twenty or thirty years from now: I see myself–an old spinster (I love the strength that word conveys–we need to bring it back!) wearing a long brightly patterned madras-cotton dress or jeans and a slouchy, comfy sweater in cooler weather, walking barefoot along the Gulf Coast at sunset, feeling wet sand squeeze between my pale toes, waves lapping at my feet, the salt air breeze making me smile and my eyes water. I’m tossing small pebbles into the golden waves, a large dog with a cool name like Hector skipping along by my side, occasionally running ahead of me when he sees a seagull land on the darkening sand. I’ll be thinking about my grown son and daughter, and their families and satisfying lives, and my only worry would be the two-month deadline my publisher has given to finish writing a groundbreaking new book about something that matters. I’ll be Forever Alone. And like it.

All this being said, if an attractive, genuinely nice man comes along when I’m not looking, and maybe I’m feeling more strong and confident, I might venture into the ocean again, or at least get my feet wet. So sure, it could happen, but right now I’m just trying to get to know myself.

Reblog: “Why is my Life so Rotten?”

Posted on January 4, 2015 by luckyotter

My friend and fellow narc-abuse blogger, Fivehundredpoundpeep over at Blogspot, wrote this heartbreaking post today.

She’s far from alone. I think all of us ACONS have felt this way, some of us for our entire lives. I know I have until very recently, and I still feel this way more often than I let on. It’s gotten better, much better lately, but I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely this feeling of well being is TEMPORARY and before I know it the rug will be ripped out from under me. Of course thinking that is as unrealistic as thinking I’ll be singing and dancing and grinning like a fool for the rest of my life (even if I was raised in a normal home, that kind of upbeat perkiness just ain’t in my nature as both an Aspie and someone probably biologically prone to bottomless depressions–the narcs just exacerbated what was probably natural to me anyway). But I just don’t trust anything good. Is that because I feel like I don’t deserve anything good, because my abusers said I didn’t? Can’t I just enjoy these strange new feelings without QUESTIONING them all the time, or wondering if God is playing some cruel joke on me?

So here is her post. If anyone who comes to this blog has any suggestions for her, please post them in the comments or over on her blog at Blogger. http://fivehundredpoundpeeps.blogspot.com/2015/01/why-is-my-life-so-rotten.html#comment-form

Why is my Life so Rotten?

Dear God, Tell Me Why It Went So Bad.
Sometimes even a Christian wonders why so much is going wrong. I don’t buy into the Christianity that tells me if I have enough faith the piles of money will show up like Joel Osteen but sometimes I am serious wondering why the suffering quotient is going up so high. My husband bless his soul too, has been shaking his head regarding our collective misery. I have to pray about what is becoming of me and seek the spiritual answers too.

Sick And More Sick With No End
Why was I on antibiotics for three weeks, [swollen saliva glands] and then got a leg infection this week? That scares me. Maybe the doctor’s aren’t calling me back because they are stumped too. All Aspies hate making phone calls, I can cry from the stress of trying to get something I need from neurotypicals. How pushy should I be? Should I yell at them yet? Will I offend them and ruin the medical relationship? Did I say the wrong thing? I may tell my doctor who knows I am an Aspie, that I can’t take it anymore and want extensive refills on my antibiotics.

If anything the antibiotics should have prevented a leg infection. I did not have any leg infections for a year and a half. I felt free and like I had hope, only now to realize that has now passed like a fart in the wind. I did my Flexitouch every day, except 1 day when I had the flu for 7 months. I wrapped without fail. Why am I being punished for something I did not do? I worked hard to keep my legs from being infected. I don’t want to go back to the leg infections slamming me, and being afraid everyday. When they hit it is like the worse flu on earth and 4 days ago, I got a revisit to flu land with a high fever and pain. Will they even believe me? Or will they think I was not compliant when I was to the max?

Typhoid Mary ruined what little good in my life there was. I am sure by now she is on another tens of thousands of dollar cruise, enjoying her life. She would cry if she had my life and was forced to give up recreational shopping and traveling. I am sure as I almost puked my guts out this morning from stomach acid run amuck and handed two-thirds of my income over to keep a roof over my head–my husband pays the other bills and put the check in the manager’s slot yesterday, that Mommy Dearest is busy shopping from her second home in a warm state and going out to eat and enjoying her life. Fun for them, and constant misery for me. Why?

Why did I win the CRAPPY LIFE AWARD? The only people suffering more then me are in prison or the street. I even watched Intervention the other day thinking, look at those thin bodies, and their families still love THEM with a feeling of jealousy. I know people aren’t supposed to feel sorry for themselves. I have to smile and act with it, so I don’t scare people away in the regular world and since this is my blog why not be honest. I know nice people around here who have helped me, and don’t want to stress them out more. How did my life become such a mess? Every one I know who hit my age, got at least one break. Where’s mine?

I’m supposed to start a new lung medication today but afraid wondering what else will go wrong?

Nothing but Endless Disappointment
I have gotten to a place where I expect disappointment. That is not good. I have prayed to God incessantly about what to do about my rotten life and have hit a brick wall. I am sad and upset about many many things.

Self-help and endless advice books do not provide the cash or decent body I need to be happy. Every time I relax and get happy inspite of these things and it has happened on occasion, it’s like the rug is pulled out from underneath my feet. There is a void in too many places I can’t seem to fill. There are things I want to do that keep getting thwarted. My life is one where I am too tired to do everything and crying in frustration about all my undone tasks and people I have failed. The literal physical exhaustion is wearing me down, and I fear a totally bed-ridden life awaiting.

I don’t want to be Aunt Scapegoat with her head hung down, and the black cloud growing and sitting alone one day staring at a wall totally broken. I am scared. I do not want to be her. I fear spiritual destruction at the hands of my Job-like existence.

What happens to someone who is an outcast mentally whose body is an enemy from hell? Now I understand why people do drugs and drink themselves into oblivion. I don’t recommend this of course but this world sometimes has so much sadness on the menu.

For seasoned ACONS who I know read my blog, please tell me if this can be the stresses of no contact. A lot of people disappointed me within the FOO beyond measure. Why can’t my brain stop ruminating about it? Am I buckling under the pressures of my year and half into no contact, having to walk away from the majority of my family and severe disabilities and financial problems combined? What if I am tired of having to be strong?

I Need Something To Look Forward To.
I need something to look forward to. Why can’t I have ONE THING to LOOK FORWARD TO? I have hope in heaven but I need SOME HOPE in this life. I do not think it is wrong to pray to God for some hope in my earthly life too or even just a time of respite. If I was a normal healthy person, I would hit the road right now seriously, go somewhere warm, go find some FUN. Hey I could do this now but it would mean not paying the rent and flirting with homelessness. There must be some reason I keep telling my husband as a joke, or maybe it’s not a joke, “Lets run away!”

All 12 step programs warn about the geographical cure not working but sometimes you just feel trapped. You want an escape from the grind. Some people with jobs may say “Every day is a vacation for you! Shut yer trap!” but everyone needs time away.

Positive Thinkers Prattle On
The positive thinkers would tell me, “you’re not thinking positive enough”, this is why nothing but bad things happen to you. In other words, the whole you are creating your own reality. But the inverse of that is they are just like my narcissists who told me everything bad happening is my fault. Both things are wrong.

I’m sick of thinking everything is my fault. I am sick of being told if I do this, that and this, that the results will ensue. I spent three hours a day on my stupid legs for the last year and half and my bad leg still betrayed me. Why don’t I get good results? I am sick of waiting for the hammer to fall, for the car to break down and the streets awaiting. I need a break.

If you were my life coach, what would you tell me?

Here was my reply:

Peep, I don’t cry easily but this post just did it. I have for most of my life felt exactly the same way–down to just about every detail you talk about here. No, I don’t have your health problems but my whole life I have felt like a failure, a loser, someone with no talents, no skills, painfully shy because I’m aspie, paranoid, feeling like God (who I wasn’t sure I even believed in) was putting me up as a joke, an “example” to others of how not to be. Like you, I looked at other people’s families who actually loved them and gave them the life tools they needed and wondered why mine were so cold and distant and disapproving of me. I was suspicious of everyone’s motives, and always, ALWAYS under the thrall or spell of a malignant narcissist. Sometimes more than one at a time.
I didn’t realize that was the whole problem–that and no perspective. Sometimes you can’t see the forest for the trees.

There are many days (most days) I still feel like a colossal failure, but because of blogging I may have (MAY have) found my purpose. I don’t get paid for it but I have a good feeling about it.

That’s where I think you are headed too, Peep. You are a brilliant, entertaining, heartfelt writer, with one of the best blogs I’ve seen on narcissism. Either that or your art. Your paintings are beautiful and you can write. Perhaps you can write a book on Amazon – it doesn’t cost anything (I don’t think–I have to look more into that) but I think your story would sell. You could even illustrate it with your wonderful “fat lady” paintings. Your life may have been painful but I think there is a purpose for everything–and God gave you this life in order for you to help others, and I think that’s going to be through writing or art, or both.

I don’t know if this would work for you, but I know I want to write a book at some point. I really feel like God is showing me my path that I have searched for all my life, and my difficult past was meant to prepare me to write about it and help others once I helped myself.

I’m not trying to be a know it all, Peep or tell you what to do, but I really think you already know this and are ready to take that next step. Don’t give up on God (not that you are)–we don’t know what his motives or timetable are, and all I can really tell you is there is a plan, you have not suffered this all in vain.

You are fortunate to have a husband who loves you too, one who understands your Aspieness, who is not a narcissist–lean on him for support. That’s a real blessing.

But don’t feel bad or guilty about feeling depressed. It just means you’re human and are reacting the only way you can to all the insanity you have been subjected to. But it WILL get better. Never lose hope or give up. You have helped so many with your blog and your story.

Am I that annoying or am I just paranoid?

Posted on December 11, 2014 by luckyotter

There are days I feel like I have to apologize for my existence. Today was one of those days.

The woman I was teamed up with today to clean houses is someone I’m used to working with. We don’t have a whole lot in common, but normally we get along well enough and we work well together. I know what to expect and she doesn’t have to check my work because she knows I know what I’m doing.

She usually drives (because my car is very old and is starting to have transmission problems, which I refuse to worry about right now) which is fine by me, but that also means I’m forced to listen to the music she wants to listen to, which means Christian contemporary music all day, whenever we work together. The music isn’t so bad really, but it can get annoying after a while, when every song played starts to feel like a sermon. Give me some Nirvana, give me some U2, Rolling Stones, or Jimi; hell, even Lady Gaga will do. Or play some damned country. But it ain’t gonna happen, not with her.

Now that it’s the Overhyped Season of Greed and False Cheer again, she’s switched over to one of the pop stations, which plays Christmas music 24/7, starting the day after Thanksgiving. Bleccchhh. While there are a few carols I have nostalgic childhood memories of, as a whole I can’t stand Christmas music. If I hear “Jingle Bell Rock” one more time, I think I’m going to put my head through the dashboard. Especially because she SINGS ALONG to it. That, along with “Little Drummer Boy” are my two least favorite Christmas songs EVER, but for some reason I can’t possibly begin to fathom, they play those two ALL THE TIME. It’s pure torment. Shoot me please.

So anyway, we get along alright even though we’re never going to be Thelma and Louise together. But today I thought I was getting on her nerves. I have no idea what I did or said, but she wasn’t speaking to me and snapped my head off if I asked her the most innocuous question or even said anything at all. After several hours of this treatment (and being silent right back), I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I had a little hissy fit.

“You haven’t spoken to me all day,” I fired at her. “It’s obvious you’re mad about something. I have no idea what I said to make you act so angry, but whatever it was, I’m sorry.”
I was apologizing for nothing at all really, because as far as I knew, I hadn’t done or said anything wrong, but I just wanted this to be over with. I hate it when people are angry with me, I hate it when I just imagine they are angry with me. Because as an Aspie, I can’t tell the difference.

Still she said nothing. She just harrumphed and kept on working as if I wasn’t there.
I didn’t say another word about it, because I sensed that would annoy her more, but I still felt sulky and wounded so back in the car, I pretended to sleep.
After another hour or so, my work partner suddenly became friendly again. She said she was tired. So that’s all it was, I guess. Another day ruined by my stupid paranoia and hypervigilance.

WELL, WHY COULDN’T SHE JUST HAVE SAID SO BEFORE? She KNOWS about my disorder, she KNOWS I can’t read social cues, and she could have at least TOLD me she was tired this morning. That would have prevented hours of interpersonal tension, and my stupid paranoia and babyish hissy fit over nothing could have been avoided. But that’s not how she is.

This sort of thing happens to me so often. If people don’t think I’m stupid, they think I’m annoying. Sometimes they think I’m both. Or at least that’s what I think they think. They probably don’t think that nearly as often as I think they do. But I worry about it.

I have a related problem right now that’s probably just my hypervigilance but I’m not sure, and that uncertainty is what’s driving me crazy.

I have a friend in the narcissistic abuse community, a woman I seem to have a lot in common with. Our backgrounds are so similar it’s downright scary. We started e-mailing each other, but she never replied back to the last email I sent her, which was quite long. It’s been four days and every time I check my inbox, there’s nothing new there from her. After two days of no reply, I sent a friendly reminder asking simply if she got my email. I didn’t want to appear too concerned, but I was.

Another day passed. I emailed her again, asking if she was getting my emails. Maybe they’re going in her spam folder. But that little disapproving, judging voice that lives inside my head and I wish would go away was saying, no, no! It must have been something you said in your last email, something that made her not want to be your friend anymore.

I went back and analyzed my email, trying to pinpoint what it was I must have said to make her avoid me. It could have been anything. Or nothing. I’ve been ruminating over it and worrying myself almost sick over it. Again, why do I care so much? It’s not like I don’t have other friends in this community, other people who read my blog and like what I have to say.

There is probably a perfectly reasonable answer for her silence–maybe she’s been busy, maybe she’s been sick (she does have health issues), maybe she can’t access her email, maybe she’s just lazy about replying to emails (like I can sometimes be). But of course, it’s never the reasonable, mundane, logical explanation I look for; it’s always something terrible and dire, it’s always because of something I did to upset them and make them hate me. It’s always because I’m such an annoying person they want nothing to do with me. My hypervigilance and paranoia is crazymaking and even…well, narcissistic. Why do I torment myself like this? It’s stupid.

A few people (almost always neurotypicals who don’t get me) have actually told me I’m annoying. No doubt my annoyingness is due to my tendency to interject comments at inappropriate times during my rare pathetic attempts to appear “normal” in social settings–or making some other embarrassing social gaffe due to my high-functioning autism.

I analyze and brood about people’s reactions to me way, WAY too much. I’m hypervigilant and paranoid. Maybe I’m not really coming off as annoying and stupid to others as I believe others think I am. I am my own worst enemy sometimes.

I care too much about what people are thinking about me. But why does it even matter? Are these people I want to be best friends with? Do I really want to attend a backyard barbeque at their McMansion with a bunch of their friends and relatives I have nothing in common with except the fact we’re all of the human species? Would I pay any of these people $100 apiece to like me? NO, I WOULD NOT. So why do I CARE so much what others are thinking about me? Why do I care if they think I’m annoying? Or stupid? Or weird? Or fat? Or ugly? Why do I want to be approved of? AM I A FUCKING NARCISSIST?

Probably not, but I was raised by a family of N’s and as the scapegoat, I WAS NEVER GOOD ENOUGH FOR THEM. I questioned myself and everything I did; it seemed I could do nothing right. I felt awkward and defective even in my own family. My parents were bullies, especially my mother. Later I was bullied at school too, especially in the 3rd – 5th grades. I remember during 4th grade, I was followed home every day by a group of kids who laughed and jeered at the way I walked and imitated my walk, as my tears welled and threatened to overflow (no wonder I hate mimes). The bullies would call out to me and sometimes even throw things to get my attention, but I wouldn’t turn around. I just kept on walking. I knew I couldn’t let them see me cry because that would make everything so much worse.

My third grade teacher, Mrs. Morse, was a psychopath with arms like Jello who always wore sleeveless dresses, so whenever she wrote on the board, all that quivering, pale freckled flab hanging from her bare arm made me want to throw up, but I still couldn’t take my eyes off it. It was mesmerizing in a horrible way, like a car accident.

Mrs. Morse knew how sensitive and scared of everything I was. She knew I was bullied by most of the other kids. But she had no empathy for my plight. She was a sadistic bitch from hell. She deliberately called on me whenever I was daydreaming, which was often (no kids got diagnosed with Aspergers back in those days) and always made me stand in the front of the room and answer a question or solve a math problem. She never did this to the other kids, who were allowed to answer from their seat.

One time I couldn’t solve the math problem on the board (which was my worst subject), and she berated and belittled me in front of the class.
“You never pay attention. You’re always daydreaming. Do you have a mental problem?”
The class laughed.
My tongue was in knots and I felt the blood drain from my face. I felt tears burning the backs of my eyelids like acid.
I swallowed hard and tried with all my might not to let a tear loose but they started to flow anyway. I hung my head in shame and rubbed away the tears with my grubby fists as I turned away toward the wall. My narrow back and bony shoulders heaved with silent sobs.
That was exactly the moment this sadistic malignant narcissist who passed for a teacher was waiting for.
“Look everyone! Lauren is crying! Look at the tears! Cry, cry, cry, baby.”
The class burst into screams and hoots of laughter.
“Cry, baby, cry!”
I stood there in front of the class, staring at the floor, snot mingling with my tears, and longed to melt into those scuffed green-gray linoleum tiles, and never return.
In today’s anti-bullying environment, this “teacher” would have been fired for that shit. She might have even lost her teaching license. That kind of thing isn’t put up with anymore.

Not too many years after this, I stopped being able to cry. I stopped being able to talk to people. I stopped being able to feel much of anything.

I still worry that people won’t like me, even though I’ve learned to hide my sensitivity pretty well. Too well, in fact. It’s hard for me to show my true feelings, but lately I’ve been opening up, getting better at it. I need to start feeling confident enough in myself, that other people’s opinions of me won’t make or break my day.

Take your office Christmas party and shove it.

Posted on December 9, 2014 by luckyotter

Get out of my face with your absurd fake smiles and stupid Santa hats.

So tomorrow night is the annual office Christmas party. I will not be attending. It’s not like I have some high level job where my presence is expected or necessary anyway. I doubt anyone will even notice my absence or care.

As an Aspie, I have never been able to tolerate the forced upbeat perkiness and all the small talk and chit chat about nothing in particular that abounds at these events. Too much social input coming in from all directions overwhelms my oddly wired brain, causing it to short circuit. I wind up in a state of near panic and to compensate, I become mute to avoid reading a social cue wrong and say something out of context that causes people to look at each other knowingly and roll their eyes at my social ineptness.

I feel like the old Saturday Night Live character Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer, whose mantra was “your world frightens and confuses me.” The world of neurotypicals, a world of people who love to socialize in groups, attend parties and engage in small talk, has that effect on me.

Whenever I’ve attended one of these things, I leave as exhausted as if I just spent the day digging holes in dry packed mud. Because I’m nearly silent at these events, people don’t even attempt to talk to me. More often that not, I wind up sitting there at the table alone, picking at my plate of stuffed mushrooms and baby carrots, feeling as self conscious and awkward as the school geek in a roomful of popular kids, because I can find no one to talk to and apparently no one really wants to talk to me either.

Small talk is utterly boring to me. Aspies tend to like “deep” talk, but I learned that serious, in depth conversations about things that matter is verboten at parties, especially office parties, where you are forced to spend an evening acting like people you probably wouldn’t give the time of day to if you didn’t have to work with them are your best friends. It’s all so fake and stupid to me.

I don’t get jokes a lot of the time, especially if they’re inside jokes that, because I don’t have close friends at work and am not part of a clique, I haven’t been filled in on the background that makes these jokes funny to others. It’s hard to laugh at a joke you don’t get. But you must laugh anyway so people don’t think you’re cold and unfriendly or worse, didn’t get the joke, which implies stupidity. But telling jokes is de rigeur for office Christmas parties.

The other thing that drives me crazy is everyone talking about their upcoming holiday plans. Most neurotypicals have lots of friends and love to talk about the gifts they are buying and the parties and other events they will be attending with those friends. Most people also have loving families and nearby relatives and all the talk about what toys they are buying little Isabella and Caleb at Sam’s Club makes me want to stick hot pins in my eyes. Being a person with hardly any money to buy gifts for anyone in a world that seems full of people who are living in two income households and have disposable income to throw around drives me mad too.

The only way I could cope with this type of an event would be if I had a few drinks ahead of time, but that wouldn’t be worth it either and besides, I’d still have to drive. I don’t really need a DWI on top of all the other shit I’m dealing with.

I’m no Scrooge, but you can keep your office Christmas party. I have better things to do, like socialize with my cats who don’t give a damn how awkward I am, or write more blogs posts.